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rainbowfic2023-02-16 08:55 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2023-02-16 08:55 pm
Entry tags:
White Opal #10 [Starfall]
Name: Into the Light
Story: Starfall
Colors: White Opal #10 (vision)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas
Word Count: 824
Rating: G
Warnings: None, really.
Notes: 1322, Lighthaven; Leiara Modelen. (Child Leaira.)
Summary: Leaira looks into the Great Lightstone.
They said if you looked hard into the Great Lightstone you would see true pictures of what was to come.
Leaira’s grandmother, who was the Lightkeeper, only said that it was a dangerous thing to go doing because it was bad for your eyes and also because most people weren’t prepared for what they might see inside it – if they saw anything at all.
The position of Lightkeeper of Lighthaven did not mean that Grandmother Modelen actually kept the lightstone and the tower herself, although she did have a grand office lower down in the Light-tower Buildings. Mostly, as far as Leaira could see, she took part in processions and wore blue and white robes that Leaira was strictly forbidden to touch, and went to lots of very important and dull meetings, and was a very busy person.
Leaira’s aunts sometimes took her to visit Grandmother while she was working at the Light-tower, and when they did, she couldn’t resist trying to creep up the endless spiral staircase to see the great lightstone. There were sculptures, carvings and paintings of ships and fabulous sea creatures with fins and scales and tentacles along the walls. Leaira trailed fascinated fingers over their contours and varnished colours and one thing would lead to another and she would somehow find herself right at the top before she knew where she was.
Leaira skipped up and down the last few steps to the Light Room, playing by arcane rules of her own imagining, and then with one last chant under her breath, she hopped into the room, where Imai Powatter did the actual light-keeping.
Powatter would let her in with a laugh, and tell her how far you could see from this vantage point. Sometimes he would let her use his looking glass. He told her how he polished the lightstone with powder that had to be sent down from Copperfort specially. He also told her some things that she was sure were just stories, like the blue and silver birds who perched on the ringed railings around the glass and told him the news, but who were never anywhere to be seen when Leaira visited.
“One of the Eight Marvels of the Circle of Civilisation,” Powatter said, patting the lightstone proudly with his polishing cloth. “And the most useful and beautiful, if you ask me.”
Like Grandmother, he told her not to look into the light, too. But it was hard not to stare at the biggest piece of white lightstone in the known world when it was right there in front of you. Leaira moved nearer and nearer until she was pressing her nose and dusty fingers up against its smooth side and gazed and gazed right into the clear stone. Blurred reflections behind her seemed to take flight just past her shoulder, like birds of white and blue and silver, and then the light glowed gently under her touch, filling her eyes and her mind.
Snow fell softly all around her, coming down far thicker than it ever did in Lighthaven. She shivered, her thin shirt and trousers better suited to spring than to a northerly winter she’d never known. Snowflakes whirled and danced, forming shapes – icy creatures with cruel claws and teeth. And when she tried to pull away, it felt as if she fell right off the side of a mountain, snow and stones sliding down with her – until somebody called out her name and caught hold of her.
She gasped, but it was only Imai Powatter with his hand on her shoulder; warm and firm and real.
“None of that now,” he said levelly. “What will I tell your grandmother if you do yourself any harm, eh?”
Leaira jumped backwards, and found herself still standing upright on the weathered floorboards of the tower room. “I didn’t do anything!” She had to bite down hard, because her teeth still wanted to chatter from the cold.
“Hmm,” he said, “and that’s why you’re shaking like a leaf, is it?”
Leaira widened her eyes and stared up at him blankly.
“Well, get on with you,” he said. “Back down to your aunts – and we’ll say nothing more about it. But if you try it again, I won’t let you come in next time – you bear that in mind!”
Leaira gave a hasty nod and ran away down the stairs as fast as she could. The exercise soon chased away the uncanny chill, but Imai Powatter didn’t have to warn her. She would never do that again! It had been much too nasty, just like Grandmother had said, and too confusing. Was she going somewhere cold one day, or maybe that was where Mother and Father had gone? There was no way to tell what it might mean.
She set her face. She’d never go north! She’d never go where she might meet creatures like that, all made of snow and ice and malice.
