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rainbowfic2013-05-21 11:49 am
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2013-05-21 11:49 am
Transparent 11, Fire Opal 15, Dove Grey 26
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: The Curtain
Colors: Transparent 11. Sword, Fire Opal 15. Obsession, Dove Grey 26. Shall we mourn here deedless forever a shadow-folk mist-haunting dropping vain tears in the thankless sea.
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Seed Beads, Pastels (forgiveness), Novelty Bead fromshadowsong26 (Shimmer), Glitter (Forward)
Word Count: 550
Rating: R (one little swear word)
Warnings: None.
Summary: Alistair travels east, beyond the Curtain.
The land itself darkened as they continued. Green grass gave way to burnt stalks to nothing at all, the dirt beneath charred. Broken buildings lessened until they were only loose skeletons, barely more than walls and foundations. The sky as well, darkened by storm clouds until the sun was only a memory.
Alistair turned back, once, to see the transition; instead the whole world beyond appeared exactly the same. Endless, decayed, dying.
His guide, Skap, said nothing. A short, stout woman, he might have mistaken her for a troll if they hadn't been killed off decades ago. She claimed to be a Formator, but then why wouldn't she give herself a more appealing presence?
The Curtain rose up beyond them, a yellow-pink-orange sheen that could have been glass if he didn't know better; climbing higher than he could see, disappearing into the sky as the ocean into the horizon. No one had dared measure it; mundanes were too afraid and wizards were too awed to even try. Airplanes could not fly over it; humans had walked on the moon but none cared to comment on whether they could see the giant magical wall that separated Europe from Asia.
A woman sang, so clear and pure she had to be nearby; Skap glanced back at him, face blank.
"Thems old ghosts. Pay no mind."
Alistair pulled his jacket closed, looking around for said ghosts. "Don't they send Seers in to take care of it?"
Skap snorted. "Fuckin' 'sembly." She didn't elaborate.
Their surroundings continued to deteriorate until only the dead, charred ground they walked upon remained. Skap stopped several strides from the Curtain; Alistair continued, hesitating before reaching out. He laid his hand flat against pure magic, threaded unto a solid impenetrable mass. It felt as solid as concrete, and aside from a slight tingling sensation gave off no magical energies at all. Moira's wards were impressive, a but a hundred of her couldn't have done this.
Moira.
He could almost see her, reflected in the shimmering wall. Her and Nieve and their combined fury staring him down. They had used up every once of forgiveness and still he had left them; they might understand when he finally returned, successful after all these years.
Might not.
"Sure bout this mate?"
Alistair turned to Skap; the singing grew closer, the language foreign to him. "I haven't come all this way to change my mind."
"Fair nough." She spat into her hands and rubbed them together as she approached; he stepped back as she put her hands forward, ready to touch the Curtain. "Now, mate, can only do this for a mite. Go right on through, fore it comes down on yer 'ead. Got it?" He nodded, and she placed her hands on the wall.
He staggered under the force of her magic; whatever her true Talent was, she was a behemoth, power radiating from her in gusts. The Curtain rippled, pink yellow orange gold, and a tear appeared between her hands; she pulled it apart, and even as she shouted, "Now!" Alistair bound through, Skap's and the Curtain's magic combining into blinding white light.
"Never asked why," Skap called after him, voice warped through the closing tear. He stumbled onto hard, purely physical stone and looked back, squinting in the light.
"I'm going to find Excalibur!"
Her laughter echoed through until the Curtain reformed, smooth hard magic once more.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: The Curtain
Colors: Transparent 11. Sword, Fire Opal 15. Obsession, Dove Grey 26. Shall we mourn here deedless forever a shadow-folk mist-haunting dropping vain tears in the thankless sea.
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Seed Beads, Pastels (forgiveness), Novelty Bead from
shadowsong26 (Shimmer), Glitter (Forward)Word Count: 550
Rating: R (one little swear word)
Warnings: None.
Summary: Alistair travels east, beyond the Curtain.
The land itself darkened as they continued. Green grass gave way to burnt stalks to nothing at all, the dirt beneath charred. Broken buildings lessened until they were only loose skeletons, barely more than walls and foundations. The sky as well, darkened by storm clouds until the sun was only a memory.
Alistair turned back, once, to see the transition; instead the whole world beyond appeared exactly the same. Endless, decayed, dying.
His guide, Skap, said nothing. A short, stout woman, he might have mistaken her for a troll if they hadn't been killed off decades ago. She claimed to be a Formator, but then why wouldn't she give herself a more appealing presence?
The Curtain rose up beyond them, a yellow-pink-orange sheen that could have been glass if he didn't know better; climbing higher than he could see, disappearing into the sky as the ocean into the horizon. No one had dared measure it; mundanes were too afraid and wizards were too awed to even try. Airplanes could not fly over it; humans had walked on the moon but none cared to comment on whether they could see the giant magical wall that separated Europe from Asia.
A woman sang, so clear and pure she had to be nearby; Skap glanced back at him, face blank.
"Thems old ghosts. Pay no mind."
Alistair pulled his jacket closed, looking around for said ghosts. "Don't they send Seers in to take care of it?"
Skap snorted. "Fuckin' 'sembly." She didn't elaborate.
Their surroundings continued to deteriorate until only the dead, charred ground they walked upon remained. Skap stopped several strides from the Curtain; Alistair continued, hesitating before reaching out. He laid his hand flat against pure magic, threaded unto a solid impenetrable mass. It felt as solid as concrete, and aside from a slight tingling sensation gave off no magical energies at all. Moira's wards were impressive, a but a hundred of her couldn't have done this.
Moira.
He could almost see her, reflected in the shimmering wall. Her and Nieve and their combined fury staring him down. They had used up every once of forgiveness and still he had left them; they might understand when he finally returned, successful after all these years.
Might not.
"Sure bout this mate?"
Alistair turned to Skap; the singing grew closer, the language foreign to him. "I haven't come all this way to change my mind."
"Fair nough." She spat into her hands and rubbed them together as she approached; he stepped back as she put her hands forward, ready to touch the Curtain. "Now, mate, can only do this for a mite. Go right on through, fore it comes down on yer 'ead. Got it?" He nodded, and she placed her hands on the wall.
He staggered under the force of her magic; whatever her true Talent was, she was a behemoth, power radiating from her in gusts. The Curtain rippled, pink yellow orange gold, and a tear appeared between her hands; she pulled it apart, and even as she shouted, "Now!" Alistair bound through, Skap's and the Curtain's magic combining into blinding white light.
"Never asked why," Skap called after him, voice warped through the closing tear. He stumbled onto hard, purely physical stone and looked back, squinting in the light.
"I'm going to find Excalibur!"
Her laughter echoed through until the Curtain reformed, smooth hard magic once more.
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