thisbluespirit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisbluespirit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2026-02-16 08:38 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2026-02-16 08:38 pm
Warm Heart #24 [Starfall]
Name: One Good Turn
Story: Starfall
Colors: Warm Heart #24 (Bored)
Supplies and Styles: Thread + Novelty Beads (11 Years of Rainbow Fic - September Secrets "Read") + Pastels (also forgenprompt_bingo square "Repeats and Repetitions").
Word Count: 1666
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Osmer Nivyrn, Yitava Pollens.
Summary: Leion and Osmer help each other out.
Gathering 17
"Blue stone," muttered Leion aloud. "Ship. Very tall tower. Does that mean the Calla Tower, do you think?"
Fern jumped down from the desk and wandered away.
"No, I don't think it does either." Leion raised his head from the copy of Eollan's notes of Viyony's prophecies he'd got from Tana yesterday. He had promised Viyony that night that he would follow them up, and he was trying. He just wasn't getting very far. Most of what Eollan had recorded were mere snatches and few held enough clues to be useful.
Someone tapped on the front door. Leion jumped up gratefully, and hurried out into the corridor to greet the newcomer, now peering uncertainly round the open door. It was Osmer Nivyrn, the young Starfall scholar Leion had consulted before. Osmer emerged fully into the hallway at Leion's waving him inside, but he bent over slightly as if he feared his head might hit the ceiling.
"I received your note," Osmer said, as he followed Leion into his office.
Leion pulled out a chair for his visitor, whipping away a stack of papers he'd deposited there earlier. "Oh, yes. Thanks. As I said, I'm trying to decipher Eollan Barra's notes from Viyony's visions the other night, and not getting anywhere so far. Your help would be much appreciated—if you have the time to spare."
"Oh, I have time," said Osmer. "Thanks to your sea festival. I was told that most of the High Council offices, archives and libraries would still be open, but nobody warned me the hours would be so arbitrary. Everywhere I go, I find the place is closed after all, or that it was in fact open for two hours yesterday, but not again till the end of the week."
"Ha, yes, it's not a good time for getting things done in Portcallan. Just give into the inevitable and take a few days off to enjoy it—I would."
"I have attended some of the evening celebrations," said Osmer, a reproachful note in his voice. "But I only have so much time here before I return to Starfall Manor, and today I can't even find somewhere to study."
Leion gathered his papers up into one pile, before shoving them into the nearest drawer and getting to his feet "I can help with that much. Come with me—I know a bookshop and an eatery with a quiet place above, where they'll be happy to let you work for a bit if I vouch for you. I'll stand you lunch as well, if you're kind enough to have a go at deciphering these wild ramblings for me. I don't think I'm spiritually minded enough."
"I'm sure you underestimate yourself," Osmer said. "But I will try, and if this bookshop really is all you say, I'll be very grateful. Are you sure it will be open?"
Leion patted his arm. "It's run by a West Korphilian family, and they don't follow the Powers. Not that they've any objection to those of us that do, or don't attend the odd festival event, but they'll be open all right. Come on—I'll show you."
An hour later, safely ensconced in the upstairs room at the Pollens establishment, Leion ate the last of a gingery chicken, spinach and rice dish while Osmer gazed owlishly at the sheet of notes from Viyony's visions.
"Well?"
Osmer laid the notes down. "Yes, I see your difficulty. I don't think I can give you any quick solutions—these are your friend's words, or at least, we must hope they're close to it. You'll stand a better chance of understanding them than I will, because you know her. It's not about myths or history or metaphorical symbols—it's simply how she expressed what she saw. Still, I can give you some general advice, if you want it."
"I'm all ears." Leion pushed his empty bowl aside and took back the paper from Osmer when he passed it to him.
"First, go through the whole lot and note what reoccurs, particularly any words and phrases that are repeated together. Focus on the earliest sections—Imai Eseray is likely to have been more coherent at the start of the visions than by the end. It's also probable that if any visions were imminent that they would have come first and been repeated more often. The further we venture into the future, the more cryptic and vague any visions or dreams become."
Leion nodded. "The same thing about being coherent thing goes for Eollan, too, and he was the one taking this all down. Stars alone know what he was on. Burn it, this is like a particularly unamusing game of Rumours, isn't it?"
