thisbluespirit: (fantasy2)
thisbluespirit ([personal profile] thisbluespirit) wrote in [community profile] rainbowfic2022-10-27 06:09 pm

Colour of the Day 27/10/22 [Starfall]

Name: Drawn and Redrawn
Story: Starfall
Colors: Colour of the Day – 27/10/22 (Metamorphose)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas + Seed Beads
Word Count: 691
Rating: PG
Warnings: Unexpected physical transformations.
Notes: Year 0 (actual Starfall, if it is actual); Shara, or the person who will be Shara, if there was a Shara. (Some mythology, sort of.) Flashfic for CotD.
Summary: A Power is made.




She’s slammed back against the metal side of something as light floods the entire space – blue-white, blinding, passing through every molecule of her being like a shockwave. By the time she finds herself again, she’s already gone past recognition.

The pool of water in which she wakes reflects the same face as usual, pale against a backdrop of navy night sky with a bright rent of white and pink and blue light across it. Stars are falling.

The water barely impinges on her consciousness; it’s the aching dryness more widely around her that revolts her. This land is barren, ruined long ago by some other cataclysm. It’s not dead, though – would probably creep back to life anyway, given a few more millennia. She can feel moisture in the air, can call to the waters locked deep under the ground – springs and rivers and lakes. Somewhere, long distances to the south and north, the sea whispers, turning and turning; taking away and giving back.

She closes her eyes. Every last drop of water responds to her need: the dusty, brown land cracks and shifts in every direction. Water cascades down rocks behind her while long lost rivers push their way to the surface. Does it take mere seconds, or is it aeons? Whichever is true, once it’s done, she’s sitting beside a newborn river wending its way to the ocean.

When she looks down, her hands are still her own with all the same lines criss-crossing her skin. But she wiggles her fingers and clouds gather and darken till they break and rain falls, drenching any ground left dry. She laughs in a sea of mud. Droplets catch in her hair and shine; a starlit nimbus.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she says, when one of the others comes into sight at last, running as soon as he spots her. Eild, she reminds herself. His name is Eild.

He catches her up in his arms, breathing his gladness into her ear, that she’s alive. She returns the embrace. Names and places and dates nearly blazed and washed right out of her mind come back to her. But when Eild kisses her, he breaks away sharply, choking. He turns; then falls to his knees, coughing up water.

“What did you do?” he gasps as soon as he’s able. He gets to his feet, but keeps his distance.

She shrugs; gives a wry twist of her mouth. “I don’t know.”

It’s not what she did; it’s who she’s become. She can’t comprehend why he stands and stares as if she’s a ghost. It’s marvellous – all the waters, streaming on through her mind, through her veins. Aren’t they all mostly water anyway? Is it so very strange?

The land is groaning at her, too, but that’s the pain of rebirth: this long stretch of earth had thought itself finished, but of course it never is. Not while there’s water lurking, waiting for its chance.

“No,” says Eild and backs further away.

For a moment, her brow creases. Old nature reasserts itself. Is it too much? It must be – how will she know what to do with all this? She might have killed Eild.

“You’re another one,” he says, trembling with cold and fear in the rain. “What are you now? What will you do with us?”

She blinks. Raindrops land on her lashes. Another one? Something tugs at the edge of her consciousness, and at the land. She’s not the only one, pulling it this way and that, forcing it back to life, whether it will or no. But it feels right. They’ll find all the ways they fit together, the same way all the rivers come to one sea in the end.

She is a calm lake with a ripple of laughter passing over her. “Not that way round,” she tells Eild. “You get to choose. I’m not sure we do any more.” She sounds much more like her old self than she’d expected. That makes her laugh again; more ripples pass over the surface.

Water is life. It changes everything, makes the old land, the old self, new. There’s no going back.
bookblather: A picture of Yomiko Readman looking at books with the text "bookgasm." (Default)

[personal profile] bookblather 2023-01-30 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, the metaphors here are perfect. Also, I love how much tragedy there is under the surface of her happiness.
theseatheseatheopensea: The sculpture Archangel Gabriel, by Ivan Mestrovic. (Archangel Gabriel.)

[personal profile] theseatheseatheopensea 2023-04-20 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
I loved this!! Shara's metamorphosis and powers are described so poetically, and yet there's something sinister and unknown about the whole thing. It's almost Elemental, isn't it?
persiflage_1: Pen and ink (Writer's Tools)

[personal profile] persiflage_1 2023-04-21 02:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Ooh! Love this - so poetically described, and Shara is now so unknowable, it's fascinating.