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rainbowfic2025-08-29 03:11 pm
paradoxcase) wrote in rainbowfic2025-08-29 03:11 pm
Light Black #23, Color of the Day 8/29/25 [The Fulcrum]
Name: Recording in Progress
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Light Black #23: Beg, Color of the Day 8/29/25: Sidereal
Styles and Supplies: Panorama, Tempera (Used dailytarotdraw.com and got the Five of Wands: Five of Wands suggests that conflict can be a catalyst for growth and innovation. While it may seem chaotic and stressful, the energy generated from the competition can lead to new ideas and breakthroughs. It is important, however, to channel this energy constructively and to avoid letting it spiral into aggression or hostility.)
Word Count: 1771
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Setsiana, Sapfita
In-Universe Date: Night of 1912.3.1.6
Summary: Setsiana records a dream of Sapfita.
That night, Setsiana took the dreamreader than Qhoroali had given her, and set it on the dresser in her room. She scooted the dresser along the wall, until it was right next to the bed. The dreamreader wasn’t as new as the ones she’d seen at Taleinyo; it had some scuffs and some wear on the wooden casing, and looked like it might have been carefully repaired a time or two. She wondered how the heretical temple had gotten it, but however that had happened, it seemed like that must have been a sufficiently rare event.
Setsiana didn’t know exactly how dreamreaders worked; like many of the things the priesthood used, at least some of it was technology from the future. The main case had a hinged lid, which underneath was painted pure white. When replaying the dreamreading, the visuals would be projected there. Hooked onto the sides were two sets of wires snaking off to end in two tiaras, of a sort, which were worn on the head, with special pads that must touch the temples. The dreamreaders she had seen at Taleinyo had three, or sometimes four tiaras for the bigger ones, to allow more priestesses to help interpret the dream, but this was a much smaller one with only two. She herself would only need one of the tiaras for the recording, and she guessed they would only need the two to interpret, as well.
She unwound the wires from around the tiara closest to her bed, and pulled it down to the pillow to make sure they were long enough. That wasn’t a problem at least; there was more than enough give in the wires that she could probably toss and turn significantly without unseating the tiara or pulling the dreamreader off of the dresser. Good. She had never worn one before, and figured it would probably be just her luck that something like that would happen.
She put on the tiara, and carefully climbed into the bed. The feeling of something on her head and forehead was distracting, and at first she wondered if she was going to have trouble getting to sleep, but after a little while the strangeness of it seemed to fade and she felt herself drifting off.
She hadn’t been sure if Sapfita would really come to her that night to be recorded, but Qhoroali must have been right about Her not minding, because she did find herself in one of the lucid dreams they shared. It was another one where they seemed to be facing each other across a table. She could feel the resistance of the table under her arms, but she could not see it; it was not framed in silhouette against the mysterious light source, as Sapfita was.
“You don’t mind this, then?” Setsiana asked. “Being recorded, I mean.”
“Why should I mind it? The number of times I’ve been recorded is unfathomable, to you. If I thought it might help you, I’d suggest using the dreamreader every night. I guess maybe once I would have been self-conscious, but so much of what I give to humans is lost even when there is a recording that I consider whatever little can be preserved to be a blessing, now.”
Cautiously, Setsiana said, “Are You going to tell me something important here, that You want a precise recording of, for the world to see? For Qhoroali to see?” She paused, and added, “Usually with us, in these dreams, we talk about more personal, smaller things.”
“Oh, it won’t actually matter very much what we talk about here, in this dream,” said Sapfita, with a kind of weary acceptance. “This adventure with the dreamreader is not actually going to be very useful to you, I’m afraid.”
“Is it broken?” asked Setsiana. It certainly looked like it had been broken a time or two in its past. Maybe Qhoroali’s attempts to record her own dreams had all been in vain, anyway.
“No, there’s nothing wrong it, and it will produce a recording. It’s just not going to be a very useful one. You’ll understand when you view it tomorrow. You don’t need to worry about personal things you say to me here being visible to her, either.”
Now that she thought about what she might actually talk to Sapfita about in this particular dream, she was coming up blank. Despite Sapfita’s reassurances, something about the fact that the dream was being recorded made her feel self-conscious, observed. Normally, she might have talked about their recent adventure where they had almost become stuck in the distant past. But she found that she did not want to talk about her feelings during those two days where Qhoroali might see them. She also remembered that Sapfita had never really been supportive of her when she had talked about her feelings for Yeimicha, either.
