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rainbowfic2012-08-14 11:26 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-08-14 11:26 pm
Lawn Green 4, Faded Blue 5: Ice
Author: Kat
Title: Ice
Story: In the Heart - Urban Fantasy
Colors: Lawn green 4 (pool party), faded blue 5 (The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine)
Supplies and Materials: Eraser (urban fantasy AU), charcoal (Henry), watercolors (story at a publishing company with fantasy elements), modeling clay (destroy), beading wire (cave picture), glitter ("Legends... are the spice of the Universe, Mr. Data, because they have a way of sometimes coming true." - Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek : TNG), glue (Your fantasy life is rich now with the Moon illuminating your 12th House of Imagination. Nevertheless, keep one foot anchored in the real world so you don't drop off into the realm of dreams.), novelty beads (this picture).
Word Count: 1119
Rating: PG.
Summary: Why taking no for an answer is a good idea, and harassing a rusalka is not. Or, oh, Henry.
Warnings: Nice Guy, homophobia in the background.
Notes: Somewhat bizarre use of the prompts.
The ice maiden was melting at last!
Henry barely kept himself from skipping down the hall to his office. After weeks and weeks of coaxing and courting and wooing, his dreams were coming true. He'd been in love with the beautiful Gina Caravecchio since he transferred to the editing divison three months ago, and now...
Now she had finally smiled at him. Now she had offered to meet him after work, to talk. No more evasions, no more "I'm engaged" or "I'm gay." She'd be his.
He spent the rest of the day planning-- his work would still be there in the morning, after all, and between now and then was nothing but Gina, perfect Gina, with her water-blue eyes and hair like frozen gold, that slow smile full of promises and that body that backed up every one. He had to impress her, show her that she was doing the right thing.
Flowers first, he thought, and skipped out on a meeting to visit the florist three blocks down. The air was heavy with perfume, the counter spangled with color-- he chose the showiest bouquet, orchids and roses in saturated reds. He didn't have enough time to go home and change his ratty old suit jacket, so he bought a deep red carnation to spruce it up a bit, and went back to the office, floating on air.
The walk first. Gina had agreed to take a walk with him, and talk over their relationship. With the flowers and the flattery and everything he had planned, she'd surely agree to go for dinner afterwards. He'd have to pick somewhere fancy, as suited her perfection, but not too fancy, lest she feel underdressed in her simple indigo pantsuit. The afternoon flew by while he mulled over the question, and before he knew it, it was five o'clock, time to meet his goddess in front of the building.
She was waiting for him, her suit coat off and folded over her arm. Beneath it she wore a white blouse, semi-transparant at the sleeves, displaying the fragile grace of her arms and shoulders.
Perfect, he thought, his mouth going dry, and moved forward with the flowers in his arms.
"Oh, Henry," she said, when she caught sight of him. "You shouldn't have."
"Beauty for the beautiful," he said, a little muffled by one of the orchids.
Gina sighed, but took the flowers from him. They looked so natural cradled in those lovely, elegant arms, a spill of red over white fabric and skin, hinting at the passion beneath that ice-like purity. He'd bring it out of her. Tonight, if he was lucky.
"Shall we walk?" he asked, in his best debonair tones. Gina looked at him through her lashes, her head dipped over the flowers, and nodded.
They didn't speak, on their long ramble into Central Park. Henry was content just to bask in her beauty, but he admitted to a little confusion-- she'd told him she wanted to talk, and now she said nothing, only wandered along a path deeper and deeper into the park, cradling her flowers against her chest and looking thoughtfully into the distance. Almost as if...
Almost as if she didn't even realize he was there.
As soon as he thought that, she turned suddenly to him, shoving the flowers back into his arms. "We're here," she said, and walked forward, off the path, down a little hill, disappearing behind a screen of trees. Henry hurried forward just in time to see her sit on the rocks at the side of a pool. She stripped off her shoes and stockings, rolled up her pantlegs and dangled her feet in the water, tipping her head back with a little sigh that hit Henry right in the gut.
Perfect, he thought again, and made his way down to sit beside her.
Gina lifted her head as he sat, and gave him a lazy, heavy-lidded look that he could not interpret. "Do you know why I brought you here?"
Henry blinked. "Yes," he said. "You wanted to talk. Listen, I was thinking for dinner, we could maybe go to--"
"No," she said. "I don't want to talk. You don't listen." She shrugged fluidly as he stared at her, mouth still half-open. "It seems pointless. At any rate, that wasn't my question. Do you know why I brought you here?"
Henry swallowed the hurt-- playing games again, he should have known-- and looked around. It was nothing, a little crystal pool at the base of a waterfall, surrounded by grey rocks and green trees and... totally out of sight of the path.
Hope rose in his chest again. "It's private," he said, and edged just a little closer to her, the flowers crumpling in his arms. "We can be alone."
