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rainbowfic2016-08-07 11:43 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2016-08-07 11:43 am
Entry tags:
Aqua #25, Lotus #1
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Aqua #25 (Divination), Lotus #1 (Meditation)
Styles/Supplies: Graffiti (Sprinting)
Word Count: 824
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Atro, Merrus, and the moon.
Notes: It's been too long since I've written these characters together. I'm not sure their voices are really on. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Atro was standing in a small clearing a little ways from the village, staring up at the crescent moon that hung huge above him, almost big enough to touch. Merrus thought about approaching silently, but Atro seemed deep in thought and he didn’t want to startle his friend. So he coughed.
Atro looked around at him, and just as quickly back up at the sky. Merrus hesitated, wondering if he had intruded on more private a moment than he assumed. “Are you praying?” he asked quietly.
Atro’s reaction was immediate and scornful. “What in all the gods makes you think I’m praying?”
Merrus indicated the moon. “You’re looking at it, and it is one of those gods you just mentioned, isn’t it?”
“So the priests say.” Atro turned away from the sky to focus on Merrus. “But when have you ever known me to pray, outside of those times Father forced me to attend worship?”
Merrus settled himself down on a rock at the edge of the clearing. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, finding himself wide awake at night despite his weariness and only managing fitful naps during the day, haunted by terrible dreams he could only vaguely remember. And if he was going through so much strife, he couldn’t imagine what Atro was feeling. He had noticed, during his sleepless nights, that Atro often didn’t retire at all. So tonight Merrus had decided to see where he went. “I have never known that, it’s true. But it’s easy to sleep safely in your own bed in the Court and not care about the comfort of your gods. Now, though…” Merrus gestured to the clearing.
“Now I’m far away from home, my father is dead, and I am wanted for his murder,” Atro summed up. “And you think all that would make me pray? Tell me, what can the gods do to help me? Will they prove my innocence? Will they bring my father back? Will they give me an army so that I can destroy the man who tried to destroy me?”
Merrus said nothing. He knew Atro couldn’t be as nonchalant as he pretended among the villagers, so he let him rant. Perhaps what came out in Merrus as bad dreams came out as anger in Atro.
“Well?” Atro shouted at him.
“The gods will do none of those things,” said Merrus softly. “But they can provide comfort in their own way.” The hypocrisy burned; Merrus himself held no faith in deities. But Atro had grown up differently, and it wasn’t so many years ago that he had gladly gone to worship with his father.
“I don’t need comfort,” Atro snarled into the night. “I need vengeance.”
“We’ll find a way to get your city back,” said Merrus, not because he believed it but because Atro needed to hear it.
Atro clenched his hands into fists, and Merrus braced himself for another angry outburst. But Atro’s voice was quiet, even apologetic, as he said, “Your village is not going to help me, is it?”
Merrus spread his arms. “You’ve seen the size of it. Even if they were willing, one salkiy village could not stand against the Councilary Guard and whatever allies it has.”
“Even with their ma--the ethestras?” Atro asked plaintively.
“I didn’t say they wouldn’t make trouble for the Guard,” said Merrus. “But I think, in the end, they would fall to numbers. I’m surprised I have to tell you this.” Atro was the one who had spent his life learning military tactics and strategy.
Atro’s shoulders slumped. “You don’t,” he admitted. “I already know. I was hoping you would say something different. I was hoping salkiys were...different.”
Merrus sighed.
“But even if they held the kind of power to defeat Lindjer, they still wouldn’t do it,” Atro continued. “They wouldn’t follow me.”
“We don’t usually concern ourselves with human affairs,” said Merrus. “It usually ends badly for us.”
“And to them I am human.”
Merrus shrugged. There was nothing else to say. “Yes.”
“I suppose I am,” said Atro with a sigh. He trudged away from the center of the clearing and sat down on the rock next to Merrus. “Despite the things I can do, despite who my birth mother is, I am as human as any in Ceenta Vowei. I was never meant to even know about my salkiy heritage. My father only hired you because he had no choice. If it was up to him we would have never met.”
“I think he would have been happier for it, yes,” Merrus agreed.
“Maybe I was praying,” Atro mused into the clearing. “Not actually praying, mind, and certainly not staring at the moon while I was doing it, but maybe....hoping. For something to happen. I suppose that’s similar to praying.”
