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rainbowfic2023-09-16 02:53 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2023-09-16 02:53 pm
Vienna Orange #18; Nacre #7 [Starfall]
Name: Lost Time
Story: Starfall
Colors: Vienna Orange #18 (You never have belonged to me); Nacre #7 (True Feelings)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas + Paint-by-Numbers fromshadowsong26 (watching a child/student/protégé come into their own) + Novelty Beads (September Secrets – “Wonderful” <- from whenever we did it before!); Graffiti – 11 Years of Rainbowfic Part 9 (September Secrets).
Word Count: 1663
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1323; Marran Delver, Laonna Torwell. (Governor Delver backstory; this is 14 years before he turns up at Starfall. Commander of the Fort here is an archaic ceremonial title for Old Ralston’s city leader, the same way Leaira’s grandmother, who has the equivalent role in Lighthaven is known as the Lightkeeper.)
Summary: Marran’s been living under sentence until today.
“Commander.” Marran Delver turned away from his assistant to address Vion Corollas, current Commander of the Fort, who was fast approaching him across the crowded field. “I trust you have been able to find everything?”
Corollas smiled, indicating with a gesture for Marran to fall into step beside him. “Yes. Your festival is very well organised, thank you.”
“Not mine, Commander,” Marran said hastily. “It’s been a joint effort.”
“Of course,” said Corollas, without much interest in Marran’s disclaimer. He halted and put a hand on Marran’s shoulder. “But you took on the brunt of the organisation, yes? I’m also aware of your sunplant project. We are all extremely interested in the results.”
Marran straightened. “I’m glad to hear it, Commander. We need to implement it on a larger scale and see if the results are replicated. Getting people on board will be a great deal more likely if we have your support.”
“I make no promises,” said Corollas. “Remarkable work on your part, but whether or not the business proves practical remains to be seen.”
Marran raised his head. The field outside the Old Fort was filled with people wandering between stalls, tents, and stages. From somewhere nearby, he could hear voices singing over the calls of the stallholders and general noise of the crowd. “Thank you, Commander. I believe we must if we want to finally deal with the alionrel problem. This really could make a difference. It’s not just this project – it’s been the custom in Eisterland for several years, and the Nullo estates here have been using similar farming strategies independently with the same results.”
“Perhaps,” Corollas allowed. He gave Marran a pale smile. “That wasn’t why I came over, however. You have made quite a name for yourself in the time you’ve been working for us. I wondered if you’ve considered standing for the Regional Council. You have the sort of energy I’d like to see in our chambers.”
Marran’s face cleared in surprise. “Commander. I hadn’t even thought of it.”
“You’ve been busy, yes,” Corollas said. He raised an eyebrow. “Hadn’t even thought of it?”
“Well,” said Marran, “I did think I might have to stand for Council one day, if I wanted to see this business through, but –” He swallowed. “This isn’t the time – but don’t believe I can.”
The Commander of the Fort turned his head, for the first time taking full note of something Marran had said. “Personal reasons? Sorry to hear it.”
“My record won’t stand investigation,” Marran said. The sounds of the festival receded, replaced only by his heartbeat echoing in his head, rapid and uneven. There was no point denying it, when the first thing the council officials would do was look into his history. “It didn’t impede my appointment here, but – to run for office, even at a regional or local level – I’m not sure I could.”
Corollas frowned. “Let the electors decide.”
Marran wished that was true; now that this was being dangled in front of him, he ached for it. “I’m sorry, Commander, but if you look – you’ll see it’s out of the question currently. Perhaps in a few years – a continued good record here would have to make a difference.”
“But this is nonsense,” said Corollas. “I’ve been making enquiries – seen your file. I can see why you might feel that way, but you’re being over-sensitive. Understandable, but it’s not an insurmountable obstacle. Nothing of the sort.”
Marran’s brows drew together. “Over sensitive?”
“Youthful indiscretion. Illness, strain. Yes, yes.” Commander Corollas waved a hand. “It happens. Obviously, it’s your decision, but I don’t see you need to be ashamed. Sounds as if you paid for the former with the latter in any case. Nothing that won’t stand scrutiny.”
“Commander,” said Marran slowly, at a loss for any real response. The record of his military trial ought to have given anyone pause. Had Corollas missed it? Or had the authorities censored the whole affair in the Wastelands? He could believe that and, of course, he had technically been found innocent, but his mind reeled at the idea that his official record might be unstained by anything more than his flight from the Academy ten years ago.
