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rainbowfic2012-03-30 09:23 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2012-03-30 09:23 am
Burnt Umber #27, Tea Rose #3, Tyrian Purple #13
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #27 (Great Dividing Range), Tea Rose #3 (a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill), Tyrian Purple #13 (children upon children)
Styles/Supplies: Frame, Seed Beads, Pastels fororigfic_bingo card prompt "lost in translation"
Word Count: 1304
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Cheyti realizes just how much she's misunderstood over the years.
"This is beautiful," said Cheyti, standing back to admire the painting. "How long has this taken you?"
Her son, Corin, looked at the floor. "Maybe a month?"
"I think it's lovely." Cheyti would be the first to admit she had no eye for art, but the painting seemed well-done. "That's the center of the garden, isn't it?" She knew her son liked to sit out there sometimes. What he did she didn't know, and she didn't want to pry, so she never asked. Corin was fiercely private, and had become even more so as he had gotten older, to the point where Cheyti sometimes worried about him. But she was glad to see that he was spending his time doing something.
"It is," he confirmed. "I've always liked the way the light reflected off the pool beneath the statue."
"Look at you, speaking like a proper artist." Of course she was proud. She just wished sometimes that she could relate to her son. To either of her children.
Almost on cue, her daughter walked through the door into the sitting room. As usual, she was holding a book. Today, she deigned to glance up from it. "What is that?" she asked, nodding at the painting.
"Your brother painted it," said Cheyti.
"Mother," Corin said, sounding ashamed. She couldn't imagine why.
Karina cocked her head to the side, studying the painting. "The statue at the center of the garden?"
"Isn't it lovely?" said Cheyti. "I never knew Corin had such talent."
"Mother," said Corin again.
"It's proficient," said Karina. "I see your studies have improved your technique immensely."
"You've been studying art?" said Cheyti. Why had she not known that? True, her children were nearly grown, but she didn't like to think she was already so far outside their lives. Even Karina, who had never been very close to her brother--or anyone, really--knew. "How long have you been doing that?"
"Not long," said Corin, ducking his head. Again Cheyti wondered why he seemed so embarrassed. "It's a way to pass the time. I have no intention of becoming an artist."
"Well, no," said Cheyti. "But I think we should display this at the next ambassadors meeting. A display of history. I doubt many have seen the famous statue of Armadren that's stood in the garden since the day of his death."
"No," said Corin.
At the same time, Karina rolled her eyes. "It's just a myth that Armadren had the statue commissioned to be erected on the day of his death. It hasn't really stood there for over a thousand years, Mother."
"I rather like the story." And she had. Armadren, the first emperor of Ceenta Vowei, was said to have started and loved the palace gardens, and he had seen to it that his likeness was placed in the exact center, so that he may watch over every corner of it equally even in death. Karina had never had a sense of imagination. At least Cheyti had passed that on to Corin.
"But it's wrong," Karina insisted. "It's impossible that statue has stood there a thousand years. It's clearly done in a style common to the late Nathar period, centuries after Armadren's death. Honestly, Mother, you used to be a scholar. What happened?"
"Being a scholar has nothing to do with enjoying a folk story now and again," said Cheyti, bristling a little at her daughter's words. Used to be a scholar? Perhaps her life had ended up in a different place than at the back of a dusty library, but one never truly stopped being a scholar.
"You wondered why the other day, when I told you that I had no desire for children," Karina said to her brother. "Well, that is why. Having children turns women into idiots."
"Karina!" said Cheyti, horrified.
"That was very rude," Corin mumbled.
Karina sniffed. "You won't convince me it's not true." She pointed at her mother. "I know what you used to be, before you came here and married Father. You wouldn't tell me, so I got my aunt to tell me instead."
Cheyti furrowed her brow. "Your aunt didn't know me before I came here."
"Not Aunt Kyla," said Karina, and Cheyti was beginning to get tired of all the eye-rolling her daughter was doing. "Aunt Torshe. Surely you remember your own sister?"
Cheyti gaped at her, shocked. It had been nearly twenty years since she had seen her older sister. The last she had known, Torshe was still in Rednor, the city Cheyti had forsaken the day she married. "How do you know about her? How did you find her?"
Karina sneered. She actually sneered, and Cheyti, who had struggled for years to understand her daughter, suddenly realized she never would. "You think it's no problem to forget your family, to give up everything, to live like you had no life before you married Father. I think you're wrong."