"Working out the truth of the past or the future from what fragments we have always is," said Osmer, with a wry twist of his mouth. "Anyway, next try different putting punctuation at different points—see if anything makes more or less sense. Do the same with any variant spellings and similar-sounding words or phrases you can think of." He rose from his chair, brushing crumbs from his light robe. "Now, I'm going back downstairs. Your friend Yita had some highly intriguing volumes in the rare books cabinet. I might have to make a purchase on behalf of the Manor. And I must congratulate—ah, what was the name?"
"Imenna."
"Yes, Imenna, for the meal. I don't think I've enjoyed anything quite as much since I arrived here."
Leion grinned. "I knew you'd like this place."
"Those prophecies won't decipher themselves," said Osmer sternly, pointing to the papers, before he left.
Leion heard his steps heading back down the wooden stairs into the main book shop, as he settled down to scour through Eollan's notes once more. He couldn't say that things immediately made sense as such, but he duly underlined repeated words and phrases and then copied them out. That done, he scowled over the results, pencil poised over the paper. Various words did occur more than others - blue stone was a persistent one, storm another, and later on high tower and mirror seemed to turn up, but in no immediately logical context.
The first thing that seemed to fit together—possibly therefore the most immediate and urgent—was unfit to sail (or possibly sell), farry ruse and flower, and possibly seventh day. Ship also turned up close beside the same phrases in two of the further instances.
"Unfit to sail is worryingly plain, if it's true. Farry ruse is clearly not right," said Leion. "If you are going to make someone prophesy, this is why you stay sober so you can make sure a boatload of people don't drown just because you couldn't—wait, wait -" Leion pulled the sheet of paper forward. "Flower. Ruse—ruza, ruzo, could it be?"
He had better find out. He shot up out of the chair and charged down the stairs into the bookshop, his sheet of workings out in his hand. "Yita, do you have a Low Eisterlandish dictionary?"
"Yes, but you're only to use it if you're buying it or if you are extremely careful. It's a good copy of -"
Leion waved his sales information aside. "I just need to look up one thing. Well, two things. That's all!"
Yita sighed, but nevertheless went to fish the dictionary out of its place at the bottom of a unit of shelves and then passed it over. "I'd say I don't know why I put up with you—but, Leio, you have excellent friends, and this one has a deep purse, so I'm doubly grateful."
"It was for the Manor," said Osmer, barely glancing up from the elderly volume in which he was currently immersed. "I don't personally have a deep purse, unfortunately."
Leion turned the page to the Rs. "Ruzo," he murmured. He was right. It was Low Eisterlandish for flower. He flipped back to the Fs, and scanned through, looking for something that might be rendered as farry or farra or perhaps ferra. He stopped, tapping a likely word with his finger. Farave—far off, distant, or fara alien, strange, foreign, or faraino, stranger, foreigner.
"You have something?" Osmer asked, pulling himself away from the book.
Leion stared down at the dictionary. "I don't know. Maybe I'm making connections that aren't there. I'll have to find out if there's a Low Eisterland vessel in port or due in called something like Fara Ruzo. Because if there is one, it shouldn't set sail again without a very thorough overhaul." He wrinkled his nose. "Or maybe it's the timing. No. Wait. Unfit to sail, that bit was clear. Or sell, possibly. But if it's unfit to sell, it's not going to be fit to sail, so it's the same thing either way."
Osmer smiled.
"Also, what sort of starstone is dark blue? Because she goes on and on about that—more as the notes continue, rather than at the start, but even so, it turns up a lot."
"Hmm." Osmer raised his eyebrows. "Waterstone is never dark blue. Keystone is possible, though."
"Set in silver, I think, she says—more than once."
Osmer shrugged. "Leion, I am not a walking source book on starstone."
"Oh, what a good idea," said Leion. He darted a mischievous glance at Yita before looking back at Osmer. "If there's such a thing in this bookshop, could one of you find it for me? If it's not some horrendously rare volume, I'll even buy it, Yita, I promise."
"What are you going to be doing?"
Leion laughed. "Fetching my things from upstairs, first of all—and then I'm off to the docks to ask about Low Eisterlandish vessels. If this warning is urgent, I have to find out which ship she meant now, don't I?"
"Good luck, then," said Osmer.
Yita narrowed his gaze. "And you will actually buy this book you want, yes?"
