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rainbowfic2026-02-01 02:50 pm
paradoxcase) wrote in rainbowfic2026-02-01 02:50 pm
Light Black #15, Warm Heart #16 [The Fulcrum]
Name: Belated Truths
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Light Black #15: Fool, Warm Heart #16: Misery
Styles and Supplies: Life Drawing, Charcoal, Modeling Clay (this image prompt), Watercolors ("This week consider some of your greatest fears, anything from creepy crawlies to the loss of loved ones to melodramatic betrayal. Write a short story that revolves around one of these fears, concocting an arc that fluctuates between moments of slow, modulated actions and descriptions of higher tensions. Do you find yourself inclined to take the story to intense extremes or to end things on a simmer?")
Word Count: 1543
Rating: T+
Warnings: Discussion of sex, some past self-imposed dubconish situations (not really sure how to tag this), and past suicidal ideation
Characters: Qhoroali, Liselye
In-Universe Date: 1912.4.5.6
Summary: Qhoroali and Liselye have a personal conversation.
With Setsiana gone for the day and Li taking a break from her usual activities, Qhoroali took some time to sit with her friend outside the café, on a low wall around the side of the building that was overhung by some trees. The day was quite warm, and the shade was welcome.
They spoke for a while about inconsequential things in their native Vrelian. They’d been using the language less and less ever since they’d adopted QuCheanya as a lingua franca among the wider group that had pledged themselves to Qhoroali’s cause, but they returned to it sometimes, when they spoke to each other as friends. To Qhoroali, it felt a little like they were returning to an earlier, simpler time in their lives, when there had been less at stake, and there had seemed to be less evil in the world.
There might not be many more chances for them to speak like this. Qhoroali had felt increasingly over the past month or so that the research and experiments were coming together to some turning point, to a place she would not be able to return from easily. There was really just one more discovery she needed, and one successful experiment, and her goal would be within her grasp. And while talking to Li like this was comfortable, she felt the need to return to a darker subject while the time still remained to do so.
When the conversation naturally came to a lull, Qhoroali took a breath, turned her head to watch Li’s expression, and asked: “When I kill Sapfita… are you still prepared for the idea that you might cease to exist in the fallout?” She’d told Setsiana that she herself was the only one that would suffer that fate. But when they’d originally looked at Li’s family history, they’d seen events that might have depended on the existence of the priesthood, and had never been absolutely sure that they would still happen in its absence.
Li had a resolute and somewhat sad expression on her face when she replied, “I told you, didn’t I? I understand that this means more than I do, more than any single human does. And if you’re ready for that certainty for yourself, who am I to say that I’m not ready for even just the possibility?”
“I just wanted to check,” said Qhoroali. “I think I understand a bit better now why the idea upset you so much before.”
Li shrugged. “That was a long time ago.” Then she turned her head sharply. “What do you mean about understanding it better now, though?”
Qhoroali was silent for a minute. “Existence… wasn’t always so easy,” she said, slowly. “Sometimes, it felt like disappearing in a puff of logic like that would be an easy solution to a lot of problems.”
Li frowned. “Like what?”
Did she really want to get into it? Well, maybe she should. It was long past now, and for once, it finally felt like it actually was water under the bridge now. Just in time for her to finally figure out how to kill Sapfita, and actually disappear in a puff of logic. Ironic.
“It was when I was with Cyaru,” she said. “It was… well, you know how it was, right?”
“I know what you told me about it,” said Li. “I don’t know if I can claim to understand.”
“It was like… we would go to bed. And I would say, ‘Tonight’s the night. I’m ready. Let’s have sex.’ And then it would feel like I was standing next to a pit of something disgusting, saying I was going to jump into it, or that I was going to pick up some garbage off the ground and eat it, and I couldn’t make myself do it. I would try and try, and I couldn’t do it, and he would say, ‘It’s ok’ and then I would feel awful.”
