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rainbowfic2025-09-06 08:22 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2025-09-06 08:22 pm
Entry tags:
Warm Heart #17 [Starfall]
Name: On the Interpretation of Dreams
Story: Starfall
Colors: Warm Heart #17 (Honesty)
Supplies and Styles: Nubs
Word Count: 1891
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: Portcallan, 1313; Viyony Eseray, Osmer Nivyrn.
Summary: Proof that Viyony also takes Leion's advice from time to time.
Viyony hesitated in the gloom of the High Chamber corridor, tempted to turn back, but Imai Nivyrn remained patiently holding the door open for her, so she straightened and stepped into the sunlit study. It was a small room, longer than it was wide, with a bookcase built into the whole of one wall and a desk at the far end in front of the window. Next to where she was standing, three chairs were arranged around a low table. Imai Nivyrn coughed gently from behind her, and then slid past to pull out a chair for her.
Nivyrn didn't sit. Instead, he caught up a stray book from the small table, frowning at its spine before hastily casting it down again. He leant against one of the bookshelves, his hands behind his back. "What is it you wanted to ask me?"
"I'm not sure myself," said Viyony. She clasped her hands together on her lap. "I needed to talk to someone about my true dreams—and Leion Valerno said you knew something about affinity. I hoped you could advise me."
"I can try, but I should warn you my knowledge of that topic is rather more theoretical than practical."
"Good," said Viyony with more vehemence than she had intended. "People always want to tell me what I should do about them, and none of it ever helps. I'd just like to understand a little more."
Osmer stepped away from the books and sat down opposite her. He was a lanky, angular young man with light brown hair, pale skin, and eyes of an uncertain shade of blue or grey. He watched her solemnly for a moment, before a smile briefly lit his face. "I see. Oh, sorry—I forget—would you like refreshments?
Viyony assured him she was fine without, and then twisted in her seat to look up at the bookshelves. "May I?" she asked.
When Osmer nodded, she stood to examine them. Immediately in front of her was a row of volumes on the Boundary Paths, and below those, a run of books about different kinds of Powers and their followers. She put a hand up to one, tracing a finger down its spine and stifled a pang of regret. She had never really had the opportunity to study anything in depth, save for the business. Eseray was often inaccessible in winter and its children had to board down in the town or be sent further away still to study, or work through little more than the minimum at home. Mother had been sent away to school as a child and hated it. She had always declared she would never do that to her children. As a result, Viyony and her siblings had attended school in nearby Mirambridge for most of the year and when the weather was bad, Mother, Father or whoever was at hand and best suited taught them what they could. Occasionally, travelling Pollean priests stayed in the estate with them and they took over the schooling of Eseray's children, but there was never any guarantee of when or if that would happen.
Viyony had been too busy anyway—running round the dye-houses, learning about the artificiary with Grandfather, and accounting and the many sources they used for the dyes from Grandmother, while Father let her help with his experiments to improve fixatives or dyes or reduce effluence. Viyony knew the whole of Eseray inside out—the course of the river, the hidden places where she could find lichen or fungi, the mountain slopes where wildflowers grew, and the names of every soul who lived and worked there. Even going to Mirambridge had seemed like a waste of time—and the older she had grown, the more her dreams had divided her from her schoolmates in any case. Mother and Father would of course have let her go away and study if she had wanted, but she had never looked beyond Eseray.
She rested a hand on one of the books and shook herself. She would have refused to study anything to do with the Powers anyway at that age. All she had ever prayed for then was for them to take their horrible dreams away and give them to someone who actually wanted them.
"Well?" prompted Osmer softly, after a few minutes' silence. "True dreams, did you say?"
Viyony turned slowly. "Yes. I've had them for about ten years now. Sometimes the same dream over and over for weeks, months, even years. Other times it's only one dream, but more urgent, pressing down on me until I do something to prevent whatever it is from happening." She pressed a hand to her chest. "People either want me to stop or to be able to dream more—find out things they want to know. They all seem to think I ought to be able to control it, but I can't."
"Interesting," said Osmer. "Unusual, although not unheard of, especially in the Eister Ranges and the more northerly areas of High Eisterland—where I hail from, incidentally. I've not met anyone who had that kind of dreams before, though, only read about it."
"If I did want to stop—or to use them somehow—what would you suggest?"
Osmer reached past her for one of the books and then perched on the edge of the desk, tapping his fingers against its cover. "Well, that depends. For the former, the only reliable method is too drastic for my liking. Take dead dust. Expensive and unpleasant, and not ideal on a long-term basis, but even so, you ought have some to hand for emergencies."