But there was something she wanted to know about Qhoroali that concerned Sapfita directly, and upon consideration, she decided that she did not mind if Qhoroali found out that she’d asked, later.
“Why didn’t You ever give Qhoroali any dreams?” she asked. “You must have known that she wanted to receive one, and still wants one now.”
She felt Sapfita’s shrug more than she was actually able to see it realized in Her silhouette. “Do you really think it makes sense for me to willingly give information to someone who seeks to kill me?”
“I thought You said that she cannot kill You, that there was no danger of that happening. Do You really bear such a grudge against her?”
“Like a human would? No. But it does pit us against each other. It does make us enemies, in a way.”
Setsiana narrowed her eyes and studied Sapfita’s backlit form, which grew brighter and then dimmer with a steady pulse. Maybe it was whatever mind-to-mind connection Sapfita claimed they shared, but she knew, in her soul that this was a lie. She didn’t think Sapfita had ever lied to her before. “You weren’t acting like she was your enemy before,” Setsiana countered. “You told me You wanted me to help her in her quest. Didn’t You? If You want me to help her, I think that puts You and me both on her side, whatever Your reason for that is.”
“She is still wrong about a great many things at this stage in her life,” Sapfita said, sternly, and Setsiana could tell that that one at least was something She truly believed.
“Isn’t that the best reason for You to communicate with her then? To show her how she is wrong, and how she can improve, and guide her to the good decisions, to the righteous pathways among the timelines?”
“Do you presume to tell me how to be a god?”
Setsiana felt the rebuke like a slap across the face, and sat back in the invisible chair, momentarily ashamed. But only momentarily; an instant later, the thought appeared in her mind: This was not what Sapfita was like. It was not who She was. These were the words one might hear from a despotic foreign god in Meandhshen, who demanded unflinching obedience, or from a soulwright who threatened to deliver a malformed soul in repayment of a slight. Sapfita did not shut down discussion so quickly. She welcomed divisiveness and disagreement, and sought to persuade, not to command.
Setsiana said, “I don’t know about other gods, but I have spent four years of my life researching You, and have been speaking to You directly for the better part of two decades, and I think I can tell when You are needlessly being a pissant. You didn’t even need to tell her much of anything in a dream. You didn’t need to communicate vital information. Any dream at all would have made her life easier, would have made things more bearable for her. And You claim to desire to educate those of us who are wrong. That the spread of knowledge is more important to You than punishment, and that even punishments should be just and should teach a comprehensible lesson! And yet You withhold dreams from her out of pure spite, with seemingly no desire to show her why she is wrong! How can you criticize her for being wrong, when You intentionally keep her in the dark and refuse to offer her wisdom?”
She found that she was standing now, leaning forward over the table, braced there on her hands. For a moment, she wondered if she had gone too far, if this would irreparably break something between them.
But Sapfita only seemed to relax somewhat, and sighed. “This was what you were going to argue about during this dream?” She asked. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Setsiana wasn’t entirely sure why she cared, either. When Qhoroali had talked about being doubted by her temple because of never having received a dream, Setsiana had at least felt sympathetic. And maybe she had been harboring some hope that Sapfita would be able to convince Qhoroali that her methods were incorrect. But somehow, she felt more personally invested in this than she’d expected to be, and more angry on Qhoroali’s behalf. She sank back into the invisible chair.
Sapfita continued: “I’m sorry for lying to you — I should have known that with our link, it wouldn’t have gotten past you. It’s just that… there are things you can’t know yet, not at this point in the timeline. I guess what I can tell you is that I would give Qhoroali a dream, but I can’t. It is not within my capabilities.”
Setsiana blinked at her in confusion. “You… can’t? I thought You could give anyone a dream, if You wanted to. Are there some people who just can’t receive them, for some reason?”
“Not so much. I generally can give dreams to whoever I want. It’s more that Qhoroali is a bit of a special case. And as I said before, the why of it is not something I can tell you, for now.”
“So, I have some special connection to You, and Qhoroali has some special separation from You?” In some way, that almost seemed like it might make sense.
Sapfita laughed, seemingly genuinely amused by that, for some reason. “I suppose that is one way of looking at it,” She said. “As always, please remember that I love you. No matter what fights or arguments we may have here, that will never change.”
The dream melted away like sand withdrawing with the tide, and Setsiana found herself waking to the rays of morning sunlight sifting in under the window’s shutter.
