Well Aimed Chaos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whitemage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2015-04-08 01:01 am
whitemage) wrote in rainbowfic2015-04-08 01:01 am
Entry tags:
Angel Cake 1; Fever Red 14; Bone 8
Name: Ardy
Piece/Story: Making Chaoskampf
Colors: Angel Cake 1 (glorious appearing); Fever Red 14 (fever); Bone 8 (death knell)
Word Count: 911
Ratings/Warnings: Warning: character death/PG-13
Summary: A classic story of hubris leading to downfall. Now with more firebirds.
Notes: I like myth mash-ups almost as much as music mash-ups. So just wait until next semester when I take medieval Indian devotional literature.
The prince of those lands was the right hand of his emperor, the greatest general among the cavalry. His conquest and cruelty were legendary, with the people of his land praising his name as a protector equally with those he led campaigns against cursing his name as foe.
He liked to flaunt his wealth and favor as a sign of security for his people. Collecting exotic spoils was a favorite pastime of his, and it made his palace a splendid wonderland to visit.
At one of the lavish parties his advisor arranged, he was presented with a beautiful firebird from the desert lands of the South. They called her a princess, he called her beautiful, and didn't care he knew so little about her people or her status. She had been taken from the household of an enemy lord--striking a great blow at an opponent who boasted advanced sophistication.
He loved her instantly, heart and loins burning for her, but she spurned him publicly. So he asked his advisor to deal with her--and that one, he put her in the lower levels of the castle, in a gilt cage magicked to be fireproof.
Each day, the prince retreated to his private quarters to gaze upon her, to talk softly and tenderly to her. He apologized for the harshness of his man, the coldness of the castle. He told her, “Look, I saved you from a wretched life in that noble’s home. You can be free here, if you simply acknowledge me.”
But she remained unresponsive towards him, refusing to talk or to show off her lovely flaming plumage. Again, he told her, "I know that you will learn to love me someday--when you understand the love I have for you."
She simply pulled the veil closer over her face, eyes gazing out to visions he could not access and she would not reveal.
When he would leave, she would talk to the first resident of his growing menagerie: a great wolf of the far North. He told tales of barbaric wars that rocked the Heavens, and valiant heroes and gods who feared him even as they called on his name. He boasted of far more prestigious chains than these, chains he would rattle to strike terror into the hearts of the duplicitous and cowardly.
One day, she finally let down her veil, speaking softly, "I, too, was once a great force. I was created in perfection by God himself--the first being incarnate, who held the mysteries of life, and death, and rebirth. I was the first fire to burn, and now I'm a hapless sack of bones, asked to dance and to sing. My father on High is no doubt ashamed of me."
"Or enraged at the cruelty of men. Tell me, why don't you free yourself, shining bird?" Though he knew the answer. Her cage was immune to fire, his chains immune to his brute strength. The whole castle was spelled, and the prince himself was protected.
So they talked, and they waited. And each day, he coaxed out a little more of her with his questions. And she began to burn for him, the way the prince burned for her.
Eventually, the prince caught on to the wolf and the bird. As punishment--though it grieved him, to lose such a fine specimen--he took the wolf out to his garden and killed him in jealousy. He ordered his servants to skin the beast's pelt to hang on his wall, opposite the bird's cage.
Luckily, the servants were the lay-about sort, and ignored their lord's request, waiting until nightfall to gather in the corpse. But by the first rays of the moon, the Wolf had disappeared, revived by the Firebird’s resurrection charm in his heart that granted him back his full, former power.
He sped to a neighboring kingdom, happening upon the lazy son of a fellow prince. The boy was bemoaning his fortunes and basking in the grand ennui reserved for immature royalty, just as the Bird had said he would be.
More diplomatic than many assumed, the Wolf convinced the young noble that he would aid him in making a name for himself, gathering to him a kingdom more powerful than any of his brothers'. The lad believed him, and the Wolf helped him pull ruse after ruse on the prince who held the Wolf’s beloved Firebird captive.
Not long after, the young man's kingdom and the prince's went to war--to the displeasure of the emperor. Battle than erupted across the empire, all the armies polarized on who they would support.
The young man, watching his world crumble, ordered the Wolf to help him rescue the Firebird in a desperate bid to save himself and his family by begging a boon of her as her liberator. When the human noble undid the wards on the prince’s palace, the Wolf gladly obliged in wrenching open the bars of her cage. But in the chaos that ensued, he helped her flee her self-appointed hero, and the noble found only the prince. The prince accused him of stealing the precious Firebird, he accused the prince of hiding her. They died at each other’s hands, in a vicious duel over something both wanted so badly to possess.
Meanwhile, the Firebird and the Wolf tore across the empire like a dance of death between ancient lovers.
Piece/Story: Making Chaoskampf
Colors: Angel Cake 1 (glorious appearing); Fever Red 14 (fever); Bone 8 (death knell)
Word Count: 911
Ratings/Warnings: Warning: character death/PG-13
Summary: A classic story of hubris leading to downfall. Now with more firebirds.
Notes: I like myth mash-ups almost as much as music mash-ups. So just wait until next semester when I take medieval Indian devotional literature.
The prince of those lands was the right hand of his emperor, the greatest general among the cavalry. His conquest and cruelty were legendary, with the people of his land praising his name as a protector equally with those he led campaigns against cursing his name as foe.