Cheyti stood, feeling her cheeks burn. Nearly grown or not, Karina had no right to talk to her mother in such a way. "I had no choice," she hissed. "It has turned out well enough, but my marriage was not a love match."
"Of course it wasn't," Karina snapped. "But I hardly see why that meant you could never speak to your sisters again. Why everything from your life before had to be kept secret."
"There are rules--"
"Yes, you've told me," said Karina. "Overstated ones, I believe. Because Aunt Torshe was more than willing to talk to me, once I discovered her. And do you know what she asked me, Mother? She asked why you never sent her letters. She knows you had no choice in leaving Rednor, but she wants to know why you abandoned her. You broke her heart, Mother. I call that stupid, not to mention selfish."
Cheyti was speechless. Several emotions warred within her--anger at the audacity of her daughter lecturing her, confusion that Torshe had been allowed correspondence with an outsider, sadness and the dawning realization that perhaps things had changed while she had been living in the palace. She had just assumed she would not be allowed to speak to her sisters again. The day she married outside her own people was the day she gave up her claim as one of them. Those were the rules. Outsiders were not to be trusted, not even blood relatives. Not even political allies. Had the situation changed so much in the last twenty years?
"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you could have asked for special privileges, being the wife of the Emperor?" Karina continued, her face red. She looked like she would start crying any moment, which was strange for her. Karina had always been distant and unemotional, even as a small child. "Didn't you ever think that the reason you were given in marriage was because you were meant to help build the alliance between us and the Wyrtessians? Or did you think you would just leave him to it while you sat in the palace and had babies?"
"Leave," said Cheyti, her voice shaking. She shouldn't have bothered; Karina had stalked out of the sitting room barely before the word was out of her mouth. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, she turned to Corin, who was studying his own painting like it was the only thing in the room.
"You will please excuse me, Corin," she said steadily. "I have a letter to write. I do think that is a lovely painting, but you may do with it as you wish."
Corin grabbed the painting and fled the room, his blond head turned down and his knuckles white where he gripped the canvas. Cheyti stood still for a moment, then closed the sitting room door.
kay_brookeStory: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #27 (Great Dividing Range), Tea Rose #3 (a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill), Tyrian Purple #13 (children upon children)
Styles/Supplies: Frame, Seed Beads, Pastels for
origfic_bingo card prompt "lost in translation"Word Count: 1304
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Cheyti realizes just how much she's misunderstood over the years.
"This is beautiful," said Cheyti, standing back to admire the painting. "How long has this taken you?"
Her son, Corin, looked at the floor. "Maybe a month?"
"I think it's lovely." Cheyti would be the first to admit she had no eye for art, but the painting seemed well-done. "That's the center of the garden, isn't it?" She knew her son liked to sit out there sometimes. What he did she didn't know, and she didn't want to pry, so she never asked. Corin was fiercely private, and had become even more so as he had gotten older, to the point where Cheyti sometimes worried about him. But she was glad to see that he was spending his time doing something.
"It is," he confirmed. "I've always liked the way the light reflected off the pool beneath the statue."
"Look at you, speaking like a proper artist." Of course she was proud. She just wished sometimes that she could relate to her son. To either of her children.
Almost on cue, her daughter walked through the door into the sitting room. As usual, she was holding a book. Today, she deigned to glance up from it. "What is that?" she asked, nodding at the painting.
"Your brother painted it," said Cheyti.
"Mother," Corin said, sounding ashamed. She couldn't imagine why.
Karina cocked her head to the side, studying the painting. "The statue at the center of the garden?"
"Isn't it lovely?" said Cheyti. "I never knew Corin had such talent."
"Mother," said Corin again.
"It's proficient," said Karina. "I see your studies have improved your technique immensely."
"You've been studying art?" said Cheyti. Why had she not known that? True, her children were nearly grown, but she didn't like to think she was already so far outside their lives. Even Karina, who had never been very close to her brother--or anyone, really--knew. "How long have you been doing that?"
"Not long," said Corin, ducking his head. Again Cheyti wondered why he seemed so embarrassed. "It's a way to pass the time. I have no intention of becoming an artist."
