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rainbowfic2015-03-20 07:43 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2015-03-20 07:43 pm
Alien Green #6, Azul #12, Pineapple Yellow #3
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Prime
Colors: Alien Green #6 (This is where you pucker up and kiss my ass), Azul #12 (Paladin), Pineapple Yellow #3 (Don't you dare learn a wrong lesson while I'm trying to teach you a right lesson!)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Seed Beads, Pastels (genprompt_bingo prompt "Black and White")
Word Count: 2,405
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; choose not to warn.
Summary: A potential new ally comes to the temple.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“There is a worshiper in the front atrium,” the acolyte told her, too new to know better, with his head freshly shaved and still possessing that eager to please air that Tenna estimated approximately half of the children who came to them had. Given away by their families for any number of reasons--Corporation punishment, too expensive, or simply unwanted--some who came were desperate for a new family, for a place where they were noticed. The other half were surly and resentful, planning escapes back to the city that always, always failed. If they made it off the temple grounds, and if they made it through the rurs without getting lost or taken by the rebels, even if they made it back to the city they would find the walls closed to them. Outcasts did not return to the city. Not without great care and preparation.
This acolyte was of the former, a shy smile lighting his face as he proudly told the high priest what he had seen in the front atrium. Tenna almost felt bad for what she had to say next. She laid down her pen and studied the boy, intensely enough that after only a few moments he began to fidget and look everywhere but her. When he was good and unsettled, she said, “Have you been paying attention to your training?”
“Yes, High Priest,” said the boy automatically. He was too new for Tenna to know his name, and she did not ask for it. All her years at the temple, and she had developed a sense for who would move from acolyte to priest, and who would be banished to Poston. The boy, she was almost certain, wouldn’t last the year. It would be a waste of precious memory to know his name.
“Then you should remember what you were taught on your very first day,” said Tenna. “Can you tell me what that was?”
The boy shuffled his feet and looked at the floor. “We were told a lot of things on the first day. I don’t remember all of it.”
“This was the most important. And you don’t remember?”
The boy shrugged, every bit of pride leaked from his stance.
“There are no worshipers,” said Tenna. “The divinity of the spirits was disproven. The holy book was cast down. This is not a place for belief.”
“Then why--” The boy stopped and stared harder at the floor, his face turning red at speaking out of turn.
“Go ahead. Speak.”
“Then why are we still priests?” The words were mumbled, low enough that Tenna could barely hear them. But she had anticipated the question, anyway.
“You are not a priest,” said Tenna, standing. She pointed into the hall. “Find Kristos. Tell him the High Priest wants you to learn your first lesson again. Do it now.” It was almost certainly a waste of time, but that single question had changed her opinion of the boy somewhat. There was a small streak of defiance in him, at least, so perhaps he would defy expectations in other ways.
She still did not ask his name.
He nodded and turned to go, but Tenna stopped him. “Since there are no worshipers, who is in the front atrium?”
“I don’t know,” said the boy. “She said she was a worshiper.”
Tenna gestured for him to leave, and once he was gone, she took a moment, standing there, slowly breathing in and out, planning her approach. A stranger in the front atrium was likely from the city, and no good news ever came from the city. Still, she couldn’t have an unknown wandering around the temple, perhaps asking themselves the same question the boy just had. So she slipped on a cloak and made her way to the front atrium.
The atrium was partially open to the outside, and it was quite cold this time of year. Tenna’s breath frosted in front of her as she stepped into the cavernous space, her boots ringing across the marble. It was easy to spot the stranger. There was no one else in the atrium, everyone off doing their tasks and avoiding the chilly room. The stranger may have looked like a woman to the young acolyte, but to Tenna’s eyes she was barely out of her teenage years, slight and smooth-faced, her long dark hair pulled into a matted tail which threatened to escape from its leather binding with every turn of her head, her clothes covered with a film of the fine, ever-present dust that filled the air even in the middle of winter. Her trousers were too long, completely covering whatever she was wearing on her feet, and her shirt was a patchwork of faded colors that looked like it had been sewn out of scraps of various Corporation employee uniforms.
Tenna stopped and took a deep breath. A rebel. What was she doing here? The rebels and the priests avoided each other, as the former believed the latter was in consortium with the Corporation, and the latter did not trust the former enough to tell them the truth. The rebels did things their own way, and they had never wanted to listen to potential allies. Priest and citizen alike, if unlucky enough to be caught without protection on the rurs, were treated identically. The treatment was usually something that involved a lot of pain and blood, though those were rumors at best. Very few who were taken by the rebels ever returned.