“I suppose,” said Merrus, and the two fell silent as the moon continued its journey across the sky.
kay_brookeStory: The Myrrosta
Colors: Aqua #25 (Divination), Lotus #1 (Meditation)
Styles/Supplies: Graffiti (Sprinting)
Word Count: 824
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Atro, Merrus, and the moon.
Notes: It's been too long since I've written these characters together. I'm not sure their voices are really on. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Atro was standing in a small clearing a little ways from the village, staring up at the crescent moon that hung huge above him, almost big enough to touch. Merrus thought about approaching silently, but Atro seemed deep in thought and he didn’t want to startle his friend. So he coughed.
Atro looked around at him, and just as quickly back up at the sky. Merrus hesitated, wondering if he had intruded on more private a moment than he assumed. “Are you praying?” he asked quietly.
Atro’s reaction was immediate and scornful. “What in all the gods makes you think I’m praying?”
Merrus indicated the moon. “You’re looking at it, and it is one of those gods you just mentioned, isn’t it?”
“So the priests say.” Atro turned away from the sky to focus on Merrus. “But when have you ever known me to pray, outside of those times Father forced me to attend worship?”
Merrus settled himself down on a rock at the edge of the clearing. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, finding himself wide awake at night despite his weariness and only managing fitful naps during the day, haunted by terrible dreams he could only vaguely remember. And if he was going through so much strife, he couldn’t imagine what Atro was feeling. He had noticed, during his sleepless nights, that Atro often didn’t retire at all. So tonight Merrus had decided to see where he went. “I have never known that, it’s true. But it’s easy to sleep safely in your own bed in the Court and not care about the comfort of your gods. Now, though…” Merrus gestured to the clearing.
“Now I’m far away from home, my father is dead, and I am wanted for his murder,” Atro summed up. “And you think all that would make me pray? Tell me, what can the gods do to help me? Will they prove my innocence? Will they bring my father back? Will they give me an army so that I can destroy the man who tried to destroy me?”
Merrus said nothing. He knew Atro couldn’t be as nonchalant as he pretended among the villagers, so he let him rant. Perhaps what came out in Merrus as bad dreams came out as anger in Atro.
“Well?” Atro shouted at him.
“The gods will do none of those things,” said Merrus softly. “But they can provide comfort in their own way.” The hypocrisy burned; Merrus himself held no faith in deities. But Atro had grown up differently, and it wasn’t so many years ago that he had gladly gone to worship with his father.
“I don’t need comfort,” Atro snarled into the night. “I need vengeance.”
“We’ll find a way to get your city back,” said Merrus, not because he believed it but because Atro needed to hear it.
Atro clenched his hands into fists, and Merrus braced himself for another angry outburst. But Atro’s voice was quiet, even apologetic, as he said, “Your village is not going to help me, is it?”
Merrus spread his arms. “You’ve seen the size of it. Even if they were willing, one salkiy village could not stand against the Councilary Guard and whatever allies it has.”
“Even with their ma--the ethestras?” Atro asked plaintively.
“I didn’t say they wouldn’t make trouble for the Guard,” said Merrus. “But I think, in the end, they would fall to numbers. I’m surprised I have to tell you this.” Atro was the one who had spent his life learning military tactics and strategy.
Atro’s shoulders slumped. “You don’t,” he admitted. “I already know. I was hoping you would say something different. I was hoping salkiys were...different.”
Merrus sighed.
“But even if they held the kind of power to defeat Lindjer, they still wouldn’t do it,” Atro continued. “They wouldn’t follow me.”
“We don’t usually concern ourselves with human affairs,” said Merrus. “It usually ends badly for us.”
“And to them I am human.”
Merrus shrugged. There was nothing else to say. “Yes.”
“I suppose I am,” said Atro with a sigh. He trudged away from the center of the clearing and sat down on the rock next to Merrus. “Despite the things I can do, despite who my birth mother is, I am as human as any in Ceenta Vowei. I was never meant to even know about my salkiy heritage. My father only hired you because he had no choice. If it was up to him we would have never met.”
“I think he would have been happier for it, yes,” Merrus agreed.
“Maybe I was praying,” Atro mused into the clearing. “Not actually praying, mind, and certainly not staring at the moon while I was doing it, but maybe....hoping. For something to happen. I suppose that’s similar to praying.”
“I suppose,” said Merrus, and the two fell silent as the moon continued its journey across the sky.
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