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rainbowfic2025-05-18 03:42 pm
paradoxcase) wrote in rainbowfic2025-05-18 03:42 pm
Nacarat #9 [The Fulcrum]
Name: Renewed Conviction
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Nacarat #9: Trepverter (Yiddish): A witty comeback you think of only when it’s too late to use.
Styles and Supplies: Cartography, Graffiti (Three weeks for Dreamwidth)
Word Count: 428
Rating: T
Warnings: Imaginary violence
Characters: Setsiana
In-Universe Date: 1911.9.2.2 (mostly)
Summary: Setsiana returns from the visit.
The three of them traveled back to the time where they had taken the train, passed their earlier selves who were waiting to leave to visit Cusäfä, took the carriage back to Duqhora, and boarded another train headed back to the eastern coast. Setsiana spent the time in silence, mulling over the things she had seen. No new opportunities presented themselves, and there were no real priestesses on the train this time that she was able to catch sight of. Liselye tried to engage her in conversation again during the train ride, but Setsiana pointedly ignored her and read her book instead. Back in Nwórza, the memory of her strange encounter at the temple there resurfaced and kept her escape plans in check, as well.
Back in Qhoroali’s apartment, she went to the room she’d been given and fumed over her own hesitation. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure she would have successfully escaped if she had just gone into the temple in Nwórza when she’d had the chance. Her bad feeling had probably meant nothing. Why would a priestess be her enemy? That Qhoroali and Liselye thought the priesthood was up to something bad meant nothing; they were heretics and kidnappers, of course they would think that. She was sure she could have escaped on the westbound train, too, if she hadn’t allowed Liselye to manipulate her like that. She should have modified the nightdress too, and kept the knife in there somehow. If she’d had it on her then, she would have… she would have told Liselye, put this on your bucket list, and stabbed her in the stomach. Maybe she would have been escorted off the train by police for that, but it would still have been worth it.
She realized then that her earlier reluctance to stab Liselye was completely gone. She could see it in her mind’s eye, in all the gory detail, now. She took out the knife and practiced stabbing imaginary Liselye a few times for good measure, and yes, there was no resistance now, no hesitation, no mental block like there had been before keeping her from committing violence. She was ready, now.
She was too angry, and too riled up go out to the living room and wait for her chance while pretending everything was normal. She lay on the bed and fantasized about bloody murder, refusing Qhoroali’s invitation to eat something from outside her door, and eventually the sun outside her window had descended into darkness and it was time to sleep again.
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Nacarat #9: Trepverter (Yiddish): A witty comeback you think of only when it’s too late to use.
Styles and Supplies: Cartography, Graffiti (Three weeks for Dreamwidth)
Word Count: 428
Rating: T
Warnings: Imaginary violence
Characters: Setsiana
In-Universe Date: 1911.9.2.2 (mostly)
Summary: Setsiana returns from the visit.
The three of them traveled back to the time where they had taken the train, passed their earlier selves who were waiting to leave to visit Cusäfä, took the carriage back to Duqhora, and boarded another train headed back to the eastern coast. Setsiana spent the time in silence, mulling over the things she had seen. No new opportunities presented themselves, and there were no real priestesses on the train this time that she was able to catch sight of. Liselye tried to engage her in conversation again during the train ride, but Setsiana pointedly ignored her and read her book instead. Back in Nwórza, the memory of her strange encounter at the temple there resurfaced and kept her escape plans in check, as well.
Back in Qhoroali’s apartment, she went to the room she’d been given and fumed over her own hesitation. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure she would have successfully escaped if she had just gone into the temple in Nwórza when she’d had the chance. Her bad feeling had probably meant nothing. Why would a priestess be her enemy? That Qhoroali and Liselye thought the priesthood was up to something bad meant nothing; they were heretics and kidnappers, of course they would think that. She was sure she could have escaped on the westbound train, too, if she hadn’t allowed Liselye to manipulate her like that. She should have modified the nightdress too, and kept the knife in there somehow. If she’d had it on her then, she would have… she would have told Liselye, put this on your bucket list, and stabbed her in the stomach. Maybe she would have been escorted off the train by police for that, but it would still have been worth it.
She realized then that her earlier reluctance to stab Liselye was completely gone. She could see it in her mind’s eye, in all the gory detail, now. She took out the knife and practiced stabbing imaginary Liselye a few times for good measure, and yes, there was no resistance now, no hesitation, no mental block like there had been before keeping her from committing violence. She was ready, now.
She was too angry, and too riled up go out to the living room and wait for her chance while pretending everything was normal. She lay on the bed and fantasized about bloody murder, refusing Qhoroali’s invitation to eat something from outside her door, and eventually the sun outside her window had descended into darkness and it was time to sleep again.