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rainbowfic2016-02-11 05:58 pm
crossfortune) wrote in rainbowfic2016-02-11 05:58 pm
live die and know;
Name: Mischa
Story: as the daylight falls
Colors: vienna orange (If I had known, I'd do it all over, exactly the same), warm light (We all write our own endings and we all have our own scars), bistre (there are many kinds of beauty)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 995
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None, I think? Correct me please if I'm wrong.
Summary: There once was a little girl, who loved her family more than anything in the world. And then they were murdered.
If you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. (They underestimate you).
Aisling, revenge, and how it consumes her life (until it doesn't).
notes: another piece for creative writing class.
If you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
(They underestimate you).
***
There once was a little girl, who lived happily with her parents and sisters.
(And then they died.)
There once was a little girl, whose family loved her, whose mother sang lullabies learned from her mother in Taiwan, before she married and left. there once was a little girl, who was happy. There once was a little girl, who loved her family more than anything in the world. and then they were murdered.
There once was a little girl-
***
(Your family, you find out later, had no magic, had never awakened to the broken heart of the world. not like you. Maybe that’s why you alone lived. but it doesn’t matter to you, then.
The abyss crawls along your skin. creeping, crawling awful purity of purpose. You will never scrub it out. Like you will never get the murderer’s giggling out of your head, like you will never quite scrub the feel of your family’s blood from your skin-)
***
You grow up bitter. You grow up angry, with Braille beneath your fingertips, a blade in your hand, and magic in your heart, with the abyss whispering interminably in the back of your head. You make yourself three promises: that you’ll never let the abyss claim you, that you will never fall in love, and that you will have your revenge.
(and then Kalika sweeps into your life, all bright, beautiful fearlessness and certainty, with laughter in her voice. you can’t help yourself. you can’t help falling in love. but you promise yourself that you will never love her more than your revenge.)
***
The name they give you is Aisling of the Clear Eyes, Aisling the Clear-Eyed. You don’t understand why, when the only thing you’ve ever seen is the tangle of fate, the strands that connect everything. You’re blind, have always been blind from the moment of your birth, (and double-blinded by your desire for revenge) and your eyes have never been anything but clouded.
(You remember. You remember other worlds, other lives, where you were given a choice between your lover and your revenge, and chose your revenge every time. Shoved your sword through Kalika to get to your target, kill the girl who killed your family without another blink.
Kalika’s fingers on your cheek, smearing blood on your skin. “Go on, love.” she says, and exhales one last time. “Keep on keeping on.”
It always ends the same way.)
You lie awake, with the abyss singing in the back of your mind quiet as it does, listening to Kalika breathe in and out, and wonder if you would make the same choice. Once, you would have been certain, but as you lie there tracing her face as she sleeps, the most infinitesimally soft brush of your fingertips as you map features beneath your touch that you will never see, you are not so sure.
(now, you are not so certain. and that you love her enough to waver is terrifying.)
***
if you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
(they underestimate you).
***
(it all begins the same)
The girl laughs, her arm around your girlfriend’s throat, holds her close in a bone-breaking grip so tight that you can hear the crack, and your blood boils. You can taste blood on your tongue, feel blood on your skin, and you move without thinking about it, slam your blade home
(there was once a little girl. there was once a little girl whose family died. there was once a girl who made a choice-)
“Aisling,” Kalika says, and coughs up blood, with your sword in her chest. The girl you’ve been trying to kill for years laughs, breath rattling, but she’s still alive. She’s still alive, you could finish her off: one spell. That’s all it would take. That’s all. That’s all it would take, and all you have time for. But-
(but-
Just one. The girl or your girlfriend. Your revenge or your lover.)
You pull your sword free and drop the blade, hold your girlfriend close, and the girl you’ve spent your life chasing gets away. It’s taken you this long. It’s taken you this long to realize that you’ve always chosen wrongly-
And you’re going to make it right.
(Clear-Eyed Aisling. Clear-eyed only now, at the end of your life, and the irony is bitter on your tongue. You’ve done so many damn things wrong, and maybe, maybe for once, you can do something right. The one thing you’ve ever done right, from the moment your life shattered, a crying little girl with your family’s blood all over you and the abyss whispering in the back of your head, whispering whispering whispering.
Maybe it wouldn’t be enough. But it’d be something worthwhile. Maybe the only worthwhile thing you’ve ever done.)
You spin the threads between you and Kalika, spin all the remaining years of your life into the connection, give it all to her. Your life, all your potential futures, everything you ever were and ever could have been. Your life for hers.
“A-Aisling?” Kalika asks, sounding stricken, but you don’t have time to explain, as your life ebbs away. You smile at her, first and last time, and try to put everything you feel into it.
Good luck, you want to say, almost, or I love you, or-
But your tongue would trip on the words, even now, and you don’t have time. You loved her enough to do this, and it’ll have to be enough.
“Don’t you dare cry,” you say, your voice rough, and echo back her words across more worlds, more lives than you can count, where you’ve made the wrong choice. Where you made the wrong choice and it didn’t matter anyway. “Go on. Keep on keeping on.”