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Light Black #23: Beg, Color of the Day 8/29/25: Sidereal
Styles and Supplies: Panorama, Tempera (Used dailytarotdraw.com and got the Five of Wands: Five of Wands suggests that conflict can be a catalyst for growth and innovation. While it may seem chaotic and stressful, the energy generated from the competition can lead to new ideas and breakthroughs. It is important, however, to channel this energy constructively and to avoid letting it spiral into aggression or hostility.)
Word Count: 1771
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Setsiana, Sapfita
In-Universe Date: Night of 1912.3.1.6
Summary: Setsiana records a dream of Sapfita.
That night, Setsiana took the dreamreader than Qhoroali had given her, and set it on the dresser in her room. She scooted the dresser along the wall, until it was right next to the bed. The dreamreader wasn’t as new as the ones she’d seen at Taleinyo; it had some scuffs and some wear on the wooden casing, and looked like it might have been carefully repaired a time or two. She wondered how the heretical temple had gotten it, but however that had happened, it seemed like that must have been a sufficiently rare event.
Setsiana didn’t know exactly how dreamreaders worked; like many of the things the priesthood used, at least some of it was technology from the future. The main case had a hinged lid, which underneath was painted pure white. When replaying the dreamreading, the visuals would be projected there. Hooked onto the sides were two sets of wires snaking off to end in two tiaras, of a sort, which were worn on the head, with special pads that must touch the temples. The dreamreaders she had seen at Taleinyo had three, or sometimes four tiaras for the bigger ones, to allow more priestesses to help interpret the dream, but this was a much smaller one with only two. She herself would only need one of the tiaras for the recording, and she guessed they would only need the two to interpret, as well.
She unwound the wires from around the tiara closest to her bed, and pulled it down to the pillow to make sure they were long enough. That wasn’t a problem at least; there was more than enough give in the wires that she could probably toss and turn significantly without unseating the tiara or pulling the dreamreader off of the dresser. Good. She had never worn one before, and figured it would probably be just her luck that something like that would happen.
She put on the tiara, and carefully climbed into the bed. The feeling of something on her head and forehead was distracting, and at first she wondered if she was going to have trouble getting to sleep, but after a little while the strangeness of it seemed to fade and she felt herself drifting off.
She hadn’t been sure if Sapfita would really come to her that night to be recorded, but Qhoroali must have been right about Her not minding, because she did find herself in one of the lucid dreams they shared. It was another one where they seemed to be facing each other across a table. She could feel the resistance of the table under her arms, but she could not see it; it was not framed in silhouette against the mysterious light source, as Sapfita was.
“You don’t mind this, then?” Setsiana asked. “Being recorded, I mean.”
“Why should I mind it? The number of times I’ve been recorded is unfathomable, to you. If I thought it might help you, I’d suggest using the dreamreader every night. I guess maybe once I would have been self-conscious, but so much of what I give to humans is lost even when there is a recording that I consider whatever little can be preserved to be a blessing, now.”
Cautiously, Setsiana said, “Are You going to tell me something important here, that You want a precise recording of, for the world to see? For Qhoroali to see?” She paused, and added, “Usually with us, in these dreams, we talk about more personal, smaller things.”
“Oh, it won’t actually matter very much what we talk about here, in this dream,” said Sapfita, with a kind of weary acceptance. “This adventure with the dreamreader is not actually going to be very useful to you, I’m afraid.”
“Is it broken?” asked Setsiana. It certainly looked like it had been broken a time or two in its past. Maybe Qhoroali’s attempts to record her own dreams had all been in vain, anyway.
“No, there’s nothing wrong it, and it will produce a recording. It’s just not going to be a very useful one. You’ll understand when you view it tomorrow. You don’t need to worry about personal things you say to me here being visible to her, either.”
Now that she thought about what she might actually talk to Sapfita about in this particular dream, she was coming up blank. Despite Sapfita’s reassurances, something about the fact that the dream was being recorded made her feel self-conscious, observed. Normally, she might have talked about their recent adventure where they had almost become stuck in the distant past. But she found that she did not want to talk about her feelings during those two days where Qhoroali might see them. She also remembered that Sapfita had never really been supportive of her when she had talked about her feelings for Yeimicha, either.
But there was something she wanted to know about Qhoroali that concerned Sapfita directly, and upon consideration, she decided that she did not mind if Qhoroali found out that she’d asked, later.
“Why didn’t You ever give Qhoroali any dreams?” she asked. “You must have known that she wanted to receive one, and still wants one now.”