Never, ever, ever.
Story: Starfall
Colors: White Opal #10 (vision)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas
Word Count: 824
Rating: G
Warnings: None, really.
Notes: 1322, Lighthaven; Leiara Modelen. (Child Leaira.)
Summary: Leaira looks into the Great Lightstone.
They said if you looked hard into the Great Lightstone you would see true pictures of what was to come.
Leaira’s grandmother, who was the Lightkeeper, only said that it was a dangerous thing to go doing because it was bad for your eyes and also because most people weren’t prepared for what they might see inside it – if they saw anything at all.
The position of Lightkeeper of Lighthaven did not mean that Grandmother Modelen actually kept the lightstone and the tower herself, although she did have a grand office lower down in the Light-tower Buildings. Mostly, as far as Leaira could see, she took part in processions and wore blue and white robes that Leaira was strictly forbidden to touch, and went to lots of very important and dull meetings, and was a very busy person.
Leaira’s aunts sometimes took her to visit Grandmother while she was working at the Light-tower, and when they did, she couldn’t resist trying to creep up the endless spiral staircase to see the great lightstone. There were sculptures, carvings and paintings of ships and fabulous sea creatures with fins and scales and tentacles along the walls. Leaira trailed fascinated fingers over their contours and varnished colours and one thing would lead to another and she would somehow find herself right at the top before she knew where she was.
Leaira skipped up and down the last few steps to the Light Room, playing by arcane rules of her own imagining, and then with one last chant under her breath, she hopped into the room, where Imai Powatter did the actual light-keeping.
Powatter would let her in with a laugh, and tell her how far you could see from this vantage point. Sometimes he would let her use his looking glass. He told her how he polished the lightstone with powder that had to be sent down from Copperfort specially. He also told her some things that she was sure were just stories, like the blue and silver birds who perched on the ringed railings around the glass and told him the news, but who were never anywhere to be seen when Leaira visited.
“One of the Eight Marvels of the Circle of Civilisation,” Powatter said, patting the lightstone proudly with his polishing cloth. “And the most useful and beautiful, if you ask me.”
Like Grandmother, he told her not to look into the light, too. But it was hard not to stare at the biggest piece of white lightstone in the known world when it was right there in front of you. Leaira moved nearer and nearer until she was pressing her nose and dusty fingers up against its smooth side and gazed and gazed right into the clear stone. Blurred reflections behind her seemed to take flight just past her shoulder, like birds of white and blue and silver, and then the light glowed gently under her touch, filling her eyes and her mind.
Snow fell softly all around her, coming down far thicker than it ever did in Lighthaven. She shivered, her thin shirt and trousers better suited to spring than to a northerly winter she’d never known. Snowflakes whirled and danced, forming shapes – icy creatures with cruel claws and teeth. And when she tried to pull away, it felt as if she fell right off the side of a mountain, snow and stones sliding down with her – until somebody called out her name and caught hold of her.
She gasped, but it was only Imai Powatter with his hand on her shoulder; warm and firm and real.
“None of that now,” he said levelly. “What will I tell your grandmother if you do yourself any harm, eh?”
Leaira jumped backwards, and found herself still standing upright on the weathered floorboards of the tower room. “I didn’t do anything!” She had to bite down hard, because her teeth still wanted to chatter from the cold.
“Hmm,” he said, “and that’s why you’re shaking like a leaf, is it?”
Leaira widened her eyes and stared up at him blankly.
“Well, get on with you,” he said. “Back down to your aunts – and we’ll say nothing more about it. But if you try it again, I won’t let you come in next time – you bear that in mind!”
Leaira gave a hasty nod and ran away down the stairs as fast as she could. The exercise soon chased away the uncanny chill, but Imai Powatter didn’t have to warn her. She would never do that again! It had been much too nasty, just like Grandmother had said, and too confusing. Was she going somewhere cold one day, or maybe that was where Mother and Father had gone? There was no way to tell what it might mean.
She set her face. She’d never go north! She’d never go where she might meet creatures like that, all made of snow and ice and malice.
Never, ever, ever.
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That's lovely! I can't blame tiny Leaira for being curious!
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