But there was a part of Tenna that had hoped one day the temple and the rebels could band together to fight against their common enemy. None of her entreaties had worked. But perhaps someone had had a change of heart.
“I am Tenna, High Priest of this temple,” she said, approaching the girl slowly. “What is your business here?”
The girl turned and looked at her, not in the least bit startled. Her eyes were a brilliant blue. They reminded Tenna of the sky, on those rare clear days when the sun was out and the dust wasn’t so thick. “My name is not important,” said the girl. “I was sent by my leader. He has a message for you.”
“What is the message?” But the girl was barely paying attention, her head craned back, looking all the way up to the ceiling, her mouth gaping open slightly. Tenna smiled to herself; the temple must be a sight for someone raised in mud huts.
“I’m sorry,” she said, lightly touching the girl’s arm. “Would you like to have this conversation somewhere warmer?”
The girl looked at her, her face wary. “I was told not to go too deeply into the temple. My leader said I would never come back.”
Tenna put on her kindest smile. “I will not hurt you, I promise. My office is only just down that hall, and it’s far warmer than in here. Come.” She beckoned the girl with her hand.
The girl bit her lip and first looked back toward the entrance to the atrium, and then down the hall Tenna had indicated. Then she gave a short nod, and followed Tenna back to her office.
If Tenna had hoped the office would hold fewer distractions than the atrium, she was wrong. The girl stepped gingerly over the threshold, and her eyes roamed everywhere: at the desk, at the frilled rug before the fireplace, at the shelves full of books. She stopped at the globe sitting on its own little pedestal, her fingers reaching out to touch its curves.
“Please don’t,” said Tenna.
The girl snatched her fingers back as if Tenna had bitten her. “I’m sorry.”
Tenna shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s just that is a very rare and ancient object, from back before the Cataclysm. I wouldn’t want it to be damaged.” She wasn’t sure if that was even true, but she had succeeded in impressing the girl, whose eyes widened in wonder. Let her deliver her message, then go back to the rebels and tell them of the luxuries the temple possessed, luxuries they had kept from the Corporation, luxuries they had despite the Corporation.
“Please, sit,” said Tenna, indicating one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. The girl sank into it, her face relaxing as if it was the plushest seat there ever had been and not a scratched, wooden chair with the thinnest of cushions. Still, probably better than anything the girl had experienced.
“Now,” said Tenna, settling herself into the other chair, “what is your message?”
“My village has a new leader,” said the girl, gripping the chair’s armrests and leaning forward slightly. “He believes the old leader was wrong to see the temple as the enemy.”
Tenna smiled. It was as she expected. “And we are not your enemy,” she said. “We fight against the Corporation, too, in our own way.”
The girl looked into the fire. “But the old leader said the city gives you things. The Corporation doesn’t attack you like it does us. The old leader said that made you allies of the Corporation.” She turned back to Tenna. “The new leader wants to know how much of this is true.”
Tenna sighed. The girl seemed a bit simple to her, but what else was to be expected? It wasn’t as if the rebels could offer a quality education to their children. She wasn’t sure how to word her next statement in a way that the girl would understand and, more importantly, not mangle when she repeated it to her leader. “The Corporation does sometimes give us things, at our request. Not things we couldn’t obtain ourselves with slightly more difficulty. And the city sends to us their surplus children. That’s how the temple maintains itself, and in return the Corporation doesn’t attack. But we are not allies.”
The girl cocked her head, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. “If that’s true, how are you not allies? There are children from the city here, and supplies? How is that not being allies?”
“The Corporation doesn’t like us,” said Tenna, deciding to try a different way. “They would destroy us if they could. But the Corporation is made of people, many of whom still believe in their faith. They are afraid to destroy us, in case it would call down the wrath of the spirits.”
The girl made a face. “The spirits do not exist.”
“You know that, and I know that,” said Tenna. “But many in the city still believe. They won’t destroy us. They will give us supplies if we want them. They think it’s honorable to send their extra children here to be priests.” Not strictly true, or at least not as true as she wanted the girl to believe, but once she was able to have a proper talk and negotiation with this village leader she could clarify her oversimplified statements.
The girl still looked skeptical. “But you say you’re not allies.”
“We aren’t,” said Tenna. She leaned a little closer to the girl. “They give us supplies, and we use them to keep ourselves strong and ready. They give us their children, and we train them to one day fight against the Corporation.” And now she was almost into entirely fictional territory. Her words were true, at least as a mission statement. But generation after generation had been prepared to fight the city, and all had passed away with nothing done. The truth was, there were too few of them, and the Corporation grew ever more powerful. But perhaps with the rebels as allies, the current generation would be the one to see the Corporation’s fall.