“Indeed.” Corollas patted Marran’s shoulder again vaguely before looking out over the festival field. “Now, I must make at least a brief appearance at a musical concert over here somewhere –”
Marran smiled, and immediately returned to professional mode. “This way, Commander.”
Marran guided Corollas through the field, past a series of farmers’ stalls, over to a temporary wooden stage in a tent where choirs from local schools were in the currently performing. “Here we are.” He turned his head about, searching for whoever was overseeing this event, until he caught sight of Tual Effiyn hurrying over to join them.
“The Commander,” Marran said to Effiyn, before addressing Corollas: “Commander, this is Imai Effiyn who will look after you.”
Corollas inclined his head, and pressed Tual’s hand briefly. “Thank you. Do tell me, who do we have on stage at the moment? Rather good, I’d say, yes?”
“A children’s choir from Hillold,” said Tual. “They do have some promising youngsters there – quite a high standard, I agree.”
Marran let Effiyn lead Corollas away, but he stopped at the edge of the tent. Hillold was where the Torwells lived. Nobody knew better than he how musical Telo had been. He gripped the rough edge of the canvas as he studied the young singers on stage. He should go back to the Fort and check his temporary base to see if any issues had arisen, but he couldn’t move until he’d seen whether she was here or not. If there was one thing that could drive even questions about his military record out of his head, it was this. “Laonna,” he said under his breath.
The children were of mixed ages, and he wasn’t standing at the best angle to see them individually. His view of the far end of the stage was obscured by people standing to the side of him. It didn’t follow anyway that because Telo was musical, Laonna would be. Marran loved music, but his playing and singing had always been a weak point in his studies at the Academy. Even if Laonna was musical, she might not be here. She certainly wouldn’t be if the Torwells had heard so much as a whisper of Marran’s involvement.
Then one of the girls stepped forward to sing a solo verse, and all other thoughts deserted him. Laonna. He’d wondered if he would know her, after so long, but she clasped her hands in front of her and then raised her head in a way that was Telo to the life. She had dark hair like Telo, but with reddish-gold highlights in it that proclaimed her his too.
“Tears of Shara,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on her. He shouldn’t stand here – Sharrander Colwell would probably count it as breaking the agreement, but neither that, nor the whole festival falling apart around him would have moved him from that spot until she’d finished singing. His daughter, who was never allowed to be his.
Marran edged further round the side of the tent, to get a better view. There was a little furrow of concentration on her face, also reminiscent of Telo, but the steadiness of her stance echoed her namesake, Marran’s mother, and he was there, too, not only in those glints in her hair, but that rounded, stubborn jaw. He knew it all too well from the mirror. He’d seen her as an infant, and Telo had made sketches she’d sent to him while he was in West Korphil with the army, but this was the first glimpse he’d had of her since then. A second marvel in one day, and this far better than the first.
“Good, aren’t they?” said a woman, leaning in towards him.
Marran nodded, his attention locked onto the figure on the stage. “Oh, yes. Yes, they are.”
Laonna stepped back and for one brief instant, gave a bright smile of triumph before she was submerged back into the group. Another trick she’d got from him.
Laonna’s solo over, Marran shook himself and hastened away. He stopped as he went to check on fellow council employees out in the grounds, but nobody had even a minor disaster to report. It was as well, because he found it hard to register anything they said. His mind was stuck on Laonna. She was wonderful – the whole day was wonderful – he must see her again – no, he must be certain to avoid her, to allow an appeal to the Torwells. On top of that, the Commander of the Fort, no less, had taken him to one side and told him to stand for the council and strongly suggested there were no formal black marks left on Marran’s record. The Torwells would have no reason left to withhold Laonna from him.
Marran stopped and leant against the wall of the Old Fort. Calm down, he told himself; keep your mind on the job. There was nothing he could do today. If he approached Laonna now when he didn’t know whether or not to believe the Commander – if he broke that accursed agreement – the Torwells would take away the only rights he had left.
But he let himself smile – let his heart swell with irrational pride. “She’s wonderful,” he said aloud.