Qhoroali paused, and closed her eyes. “And back then, all I could think was that if I could just figure out how to kill Sapfita faster, this would all be over and I wouldn’t have to do this anymore.” She took in a deep breath. “That was a long time ago… but even after we were over, I kept thinking about it. That if I wanted to find someone to be with, if I wanted to not be alone, I would wind up having to go back and do all of that again. It was unbearable, with him. But it was unbearable knowing I’d always be alone, too.”
She stopped, and just breathed for a minute, and suddenly she was being pulled to the side, against Li, by Li’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Oh, why did you never tell me about this, Rou?” Li asked. “I could have… I don’t know. But I would have understood, at least. You didn’t need to carry that alone.”
Qhoroali allowed herself to be pulled, and put her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I just… it was too close, still. It would have hurt to talk about it. There’s some distance, now. I don’t feel that way anymore.”
“I’m glad for that,” said Li. “But what’s different now?” Her voice took on an excited and playful tone. “Is there someone new?”
Was there ever. But… “It’s probably just a false hope,” said Qhoroali. “I’m sure I’ll have to accept reality again in due time. But for a moment, it felt like something else might be possible, and I’ll hold onto that while I can.”
“Who is it?”
Maybe this would turn out to be the more awkward revelation after all, now that she thought about it. But it wasn’t like she could deny Li’s curiosity after everything else she’d said. She fixed her gaze at the sunlight dappling beneath the tree’s leaves and said, “It’s Setsiana.”
“Oh!” said Li. Qhoroali wasn’t looking at her face, but she could feel the confusion radiating off of her. “But I thought— Didn’t you say— I thought we’d both decided we weren’t into women like that, way back when.”
Well, Li had, anyway. It had been so long ago, when they’d tried dating each other as teenagers, and when she’d hit the same wall that she would hit again years later with Cyaru, she’d panicked and wondered what was wrong. And then Li had said, “I’m not sure I really want this, with a girl,” and it had been so easy to just say, “Me either.” She’d known deep down that it wasn’t really true, not the way it was for Li, by the way it had broken her heart a bit, but believing it was better than believing the alternative — that she didn’t want sex with anyone and there was no one for her in the whole world.
She’d buried her feelings in a box and shoved it into the far back corner of her mind and waited patiently to meet a man with whom everything would surely feel right. But even after she’d met Cyaru and had to face the truth that she would never want sex from anyone, it had still taken her until after she’d kidnapped Setsiana to unearth that box again and remember the rest.
She still felt like there must be something of Setsiana that had been buried with that box in the first place. That she’d met Setsiana somewhere before, and loved her, back when she was still fighting to forget her feelings for Li. Maybe there was still something left that hadn’t yet resurfaced.
She could still feel Li looking at her expectantly, so she shrugged. “Things change,” she said, vaguely. “That was over a decade ago.”
“And you think it would work out with her?” Li asked. “Is she like you, too, then?”
“Not… exactly. I mean, she also doesn’t see people sexually, she said she didn’t think she was attracted like that.” Qhoroali took a minute to force herself to think about what Setsiana had said realistically. “She seems to like sex just fine, though, so no, she’s not really like me.” She shook her head. “Like I said, it’s probably a false hope. I’ll face the truth that it won’t work eventually, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve almost got what I need to kill Sapfita, and after that, none of this will matter.” She laughed a little. “I guess I don’t feel guilty, entertaining the fantasy, because of that. Because I’ll never really have to put it to the test and be disappointed. I’ll never have to find out it was false.”
Beside her, Li was pursing her lips. “I think you’re too quick to say it won’t work,” she said. “How will you know, if you don’t at least give it a shot?”
“I’d rather never know for sure than risk going through all of that a second time,” said Qhoroali. She turned to look at Li more directly. “You’re sworn to secrecy about this, you got that? You can’t tell her. Or Cyaru, or anyone.”
Li pouted unhappily. “Alright,” she said. “I promise. But I still think you’re being unduly pessimistic.”
