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rainbowfic2023-07-10 01:54 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2023-07-10 01:54 pm
Twilight #18; White Opal #2 [Starfall]
Name: Dreaming In Ice
Story: Starfall
Colors: Twilight #18 (sybilline); White Opal #2 (dream)
Supplies and Styles: Charcoal + Paint-by-Numbers frombookblather (“I saw it coming”) + Novelty Beads (Shiver) + Photography
Word Count: 397
Rating: G
Warnings: Villain POV.
Notes: 1337, Northlands; the Ice Prince.
Summary: The Ice Prince dreams everyone else’s nightmare.
The Ice Prince had once had a name, but it had been over twenty years since anyone had used it. He’d moved on first from one false name to another, but for the past few years he’d become purely the Ice Prince, the White Prince.
It was fitting. He’d taken this land that had never before had a leader and brought them together, whether they would or no. He’d come to the ruins of Tanding and made it into a palace of icestone and snow: a place of dreams. His dreams, and his only. Few could tolerate his inner chambers for long.
Nobody asked who he’d been these days; nobody called him a lawless outlaw, a murderer, a thief. Even the arrogant lands south of his borders sent shivering servants to treat with him.
None of them would stop him. He could see things. He lay in his bed, that was soft and white as snow, with icestone glittering above, and saw far and long. All the outsiders, they held their breath and waited for him to melt away with the one spring, sooner or later. These things happened, the wisest of them said, these powers came to some, but they never lasted, never.
He smiled up at the cold stars. They’d be waiting a long time. It had been nearly twenty years since he’d found the way to be at one with the winter storms; his affinity with the icestone. That’s what they called it, when they whispered about him, when they didn’t – safely far south – dismiss him as a shadow grown over-solid in the telling.
He’d have taken this land back, taken the Mistlands with it, too, all those years ago, but he had been new and wild with the power, and never stopped to dream that anyone could burn him half to nothing.
In the years of recovering, he’d gained something: hiding and waiting, taking relief from icestone wherever he could find it, he’d grown to see hazy pictures in his dreams. Half-truths, things that might not come to pass, but all possibilities to watch.
He watched for Starfall often; his old enemy, even if they barely knew it. His influence still grew slowly – partly the old wounds, partly he’d grown cunning enough to hide his hand until he could strike hard enough to win – but soon, when winter came, he’d freeze them all.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Twilight #18 (sybilline); White Opal #2 (dream)
Supplies and Styles: Charcoal + Paint-by-Numbers from
bookblather (“I saw it coming”) + Novelty Beads (Shiver) + PhotographyWord Count: 397
Rating: G
Warnings: Villain POV.
Notes: 1337, Northlands; the Ice Prince.
Summary: The Ice Prince dreams everyone else’s nightmare.
The Ice Prince had once had a name, but it had been over twenty years since anyone had used it. He’d moved on first from one false name to another, but for the past few years he’d become purely the Ice Prince, the White Prince.
It was fitting. He’d taken this land that had never before had a leader and brought them together, whether they would or no. He’d come to the ruins of Tanding and made it into a palace of icestone and snow: a place of dreams. His dreams, and his only. Few could tolerate his inner chambers for long.
Nobody asked who he’d been these days; nobody called him a lawless outlaw, a murderer, a thief. Even the arrogant lands south of his borders sent shivering servants to treat with him.
None of them would stop him. He could see things. He lay in his bed, that was soft and white as snow, with icestone glittering above, and saw far and long. All the outsiders, they held their breath and waited for him to melt away with the one spring, sooner or later. These things happened, the wisest of them said, these powers came to some, but they never lasted, never.
He smiled up at the cold stars. They’d be waiting a long time. It had been nearly twenty years since he’d found the way to be at one with the winter storms; his affinity with the icestone. That’s what they called it, when they whispered about him, when they didn’t – safely far south – dismiss him as a shadow grown over-solid in the telling.
He’d have taken this land back, taken the Mistlands with it, too, all those years ago, but he had been new and wild with the power, and never stopped to dream that anyone could burn him half to nothing.
In the years of recovering, he’d gained something: hiding and waiting, taking relief from icestone wherever he could find it, he’d grown to see hazy pictures in his dreams. Half-truths, things that might not come to pass, but all possibilities to watch.
He watched for Starfall often; his old enemy, even if they barely knew it. His influence still grew slowly – partly the old wounds, partly he’d grown cunning enough to hide his hand until he could strike hard enough to win – but soon, when winter came, he’d freeze them all.
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I really like this, it's just like a legend or a folk tale!
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