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rainbowfic2016-04-17 05:23 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2016-04-17 05:23 pm
Plant Party #44, Oliphaunt Grey #2, Fluorite #9
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Wooing
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Plant Party #44. Osiria Rose, Oliphaunt Grey #2. The light ... fell like bright rain, Fluorite #9. Expert/Learning
Supplies and Materials: novelty beads ("That someone as beautiful as she/could love someone like me." Ma Belle Evangeline, The Princess and the Frog), yarn, glue (It's smarter to keep everything light and easy today in spite of your sudden desire to delve into the unknown emotional realms...You only need to be accountable for your response to external events; you don't have to fix them.)
Word Count: 1675
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sefalin, Landelye
Warnings: Discussion of impending civil war.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Dear Sir,
I have seen no concrete evidence of external aggression from King Larien, and thus far no such gestures from the broader court itself seem to have moved past rhetoric. While there is support for a war, it is not active or insistent, at least at this point in time. Unfortunately, that is the extent of the good news I can share. I have reason to believe that this inspiring behavior has less to do with any real pacifism than with their focus being drawn by the quietly escalating succession dispute between Princess Landelye and Prince Tahnrin. This, too, has remained rhetorical thus far, but I have my doubts as to how long that stage of things will last...
Sefalin was being wooed.
Tahnrin and Landelye were fortunately much subtler and therefore less off-putting than Rehanye, but they had still made things eminently clear--each wanted his support for their claim. And, by extension, they wanted his father's support. He knew better than to promise it to either, of course. Even if he decided which he supported, he couldn't promise anything like that. He could recommend a course of action--and he would, eventually--but Father only listened to him about half the time. Besides, there was a very good chance he would assert the Church's traditional neutrality, whatever Sef ended up recommending.
Not that he'd decided on a recommendation, not yet. But it was something he had to keep in mind, especially since the prince and princess seemed laser focused on it. And he couldn't avoid being drawn into their dispute, not without abandoning his post altogether.
Lendalye and Tahnrin were, in simple fact, acting almost as if Sef and the potential international support he represented were merely the first battle in what promised to be a very long war of succession.
If the situation wasn't so very dangerous--and if he had any reason to believe that their interest was at all sincere or personal--he might almost be flattered by it. Of course, that didn't enter his mind, except as occasional wishful thinking. The fact was, this mess meant he was now juggling two potential wars instead of one, and he certainly wasn't arrogant enough to assume that either Landelye or Tahnrin would bother flirting with him because they enjoyed his company, or even just appreciated his body, without some other implicit gain involved.
But what he couldn't deny--and what made this game all the more dangerous--was that the opposite was absolutely true for him. He would be more than willing to enter into an honest flirtation with either of them.
Landelye was beautiful, and only three years younger than him, with soft dark hair usually left youthfully loose, and warm, sparkling dark eyes. She was, perhaps, not quite as pretty as her sister, but she had a way of carrying herself, a confidence that came with just a little more power, just a little more experience, that drew the eye and commanded attention.
She was very bright, too--clever and engaging, with a sharp, sarcastic wit that occasionally bordered on cruel. Spending time with her was often rather like a duel--or, at least, what Sef imagined a duel might be like. Priests were naturally forbidden such things.
He was with the princess today. She had invited him to come riding with her and her ladies again. He wasn't much of a horseman, but he'd agreed anyway. Above and beyond the political importance of staying in her good graces--at least until and unles he decided to recommend her uncle as heir--he enjoyed spending time with her. To tell the truth, predatory grace and all, he enjoyed spending time with every member of her family, from her enigmatic father to her terrifying mother to her slightly awkward sister to her very dangerous uncle.
He liked them--all of them. Or, at the very least, all five of them fascinated him. Certainly he wasn't going to refuse a chance to spend time with any of them, however heavily chaperoned.
Even if, for today and Princess Landelye, doing so involved horses.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the princess herself fell back to pace him for a moment. "And how are you faring, Excellency?"
He flashed her a brief smile. "Very well, thank you, Highness." Or at least he hadn't fallen off this time. The last time he'd accepted such an indication from her had been...much less dignified. That was a good way to put it.
She turned a critical eye on him. "Your seat is improving, at least. Before too long, you might even become a credit to your house."