They relaxed back into more comfortable, light-hearted conversation, as the afternoon whiled away and the sun gradually sank into the west.
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Light Black #15: Fool, Warm Heart #16: Misery
Styles and Supplies: Life Drawing, Charcoal, Modeling Clay (this image prompt), Watercolors ("This week consider some of your greatest fears, anything from creepy crawlies to the loss of loved ones to melodramatic betrayal. Write a short story that revolves around one of these fears, concocting an arc that fluctuates between moments of slow, modulated actions and descriptions of higher tensions. Do you find yourself inclined to take the story to intense extremes or to end things on a simmer?")
Word Count: 1543
Rating: T+
Warnings: Discussion of sex, some past self-imposed dubconish situations (not really sure how to tag this), and past suicidal ideation
Characters: Qhoroali, Liselye
In-Universe Date: 1912.4.5.6
Summary: Qhoroali and Liselye have a personal conversation.
With Setsiana gone for the day and Li taking a break from her usual activities, Qhoroali took some time to sit with her friend outside the café, on a low wall around the side of the building that was overhung by some trees. The day was quite warm, and the shade was welcome.
They spoke for a while about inconsequential things in their native Vrelian. They’d been using the language less and less ever since they’d adopted QuCheanya as a lingua franca among the wider group that had pledged themselves to Qhoroali’s cause, but they returned to it sometimes, when they spoke to each other as friends. To Qhoroali, it felt a little like they were returning to an earlier, simpler time in their lives, when there had been less at stake, and there had seemed to be less evil in the world.
There might not be many more chances for them to speak like this. Qhoroali had felt increasingly over the past month or so that the research and experiments were coming together to some turning point, to a place she would not be able to return from easily. There was really just one more discovery she needed, and one successful experiment, and her goal would be within her grasp. And while talking to Li like this was comfortable, she felt the need to return to a darker subject while the time still remained to do so.
When the conversation naturally came to a lull, Qhoroali took a breath, turned her head to watch Li’s expression, and asked: “When I kill Sapfita… are you still prepared for the idea that you might cease to exist in the fallout?” She’d told Setsiana that she herself was the only one that would suffer that fate. But when they’d originally looked at Li’s family history, they’d seen events that might have depended on the existence of the priesthood, and had never been absolutely sure that they would still happen in its absence.
Li had a resolute and somewhat sad expression on her face when she replied, “I told you, didn’t I? I understand that this means more than I do, more than any single human does. And if you’re ready for that certainty for yourself, who am I to say that I’m not ready for even just the possibility?”
“I just wanted to check,” said Qhoroali. “I think I understand a bit better now why the idea upset you so much before.”
Li shrugged. “That was a long time ago.” Then she turned her head sharply. “What do you mean about understanding it better now, though?”
Qhoroali was silent for a minute. “Existence… wasn’t always so easy,” she said, slowly. “Sometimes, it felt like disappearing in a puff of logic like that would be an easy solution to a lot of problems.”
Li frowned. “Like what?”
Did she really want to get into it? Well, maybe she should. It was long past now, and for once, it finally felt like it actually was water under the bridge now. Just in time for her to finally figure out how to kill Sapfita, and actually disappear in a puff of logic. Ironic.
“It was when I was with Cyaru,” she said. “It was… well, you know how it was, right?”
“I know what you told me about it,” said Li. “I don’t know if I can claim to understand.”
“It was like… we would go to bed. And I would say, ‘Tonight’s the night. I’m ready. Let’s have sex.’ And then it would feel like I was standing next to a pit of something disgusting, saying I was going to jump into it, or that I was going to pick up some garbage off the ground and eat it, and I couldn’t make myself do it. I would try and try, and I couldn’t do it, and he would say, ‘It’s ok’ and then I would feel awful.”