***
if you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
(they underestimate you, because the only grave you dig is your own.)
Story: as the daylight falls
Colors: vienna orange (If I had known, I'd do it all over, exactly the same), warm light (We all write our own endings and we all have our own scars), bistre (there are many kinds of beauty)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 995
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None, I think? Correct me please if I'm wrong.
Summary: There once was a little girl, who loved her family more than anything in the world. And then they were murdered.
If you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. (They underestimate you).
Aisling, revenge, and how it consumes her life (until it doesn't).
notes: another piece for creative writing class.
If you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
(They underestimate you).
***
There once was a little girl, who lived happily with her parents and sisters.
(And then they died.)
There once was a little girl, whose family loved her, whose mother sang lullabies learned from her mother in Taiwan, before she married and left. there once was a little girl, who was happy. There once was a little girl, who loved her family more than anything in the world. and then they were murdered.
There once was a little girl-
***
(Your family, you find out later, had no magic, had never awakened to the broken heart of the world. not like you. Maybe that’s why you alone lived. but it doesn’t matter to you, then.
The abyss crawls along your skin. creeping, crawling awful purity of purpose. You will never scrub it out. Like you will never get the murderer’s giggling out of your head, like you will never quite scrub the feel of your family’s blood from your skin-)
***
You grow up bitter. You grow up angry, with Braille beneath your fingertips, a blade in your hand, and magic in your heart, with the abyss whispering interminably in the back of your head. You make yourself three promises: that you’ll never let the abyss claim you, that you will never fall in love, and that you will have your revenge.
(and then Kalika sweeps into your life, all bright, beautiful fearlessness and certainty, with laughter in her voice. you can’t help yourself. you can’t help falling in love. but you promise yourself that you will never love her more than your revenge.)
***
The name they give you is Aisling of the Clear Eyes, Aisling the Clear-Eyed. You don’t understand why, when the only thing you’ve ever seen is the tangle of fate, the strands that connect everything. You’re blind, have always been blind from the moment of your birth, (and double-blinded by your desire for revenge) and your eyes have never been anything but clouded.
(You remember. You remember other worlds, other lives, where you were given a choice between your lover and your revenge, and chose your revenge every time. Shoved your sword through Kalika to get to your target, kill the girl who killed your family without another blink.
Kalika’s fingers on your cheek, smearing blood on your skin. “Go on, love.” she says, and exhales one last time. “Keep on keeping on.”
It always ends the same way.)
You lie awake, with the abyss singing in the back of your mind quiet as it does, listening to Kalika breathe in and out, and wonder if you would make the same choice. Once, you would have been certain, but as you lie there tracing her face as she sleeps, the most infinitesimally soft brush of your fingertips as you map features beneath your touch that you will never see, you are not so sure.
(now, you are not so certain. and that you love her enough to waver is terrifying.)
***
if you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
(they underestimate you).
***
(it all begins the same)
The girl laughs, her arm around your girlfriend’s throat, holds her close in a bone-breaking grip so tight that you can hear the crack, and your blood boils. You can taste blood on your tongue, feel blood on your skin, and you move without thinking about it, slam your blade home
(there was once a little girl. there was once a little girl whose family died. there was once a girl who made a choice-)
“Aisling,” Kalika says, and coughs up blood, with your sword in her chest. The girl you’ve been trying to kill for years laughs, breath rattling, but she’s still alive. She’s still alive, you could finish her off: one spell. That’s all it would take. That’s all. That’s all it would take, and all you have time for. But-
(but-
Just one. The girl or your girlfriend. Your revenge or your lover.)
You pull your sword free and drop the blade, hold your girlfriend close, and the girl you’ve spent your life chasing gets away. It’s taken you this long. It’s taken you this long to realize that you’ve always chosen wrongly-
And you’re going to make it right.
(Clear-Eyed Aisling. Clear-eyed only now, at the end of your life, and the irony is bitter on your tongue. You’ve done so many damn things wrong, and maybe, maybe for once, you can do something right. The one thing you’ve ever done right, from the moment your life shattered, a crying little girl with your family’s blood all over you and the abyss whispering in the back of your head, whispering whispering whispering.
Maybe it wouldn’t be enough. But it’d be something worthwhile. Maybe the only worthwhile thing you’ve ever done.)
You spin the threads between you and Kalika, spin all the remaining years of your life into the connection, give it all to her. Your life, all your potential futures, everything you ever were and ever could have been. Your life for hers.
“A-Aisling?” Kalika asks, sounding stricken, but you don’t have time to explain, as your life ebbs away. You smile at her, first and last time, and try to put everything you feel into it.
Good luck, you want to say, almost, or I love you, or-
But your tongue would trip on the words, even now, and you don’t have time. You loved her enough to do this, and it’ll have to be enough.
“Don’t you dare cry,” you say, your voice rough, and echo back her words across more worlds, more lives than you can count, where you’ve made the wrong choice. Where you made the wrong choice and it didn’t matter anyway. “Go on. Keep on keeping on.”
***
if you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
(they underestimate you, because the only grave you dig is your own.)
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