She smiled, and for half a heartbeat he saw something dangerous in that smile, something shark-toothed. "Yes," she said. "For once you're right."
Then she pushed herself forward and slipped into the pond, disappearing without a ripple.
Henry yelped and jumped to his feet, dropping the flowers, then danced at the edge of the rocks, peering in, trying to catch a glimpse of her. But there was nothing, not so much as a flash of ice-gold hair, only the deep browny-green water and the soft plash of the waterfall rippling across the surface. She was gone, she'd just vanished, how was he going to explain this....
The surface of the pond shivered, and she was there, on the other side of the pond, as suddenly and silently as she'd vanished. She was...
Henry froze.
She was naked, to begin with, high pert breasts tipped with palest rose, a thatch of pale gold between her legs, nothing at all like he'd imagined before. Her hair was longer, waving to her waist. She was glowing, a faint pearlescent aura permeating her skin.
And he was suddenly, inexplicably, terrifed.
"Do you know what I am?" she whispered, walking towards him, the water glass-smooth beneath her feet. "Do you know what you've done?"
He couldn't speak. He couldn't move.
She reached him then, cupped his cheek in one corpse-cold hand. "I am rusalka," she whispered, her breath like a winter wind. "I am engaged. I am a lesbian. I am not for you, and you..."
Ice spread from her fingertips, chilling his skin. He wanted nothing more than to flee but his feet seemed frozen to the ground.
She smiled. "You should learn to take no for an answer," she said, and gripped the back of his neck, and pulled...
When he erupted spluttering from the surface of the summer-warm pond, Gina was gone, as if she'd never been.
The red flowers lay trampled at the lip of the pond.
Title: Ice
Story: In the Heart - Urban Fantasy
Colors: Lawn green 4 (pool party), faded blue 5 (The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine)
Supplies and Materials: Eraser (urban fantasy AU), charcoal (Henry), watercolors (story at a publishing company with fantasy elements), modeling clay (destroy), beading wire (cave picture), glitter ("Legends... are the spice of the Universe, Mr. Data, because they have a way of sometimes coming true." - Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek : TNG), glue (Your fantasy life is rich now with the Moon illuminating your 12th House of Imagination. Nevertheless, keep one foot anchored in the real world so you don't drop off into the realm of dreams.), novelty beads (this picture).
Word Count: 1119
Rating: PG.
Summary: Why taking no for an answer is a good idea, and harassing a rusalka is not. Or, oh, Henry.
Warnings: Nice Guy, homophobia in the background.
Notes: Somewhat bizarre use of the prompts.
The ice maiden was melting at last!
Henry barely kept himself from skipping down the hall to his office. After weeks and weeks of coaxing and courting and wooing, his dreams were coming true. He'd been in love with the beautiful Gina Caravecchio since he transferred to the editing divison three months ago, and now...
Now she had finally smiled at him. Now she had offered to meet him after work, to talk. No more evasions, no more "I'm engaged" or "I'm gay." She'd be his.
He spent the rest of the day planning-- his work would still be there in the morning, after all, and between now and then was nothing but Gina, perfect Gina, with her water-blue eyes and hair like frozen gold, that slow smile full of promises and that body that backed up every one. He had to impress her, show her that she was doing the right thing.
Flowers first, he thought, and skipped out on a meeting to visit the florist three blocks down. The air was heavy with perfume, the counter spangled with color-- he chose the showiest bouquet, orchids and roses in saturated reds. He didn't have enough time to go home and change his ratty old suit jacket, so he bought a deep red carnation to spruce it up a bit, and went back to the office, floating on air.
The walk first. Gina had agreed to take a walk with him, and talk over their relationship. With the flowers and the flattery and everything he had planned, she'd surely agree to go for dinner afterwards. He'd have to pick somewhere fancy, as suited her perfection, but not too fancy, lest she feel underdressed in her simple indigo pantsuit. The afternoon flew by while he mulled over the question, and before he knew it, it was five o'clock, time to meet his goddess in front of the building.
She was waiting for him, her suit coat off and folded over her arm. Beneath it she wore a white blouse, semi-transparant at the sleeves, displaying the fragile grace of her arms and shoulders.
Perfect, he thought, his mouth going dry, and moved forward with the flowers in his arms.
"Oh, Henry," she said, when she caught sight of him. "You shouldn't have."
"Beauty for the beautiful," he said, a little muffled by one of the orchids.
Gina sighed, but took the flowers from him. They looked so natural cradled in those lovely, elegant arms, a spill of red over white fabric and skin, hinting at the passion beneath that ice-like purity. He'd bring it out of her. Tonight, if he was lucky.
"Shall we walk?" he asked, in his best debonair tones. Gina looked at him through her lashes, her head dipped over the flowers, and nodded.
