thisbluespirit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisbluespirit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2022-11-18 08:57 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2022-11-18 08:57 pm
Twilght #5; Vienna Orange #12; Colour of the Day 18/11/22 [Starfall]
Name: Water on Stone
Story: Starfall
Colors: Colour of the Day – 18th Nov 2022 (petrichor); Twilight #5 (petrichor); Vienna Orange #12 (Let your faith die, bring your wonder)
Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-Numbers frombookblather (It rained on the day of the funeral/wedding (pick one)) & from shadowsong26 (It’s time to move on) + Canvas + Seed Beads
Word Count: 444
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1278, North Eastern Emoyra; Laonna Delwin (Marran Delver’s mother). Flash fic for CotD.
Summary: Laonna is only mostly made of stone.
Kyholme was a quarrying village, near the mountains, and Laonna Delwin’s family were, in so many ways, made out of stone. They made things out of stone themselves, too. Laonna put her hand in her pocket to close her fingers around the small, grey bird her brother had carved.
Today was Laonna’s wedding day, and even in Kyholme that demanded something less solid and immovable than stone. Before she and Deoh were to be formally joined by the visiting Pollean priest, Laonna made her way up the mountain path, to the pool and garden sacred to Shara. Water wore even stone away – water ran and laughed and danced ever onwards to the sea. It was more in line with Deoh and the Pollean order he belonged to than the rock steady practicality of Kyholme. Besides, it was tradition for a bride to go and beg for a blessing, and Laonna was not about to defy tradition today.
Summer had been dry, and the waters of the pool and stream that fed it were lower than usual; the grass beyond the edge of the water yellowing and the earth cracked. It had been a long wait for rain, much as Laonna had had a long wait for Deoh – both until he arrived, as unexpected as a midsummer shower, and ever since. Pollean priests travelled around, performing ceremonies and rites as needing and telling the old stories or leading people’s singing and dancing. Laonna was as solid stone as anyone else in Kyholme and so gave solemn thanks that such a bright star had fallen her way.
She knelt by the water. The wind whipped up around her, stronger than it had been on the short climb. Flowers danced beside the pool in the sudden breeze, and so did their watery reflections.
Large drops of rain fell into the water, sending out ripples. The dry spell was over.
Laonna laughed. This summer had been unusual in its lack of rain – as a rule, it fell often in Kyholme, and so did tears, in a place where life could be hard as the rock out of which they made their living. But that was the thing – tears were for joy as well as sorrow, and rain brought life to the land, as well as drowning it. Trouble and floods would always come, but it was best to lift one’s head and claim the falling water as Shara’s blessing, and not a curse.
Laonna stood lightly, the smell of damp earth and grass rising with her.
Today was her wedding day, and where no one could see, she danced on the path back down to the village.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Colour of the Day – 18th Nov 2022 (petrichor); Twilight #5 (petrichor); Vienna Orange #12 (Let your faith die, bring your wonder)
Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-Numbers from
bookblather (It rained on the day of the funeral/wedding (pick one)) & from shadowsong26 (It’s time to move on) + Canvas + Seed BeadsWord Count: 444
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1278, North Eastern Emoyra; Laonna Delwin (Marran Delver’s mother). Flash fic for CotD.
Summary: Laonna is only mostly made of stone.
Kyholme was a quarrying village, near the mountains, and Laonna Delwin’s family were, in so many ways, made out of stone. They made things out of stone themselves, too. Laonna put her hand in her pocket to close her fingers around the small, grey bird her brother had carved.
Today was Laonna’s wedding day, and even in Kyholme that demanded something less solid and immovable than stone. Before she and Deoh were to be formally joined by the visiting Pollean priest, Laonna made her way up the mountain path, to the pool and garden sacred to Shara. Water wore even stone away – water ran and laughed and danced ever onwards to the sea. It was more in line with Deoh and the Pollean order he belonged to than the rock steady practicality of Kyholme. Besides, it was tradition for a bride to go and beg for a blessing, and Laonna was not about to defy tradition today.
Summer had been dry, and the waters of the pool and stream that fed it were lower than usual; the grass beyond the edge of the water yellowing and the earth cracked. It had been a long wait for rain, much as Laonna had had a long wait for Deoh – both until he arrived, as unexpected as a midsummer shower, and ever since. Pollean priests travelled around, performing ceremonies and rites as needing and telling the old stories or leading people’s singing and dancing. Laonna was as solid stone as anyone else in Kyholme and so gave solemn thanks that such a bright star had fallen her way.
She knelt by the water. The wind whipped up around her, stronger than it had been on the short climb. Flowers danced beside the pool in the sudden breeze, and so did their watery reflections.
Large drops of rain fell into the water, sending out ripples. The dry spell was over.
Laonna laughed. This summer had been unusual in its lack of rain – as a rule, it fell often in Kyholme, and so did tears, in a place where life could be hard as the rock out of which they made their living. But that was the thing – tears were for joy as well as sorrow, and rain brought life to the land, as well as drowning it. Trouble and floods would always come, but it was best to lift one’s head and claim the falling water as Shara’s blessing, and not a curse.
Laonna stood lightly, the smell of damp earth and grass rising with her.
Today was her wedding day, and where no one could see, she danced on the path back down to the village.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject