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rainbowfic2012-08-31 07:58 pm
malapropism) wrote in 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.
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.