That stung, more than he could afford to let on--he and his father had never gotten along well, not the way Father and Ahnrel and Neiali did. Neiali's mother had told him once it was because they were far too alike to be civil with prolonged exposure.
Still, while Fahletya was probably correct, it hurt to see Ahnrel and Neiali finding an easy companionship with their father that he could never achieve, no matter how hard he tried.
Of course, Princess Landelye couldn't know any of that. The Holy City had to appear united to outsiders. Particularly the household of the High Priest.
Instead, he gave a slightly theatrical sigh and pulled a mournful face. "There are so few opportunities to ride in the Holy City," he said, then let his tone lighten just a hair--a carefully calculated hair--and added, "If I've learned anything at all, it's far more to be credited to your patience my lady, than to any skill of mine."
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell he'd pleased her. "It does help when one has such...impressive raw material to work with," she mused, looking him up and down with slow, careful calculation.
Sef felt his ears burn. He was tall, he knew, unreasonably so, and relatively fit--or, at least, he'd heard no complaints in the past--but dear gods Elanheans were bold.
He coughed awkwardly. "Thank you, Highness," he said, somehow without stammering.
Landelye let out a peal of delighted laughter. "Ah, ladies, see how he blushes! Tell me, Excellency, are all moon priests as shy as you? Gods know the fire priest who taught me as a child wasn't. The number of women he was rumored to seduce..."
Slightly safer ground, that. "I can't speak for all of my order, Highness, but as a rule, fire priests would be bolder, yes."
She arched one delicate dark eyebrow. "Is that so? Then fire truly is the passionate Pillar, is it not?"
"You can think of it like that, if you like," he said. The horse shifted under him unexpectedly, coming to an incline. Sef tried to shift along with it, and, judging by Landelye's faint smirk, bungled it.
But he kept his seat, that was the most important thing.
"And how would you think of it, Excellency?" she asked. "Or is that a great Church mystery?"
He smiled at her. "Not a mystery at all." He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts and his balance. "All of the Pillars have their fair share of passion. Take earth, for example--a solid, sustaining, nurturing passion, or water, which shapes and fosters growth, or even sun, which imparts life-giving light to the world. Every Pillar is passionate, it's just the shape it takes that varies. The fire Pillar has the reputation it does, because...well, it's a very intense Pillar, and a very changeable one. No flame is exactly the same from one instant to the next, after all."
"So, fire is intense, but brief and fickle. I cannot depend on fire."
He shook his head. "Say that fire is dynamic, rather than fickle, Highness."
"Ah, I forgot," she said. "Our Holy Father came from a fire order, didn't he."
"He did," Sef confirmed, with a slightly rueful smile. "He has all the...intensity his Pillar demands."
"I see," she said, giving him a measured look.
He held his breath a moment, half expecting her to press and ask further uncomfortable questions about his father and his family or--gods forbid--his childhood.
But no. She washed away her calculation with an airy, slightly flirtatious smile. "Then, tell me, Excellency--if the sun and the earth and the water foster life, and if fire is dynamic and intense, what is the passion of the moon like?"
"Ah," he said, a breathy sigh. He smiled at her again. "The moon...well, the moon does change, but always in a pattern. The moon casts shadows, hiding the sharp edges of things. The moon..." If it hadn't been for the damned horse, this would be where he would brush her hand--or, if he dared and she seemed intent enough, her cheek. "The moon softens rough edges, Highness. All things are soft and beautiful and half-hidden in the moonlight. All things have...something not quite seen, something unfamiliar, in a pattern just this side of strange."
Landelye let out a soft sigh of her own. "I think I understand, Excellency," she said, then lifted her head and called to her ladies. "Come, girls, let us find a place where our dear priest can sit on something that doesn't move for a moment." Her eyes flickered over to him. "I think I would like to learn more about the moon."
Sef's heart skipped a beat. Well, he thought, a little dazed. Maybe she does like me after all.
Or maybe not, maybe she was just a phenomenal actress. Either way, it wasn't going to be easy to keep his head negotiating with Princess Landelye, not after that conversation.
And wherever she wanted it to lead.
He nudged his horse to speed up and follow hers, and, wonder of wonders, it actually obeyed.
The whole party of them--Sef, the princess, and her ladies--sped up the hill and the necessary focus on his task fortunately killed his libido, at least for the moment.
Whatever was to come next, it certainly wouldn't be boring. And, given what he'd just seen...
