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rainbowfic2022-09-06 09:15 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2022-09-06 09:15 pm
White Opal #18; Nacre #18; Twilight #1 [Starfall]
Name: Widen Your Mind
Story: Starfall
Colors: White Opal #18 (there’s nothing more boring than living someone else’s dreams); Nacre #18 (mislabelled); Twilight #1 (Embody)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas + Charcoal + Paint-by-Numbers frombookblather (Is it really a lie if you make it true?)
Word Count: 699
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some punishmentr/mental distress or bad visions anyway.
Notes: c.1308-10, Old Ralston; Marran Delver (who’s about 15-17 here, so another snippet of backstory for him.)
Summary: Marran’s not like the other students.
i.
It’s natural to send Marran to the Pollean Academy; so natural he doesn’t dream of objecting. He’s fascinated by the legends of Starfall and Emoyra. His father is a Pollean Priest and travels about telling the old stories and hearing the troubles of others; his brother a musician in the same order, and his sister has gone further still and is an Initiate at Aliah’s Tower. He is already a dreamer and a reader.
What he is not, as it turns out, is a priest of any order – and certainly not this one.
ii.
Studying is not Marran’s problem; he has plenty of brains, and knows how to use them. Too well for the Academy. The same way he climbs the walls out of the Academy in free periods, his mind clambers right over and out of their restrictions. They’re supposed to learn the ways of the order first – debate and questions come only after understanding. That is how it is. With Marran, the questions come first.
Scenes like this play out half a dozen times a term: Marran is kneeling on stone floor, his tutor circling him. “You’re arrogant, Delver. Kneel in spirit as well as in body. Learn the rules, learn the tales, and then you may have opinions worth hearing. Is that so hard?”
“But I saw –”
His tutor holds up a hand. “Then you tell me. Let me deal with the matter. You don’t strike fellow students.”
“But he –” Again, the hand, and Marran stops. “Yes, Imai Jennoril. I’ll remember.”
“Good.”
“But if he says I hit him, he’s a liar –”
Jennoril sighs heavily. “Do you truly think you are woven out of the right threads for this, Delver?”
That silences him. Father looked at him like he’d done something right when he’d entered this place. He wants to be like Karr and Lona. Marran nods.
“Then perhaps we should try the Chamber.”
iii.
The Chamber is not a punishment. It’s one of those places that seem to exist in Old Ralston that the rest of Emoyra doesn’t understand. It is a solemn thing and entering is not taken lightly even by the most frivolous students. Time locked in the stone vault underneath the Academy brings guidance – visions of paths to the future. It’s a gift.
Most of the students talk of flowers or stars or water or weaving afterwards. Some hear music or poetry. They are at peace with themselves when they leave. That’s how it’s supposed to go.
Marran’s not like the other students. When they shut the door, his heart is already pounding so hard he feels sick. He steels himself for the rest – the secret he can never tell in case they’d lock him up.
He doesn’t hear whispers of old tales or hauntingly beautiful notes. He sees no stars or flowers. Snow falls and he’s so cold, even his sturdy eastern clothing feels too thin. The stones of the Chamber might as well be pure icestone. Shapes hide in the dancing flakes that he only glimpses, but there are claws of ice that cut chilly marks into flesh, and he sees dark, scattered drops of blood on the floor of the Chamber.
The chamber shows him fire and sword and whispers about injustice in his ear. The only flowers he sees are the dark, trailing, fleshy alionrel vines, and they bode no good.
“What have I done wrong?” he asks aloud, but the Chamber has no other answer. He closes his eyes and begs the Powers not to make him mad or evil. What sort of Priest is it saying he’d be? Nobody would want him visiting their village, dragging trouble behind him.
It never occurs to him he’s asking the wrong questions. Marran is going to be a Priest if it kills him. He’ll make his family proud when he follows in their footsteps. What else is there to want?
When the Chamber unlocks and lets him out, he smiles at the rest. He won’t let them see that he’s shaking. He talks of flowers and stars, and peace within, and thanks his tutor for the privilege.