"Yes, one of the priests said that, but Mother was wary," said Viyony. "I don't like the idea much, either. Leion took me to the place beneath the Empty Temple once and when I stood on the dead ground there, I felt very strange. Dead dust is like that, isn't it?"
"It is that," said Osmer. "Ground down, refined, mixed with other substances and suchlike, but essentially, yes."
"And to control the dreams—direct them—strengthen my affinity?"
"Would you want to?"
Viyony shook her head. "Not really. It's bad enough as it is. But—I see things happening to strangers and then I have to try and save them, and I never -" Her throat constricted. She had to pause before she could get the rest of her words out. "Grandfather died—and I saw nothing. As if—as if I didn't really care, not to dream a warning for him. It seems so wrong that I can't even try to see things for people I know—even the vaguest shadow in lightstone is whole lengths better than I am for actual guidance."
"You already have unusually strong abilities," Osmer said. "Maybe even not far off that of what we call a localised Power. To try and strengthen anyone's affinity is risky and not often successful, but for someone like you, there's a further danger in that you might attain that sort of level. To be an actual Power, or anything like one, comes at great cost. You would disperse—die—in ten years or less, even if all went well. Besides, all the Powers and the great affiniates—they seemed to belong to everyone else more than to themselves. It sounds perfectly sane to me not to want that. But maybe I'm a selfish soul."
Viyony gave a watery smile. "Me too."
Osmer cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so off-putting. You want to know if you could perhaps direct it a little—avoid dreaming at the worst times and encourage it when you want some guidance?"
"Yes."
Osmer rested his arm on top of the pile of books in front of him. "Hmm."
"Maybe even that is more power than anyone needs," said Viyony. "But I must try and understand it at least. The dreams are part of me, however much I hate them."
Osmer nodded. "You ought to go to one of the great Temples in High Eisterland for that. They'd know how to classify you properly and offer training—all the most suitable observances, devotions, advice and so on."
"Well, that's out of the question," said Viyony. "Isn't there a book I could read? I'll have to start small, or I won't do it."
A gleam of humour crossed Osmer's face. "Fair. Not to overlook the obvious—have you read Arland's Book of Dreams?"
Viyony opened her mouth to say no, before a long-lost memory returned to her—one of the many priests who had tried to help her years ago, giving her a book that she had buried at the bottom of one of the shelves in Eseray's library. She had a feeling it had been called something like that. "Not read it, no."
"Then you must. It's old, but it's still the standard work in Eisterland, and there have been several Emoyran translations, so you should be able to find a copy. It covers the different types of dreams and which Powers they are linked to. Once you know where yours seem to fit, you can move on from there."
"Aren't they all the same thing?"
Osmer sighed. "Oh, you Emoyrans; you think gazing into lightstone is the beginning and end of it all! Read Arland, and then I think you should write to Starfall Manor for advice. It's what it's there for. I'm only a student, you know—and primarily a Pathwalker." He hesitated, and then gave her a wary, birdlike glance, before adding, "I'd rather just be a scholar, but like you, I've too strong an affinity and they can't overlook it. It is a nuisance, isn't it?"
"Dreadful, yes," said Viyony. "So, what brings you to Portcallan?"
"I'm writing a paper on the lesser and local Powers of Emoyra. Starfall's archives don't really have much outside of the northerly Districts, so I'm investigating local Powers here in Southern District. Our actual representative is off visiting Lighthaven at the moment, so I've been collared into minding the office and fielding any general queries—but he's more a political sort of person than a scholar."
Viyony smiled. "Then I was lucky to find you."
"No, no," he murmured, suddenly distracted by a nearby book again. "True dreams—very rare, you know. Fascinating to meet you. I meant what I said about writing to Starfall."
"May I write to you?" she said. "You've met me—I wouldn't have to explain all over again, and you could pass it to the best person for me."
Osmer shook himself and let go of the book. He straightened and offered her his hand. "Yes. Of course. I'll look forward to it."
"I promise. I don't like my dreams, but I have to know something. Too many other people whom I don't trust at all seem to know more about them than I do, and I can't have that."
"No, I should think not," Osmer said.
Viyony took his hand and then, when she let go, she glanced up at him. "One last thing—you won't tell Leion I was here, will you?"
"Who? Oh, Imai Valerno, you mean? I don't see why I should."
"Good." She grinned. "I can't having him thinking I take too much notice of everything he says. It isn't good for him."
Story: Starfall
Colors: Warm Heart #17 (Honesty)
Supplies and Styles: Nubs
Word Count: 1891
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: Portcallan, 1313; Viyony Eseray, Osmer Nivyrn.
Summary: Proof that Viyony also takes Leion's advice from time to time.
