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rainbowfic2026-03-10 08:54 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2026-03-10 08:54 pm
Entry tags:
Colour of the Day - 10th March 2026; Azul #4 [Starfall]
Name: Maze of Mirrors
Story: Starfall
Colors: Azul #4 (Aegis); Colour of the Day (10th Mar 2026 - Effulgent)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 1030
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Dreams/unreality, blood.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan; Viyony Eseray, Sia, Olny, Leion Valerno. Continues on from Thrown in the Deep End.
Summary: Viyony is lost.
Viyony walked among mirrors, each one pulling at her, begging her to look and see the fragment of time it held—every instance an urgent message crying to be passed back to the world. They weren't the mirrors in the cellar room: she barely remembered that existed. She was far away, drifting along under a night sky ablaze with starfire that nearly eclipsed the moon; light that was caught as she passed in jagged, glinting glass.
The mirrors were variously leaning against or hung from dark, skeletal trees, each a mismatched jigsaw of broken mirror-slices; multiple conflicting images contained within them. When Viyony touched one, it sliced into her flesh, sharp as knives. Her blood traced a zigzag line down the glass and then evaporated into dust.
A ribbon of mist wound its way in and out of the trees and mirrors, wrapping itself around her in a chilly, ephemeral embrace. The stuffy room under the Zillence house, aglow with lightstone and full of watchers, flashed back into her consciousness momentarily; a mere notion of itself. Perhaps she was there after all; her mouth too dry to speak her visions aloud and her legs ready to buckle under her. She couldn't tell, and the thought passed.
Viyony pressed her hand against the nearest fragment of looking glass, but a soft breath of a breeze brushed her skin, scattering the mist, and made her glance up. Someone was standing in front of her—a different kind of reflection. Viyony stared at a mirror image of herself now walking towards her. She couldn't move, and even if she had tried, there was nowhere to go.
Cool hands clasped hers—and a sudden sense that her real hands were elsewhere, hot and sticky, came and went, before being eclipsed by the urge to pull away. Viyony struggled to protest; tears stinging her eyes. She didn't want to taint her double's fingers with her blood, but her mirror-twin shook her head. She let go, but only to put one finger to Viyony's lips to silence her, and then continued to hold her hand out afterwards, waiting. Viyony took it gingerly, and kissed it, but it was like pressing her mouth to the cold glass. She half expected when she pulled away to see her breath misted on the other's palm.
"Look to yourself now," the Mirror-Viyony said. "No, no, not back to the glass."
Viyony shook her head. "People need help." She could hear desperation emanating from a hundred pieces of glass. People cried, and images appeared—beacon signals of warning. How could she ignore them?
"You must, or you will join me and be lost." The Mirror-Viyony caught hold of her hands again, making Viyony raise her gaze to meet dark eyes that were exactly like her own, except that she could see herself reflected in them, impossibly clearly—so tiny, almost nothing left of her. "Shut your eyes. Look in your own heart's glass—seek your own true desire."
But the idea of the cellar room, with its close atmosphere, already made no sense to her. Nor did her physical body, on the point of exhaustion, with burning throat, and trembling legs. Viyony was only a reflection of others; a means to pass on dreams and warnings. She had no capacity for desiring anything—perhaps not even a heart, or only one that had turned to glass.
A stray, rebellious objection to that slipped through her numb mind, some thought of feelings she did have, but she lost it again: even in this strange place, naming her heart's desire was a step too far. But it left behind some idea of self, enough for Viyony to at last close her eyes to the mirror visions. When she did, she could see the cellar again, even if merely as a distant halo of yellow light surrounded by murky darkness, emanating warmth she could not feel. Dust came out of her mouth. "I'm dying," she tried to say, finally understanding. "I'm dispersing."
The Mirror Viyony touched her arm with light, chilly fingers, and Viyony shivered. It was the first time she realised that, in the real world, she was burning up.
"Who are you?" Viyony asked.
"We don't matter."
Viyony frowned. "We?" She opened her eyes to look at her double more closely, and found that she had a misty, shadowed outline behind her. Some other, hazier figure was also there. Viyony felt the soft, feather-like touch of the unseen other; comforting, rather than spectral.
"Close your eyes to sleep," said the cloudy figure, and Viyony did. "Wake. Stop dreaming, moonbird."
The mirror-figure had moved behind Viyony—exactly the same height and shape as she was, but static and unbreathing; glassy and cold to the touch. It put an arm around Viyony's chest, pressing its hand to the left side, towards her heart. "And now—look!"
Viyony drew in a breath that scraped at her lungs and shut her eyes to the moonlight and starlight, to dreams and mirrors, and the strange figures. Somewhere, reality niggled at her—she hurt—she was so hot—she didn't want to die—and certainly not for Eollan's stupidity—she wished she had never left Leion at the Aliate Park.
It took immense effort to bring herself back. Only slowly could she feel the heat of the room, the people watching, breathing, and hear her own dried and cracked voice still prophesying, prophesying, but she couldn't lift her leaden limbs. She couldn't stop any of it until she heard a sound from above and managed to look up, over the heads of everyone else, to the top of the stairs—and met Leion's gaze.
She fought with all she had to say his name, but it was beyond her: she was so nearly burned away. But he saw, and then time seemed to jump again, and she was in his arms after all, though even with the last piece of strength she owned and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grip hold of him in return.