“You use the things they give you against them,” said the girl slowly.
Tenna beamed, glad the girl had made the connection. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”
The girl nodded and stood. “I’ll return to my village and tell the leader what you’ve said.”
“He may come himself next time, if he desires,” said Tenna, also standing. “You tell him that I promise no harm will come to him. We would be glad to have the rebels as our allies.”
The girl stuck out her hand, and Tenna’s mouth quirked at the archaic gesture. But she took the hand anyway. The rebels were backward, but it wouldn’t do to offend potential allies.
“Thank you,” said the girl, and Tenna saw the knife a second too late.
The girl yanked hard on Tenna’s arm, jerking her forward as she plunged the knife up and beneath her ribcage. The air fled from Tenna’s body, her chest deflating, breath suddenly too hard to draw, and she knew the girl’s knife had pierced a lung. She clung to the girl, and barely felt it when she withdrew the knife and plunged it in again. Then a third and fourth time. Blood pooled on the floor, but surely that wasn’t from her own body? She was starting to see dark spots.
And with her last breath, she whispered, “Why? We could be allies.”
“The priests are liars,” the girl sneered. “You don’t fight the Corporation. You say you will, but you enjoy their bounty too much. You’ll never turn against them.” She extracted the knife one last time. “It was exactly as the leader said. We could never be allies. You’ll turn against us the moment the Corporation offers you comfort.”
“No,” Tenna tried to say, but she could no longer draw breath. She slumped onto the floor as the girl moved away from her. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, the girl stop in front of the globe and turn it slowly with the hand not clutching the bloody knife.
“You’re of use to no one,” she said. “You want the old world back. But it’s gone.” With one sweep of her arm she threw the globe to the floor, where it shattered against the stone. “This fight is about control of the new world, and you’ll never understand that.” She turned to look down at Tenna. “This is my message: there is a war coming, and when it happens, stay out of our way, or we will make no distinction between Corporation and temple.” She smirked. “You won’t be able to repeat that to anyone, but I believe the message will be clear.”
The last thing Tenna saw was the ends of the girl’s too-long trousers disappearing through the doorway.
kay_brookeStory: The Prime
Colors: Alien Green #6 (This is where you pucker up and kiss my ass), Azul #12 (Paladin), Pineapple Yellow #3 (Don't you dare learn a wrong lesson while I'm trying to teach you a right lesson!)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Seed Beads, Pastels (
genprompt_bingo prompt "Black and White") Word Count: 2,405
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; choose not to warn.
Summary: A potential new ally comes to the temple.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“There is a worshiper in the front atrium,” the acolyte told her, too new to know better, with his head freshly shaved and still possessing that eager to please air that Tenna estimated approximately half of the children who came to them had. Given away by their families for any number of reasons--Corporation punishment, too expensive, or simply unwanted--some who came were desperate for a new family, for a place where they were noticed. The other half were surly and resentful, planning escapes back to the city that always, always failed. If they made it off the temple grounds, and if they made it through the rurs without getting lost or taken by the rebels, even if they made it back to the city they would find the walls closed to them. Outcasts did not return to the city. Not without great care and preparation.
This acolyte was of the former, a shy smile lighting his face as he proudly told the high priest what he had seen in the front atrium. Tenna almost felt bad for what she had to say next. She laid down her pen and studied the boy, intensely enough that after only a few moments he began to fidget and look everywhere but her. When he was good and unsettled, she said, “Have you been paying attention to your training?”
“Yes, High Priest,” said the boy automatically. He was too new for Tenna to know his name, and she did not ask for it. All her years at the temple, and she had developed a sense for who would move from acolyte to priest, and who would be banished to Poston. The boy, she was almost certain, wouldn’t last the year. It would be a waste of precious memory to know his name.
“Then you should remember what you were taught on your very first day,” said Tenna. “Can you tell me what that was?”
The boy shuffled his feet and looked at the floor. “We were told a lot of things on the first day. I don’t remember all of it.”
“This was the most important. And you don’t remember?”
The boy shrugged, every bit of pride leaked from his stance.
“There are no worshipers,” said Tenna. “The divinity of the spirits was disproven. The holy book was cast down. This is not a place for belief.”
“Then why--” The boy stopped and stared harder at the floor, his face turning red at speaking out of turn.
“Go ahead. Speak.”