She felt Sapfita’s shrug more than she was actually able to see it realized in Her silhouette. “Do you really think it makes sense for me to willingly give information to someone who seeks to kill me?”
“I thought You said that she cannot kill You, that there was no danger of that happening. Do You really bear such a grudge against her?”
“Like a human would? No. But it does pit us against each other. It does make us enemies, in a way.”
Setsiana narrowed her eyes and studied Sapfita’s backlit form, which grew brighter and then dimmer with a steady pulse. Maybe it was whatever mind-to-mind connection Sapfita claimed they shared, but she knew, in her soul that this was a lie. She didn’t think Sapfita had ever lied to her before. “You weren’t acting like she was your enemy before,” Setsiana countered. “You told me You wanted me to help her in her quest. Didn’t You? If You want me to help her, I think that puts You and me both on her side, whatever Your reason for that is.”
“She is still wrong about a great many things at this stage in her life,” Sapfita said, sternly, and Setsiana could tell that that one at least was something She truly believed.
“Isn’t that the best reason for You to communicate with her then? To show her how she is wrong, and how she can improve, and guide her to the good decisions, to the righteous pathways among the timelines?”
“Do you presume to tell me how to be a god?”
Setsiana felt the rebuke like a slap across the face, and sat back in the invisible chair, momentarily ashamed. But only momentarily; an instant later, the thought appeared in her mind: This was not what Sapfita was like. It was not who She was. These were the words one might hear from a despotic foreign god in Meandhshen, who demanded unflinching obedience, or from a soulwright who threatened to deliver a malformed soul in repayment of a slight. Sapfita did not shut down discussion so quickly. She welcomed divisiveness and disagreement, and sought to persuade, not to command.
Setsiana said, “I don’t know about other gods, but I have spent four years of my life researching You, and have been speaking to You directly for the better part of two decades, and I think I can tell when You are needlessly being a pissant. You didn’t even need to tell her much of anything in a dream. You didn’t need to communicate vital information. Any dream at all would have made her life easier, would have made things more bearable for her. And You claim to desire to educate those of us who are wrong. That the spread of knowledge is more important to You than punishment, and that even punishments should be just and should teach a comprehensible lesson! And yet You withhold dreams from her out of pure spite, with seemingly no desire to show her why she is wrong! How can you criticize her for being wrong, when You intentionally keep her in the dark and refuse to offer her wisdom?”
She found that she was standing now, leaning forward over the table, braced there on her hands. For a moment, she wondered if she had gone too far, if this would irreparably break something between them.
But Sapfita only seemed to relax somewhat, and sighed. “This was what you were going to argue about during this dream?” She asked. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Setsiana wasn’t entirely sure why she cared, either. When Qhoroali had talked about being doubted by her temple because of never having received a dream, Setsiana had at least felt sympathetic. And maybe she had been harboring some hope that Sapfita would be able to convince Qhoroali that her methods were incorrect. But somehow, she felt more personally invested in this than she’d expected to be, and more angry on Qhoroali’s behalf. She sank back into the invisible chair.
Sapfita continued: “I’m sorry for lying to you — I should have known that with our link, it wouldn’t have gotten past you. It’s just that… there are things you can’t know yet, not at this point in the timeline. I guess what I can tell you is that I would give Qhoroali a dream, but I can’t. It is not within my capabilities.”
Setsiana blinked at her in confusion. “You… can’t? I thought You could give anyone a dream, if You wanted to. Are there some people who just can’t receive them, for some reason?”
“Not so much. I generally can give dreams to whoever I want. It’s more that Qhoroali is a bit of a special case. And as I said before, the why of it is not something I can tell you, for now.”
“So, I have some special connection to You, and Qhoroali has some special separation from You?” In some way, that almost seemed like it might make sense.
Sapfita laughed, seemingly genuinely amused by that, for some reason. “I suppose that is one way of looking at it,” She said. “As always, please remember that I love you. No matter what fights or arguments we may have here, that will never change.”
The dream melted away like sand withdrawing with the tide, and Setsiana found herself waking to the rays of morning sunlight sifting in under the window’s shutter.
no subject
That's a really interesting parallel!
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Thanks! We shall see how true that actually turns out to be...
no subject
I remain very intrigued to see where we're going, as ever!
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Thank you!
no subject
no subject
I'm glad you liked it! It's the first fighting-with-God scene, but not the last.