Stars and Powers, he thought. Could this be? He had seen the monsters of ice and snow and come back alive. He finally had a post where he could pursue his interests, and now more might be open to him than he’d ever dared believe. And now there was Laonna. His eyes blurred briefly with unshed tears, though he still smiled. He’d try for her too, but the important thing was – he’d seen her at last. She was alive and well, with or without him – she truly was wonderful.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Vienna Orange #18 (You never have belonged to me); Nacre #7 (True Feelings)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas + Paint-by-Numbers from
shadowsong26 (watching a child/student/protégé come into their own) + Novelty Beads (September Secrets – “Wonderful” <- from whenever we did it before!); Graffiti – 11 Years of Rainbowfic Part 9 (September Secrets).Word Count: 1663
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1323; Marran Delver, Laonna Torwell. (Governor Delver backstory; this is 14 years before he turns up at Starfall. Commander of the Fort here is an archaic ceremonial title for Old Ralston’s city leader, the same way Leaira’s grandmother, who has the equivalent role in Lighthaven is known as the Lightkeeper.)
Summary: Marran’s been living under sentence until today.
“Commander.” Marran Delver turned away from his assistant to address Vion Corollas, current Commander of the Fort, who was fast approaching him across the crowded field. “I trust you have been able to find everything?”
Corollas smiled, indicating with a gesture for Marran to fall into step beside him. “Yes. Your festival is very well organised, thank you.”
“Not mine, Commander,” Marran said hastily. “It’s been a joint effort.”
“Of course,” said Corollas, without much interest in Marran’s disclaimer. He halted and put a hand on Marran’s shoulder. “But you took on the brunt of the organisation, yes? I’m also aware of your sunplant project. We are all extremely interested in the results.”
Marran straightened. “I’m glad to hear it, Commander. We need to implement it on a larger scale and see if the results are replicated. Getting people on board will be a great deal more likely if we have your support.”
“I make no promises,” said Corollas. “Remarkable work on your part, but whether or not the business proves practical remains to be seen.”
Marran raised his head. The field outside the Old Fort was filled with people wandering between stalls, tents, and stages. From somewhere nearby, he could hear voices singing over the calls of the stallholders and general noise of the crowd. “Thank you, Commander. I believe we must if we want to finally deal with the alionrel problem. This really could make a difference. It’s not just this project – it’s been the custom in Eisterland for several years, and the Nullo estates here have been using similar farming strategies independently with the same results.”
“Perhaps,” Corollas allowed. He gave Marran a pale smile. “That wasn’t why I came over, however. You have made quite a name for yourself in the time you’ve been working for us. I wondered if you’ve considered standing for the Regional Council. You have the sort of energy I’d like to see in our chambers.”
Marran’s face cleared in surprise. “Commander. I hadn’t even thought of it.”
“You’ve been busy, yes,” Corollas said. He raised an eyebrow. “Hadn’t even thought of it?”
“Well,” said Marran, “I did think I might have to stand for Council one day, if I wanted to see this business through, but –” He swallowed. “This isn’t the time – but don’t believe I can.”
The Commander of the Fort turned his head, for the first time taking full note of something Marran had said. “Personal reasons? Sorry to hear it.”
“My record won’t stand investigation,” Marran said. The sounds of the festival receded, replaced only by his heartbeat echoing in his head, rapid and uneven. There was no point denying it, when the first thing the council officials would do was look into his history. “It didn’t impede my appointment here, but – to run for office, even at a regional or local level – I’m not sure I could.”
Corollas frowned. “Let the electors decide.”
Marran wished that was true; now that this was being dangled in front of him, he ached for it. “I’m sorry, Commander, but if you look – you’ll see it’s out of the question currently. Perhaps in a few years – a continued good record here would have to make a difference.”
“But this is nonsense,” said Corollas. “I’ve been making enquiries – seen your file. I can see why you might feel that way, but you’re being over-sensitive. Understandable, but it’s not an insurmountable obstacle. Nothing of the sort.”
Marran’s brows drew together. “Over sensitive?”
“Youthful indiscretion. Illness, strain. Yes, yes.” Commander Corollas waved a hand. “It happens. Obviously, it’s your decision, but I don’t see you need to be ashamed. Sounds as if you paid for the former with the latter in any case. Nothing that won’t stand scrutiny.”
“Commander,” said Marran slowly, at a loss for any real response. The record of his military trial ought to have given anyone pause. Had Corollas missed it? Or had the authorities censored the whole affair in the Wastelands? He could believe that and, of course, he had technically been found innocent, but his mind reeled at the idea that his official record might be unstained by anything more than his flight from the Academy ten years ago.
“Indeed.” Corollas patted Marran’s shoulder again vaguely before looking out over the festival field. “Now, I must make at least a brief appearance at a musical concert over here somewhere –”
Marran smiled, and immediately returned to professional mode. “This way, Commander.”