Viyony hesitated in the gloom of the High Chamber corridor, tempted to turn back, but Imai Nivyrn remained patiently holding the door open for her, so she straightened and stepped into the sunlit study. It was a small room, longer than it was wide, with a bookcase built into the whole of one wall and a desk at the far end in front of the window. Next to where she was standing, three chairs were arranged around a low table. Imai Nivyrn coughed gently from behind her, and then slid past to pull out a chair for her.
Nivyrn didn't sit. Instead, he caught up a stray book from the small table, frowning at its spine before hastily casting it down again. He leant against one of the bookshelves, his hands behind his back. "What is it you wanted to ask me?"
"I'm not sure myself," said Viyony. She clasped her hands together on her lap. "I needed to talk to someone about my true dreams—and Leion Valerno said you knew something about affinity. I hoped you could advise me."
"I can try, but I should warn you my knowledge of that topic is rather more theoretical than practical."
"Good," said Viyony with more vehemence than she had intended. "People always want to tell me what I should do about them, and none of it ever helps. I'd just like to understand a little more."
Osmer stepped away from the books and sat down opposite her. He was a lanky, angular young man with light brown hair, pale skin, and eyes of an uncertain shade of blue or grey. He watched her solemnly for a moment, before a smile briefly lit his face. "I see. Oh, sorry—I forget—would you like refreshments?
Viyony assured him she was fine without, and then twisted in her seat to look up at the bookshelves. "May I?" she asked.
When Osmer nodded, she stood to examine them. Immediately in front of her was a row of volumes on the Boundary Paths, and below those, a run of books about different kinds of Powers and their followers. She put a hand up to one, tracing a finger down its spine and stifled a pang of regret. She had never really had the opportunity to study anything in depth, save for the business. Eseray was often inaccessible in winter and its children had to board down in the town or be sent further away still to study, or work through little more than the minimum at home. Mother had been sent away to school as a child and hated it. She had always declared she would never do that to her children. As a result, Viyony and her siblings had attended school in nearby Mirambridge for most of the year and when the weather was bad, Mother, Father or whoever was at hand and best suited taught them what they could. Occasionally, travelling Pollean priests stayed in the estate with them and they took over the schooling of Eseray's children, but there was never any guarantee of when or if that would happen.
Viyony had been too busy anyway—running round the dye-houses, learning about the artificiary with Grandfather, and accounting and the many sources they used for the dyes from Grandmother, while Father let her help with his experiments to improve fixatives or dyes or reduce effluence. Viyony knew the whole of Eseray inside out—the course of the river, the hidden places where she could find lichen or fungi, the mountain slopes where wildflowers grew, and the names of every soul who lived and worked there. Even going to Mirambridge had seemed like a waste of time—and the older she had grown, the more her dreams had divided her from her schoolmates in any case. Mother and Father would of course have let her go away and study if she had wanted, but she had never looked beyond Eseray.
She rested a hand on one of the books and shook herself. She would have refused to study anything to do with the Powers anyway at that age. All she had ever prayed for then was for them to take their horrible dreams away and give them to someone who actually wanted them.
"Well?" prompted Osmer softly, after a few minutes' silence. "True dreams, did you say?"
Viyony turned slowly. "Yes. I've had them for about ten years now. Sometimes the same dream over and over for weeks, months, even years. Other times it's only one dream, but more urgent, pressing down on me until I do something to prevent whatever it is from happening." She pressed a hand to her chest. "People either want me to stop or to be able to dream more—find out things they want to know. They all seem to think I ought to be able to control it, but I can't."
"Interesting," said Osmer. "Unusual, although not unheard of, especially in the Eister Ranges and the more northerly areas of High Eisterland—where I hail from, incidentally. I've not met anyone who had that kind of dreams before, though, only read about it."
"If I did want to stop—or to use them somehow—what would you suggest?"
Osmer reached past her for one of the books and then perched on the edge of the desk, tapping his fingers against its cover. "Well, that depends. For the former, the only reliable method is too drastic for my liking. Take dead dust. Expensive and unpleasant, and not ideal on a long-term basis, but even so, you ought have some to hand for emergencies."
"Yes, one of the priests said that, but Mother was wary," said Viyony. "I don't like the idea much, either. Leion took me to the place beneath the Empty Temple once and when I stood on the dead ground there, I felt very strange. Dead dust is like that, isn't it?"
"It is that," said Osmer. "Ground down, refined, mixed with other substances and suchlike, but essentially, yes."
"And to control the dreams—direct them—strengthen my affinity?"
"Would you want to?"