"I said," Leion called back from the doorway. "You have my word!"
Story: Starfall
Colors: Warm Heart #24 (Bored)
Supplies and Styles: Thread + Novelty Beads (11 Years of Rainbow Fic - September Secrets "Read") + Pastels (also for
genprompt_bingo square "Repeats and Repetitions").Word Count: 1666
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Osmer Nivyrn, Yitava Pollens.
Summary: Leion and Osmer help each other out.
Gathering 17
"Blue stone," muttered Leion aloud. "Ship. Very tall tower. Does that mean the Calla Tower, do you think?"
Fern jumped down from the desk and wandered away.
"No, I don't think it does either." Leion raised his head from the copy of Eollan's notes of Viyony's prophecies he'd got from Tana yesterday. He had promised Viyony that night that he would follow them up, and he was trying. He just wasn't getting very far. Most of what Eollan had recorded were mere snatches and few held enough clues to be useful.
Someone tapped on the front door. Leion jumped up gratefully, and hurried out into the corridor to greet the newcomer, now peering uncertainly round the open door. It was Osmer Nivyrn, the young Starfall scholar Leion had consulted before. Osmer emerged fully into the hallway at Leion's waving him inside, but he bent over slightly as if he feared his head might hit the ceiling.
"I received your note," Osmer said, as he followed Leion into his office.
Leion pulled out a chair for his visitor, whipping away a stack of papers he'd deposited there earlier. "Oh, yes. Thanks. As I said, I'm trying to decipher Eollan Barra's notes from Viyony's visions the other night, and not getting anywhere so far. Your help would be much appreciated—if you have the time to spare."
"Oh, I have time," said Osmer. "Thanks to your sea festival. I was told that most of the High Council offices, archives and libraries would still be open, but nobody warned me the hours would be so arbitrary. Everywhere I go, I find the place is closed after all, or that it was in fact open for two hours yesterday, but not again till the end of the week."
"Ha, yes, it's not a good time for getting things done in Portcallan. Just give into the inevitable and take a few days off to enjoy it—I would."
"I have attended some of the evening celebrations," said Osmer, a reproachful note in his voice. "But I only have so much time here before I return to Starfall Manor, and today I can't even find somewhere to study."
Leion gathered his papers up into one pile, before shoving them into the nearest drawer and getting to his feet "I can help with that much. Come with me—I know a bookshop and an eatery with a quiet place above, where they'll be happy to let you work for a bit if I vouch for you. I'll stand you lunch as well, if you're kind enough to have a go at deciphering these wild ramblings for me. I don't think I'm spiritually minded enough."
"I'm sure you underestimate yourself," Osmer said. "But I will try, and if this bookshop really is all you say, I'll be very grateful. Are you sure it will be open?"
Leion patted his arm. "It's run by a West Korphilian family, and they don't follow the Powers. Not that they've any objection to those of us that do, or don't attend the odd festival event, but they'll be open all right. Come on—I'll show you."
An hour later, safely ensconced in the upstairs room at the Pollens establishment, Leion ate the last of a gingery chicken, spinach and rice dish while Osmer gazed owlishly at the sheet of notes from Viyony's visions.
"Well?"
Osmer laid the notes down. "Yes, I see your difficulty. I don't think I can give you any quick solutions—these are your friend's words, or at least, we must hope they're close to it. You'll stand a better chance of understanding them than I will, because you know her. It's not about myths or history or metaphorical symbols—it's simply how she expressed what she saw. Still, I can give you some general advice, if you want it."
"I'm all ears." Leion pushed his empty bowl aside and took back the paper from Osmer when he passed it to him.
"First, go through the whole lot and note what reoccurs, particularly any words and phrases that are repeated together. Focus on the earliest sections—Imai Eseray is likely to have been more coherent at the start of the visions than by the end. It's also probable that if any visions were imminent that they would have come first and been repeated more often. The further we venture into the future, the more cryptic and vague any visions or dreams become."
Leion nodded. "The same thing about being coherent thing goes for Eollan, too, and he was the one taking this all down. Stars alone know what he was on. Burn it, this is like a particularly unamusing game of Rumours, isn't it?"