Marran guided Corollas through the field, past a series of farmers’ stalls, over to a temporary wooden stage in a tent where choirs from local schools were in the currently performing. “Here we are.” He turned his head about, searching for whoever was overseeing this event, until he caught sight of Tual Effiyn hurrying over to join them.
“The Commander,” Marran said to Effiyn, before addressing Corollas: “Commander, this is Imai Effiyn who will look after you.”
Corollas inclined his head, and pressed Tual’s hand briefly. “Thank you. Do tell me, who do we have on stage at the moment? Rather good, I’d say, yes?”
“A children’s choir from Hillold,” said Tual. “They do have some promising youngsters there – quite a high standard, I agree.”
Marran let Effiyn lead Corollas away, but he stopped at the edge of the tent. Hillold was where the Torwells lived. Nobody knew better than he how musical Telo had been. He gripped the rough edge of the canvas as he studied the young singers on stage. He should go back to the Fort and check his temporary base to see if any issues had arisen, but he couldn’t move until he’d seen whether she was here or not. If there was one thing that could drive even questions about his military record out of his head, it was this. “Laonna,” he said under his breath.
The children were of mixed ages, and he wasn’t standing at the best angle to see them individually. His view of the far end of the stage was obscured by people standing to the side of him. It didn’t follow anyway that because Telo was musical, Laonna would be. Marran loved music, but his playing and singing had always been a weak point in his studies at the Academy. Even if Laonna was musical, she might not be here. She certainly wouldn’t be if the Torwells had heard so much as a whisper of Marran’s involvement.
Then one of the girls stepped forward to sing a solo verse, and all other thoughts deserted him. Laonna. He’d wondered if he would know her, after so long, but she clasped her hands in front of her and then raised her head in a way that was Telo to the life. She had dark hair like Telo, but with reddish-gold highlights in it that proclaimed her his too.
“Tears of Shara,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on her. He shouldn’t stand here – Sharrander Colwell would probably count it as breaking the agreement, but neither that, nor the whole festival falling apart around him would have moved him from that spot until she’d finished singing. His daughter, who was never allowed to be his.
Marran edged further round the side of the tent, to get a better view. There was a little furrow of concentration on her face, also reminiscent of Telo, but the steadiness of her stance echoed her namesake, Marran’s mother, and he was there, too, not only in those glints in her hair, but that rounded, stubborn jaw. He knew it all too well from the mirror. He’d seen her as an infant, and Telo had made sketches she’d sent to him while he was in West Korphil with the army, but this was the first glimpse he’d had of her since then. A second marvel in one day, and this far better than the first.
“Good, aren’t they?” said a woman, leaning in towards him.
Marran nodded, his attention locked onto the figure on the stage. “Oh, yes. Yes, they are.”
Laonna stepped back and for one brief instant, gave a bright smile of triumph before she was submerged back into the group. Another trick she’d got from him.
Laonna’s solo over, Marran shook himself and hastened away. He stopped as he went to check on fellow council employees out in the grounds, but nobody had even a minor disaster to report. It was as well, because he found it hard to register anything they said. His mind was stuck on Laonna. She was wonderful – the whole day was wonderful – he must see her again – no, he must be certain to avoid her, to allow an appeal to the Torwells. On top of that, the Commander of the Fort, no less, had taken him to one side and told him to stand for the council and strongly suggested there were no formal black marks left on Marran’s record. The Torwells would have no reason left to withhold Laonna from him.
Marran stopped and leant against the wall of the Old Fort. Calm down, he told himself; keep your mind on the job. There was nothing he could do today. If he approached Laonna now when he didn’t know whether or not to believe the Commander – if he broke that accursed agreement – the Torwells would take away the only rights he had left.
But he let himself smile – let his heart swell with irrational pride. “She’s wonderful,” he said aloud.
Stars and Powers, he thought. Could this be? He had seen the monsters of ice and snow and come back alive. He finally had a post where he could pursue his interests, and now more might be open to him than he’d ever dared believe. And now there was Laonna. His eyes blurred briefly with unshed tears, though he still smiled. He’d try for her too, but the important thing was – he’d seen her at last. She was alive and well, with or without him – she truly was wonderful.
no subject
Here's your novelty beads!
1. https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cc/18/51/cc1851f5269bf697e02bc50f722fed8e.gif
2. near miss
3. https://h2.gifposter.com/bingImages/LCPAPride_EN-US5979726065_1920x1080.jpg_mb
4. frog
no subject
And thank you for the novelty beads.
no subject
no subject