malapropism: (noooo my brain)
malapropism ([personal profile] malapropism) wrote in [community profile] rainbowfic2012-08-31 07:58 pm

Celestial Blue 1, Fire Opal 8, Alice Blue 12

Title: Inevitable
Canon: The Lethean Glamour
Colors: Celestial Blue 1 (blessed), Fire Opal 8 (zealot/zealous), Alice Blue 12 (if everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does)
Supplies: Canvas, paint-by-numbers (Holly, the day she was chosen), glitter (one word: problem)
Characters: Holly, Sofia
Ratings: PG
Word count: 378
Summary: Holly does not want to go home.

Sofia was going to find out, and that knowledge barred the doors to the Abbey like a deadbolt. The truth was plain across Holly’s wrists and face for all to see, and even Arnadia knew the sight of the brand of Largessa, but none of the sisters knew the feel of it. The brands were burned into her skin in broad strokes, more accurately labeled night-colored than black, and they still stung a little, spiking in pain when touched. Her eyelids were heavy with the weight of the future; she couldn’t let her mind wander for long without getting lost among all the might-have-beens and might-yet-bes. There was nothing of this written in any of the books at the Library that Holly knew of. There was only glory written in a thousand different hands, all violently ended.

Holly had heard all of the tales of the glorious branded chosen of Largessa, and she had also heard how the sisters sang them. The sisters were servants of the gods, and their lives were gladly given to the worship of the divine pantheon. To be chosen was an honor more precious than emeralds. To be chosen was to be more holy than the papess. To be chosen was enviable and admirable, and Holly knew just what Sofia would say and what smile she would wear. It was more than her imagination - it was fire under her eyelids, inescapable, a will-be grown solid and infallible.

“Congratulations,” Sofia would say. Her smile would be meager, but honest and warm, and that would be the real sword in Holly’s gut. “I’m proud of you, Holly. I’m sure your mother will be, too, when she hears of this. I shall pray that you do Largessa proud, as well.”

Holly knew the general shape of what would make Largessa proud of her, could feel it faintly prickling her fingers, and it was a terrible and fanged thing. Holly will do Largessa proud only when a river of blood will drip from her hands, and she didn’t want to know what Sofia would say to that.

Holly stood outside the Abbey doors with stinging wrists and cheeks. In a moment she will come inside, but for now, she just breathes.
isana: Louise Halevy (louise)

[personal profile] isana 2012-09-01 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, wow. Reading it all in one piece just reemphasizes the atmospheric feel of it--all the awe and the pain and the horror of what only Holly can see. That last line really shows the weight of it all.
settecorvi: (Default)

[personal profile] settecorvi 2012-09-02 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
This is terrifying, and wonderful, and wonderfully written. You get a very visceral sense of the horror Holly's swept up in.
settecorvi: (Default)

[personal profile] settecorvi 2012-09-02 01:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh my, such blatant flushed advances, madam. (By which I mean, I see by your icons that you also like Homestuck.)
bookblather: A picture of Yomiko Readman looking at books with the text "bookgasm." (Default)

[personal profile] bookblather 2012-09-02 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, Holly. It seems like she knows what being a tool of the gods means better than anyone else-- it means being a tool, and the gods don't care if a tool gets dirty or broken, there's always another one.
finch: (Default)

[personal profile] finch 2012-09-02 08:47 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, what a bitter joy that is for Holly. I like the turns of phrase, especially Holly knew the general shape of what would make Largessa proud of her, could feel it faintly prickling her fingers, and it was a terrible and fanged thing. It shows the conflicts in Holly's feelings as well as the events that will shape her, I think.
clare_dragonfly: woman with green feathery wings, text: stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories (Default)

[personal profile] clare_dragonfly 2012-09-04 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
Your prose, it is just so delicious. It is like angel food cake. I wish to nom it.

I mean, it's like, angel food cake that strips the flesh from your mouth. But it would be worth it.
novel_machinist: (Vineld: sober)

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-09-06 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
Oh the poor thing. This feels so heavy and dangerous. Like holding a beartrap in your hands.