He liked to flaunt his wealth and favor as a sign of security for his people. Collecting exotic spoils was a favorite pastime of his, and it made his palace a splendid wonderland to visit.
At one of the lavish parties his advisor arranged, he was presented with a beautiful firebird from the desert lands of the South. They called her a princess, he called her beautiful, and didn't care he knew so little about her people or her status. She had been taken from the household of an enemy lord--striking a great blow at an opponent who boasted advanced sophistication.
He loved her instantly, heart and loins burning for her, but she spurned him publicly. So he asked his advisor to deal with her--and that one, he put her in the lower levels of the castle, in a gilt cage magicked to be fireproof.
Each day, the prince retreated to his private quarters to gaze upon her, to talk softly and tenderly to her. He apologized for the harshness of his man, the coldness of the castle. He told her, “Look, I saved you from a wretched life in that noble’s home. You can be free here, if you simply acknowledge me.”
But she remained unresponsive towards him, refusing to talk or to show off her lovely flaming plumage. Again, he told her, "I know that you will learn to love me someday--when you understand the love I have for you."
She simply pulled the veil closer over her face, eyes gazing out to visions he could not access and she would not reveal.
When he would leave, she would talk to the first resident of his growing menagerie: a great wolf of the far North. He told tales of barbaric wars that rocked the Heavens, and valiant heroes and gods who feared him even as they called on his name. He boasted of far more prestigious chains than these, chains he would rattle to strike terror into the hearts of the duplicitous and cowardly.
One day, she finally let down her veil, speaking softly, "I, too, was once a great force. I was created in perfection by God himself--the first being incarnate, who held the mysteries of life, and death, and rebirth. I was the first fire to burn, and now I'm a hapless sack of bones, asked to dance and to sing. My father on High is no doubt ashamed of me."
"Or enraged at the cruelty of men. Tell me, why don't you free yourself, shining bird?" Though he knew the answer. Her cage was immune to fire, his chains immune to his brute strength. The whole castle was spelled, and the prince himself was protected.
So they talked, and they waited. And each day, he coaxed out a little more of her with his questions. And she began to burn for him, the way the prince burned for her.
Eventually, the prince caught on to the wolf and the bird. As punishment--though it grieved him, to lose such a fine specimen--he took the wolf out to his garden and killed him in jealousy. He ordered his servants to skin the beast's pelt to hang on his wall, opposite the bird's cage.
Luckily, the servants were the lay-about sort, and ignored their lord's request, waiting until nightfall to gather in the corpse. But by the first rays of the moon, the Wolf had disappeared, revived by the Firebird’s resurrection charm in his heart that granted him back his full, former power.
He sped to a neighboring kingdom, happening upon the lazy son of a fellow prince. The boy was bemoaning his fortunes and basking in the grand ennui reserved for immature royalty, just as the Bird had said he would be.
More diplomatic than many assumed, the Wolf convinced the young noble that he would aid him in making a name for himself, gathering to him a kingdom more powerful than any of his brothers'. The lad believed him, and the Wolf helped him pull ruse after ruse on the prince who held the Wolf’s beloved Firebird captive.
Not long after, the young man's kingdom and the prince's went to war--to the displeasure of the emperor. Battle than erupted across the empire, all the armies polarized on who they would support.
The young man, watching his world crumble, ordered the Wolf to help him rescue the Firebird in a desperate bid to save himself and his family by begging a boon of her as her liberator. When the human noble undid the wards on the prince’s palace, the Wolf gladly obliged in wrenching open the bars of her cage. But in the chaos that ensued, he helped her flee her self-appointed hero, and the noble found only the prince. The prince accused him of stealing the precious Firebird, he accused the prince of hiding her. They died at each other’s hands, in a vicious duel over something both wanted so badly to possess.
Meanwhile, the Firebird and the Wolf tore across the empire like a dance of death between ancient lovers.
no subject
no subject
Honestly, I always wondered why the wolf would help him. I know mystical animal helpers are common in fairy and folktales, but I feel like the lengths the wolf goes to means he's more than a motif and there's something in it for him.
And I love the fact the firebird-"princess" chose the "barbaric" wolf over either of the "cultured" Slavic princes, but that's my petty personal tastes creeping through, she says instead of writing a 3 page feminist discourse.
no subject
no subject
I'd been working on Firebird and Wolf symbolism for a while, but it took a while to find context for these two in particular.
no subject
Though, now I want firebird sisters and their punkrock band.
no subject
Lily, you are not getting Sid Vicount and the Firdbirdettes. Even though that would be like if Jem taught a comparative mythology course and I am so down with that.
no subject
If you've already connected it with Jem and the Holograms then I'm QUITE OBVIOUSLY getting it.
no subject
no subject
Hey, don't blame me for the way the world naturally works.
no subject
And I loved reading all of this, but my favorite line hands down: he boy was bemoaning his fortunes and basking in the grand ennui reserved for immature royalty, just as the Bird had said he would be.
Yes. I just. I love your sense of snarky wonder when you write. It makes me happy!
no subject
Haha--I'm glad it makes you happy. It was a super-cathartic line to write. In fact, this whole thing was.
no subject