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)
rainbowfic2015-06-16 02:59 am
crossfortune) wrote in rainbowfic2015-06-16 02:59 am
Entry tags:
harbor
Name: Mischa
Story: as if words could be undone
Colors: octarine (The man gave a shrug which indicated that, although the world did indeed have many problems, this was one of them that was not his), verdigris (crumbling plaster)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 140
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: N/A, I think
Summary: Sorin has never learned how to wield a weapon in either of his lives. Let his siblings, their mother, go out into the world and do what needs to be done: they will need a sanctuary, somewhere safe to return to.
Sorin has never learned how to wield a weapon in either of his lives: before he died, he had been a librarian, a scribe, faithful preserver of knowledge from ages past. After his death, he is much the same, and never has need of steel. Let his siblings, their mother, go out into the world and do what needs to be done: they will need a sanctuary, somewhere safe to return to.
Then fire rains from the sky: his protections are not enough, and safety shatters. The world shatters. Their mother dies. His siblings scatter. He grows tired of the world outside, and retreats into his books. He’s never been a man to go out and do things: instead, he rebuilds, lays the protections, one by one.
All he can offer is sanctuary, peace, stillness: a harbor, and nothing more.
Story: as if words could be undone
Colors: octarine (The man gave a shrug which indicated that, although the world did indeed have many problems, this was one of them that was not his), verdigris (crumbling plaster)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 140
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: N/A, I think
Summary: Sorin has never learned how to wield a weapon in either of his lives. Let his siblings, their mother, go out into the world and do what needs to be done: they will need a sanctuary, somewhere safe to return to.
Sorin has never learned how to wield a weapon in either of his lives: before he died, he had been a librarian, a scribe, faithful preserver of knowledge from ages past. After his death, he is much the same, and never has need of steel. Let his siblings, their mother, go out into the world and do what needs to be done: they will need a sanctuary, somewhere safe to return to.
Then fire rains from the sky: his protections are not enough, and safety shatters. The world shatters. Their mother dies. His siblings scatter. He grows tired of the world outside, and retreats into his books. He’s never been a man to go out and do things: instead, he rebuilds, lays the protections, one by one.
All he can offer is sanctuary, peace, stillness: a harbor, and nothing more.