Sef dared to hope it might not be all bad.
Story: Wooing
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Plant Party #44. Osiria Rose, Oliphaunt Grey #2. The light ... fell like bright rain, Fluorite #9. Expert/Learning
Supplies and Materials: novelty beads ("That someone as beautiful as she/could love someone like me." Ma Belle Evangeline, The Princess and the Frog), yarn, glue (It's smarter to keep everything light and easy today in spite of your sudden desire to delve into the unknown emotional realms...You only need to be accountable for your response to external events; you don't have to fix them.)
Word Count: 1675
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sefalin, Landelye
Warnings: Discussion of impending civil war.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Dear Sir,
I have seen no concrete evidence of external aggression from King Larien, and thus far no such gestures from the broader court itself seem to have moved past rhetoric. While there is support for a war, it is not active or insistent, at least at this point in time. Unfortunately, that is the extent of the good news I can share. I have reason to believe that this inspiring behavior has less to do with any real pacifism than with their focus being drawn by the quietly escalating succession dispute between Princess Landelye and Prince Tahnrin. This, too, has remained rhetorical thus far, but I have my doubts as to how long that stage of things will last...
Sefalin was being wooed.
Tahnrin and Landelye were fortunately much subtler and therefore less off-putting than Rehanye, but they had still made things eminently clear--each wanted his support for their claim. And, by extension, they wanted his father's support. He knew better than to promise it to either, of course. Even if he decided which he supported, he couldn't promise anything like that. He could recommend a course of action--and he would, eventually--but Father only listened to him about half the time. Besides, there was a very good chance he would assert the Church's traditional neutrality, whatever Sef ended up recommending.
Not that he'd decided on a recommendation, not yet. But it was something he had to keep in mind, especially since the prince and princess seemed laser focused on it. And he couldn't avoid being drawn into their dispute, not without abandoning his post altogether.
Lendalye and Tahnrin were, in simple fact, acting almost as if Sef and the potential international support he represented were merely the first battle in what promised to be a very long war of succession.
If the situation wasn't so very dangerous--and if he had any reason to believe that their interest was at all sincere or personal--he might almost be flattered by it. Of course, that didn't enter his mind, except as occasional wishful thinking. The fact was, this mess meant he was now juggling two potential wars instead of one, and he certainly wasn't arrogant enough to assume that either Landelye or Tahnrin would bother flirting with him because they enjoyed his company, or even just appreciated his body, without some other implicit gain involved.
But what he couldn't deny--and what made this game all the more dangerous--was that the opposite was absolutely true for him. He would be more than willing to enter into an honest flirtation with either of them.
Landelye was beautiful, and only three years younger than him, with soft dark hair usually left youthfully loose, and warm, sparkling dark eyes. She was, perhaps, not quite as pretty as her sister, but she had a way of carrying herself, a confidence that came with just a little more power, just a little more experience, that drew the eye and commanded attention.
She was very bright, too--clever and engaging, with a sharp, sarcastic wit that occasionally bordered on cruel. Spending time with her was often rather like a duel--or, at least, what Sef imagined a duel might be like. Priests were naturally forbidden such things.
He was with the princess today. She had invited him to come riding with her and her ladies again. He wasn't much of a horseman, but he'd agreed anyway. Above and beyond the political importance of staying in her good graces--at least until and unles he decided to recommend her uncle as heir--he enjoyed spending time with her. To tell the truth, predatory grace and all, he enjoyed spending time with every member of her family, from her enigmatic father to her terrifying mother to her slightly awkward sister to her very dangerous uncle.
He liked them--all of them. Or, at the very least, all five of them fascinated him. Certainly he wasn't going to refuse a chance to spend time with any of them, however heavily chaperoned.
Even if, for today and Princess Landelye, doing so involved horses.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the princess herself fell back to pace him for a moment. "And how are you faring, Excellency?"
He flashed her a brief smile. "Very well, thank you, Highness." Or at least he hadn't fallen off this time. The last time he'd accepted such an indication from her had been...much less dignified. That was a good way to put it.
She turned a critical eye on him. "Your seat is improving, at least. Before too long, you might even become a credit to your house."
That stung, more than he could afford to let on--he and his father had never gotten along well, not the way Father and Ahnrel and Neiali did. Neiali's mother had told him once it was because they were far too alike to be civil with prolonged exposure.