"Working out the truth of the past or the future from what fragments we have always is," said Osmer, with a wry twist of his mouth. "Anyway, next try different putting punctuation at different points—see if anything makes more or less sense. Do the same with any variant spellings and similar-sounding words or phrases you can think of." He rose from his chair, brushing crumbs from his light robe. "Now, I'm going back downstairs. Your friend Yita had some highly intriguing volumes in the rare books cabinet. I might have to make a purchase on behalf of the Manor. And I must congratulate—ah, what was the name?"
"Imenna."
"Yes, Imenna, for the meal. I don't think I've enjoyed anything quite as much since I arrived here."
Leion grinned. "I knew you'd like this place."
"Those prophecies won't decipher themselves," said Osmer sternly, pointing to the papers, before he left.
Leion heard his steps heading back down the wooden stairs into the main book shop, as he settled down to scour through Eollan's notes once more. He couldn't say that things immediately made sense as such, but he duly underlined repeated words and phrases and then copied them out. That done, he scowled over the results, pencil poised over the paper. Various words did occur more than others - blue stone was a persistent one, storm another, and later on high tower and mirror seemed to turn up, but in no immediately logical context.
The first thing that seemed to fit together—possibly therefore the most immediate and urgent—was unfit to sail (or possibly sell), farry ruse and flower, and possibly seventh day. Ship also turned up close beside the same phrases in two of the further instances.
"Unfit to sail is worryingly plain, if it's true. Farry ruse is clearly not right," said Leion. "If you are going to make someone prophesy, this is why you stay sober so you can make sure a boatload of people don't drown just because you couldn't—wait, wait -" Leion pulled the sheet of paper forward. "Flower. Ruse—ruza, ruzo, could it be?"
He had better find out. He shot up out of the chair and charged down the stairs into the bookshop, his sheet of workings out in his hand. "Yita, do you have a Low Eisterlandish dictionary?"
"Yes, but you're only to use it if you're buying it or if you are extremely careful. It's a good copy of -"
Leion waved his sales information aside. "I just need to look up one thing. Well, two things. That's all!"
Yita sighed, but nevertheless went to fish the dictionary out of its place at the bottom of a unit of shelves and then passed it over. "I'd say I don't know why I put up with you—but, Leio, you have excellent friends, and this one has a deep purse, so I'm doubly grateful."
"It was for the Manor," said Osmer, barely glancing up from the elderly volume in which he was currently immersed. "I don't personally have a deep purse, unfortunately."
Leion turned the page to the Rs. "Ruzo," he murmured. He was right. It was Low Eisterlandish for flower. He flipped back to the Fs, and scanned through, looking for something that might be rendered as farry or farra or perhaps ferra. He stopped, tapping a likely word with his finger. Farave—far off, distant, or fara alien, strange, foreign, or faraino, stranger, foreigner.
"You have something?" Osmer asked, pulling himself away from the book.
Leion stared down at the dictionary. "I don't know. Maybe I'm making connections that aren't there. I'll have to find out if there's a Low Eisterland vessel in port or due in called something like Fara Ruzo. Because if there is one, it shouldn't set sail again without a very thorough overhaul." He wrinkled his nose. "Or maybe it's the timing. No. Wait. Unfit to sail, that bit was clear. Or sell, possibly. But if it's unfit to sell, it's not going to be fit to sail, so it's the same thing either way."
Osmer smiled.
"Also, what sort of starstone is dark blue? Because she goes on and on about that—more as the notes continue, rather than at the start, but even so, it turns up a lot."
"Hmm." Osmer raised his eyebrows. "Waterstone is never dark blue. Keystone is possible, though."
"Set in silver, I think, she says—more than once."
Osmer shrugged. "Leion, I am not a walking source book on starstone."
"Oh, what a good idea," said Leion. He darted a mischievous glance at Yita before looking back at Osmer. "If there's such a thing in this bookshop, could one of you find it for me? If it's not some horrendously rare volume, I'll even buy it, Yita, I promise."
"What are you going to be doing?"
Leion laughed. "Fetching my things from upstairs, first of all—and then I'm off to the docks to ask about Low Eisterlandish vessels. If this warning is urgent, I have to find out which ship she meant now, don't I?"
"Good luck, then," said Osmer.
Yita narrowed his gaze. "And you will actually buy this book you want, yes?"
"I said," Leion called back from the doorway. "You have my word!"