"Well, no," said Cheyti. "But I think we should display this at the next ambassadors meeting. A display of history. I doubt many have seen the famous statue of Armadren that's stood in the garden since the day of his death."
"No," said Corin.
At the same time, Karina rolled her eyes. "It's just a myth that Armadren had the statue commissioned to be erected on the day of his death. It hasn't really stood there for over a thousand years, Mother."
"I rather like the story." And she had. Armadren, the first emperor of Ceenta Vowei, was said to have started and loved the palace gardens, and he had seen to it that his likeness was placed in the exact center, so that he may watch over every corner of it equally even in death. Karina had never had a sense of imagination. At least Cheyti had passed that on to Corin.
"But it's wrong," Karina insisted. "It's impossible that statue has stood there a thousand years. It's clearly done in a style common to the late Nathar period, centuries after Armadren's death. Honestly, Mother, you used to be a scholar. What happened?"
"Being a scholar has nothing to do with enjoying a folk story now and again," said Cheyti, bristling a little at her daughter's words. Used to be a scholar? Perhaps her life had ended up in a different place than at the back of a dusty library, but one never truly stopped being a scholar.
"You wondered why the other day, when I told you that I had no desire for children," Karina said to her brother. "Well, that is why. Having children turns women into idiots."
"Karina!" said Cheyti, horrified.
"That was very rude," Corin mumbled.
Karina sniffed. "You won't convince me it's not true." She pointed at her mother. "I know what you used to be, before you came here and married Father. You wouldn't tell me, so I got my aunt to tell me instead."
Cheyti furrowed her brow. "Your aunt didn't know me before I came here."
"Not Aunt Kyla," said Karina, and Cheyti was beginning to get tired of all the eye-rolling her daughter was doing. "Aunt Torshe. Surely you remember your own sister?"
Cheyti gaped at her, shocked. It had been nearly twenty years since she had seen her older sister. The last she had known, Torshe was still in Rednor, the city Cheyti had forsaken the day she married. "How do you know about her? How did you find her?"
Karina sneered. She actually sneered, and Cheyti, who had struggled for years to understand her daughter, suddenly realized she never would. "You think it's no problem to forget your family, to give up everything, to live like you had no life before you married Father. I think you're wrong."
Cheyti stood, feeling her cheeks burn. Nearly grown or not, Karina had no right to talk to her mother in such a way. "I had no choice," she hissed. "It has turned out well enough, but my marriage was not a love match."
"Of course it wasn't," Karina snapped. "But I hardly see why that meant you could never speak to your sisters again. Why everything from your life before had to be kept secret."
"There are rules--"
"Yes, you've told me," said Karina. "Overstated ones, I believe. Because Aunt Torshe was more than willing to talk to me, once I discovered her. And do you know what she asked me, Mother? She asked why you never sent her letters. She knows you had no choice in leaving Rednor, but she wants to know why you abandoned her. You broke her heart, Mother. I call that stupid, not to mention selfish."
Cheyti was speechless. Several emotions warred within her--anger at the audacity of her daughter lecturing her, confusion that Torshe had been allowed correspondence with an outsider, sadness and the dawning realization that perhaps things had changed while she had been living in the palace. She had just assumed she would not be allowed to speak to her sisters again. The day she married outside her own people was the day she gave up her claim as one of them. Those were the rules. Outsiders were not to be trusted, not even blood relatives. Not even political allies. Had the situation changed so much in the last twenty years?
"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you could have asked for special privileges, being the wife of the Emperor?" Karina continued, her face red. She looked like she would start crying any moment, which was strange for her. Karina had always been distant and unemotional, even as a small child. "Didn't you ever think that the reason you were given in marriage was because you were meant to help build the alliance between us and the Wyrtessians? Or did you think you would just leave him to it while you sat in the palace and had babies?"
"Leave," said Cheyti, her voice shaking. She shouldn't have bothered; Karina had stalked out of the sitting room barely before the word was out of her mouth. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, she turned to Corin, who was studying his own painting like it was the only thing in the room.
"You will please excuse me, Corin," she said steadily. "I have a letter to write. I do think that is a lovely painting, but you may do with it as you wish."
Corin grabbed the painting and fled the room, his blond head turned down and his knuckles white where he gripped the canvas. Cheyti stood still for a moment, then closed the sitting room door.
no subject
Geez and I feel so bad for Corin.
no subject
Thank you for reading!