the androgynous keeper of plushfrogs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crossfortune) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2015-05-25 03:33 am
crossfortune) wrote in rainbowfic2015-05-25 03:33 am
Entry tags:
it's a long way down
Name: Mischa
Story: as if words could be undone
Colors: dove grey (mourning is not forgetting...it is an undoing), octarine (Look, that's why there's rules, understand? So that you think before you break 'em.), halloween orange (some little things get broken, and a little means a lot.)
Supplies and Styles: fingerpainting
Word Count: 151
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Mikha has never liked her youngest brother's lover: she hadn't liked Ilya, but he'd made Mira actually smile, and that had almost been good enough, until it hadn't been anymore.
Notes: I tried for this to be a miniature, and failed.
Mikha has never liked her youngest brother’s lover: she’s never liked Ilya, but something about him had caught Mira’s moon-inconstant heart and held it, and she held her tongue. He smiles but is never quite true, quicksilver reflections from a life before Zora had adopted all her children, all her students, a life he seldom speaks about, even to them. She hadn’t liked Ilya, but he’d made Mira actually smile, and that had almost been good enough, until it hadn’t been anymore.
She glares at Ilya until he flinches beneath the weight of her stare. It doesn’t take much to know why he’s sought her out, despite knowing full well she doesn’t like him. The only thing they have in common is Mira - and she wishes, not for the last time, that Mira had never fallen in love, had gone on flirting with anyone and everyone who had struck his fancy.
“Yes, I know where Mira has gone.” she says, and leans forward across the table, her pale braids swinging. Mira was the strongest of them, but the weakest, too: they all have too much to do, to stitch together what’s left of the world and heal what they can, without their mother to guide their way, too much loss and too much sorrow, but perhaps, someday, he’d stitch his broken heart back together, too. “But why would I ever tell you?”
Ilya opens his mouth, but she cuts him off as she stands, having entirely enough of this meeting. “I entrusted you with my brother’s fragile heart once. Never again. He loved you - be content with that.”
Story: as if words could be undone
Colors: dove grey (mourning is not forgetting...it is an undoing), octarine (Look, that's why there's rules, understand? So that you think before you break 'em.), halloween orange (some little things get broken, and a little means a lot.)
Supplies and Styles: fingerpainting
Word Count: 151
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Mikha has never liked her youngest brother's lover: she hadn't liked Ilya, but he'd made Mira actually smile, and that had almost been good enough, until it hadn't been anymore.
Notes: I tried for this to be a miniature, and failed.
Mikha has never liked her youngest brother’s lover: she’s never liked Ilya, but something about him had caught Mira’s moon-inconstant heart and held it, and she held her tongue. He smiles but is never quite true, quicksilver reflections from a life before Zora had adopted all her children, all her students, a life he seldom speaks about, even to them. She hadn’t liked Ilya, but he’d made Mira actually smile, and that had almost been good enough, until it hadn’t been anymore.
She glares at Ilya until he flinches beneath the weight of her stare. It doesn’t take much to know why he’s sought her out, despite knowing full well she doesn’t like him. The only thing they have in common is Mira - and she wishes, not for the last time, that Mira had never fallen in love, had gone on flirting with anyone and everyone who had struck his fancy.
“Yes, I know where Mira has gone.” she says, and leans forward across the table, her pale braids swinging. Mira was the strongest of them, but the weakest, too: they all have too much to do, to stitch together what’s left of the world and heal what they can, without their mother to guide their way, too much loss and too much sorrow, but perhaps, someday, he’d stitch his broken heart back together, too. “But why would I ever tell you?”
Ilya opens his mouth, but she cuts him off as she stands, having entirely enough of this meeting. “I entrusted you with my brother’s fragile heart once. Never again. He loved you - be content with that.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
That end
And the way you sold it to us.
It's glorious and thank you.
no subject
I'm really glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
no subject
I think I ended up liking that particular turn of phrase best (besides the ending).
no subject
no subject