Still, while Fahletya was probably correct, it hurt to see Ahnrel and Neiali finding an easy companionship with their father that he could never achieve, no matter how hard he tried.
Of course, Princess Landelye couldn't know any of that. The Holy City had to appear united to outsiders. Particularly the household of the High Priest.
Instead, he gave a slightly theatrical sigh and pulled a mournful face. "There are so few opportunities to ride in the Holy City," he said, then let his tone lighten just a hair--a carefully calculated hair--and added, "If I've learned anything at all, it's far more to be credited to your patience my lady, than to any skill of mine."
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell he'd pleased her. "It does help when one has such...impressive raw material to work with," she mused, looking him up and down with slow, careful calculation.
Sef felt his ears burn. He was tall, he knew, unreasonably so, and relatively fit--or, at least, he'd heard no complaints in the past--but dear gods Elanheans were bold.
He coughed awkwardly. "Thank you, Highness," he said, somehow without stammering.
Landelye let out a peal of delighted laughter. "Ah, ladies, see how he blushes! Tell me, Excellency, are all moon priests as shy as you? Gods know the fire priest who taught me as a child wasn't. The number of women he was rumored to seduce..."
Slightly safer ground, that. "I can't speak for all of my order, Highness, but as a rule, fire priests would be bolder, yes."
She arched one delicate dark eyebrow. "Is that so? Then fire truly is the passionate Pillar, is it not?"
"You can think of it like that, if you like," he said. The horse shifted under him unexpectedly, coming to an incline. Sef tried to shift along with it, and, judging by Landelye's faint smirk, bungled it.
But he kept his seat, that was the most important thing.
"And how would you think of it, Excellency?" she asked. "Or is that a great Church mystery?"
He smiled at her. "Not a mystery at all." He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts and his balance. "All of the Pillars have their fair share of passion. Take earth, for example--a solid, sustaining, nurturing passion, or water, which shapes and fosters growth, or even sun, which imparts life-giving light to the world. Every Pillar is passionate, it's just the shape it takes that varies. The fire Pillar has the reputation it does, because...well, it's a very intense Pillar, and a very changeable one. No flame is exactly the same from one instant to the next, after all."
"So, fire is intense, but brief and fickle. I cannot depend on fire."
He shook his head. "Say that fire is dynamic, rather than fickle, Highness."
"Ah, I forgot," she said. "Our Holy Father came from a fire order, didn't he."
"He did," Sef confirmed, with a slightly rueful smile. "He has all the...intensity his Pillar demands."
"I see," she said, giving him a measured look.
He held his breath a moment, half expecting her to press and ask further uncomfortable questions about his father and his family or--gods forbid--his childhood.
But no. She washed away her calculation with an airy, slightly flirtatious smile. "Then, tell me, Excellency--if the sun and the earth and the water foster life, and if fire is dynamic and intense, what is the passion of the moon like?"
"Ah," he said, a breathy sigh. He smiled at her again. "The moon...well, the moon does change, but always in a pattern. The moon casts shadows, hiding the sharp edges of things. The moon..." If it hadn't been for the damned horse, this would be where he would brush her hand--or, if he dared and she seemed intent enough, her cheek. "The moon softens rough edges, Highness. All things are soft and beautiful and half-hidden in the moonlight. All things have...something not quite seen, something unfamiliar, in a pattern just this side of strange."
Landelye let out a soft sigh of her own. "I think I understand, Excellency," she said, then lifted her head and called to her ladies. "Come, girls, let us find a place where our dear priest can sit on something that doesn't move for a moment." Her eyes flickered over to him. "I think I would like to learn more about the moon."
Sef's heart skipped a beat. Well, he thought, a little dazed. Maybe she does like me after all.
Or maybe not, maybe she was just a phenomenal actress. Either way, it wasn't going to be easy to keep his head negotiating with Princess Landelye, not after that conversation.
And wherever she wanted it to lead.
He nudged his horse to speed up and follow hers, and, wonder of wonders, it actually obeyed.
The whole party of them--Sef, the princess, and her ladies--sped up the hill and the necessary focus on his task fortunately killed his libido, at least for the moment.
Whatever was to come next, it certainly wouldn't be boring. And, given what he'd just seen...
Sef dared to hope it might not be all bad.
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no subject
He kinda is a doofus, yes...
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no subject