One day it will be true.
Story: Starfall
Colors: White Opal #18 (there’s nothing more boring than living someone else’s dreams); Nacre #18 (mislabelled); Twilight #1 (Embody)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas + Charcoal + Paint-by-Numbers from
bookblather (Is it really a lie if you make it true?)Word Count: 699
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some punishmentr/mental distress or bad visions anyway.
Notes: c.1308-10, Old Ralston; Marran Delver (who’s about 15-17 here, so another snippet of backstory for him.)
Summary: Marran’s not like the other students.
i.
It’s natural to send Marran to the Pollean Academy; so natural he doesn’t dream of objecting. He’s fascinated by the legends of Starfall and Emoyra. His father is a Pollean Priest and travels about telling the old stories and hearing the troubles of others; his brother a musician in the same order, and his sister has gone further still and is an Initiate at Aliah’s Tower. He is already a dreamer and a reader.
What he is not, as it turns out, is a priest of any order – and certainly not this one.
ii.
Studying is not Marran’s problem; he has plenty of brains, and knows how to use them. Too well for the Academy. The same way he climbs the walls out of the Academy in free periods, his mind clambers right over and out of their restrictions. They’re supposed to learn the ways of the order first – debate and questions come only after understanding. That is how it is. With Marran, the questions come first.
Scenes like this play out half a dozen times a term: Marran is kneeling on stone floor, his tutor circling him. “You’re arrogant, Delver. Kneel in spirit as well as in body. Learn the rules, learn the tales, and then you may have opinions worth hearing. Is that so hard?”
“But I saw –”
His tutor holds up a hand. “Then you tell me. Let me deal with the matter. You don’t strike fellow students.”
“But he –” Again, the hand, and Marran stops. “Yes, Imai Jennoril. I’ll remember.”
“Good.”
“But if he says I hit him, he’s a liar –”
Jennoril sighs heavily. “Do you truly think you are woven out of the right threads for this, Delver?”
That silences him. Father looked at him like he’d done something right when he’d entered this place. He wants to be like Karr and Lona. Marran nods.
“Then perhaps we should try the Chamber.”
iii.
The Chamber is not a punishment. It’s one of those places that seem to exist in Old Ralston that the rest of Emoyra doesn’t understand. It is a solemn thing and entering is not taken lightly even by the most frivolous students. Time locked in the stone vault underneath the Academy brings guidance – visions of paths to the future. It’s a gift.
Most of the students talk of flowers or stars or water or weaving afterwards. Some hear music or poetry. They are at peace with themselves when they leave. That’s how it’s supposed to go.
Marran’s not like the other students. When they shut the door, his heart is already pounding so hard he feels sick. He steels himself for the rest – the secret he can never tell in case they’d lock him up.
He doesn’t hear whispers of old tales or hauntingly beautiful notes. He sees no stars or flowers. Snow falls and he’s so cold, even his sturdy eastern clothing feels too thin. The stones of the Chamber might as well be pure icestone. Shapes hide in the dancing flakes that he only glimpses, but there are claws of ice that cut chilly marks into flesh, and he sees dark, scattered drops of blood on the floor of the Chamber.
The chamber shows him fire and sword and whispers about injustice in his ear. The only flowers he sees are the dark, trailing, fleshy alionrel vines, and they bode no good.
“What have I done wrong?” he asks aloud, but the Chamber has no other answer. He closes his eyes and begs the Powers not to make him mad or evil. What sort of Priest is it saying he’d be? Nobody would want him visiting their village, dragging trouble behind him.
It never occurs to him he’s asking the wrong questions. Marran is going to be a Priest if it kills him. He’ll make his family proud when he follows in their footsteps. What else is there to want?
When the Chamber unlocks and lets him out, he smiles at the rest. He won’t let them see that he’s shaking. He talks of flowers and stars, and peace within, and thanks his tutor for the privilege.
One day it will be true.
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(I mean. I know, but I'm not telling yet. I'm just hoping people are still around here when I get further on with this stuff. XD)
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