“Then why are we still priests?” The words were mumbled, low enough that Tenna could barely hear them. But she had anticipated the question, anyway.
“You are not a priest,” said Tenna, standing. She pointed into the hall. “Find Kristos. Tell him the High Priest wants you to learn your first lesson again. Do it now.” It was almost certainly a waste of time, but that single question had changed her opinion of the boy somewhat. There was a small streak of defiance in him, at least, so perhaps he would defy expectations in other ways.
She still did not ask his name.
He nodded and turned to go, but Tenna stopped him. “Since there are no worshipers, who is in the front atrium?”
“I don’t know,” said the boy. “She said she was a worshiper.”
Tenna gestured for him to leave, and once he was gone, she took a moment, standing there, slowly breathing in and out, planning her approach. A stranger in the front atrium was likely from the city, and no good news ever came from the city. Still, she couldn’t have an unknown wandering around the temple, perhaps asking themselves the same question the boy just had. So she slipped on a cloak and made her way to the front atrium.
The atrium was partially open to the outside, and it was quite cold this time of year. Tenna’s breath frosted in front of her as she stepped into the cavernous space, her boots ringing across the marble. It was easy to spot the stranger. There was no one else in the atrium, everyone off doing their tasks and avoiding the chilly room. The stranger may have looked like a woman to the young acolyte, but to Tenna’s eyes she was barely out of her teenage years, slight and smooth-faced, her long dark hair pulled into a matted tail which threatened to escape from its leather binding with every turn of her head, her clothes covered with a film of the fine, ever-present dust that filled the air even in the middle of winter. Her trousers were too long, completely covering whatever she was wearing on her feet, and her shirt was a patchwork of faded colors that looked like it had been sewn out of scraps of various Corporation employee uniforms.
Tenna stopped and took a deep breath. A rebel. What was she doing here? The rebels and the priests avoided each other, as the former believed the latter was in consortium with the Corporation, and the latter did not trust the former enough to tell them the truth. The rebels did things their own way, and they had never wanted to listen to potential allies. Priest and citizen alike, if unlucky enough to be caught without protection on the rurs, were treated identically. The treatment was usually something that involved a lot of pain and blood, though those were rumors at best. Very few who were taken by the rebels ever returned.
But there was a part of Tenna that had hoped one day the temple and the rebels could band together to fight against their common enemy. None of her entreaties had worked. But perhaps someone had had a change of heart.
“I am Tenna, High Priest of this temple,” she said, approaching the girl slowly. “What is your business here?”
The girl turned and looked at her, not in the least bit startled. Her eyes were a brilliant blue. They reminded Tenna of the sky, on those rare clear days when the sun was out and the dust wasn’t so thick. “My name is not important,” said the girl. “I was sent by my leader. He has a message for you.”
“What is the message?” But the girl was barely paying attention, her head craned back, looking all the way up to the ceiling, her mouth gaping open slightly. Tenna smiled to herself; the temple must be a sight for someone raised in mud huts.
“I’m sorry,” she said, lightly touching the girl’s arm. “Would you like to have this conversation somewhere warmer?”
The girl looked at her, her face wary. “I was told not to go too deeply into the temple. My leader said I would never come back.”
Tenna put on her kindest smile. “I will not hurt you, I promise. My office is only just down that hall, and it’s far warmer than in here. Come.” She beckoned the girl with her hand.
The girl bit her lip and first looked back toward the entrance to the atrium, and then down the hall Tenna had indicated. Then she gave a short nod, and followed Tenna back to her office.
If Tenna had hoped the office would hold fewer distractions than the atrium, she was wrong. The girl stepped gingerly over the threshold, and her eyes roamed everywhere: at the desk, at the frilled rug before the fireplace, at the shelves full of books. She stopped at the globe sitting on its own little pedestal, her fingers reaching out to touch its curves.
“Please don’t,” said Tenna.
The girl snatched her fingers back as if Tenna had bitten her. “I’m sorry.”
Tenna shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s just that is a very rare and ancient object, from back before the Cataclysm. I wouldn’t want it to be damaged.” She wasn’t sure if that was even true, but she had succeeded in impressing the girl, whose eyes widened in wonder. Let her deliver her message, then go back to the rebels and tell them of the luxuries the temple possessed, luxuries they had kept from the Corporation, luxuries they had despite the Corporation.
“Please, sit,” said Tenna, indicating one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. The girl sank into it, her face relaxing as if it was the plushest seat there ever had been and not a scratched, wooden chair with the thinnest of cushions. Still, probably better than anything the girl had experienced.