Viyony shook her head. "Not really. It's bad enough as it is. But—I see things happening to strangers and then I have to try and save them, and I never -" Her throat constricted. She had to pause before she could get the rest of her words out. "Grandfather died—and I saw nothing. As if—as if I didn't really care, not to dream a warning for him. It seems so wrong that I can't even try to see things for people I know—even the vaguest shadow in lightstone is whole lengths better than I am for actual guidance."
"You already have unusually strong abilities," Osmer said. "Maybe even not far off that of what we call a localised Power. To try and strengthen anyone's affinity is risky and not often successful, but for someone like you, there's a further danger in that you might attain that sort of level. To be an actual Power, or anything like one, comes at great cost. You would disperse—die—in ten years or less, even if all went well. Besides, all the Powers and the great affiniates—they seemed to belong to everyone else more than to themselves. It sounds perfectly sane to me not to want that. But maybe I'm a selfish soul."
Viyony gave a watery smile. "Me too."
Osmer cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so off-putting. You want to know if you could perhaps direct it a little—avoid dreaming at the worst times and encourage it when you want some guidance?"
"Yes."
Osmer rested his arm on top of the pile of books in front of him. "Hmm."
"Maybe even that is more power than anyone needs," said Viyony. "But I must try and understand it at least. The dreams are part of me, however much I hate them."
Osmer nodded. "You ought to go to one of the great Temples in High Eisterland for that. They'd know how to classify you properly and offer training—all the most suitable observances, devotions, advice and so on."
"Well, that's out of the question," said Viyony. "Isn't there a book I could read? I'll have to start small, or I won't do it."
A gleam of humour crossed Osmer's face. "Fair. Not to overlook the obvious—have you read Arland's Book of Dreams?"
Viyony opened her mouth to say no, before a long-lost memory returned to her—one of the many priests who had tried to help her years ago, giving her a book that she had buried at the bottom of one of the shelves in Eseray's library. She had a feeling it had been called something like that. "Not read it, no."
"Then you must. It's old, but it's still the standard work in Eisterland, and there have been several Emoyran translations, so you should be able to find a copy. It covers the different types of dreams and which Powers they are linked to. Once you know where yours seem to fit, you can move on from there."
"Aren't they all the same thing?"
Osmer sighed. "Oh, you Emoyrans; you think gazing into lightstone is the beginning and end of it all! Read Arland, and then I think you should write to Starfall Manor for advice. It's what it's there for. I'm only a student, you know—and primarily a Pathwalker." He hesitated, and then gave her a wary, birdlike glance, before adding, "I'd rather just be a scholar, but like you, I've too strong an affinity and they can't overlook it. It is a nuisance, isn't it?"
"Dreadful, yes," said Viyony. "So, what brings you to Portcallan?"
"I'm writing a paper on the lesser and local Powers of Emoyra. Starfall's archives don't really have much outside of the northerly Districts, so I'm investigating local Powers here in Southern District. Our actual representative is off visiting Lighthaven at the moment, so I've been collared into minding the office and fielding any general queries—but he's more a political sort of person than a scholar."
Viyony smiled. "Then I was lucky to find you."
"No, no," he murmured, suddenly distracted by a nearby book again. "True dreams—very rare, you know. Fascinating to meet you. I meant what I said about writing to Starfall."
"May I write to you?" she said. "You've met me—I wouldn't have to explain all over again, and you could pass it to the best person for me."
Osmer shook himself and let go of the book. He straightened and offered her his hand. "Yes. Of course. I'll look forward to it."
"I promise. I don't like my dreams, but I have to know something. Too many other people whom I don't trust at all seem to know more about them than I do, and I can't have that."
"No, I should think not," Osmer said.
Viyony took his hand and then, when she let go, she glanced up at him. "One last thing—you won't tell Leion I was here, will you?"
"Who? Oh, Imai Valerno, you mean? I don't see why I should."
"Good." She grinned. "I can't having him thinking I take too much notice of everything he says. It isn't good for him."
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Nice to see more of this again!
That's basically what Atino Barra was trying to do with (sorry, I forgot her name) in the Leion story from earlier, right?
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That's basically what Atino Barra was trying to do with (sorry, I forgot her name) in the Leion story from earlier, right?
Yes, that's right!
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Cool, looking forward to it!
I know if I didn't track my progress in a spreadsheet I'd probably never get anything written, haha. I actually just finished the first draft of something long recently, too, and was primarily motivated by "the spreadsheet says I can't post to rainbowfic until I finish this".
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"I don't like the idea much, either. Leion took me to the place beneath the Empty Temple once and when I stood on the dead ground there, I felt very strange. Dead dust is like that, isn't it?"
I like all the worldbuilding of this conversation, but this bit is my favorite.
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Osmer gets it! I'm glad Viyony met someone so helpful and understanding!
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