"Enough is enough," said Leion, sounding somehow both far away and close to her ear. She couldn't have agreed more.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Azul #4 (Aegis); Colour of the Day (10th Mar 2026 - Effulgent)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 1030
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Dreams/unreality, blood.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan; Viyony Eseray, Sia, Olny, Leion Valerno. Continues on from Thrown in the Deep End.
Summary: Viyony is lost.
Viyony walked among mirrors, each one pulling at her, begging her to look and see the fragment of time it held—every instance an urgent message crying to be passed back to the world. They weren't the mirrors in the cellar room: she barely remembered that existed. She was far away, drifting along under a night sky ablaze with starfire that nearly eclipsed the moon; light that was caught as she passed in jagged, glinting glass.
The mirrors were variously leaning against or hung from dark, skeletal trees, each a mismatched jigsaw of broken mirror-slices; multiple conflicting images contained within them. When Viyony touched one, it sliced into her flesh, sharp as knives. Her blood traced a zigzag line down the glass and then evaporated into dust.
A ribbon of mist wound its way in and out of the trees and mirrors, wrapping itself around her in a chilly, ephemeral embrace. The stuffy room under the Zillence house, aglow with lightstone and full of watchers, flashed back into her consciousness momentarily; a mere notion of itself. Perhaps she was there after all; her mouth too dry to speak her visions aloud and her legs ready to buckle under her. She couldn't tell, and the thought passed.
Viyony pressed her hand against the nearest fragment of looking glass, but a soft breath of a breeze brushed her skin, scattering the mist, and made her glance up. Someone was standing in front of her—a different kind of reflection. Viyony stared at a mirror image of herself now walking towards her. She couldn't move, and even if she had tried, there was nowhere to go.
Cool hands clasped hers—and a sudden sense that her real hands were elsewhere, hot and sticky, came and went, before being eclipsed by the urge to pull away. Viyony struggled to protest; tears stinging her eyes. She didn't want to taint her double's fingers with her blood, but her mirror-twin shook her head. She let go, but only to put one finger to Viyony's lips to silence her, and then continued to hold her hand out afterwards, waiting. Viyony took it gingerly, and kissed it, but it was like pressing her mouth to the cold glass. She half expected when she pulled away to see her breath misted on the other's palm.
"Look to yourself now," the Mirror-Viyony said. "No, no, not back to the glass."
Viyony shook her head. "People need help." She could hear desperation emanating from a hundred pieces of glass. People cried, and images appeared—beacon signals of warning. How could she ignore them?
"You must, or you will join me and be lost." The Mirror-Viyony caught hold of her hands again, making Viyony raise her gaze to meet dark eyes that were exactly like her own, except that she could see herself reflected in them, impossibly clearly—so tiny, almost nothing left of her. "Shut your eyes. Look in your own heart's glass—seek your own true desire."
But the idea of the cellar room, with its close atmosphere, already made no sense to her. Nor did her physical body, on the point of exhaustion, with burning throat, and trembling legs. Viyony was only a reflection of others; a means to pass on dreams and warnings. She had no capacity for desiring anything—perhaps not even a heart, or only one that had turned to glass.
A stray, rebellious objection to that slipped through her numb mind, some thought of feelings she did have, but she lost it again: even in this strange place, naming her heart's desire was a step too far. But it left behind some idea of self, enough for Viyony to at last close her eyes to the mirror visions. When she did, she could see the cellar again, even if merely as a distant halo of yellow light surrounded by murky darkness, emanating warmth she could not feel. Dust came out of her mouth. "I'm dying," she tried to say, finally understanding. "I'm dispersing."
The Mirror Viyony touched her arm with light, chilly fingers, and Viyony shivered. It was the first time she realised that, in the real world, she was burning up.
"Who are you?" Viyony asked.
"We don't matter."
Viyony frowned. "We?" She opened her eyes to look at her double more closely, and found that she had a misty, shadowed outline behind her. Some other, hazier figure was also there. Viyony felt the soft, feather-like touch of the unseen other; comforting, rather than spectral.
"Close your eyes to sleep," said the cloudy figure, and Viyony did. "Wake. Stop dreaming, moonbird."
The mirror-figure had moved behind Viyony—exactly the same height and shape as she was, but static and unbreathing; glassy and cold to the touch. It put an arm around Viyony's chest, pressing its hand to the left side, towards her heart. "And now—look!"
Viyony drew in a breath that scraped at her lungs and shut her eyes to the moonlight and starlight, to dreams and mirrors, and the strange figures. Somewhere, reality niggled at her—she hurt—she was so hot—she didn't want to die—and certainly not for Eollan's stupidity—she wished she had never left Leion at the Aliate Park.
It took immense effort to bring herself back. Only slowly could she feel the heat of the room, the people watching, breathing, and hear her own dried and cracked voice still prophesying, prophesying, but she couldn't lift her leaden limbs. She couldn't stop any of it until she heard a sound from above and managed to look up, over the heads of everyone else, to the top of the stairs—and met Leion's gaze.
She fought with all she had to say his name, but it was beyond her: she was so nearly burned away. But he saw, and then time seemed to jump again, and she was in his arms after all, though even with the last piece of strength she owned and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grip hold of him in return.
"Enough is enough," said Leion, sounding somehow both far away and close to her ear. She couldn't have agreed more.
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An interesting look at what it would mean for her to disperse, or be taken over by her power, or thereabouts. It's interesting that it seems to have been very different for Chiulder, since he was still consciously trying to mind control Leion right up until the end.