They didn't speak, on their long ramble into Central Park. Henry was content just to bask in her beauty, but he admitted to a little confusion-- she'd told him she wanted to talk, and now she said nothing, only wandered along a path deeper and deeper into the park, cradling her flowers against her chest and looking thoughtfully into the distance. Almost as if...
Almost as if she didn't even realize he was there.
As soon as he thought that, she turned suddenly to him, shoving the flowers back into his arms. "We're here," she said, and walked forward, off the path, down a little hill, disappearing behind a screen of trees. Henry hurried forward just in time to see her sit on the rocks at the side of a pool. She stripped off her shoes and stockings, rolled up her pantlegs and dangled her feet in the water, tipping her head back with a little sigh that hit Henry right in the gut.
Perfect, he thought again, and made his way down to sit beside her.
Gina lifted her head as he sat, and gave him a lazy, heavy-lidded look that he could not interpret. "Do you know why I brought you here?"
Henry blinked. "Yes," he said. "You wanted to talk. Listen, I was thinking for dinner, we could maybe go to--"
"No," she said. "I don't want to talk. You don't listen." She shrugged fluidly as he stared at her, mouth still half-open. "It seems pointless. At any rate, that wasn't my question. Do you know why I brought you here?"
Henry swallowed the hurt-- playing games again, he should have known-- and looked around. It was nothing, a little crystal pool at the base of a waterfall, surrounded by grey rocks and green trees and... totally out of sight of the path.
Hope rose in his chest again. "It's private," he said, and edged just a little closer to her, the flowers crumpling in his arms. "We can be alone."
She smiled, and for half a heartbeat he saw something dangerous in that smile, something shark-toothed. "Yes," she said. "For once you're right."
Then she pushed herself forward and slipped into the pond, disappearing without a ripple.
Henry yelped and jumped to his feet, dropping the flowers, then danced at the edge of the rocks, peering in, trying to catch a glimpse of her. But there was nothing, not so much as a flash of ice-gold hair, only the deep browny-green water and the soft plash of the waterfall rippling across the surface. She was gone, she'd just vanished, how was he going to explain this....
The surface of the pond shivered, and she was there, on the other side of the pond, as suddenly and silently as she'd vanished. She was...
Henry froze.
She was naked, to begin with, high pert breasts tipped with palest rose, a thatch of pale gold between her legs, nothing at all like he'd imagined before. Her hair was longer, waving to her waist. She was glowing, a faint pearlescent aura permeating her skin.
And he was suddenly, inexplicably, terrifed.
"Do you know what I am?" she whispered, walking towards him, the water glass-smooth beneath her feet. "Do you know what you've done?"
He couldn't speak. He couldn't move.
She reached him then, cupped his cheek in one corpse-cold hand. "I am rusalka," she whispered, her breath like a winter wind. "I am engaged. I am a lesbian. I am not for you, and you..."
Ice spread from her fingertips, chilling his skin. He wanted nothing more than to flee but his feet seemed frozen to the ground.
She smiled. "You should learn to take no for an answer," she said, and gripped the back of his neck, and pulled...
When he erupted spluttering from the surface of the summer-warm pond, Gina was gone, as if she'd never been.
The red flowers lay trampled at the lip of the pond.
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......
I knew there was a reason I thought Gina was awesome.
The polarisation here is great, from the impressive portrayal of lovestruck blindness to Gina's icy warning, and it's an interesting character study (though I'm not sure it's supposed to be a character study). Now I'm just wishing I had been a rusalka a year ago. /dry
Brava.
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Thanks!
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But Gina remains awesome, as always. :)
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But he probably doesn't.
Thank you!
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And it is.
It is GLORIOUSLY OFF.
The descriptions after Gina starts to change back- they get magical too. Like Gina's magical.
And also like her they kick ass.
Thank you!
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I too would like to thank you in general and due to awesome.
*SNORF*
Thank you for helping me realize it was OK to write about strangers who nonetheless love each other. And for your encouragement.
And for Jack!
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I love the subversion/inversion of the rusalka myth you've created. She is not a beautiful woman who lures men to their deaths; she is a woman, who happens to be beautiful, which this man views as justifying his crafting a narrative about what her wants and needs. His objectification of her leads him to his own well-deserved comeuppance.
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I've always really liked rusalkas; I felt like they get a raw deal. Men treat them badly, and they feel like there's no way out, so they kill themselves... and surprise, now you get to be a ghost and drown men. It feels very "how dare you be a person with your own feelings" to me. So I thought Gina should be one, a woman who happens to be beautiful with an affinity for water, who has absolutely no interest in men and is so over them trying to use her as if she isn't a person. Justice for the fairy tales, I guess, and all the rusalkas who don't get a chance to make their own narratives because theirs have been overwritten by men.
*ahem*
*turns off English major self*
Thank you!
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This was also really beautifully written, especially the description at the end.
Good work!
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