Qhoroali paused, and closed her eyes. “And back then, all I could think was that if I could just figure out how to kill Sapfita faster, this would all be over and I wouldn’t have to do this anymore.” She took in a deep breath. “That was a long time ago… but even after we were over, I kept thinking about it. That if I wanted to find someone to be with, if I wanted to not be alone, I would wind up having to go back and do all of that again. It was unbearable, with him. But it was unbearable knowing I’d always be alone, too.”
She stopped, and just breathed for a minute, and suddenly she was being pulled to the side, against Li, by Li’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Oh, why did you never tell me about this, Rou?” Li asked. “I could have… I don’t know. But I would have understood, at least. You didn’t need to carry that alone.”
Qhoroali allowed herself to be pulled, and put her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I just… it was too close, still. It would have hurt to talk about it. There’s some distance, now. I don’t feel that way anymore.”
“I’m glad for that,” said Li. “But what’s different now?” Her voice took on an excited and playful tone. “Is there someone new?”
Was there ever. But… “It’s probably just a false hope,” said Qhoroali. “I’m sure I’ll have to accept reality again in due time. But for a moment, it felt like something else might be possible, and I’ll hold onto that while I can.”
“Who is it?”
Maybe this would turn out to be the more awkward revelation after all, now that she thought about it. But it wasn’t like she could deny Li’s curiosity after everything else she’d said. She fixed her gaze at the sunlight dappling beneath the tree’s leaves and said, “It’s Setsiana.”
“Oh!” said Li. Qhoroali wasn’t looking at her face, but she could feel the confusion radiating off of her. “But I thought— Didn’t you say— I thought we’d both decided we weren’t into women like that, way back when.”
Well, Li had, anyway. It had been so long ago, when they’d tried dating each other as teenagers, and when she’d hit the same wall that she would hit again years later with Cyaru, she’d panicked and wondered what was wrong. And then Li had said, “I’m not sure I really want this, with a girl,” and it had been so easy to just say, “Me either.” She’d known deep down that it wasn’t really true, not the way it was for Li, by the way it had broken her heart a bit, but believing it was better than believing the alternative — that she didn’t want sex with anyone and there was no one for her in the whole world.
She’d buried her feelings in a box and shoved it into the far back corner of her mind and waited patiently to meet a man with whom everything would surely feel right. But even after she’d met Cyaru and had to face the truth that she would never want sex from anyone, it had still taken her until after she’d kidnapped Setsiana to unearth that box again and remember the rest.
She still felt like there must be something of Setsiana that had been buried with that box in the first place. That she’d met Setsiana somewhere before, and loved her, back when she was still fighting to forget her feelings for Li. Maybe there was still something left that hadn’t yet resurfaced.
She could still feel Li looking at her expectantly, so she shrugged. “Things change,” she said, vaguely. “That was over a decade ago.”
“And you think it would work out with her?” Li asked. “Is she like you, too, then?”
“Not… exactly. I mean, she also doesn’t see people sexually, she said she didn’t think she was attracted like that.” Qhoroali took a minute to force herself to think about what Setsiana had said realistically. “She seems to like sex just fine, though, so no, she’s not really like me.” She shook her head. “Like I said, it’s probably a false hope. I’ll face the truth that it won’t work eventually, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve almost got what I need to kill Sapfita, and after that, none of this will matter.” She laughed a little. “I guess I don’t feel guilty, entertaining the fantasy, because of that. Because I’ll never really have to put it to the test and be disappointed. I’ll never have to find out it was false.”
Beside her, Li was pursing her lips. “I think you’re too quick to say it won’t work,” she said. “How will you know, if you don’t at least give it a shot?”
“I’d rather never know for sure than risk going through all of that a second time,” said Qhoroali. She turned to look at Li more directly. “You’re sworn to secrecy about this, you got that? You can’t tell her. Or Cyaru, or anyone.”
Li pouted unhappily. “Alright,” she said. “I promise. But I still think you’re being unduly pessimistic.”
They relaxed back into more comfortable, light-hearted conversation, as the afternoon whiled away and the sun gradually sank into the west.