shadowsong26 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2015-04-14 09:48 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2015-04-14 09:48 pm
Clean Again #9, Rose #30
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Colors
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Clean Again #9. Color Me Happy, Rose #30. God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in December.
Supplies and Materials: photography, frame (1025 FY), fabric, seed beads, novelty beads (Colors, like features, follow the changes of the emotions. - Pablo Picasso)
Word Count: 153
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Roneli
Warnings: skipDiscussed parental death.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
When Roneli thinks of her father, she thinks of colors.
She grew up in the North--which isn’t colorless, exactly, especially not in summer when the ice turns the sunlight into rainbows; but Papa’s colors were always so much more vibrant. She always knew him, when he came, by the colors he brought her; red-gold and bright, with a warm smile crinkling the corners of his dark, dark eyes.
It’s been years since then, and she’s all grown up, and Papa is gone. She lives in her grandmother’s capital, where the palace makes rainbows almost like the ice she knew, even if the world around them is dusty tan instead of white, and she misses her childhood home and Aunt Taz and Uncle Dallu and Dal and Selti and Papa, so much it aches.
But once in a while, she sees a bright splash of color on the horizon, and she thinks of her father’s warmth and light, and smiles at the memory.
Story: Colors
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Clean Again #9. Color Me Happy, Rose #30. God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in December.
Supplies and Materials: photography, frame (1025 FY), fabric, seed beads, novelty beads (Colors, like features, follow the changes of the emotions. - Pablo Picasso)
Word Count: 153
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Roneli
Warnings: skipDiscussed parental death.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
When Roneli thinks of her father, she thinks of colors.
She grew up in the North--which isn’t colorless, exactly, especially not in summer when the ice turns the sunlight into rainbows; but Papa’s colors were always so much more vibrant. She always knew him, when he came, by the colors he brought her; red-gold and bright, with a warm smile crinkling the corners of his dark, dark eyes.
It’s been years since then, and she’s all grown up, and Papa is gone. She lives in her grandmother’s capital, where the palace makes rainbows almost like the ice she knew, even if the world around them is dusty tan instead of white, and she misses her childhood home and Aunt Taz and Uncle Dallu and Dal and Selti and Papa, so much it aches.
But once in a while, she sees a bright splash of color on the horizon, and she thinks of her father’s warmth and light, and smiles at the memory.