“Now,” said Tenna, settling herself into the other chair, “what is your message?”
“My village has a new leader,” said the girl, gripping the chair’s armrests and leaning forward slightly. “He believes the old leader was wrong to see the temple as the enemy.”
Tenna smiled. It was as she expected. “And we are not your enemy,” she said. “We fight against the Corporation, too, in our own way.”
The girl looked into the fire. “But the old leader said the city gives you things. The Corporation doesn’t attack you like it does us. The old leader said that made you allies of the Corporation.” She turned back to Tenna. “The new leader wants to know how much of this is true.”
Tenna sighed. The girl seemed a bit simple to her, but what else was to be expected? It wasn’t as if the rebels could offer a quality education to their children. She wasn’t sure how to word her next statement in a way that the girl would understand and, more importantly, not mangle when she repeated it to her leader. “The Corporation does sometimes give us things, at our request. Not things we couldn’t obtain ourselves with slightly more difficulty. And the city sends to us their surplus children. That’s how the temple maintains itself, and in return the Corporation doesn’t attack. But we are not allies.”
The girl cocked her head, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. “If that’s true, how are you not allies? There are children from the city here, and supplies? How is that not being allies?”
“The Corporation doesn’t like us,” said Tenna, deciding to try a different way. “They would destroy us if they could. But the Corporation is made of people, many of whom still believe in their faith. They are afraid to destroy us, in case it would call down the wrath of the spirits.”
The girl made a face. “The spirits do not exist.”
“You know that, and I know that,” said Tenna. “But many in the city still believe. They won’t destroy us. They will give us supplies if we want them. They think it’s honorable to send their extra children here to be priests.” Not strictly true, or at least not as true as she wanted the girl to believe, but once she was able to have a proper talk and negotiation with this village leader she could clarify her oversimplified statements.
The girl still looked skeptical. “But you say you’re not allies.”
“We aren’t,” said Tenna. She leaned a little closer to the girl. “They give us supplies, and we use them to keep ourselves strong and ready. They give us their children, and we train them to one day fight against the Corporation.” And now she was almost into entirely fictional territory. Her words were true, at least as a mission statement. But generation after generation had been prepared to fight the city, and all had passed away with nothing done. The truth was, there were too few of them, and the Corporation grew ever more powerful. But perhaps with the rebels as allies, the current generation would be the one to see the Corporation’s fall.
“You use the things they give you against them,” said the girl slowly.
Tenna beamed, glad the girl had made the connection. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”
The girl nodded and stood. “I’ll return to my village and tell the leader what you’ve said.”
“He may come himself next time, if he desires,” said Tenna, also standing. “You tell him that I promise no harm will come to him. We would be glad to have the rebels as our allies.”
The girl stuck out her hand, and Tenna’s mouth quirked at the archaic gesture. But she took the hand anyway. The rebels were backward, but it wouldn’t do to offend potential allies.
“Thank you,” said the girl, and Tenna saw the knife a second too late.
The girl yanked hard on Tenna’s arm, jerking her forward as she plunged the knife up and beneath her ribcage. The air fled from Tenna’s body, her chest deflating, breath suddenly too hard to draw, and she knew the girl’s knife had pierced a lung. She clung to the girl, and barely felt it when she withdrew the knife and plunged it in again. Then a third and fourth time. Blood pooled on the floor, but surely that wasn’t from her own body? She was starting to see dark spots.
And with her last breath, she whispered, “Why? We could be allies.”
“The priests are liars,” the girl sneered. “You don’t fight the Corporation. You say you will, but you enjoy their bounty too much. You’ll never turn against them.” She extracted the knife one last time. “It was exactly as the leader said. We could never be allies. You’ll turn against us the moment the Corporation offers you comfort.”
“No,” Tenna tried to say, but she could no longer draw breath. She slumped onto the floor as the girl moved away from her. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, the girl stop in front of the globe and turn it slowly with the hand not clutching the bloody knife.
“You’re of use to no one,” she said. “You want the old world back. But it’s gone.” With one sweep of her arm she threw the globe to the floor, where it shattered against the stone. “This fight is about control of the new world, and you’ll never understand that.” She turned to look down at Tenna. “This is my message: there is a war coming, and when it happens, stay out of our way, or we will make no distinction between Corporation and temple.” She smirked. “You won’t be able to repeat that to anyone, but I believe the message will be clear.”
The last thing Tenna saw was the ends of the girl’s too-long trousers disappearing through the doorway.