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rainbowfic2012-09-20 01:51 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2012-09-20 01:51 pm
Bone Black 10, Sulphur 9
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Memento Mori
Colors: Bone Black 10. Memento Mori; Sulphur 9. Fallen
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Brush: rebuff
Word Count: 1046
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Moira's research is questionable.
The space between worlds need not be a metaphor. Any seasoned Ghost Seer can speak of the path the dead travel to this other side
No, that was no good. Moira tapped her pen against the desk. She was tempted to ask Mitchell for help -- her son had a gift for words, a talent that had driven him to study journalism, of all things. An odd occupation for a wizard, but who was she to stop him? The Assembly loved the idea, as long as it didn't interfere with his duties as a Seer.
He would ask questions about her research, though, questions she was not yet prepared to answer. Perhaps in a few years, when she had more reliable results and he had learned just a dash of patience. A pinch. A sprinkle. Nearly twenty-two and he still went hunting for his birthday presents.
When a soul departs, it follows a path easily discernible to a seasoned Seer, one who has learned how to look
Lady's sake. She rubbed her palm into her eyes. She was too tired for this, that was the problem. The rest of the day-timers had left hours ago, having no important Assembly business to attend to and no secret research they were hiding from their fellows. Her work wasn't precisely illegal, but it was questionable. Attention-grabbing.
She grunted and slapped the notebook shut, dropping it into the bottom drawer of her desk with the others. Locked and warded, she collected her bag and coat, taking a quick look around before leaving the office. She shut the door with a certain finality, adjusting the wards to account for her absence.
"Bit tedious, isn't it?"
Moira turned on her heel, but smiled at Nieve. "Can you blame me?"
Nieve spread her arms. She wore her formal robes, black cloth with black silk trim at the cuffs and hood, a silver skull pinned to the chest. "With your research? No."
"Hush." She ran her fingers over the raised marble lettering next to her door: Master Pathing, GS. "They're not ready for it. Not yet."
"Not ever," Nieve muttered. She offered Moira her arm, which Moira accepted with a chuckle. "There are easier ways to obtain results."
The hallway they walked was empty. Even so, Moira glanced over her shoulder. "Be careful what you say."
Nieve shook her head. "It's only talk."
"Questionable workings barely outside of Assembly guidelines are a bit different from what you're referring to." Moira squeezed Nieve's arm. "Be patient and have faith."
"Faith," Nieve snorted. "They're both the same, you know. Morgause and Niviane. Mordred and Emeris. The only difference is which set is the fool and which is the wise."
Moira chewed her lip. "That's blasphemy," she said, tone light, but something dug into her gut. "What's got you on about this?"
Nieve was silent for several moments. "My projects have been stalled at every turn."
"Your basement is as deep as mine. No one will come looking unless you do something to catch their notice." Nieve didn't return her smile. "Nieve?"
"I needed somewhere I could continue my work without risk of being disturbed."
Moira stopped, forcing Nieve to stop with her. "What are you saying?"
Nieve met her gaze unflinching. "They offered me space to continue my work. I took it."
"They." Moira tugged on Nieve's arm. "Who are 'they'?"
"You know who I mean." It was Nieve's turn to glance up and down the hallway. "Moira, you know as well as I do that this Assembly will never accept an expansion to what defines a Ghost Seer." She spat the title, twisting her mouth. "Her Lady's Court is too close. I'm almost certain Talles and Erraine are members. Everything we do is dangerous. I just want to work without that hanging over my head. You must understand."
Moira's chest tightened. "Of course I do, but the things they do... you know those aren't rumors. You've seen the bodies, the trapped souls -- what they did to Mary's Comfort alone is proof of their collective derangement. The Followers of Morgause are murderers, Nieve. You're comfortable with that? Working with killers and psychopaths?"
Nieve's gaze never wavered. "Sometimes these things are necessary."
Moira could hardly breath. She tore her arm from Nieve's. "Necessary? What have you been doing, Nieve?"
Nieve frowned. "I can't simply wait for accidents to fall into my lap. Everyone dies, Moira."
Moira's hand crept up until it covered her mouth. "I have known you since we were girls. But it appears I do not know you at all."
"Moira, please."
Ice cold horror shot up her spine. "You have been spending time with my son."
Nieve's eyes went wide. "I was assigned to his adept education, that's all. I haven't included him in--"
"Stay away from him." Moira set her jaw, her power coiling inside of her. "Stay away from Tamsin. Stay away from me."
"Moira!"
She stormed to the nearest exit, nearly taking the door off its hinges. She had to tell someone. Nieve had essentially confessed to murder, sacrifice in the name of -- of what? Lady's grace, she didn't even know what Nieve was researching. What did a person need fresh bodies for? The recently dead?
She slammed her car door shut, not bothering with her seat belt, tires squealing as she left the parking lot. She couldn't just turn her into the Assembly as a whole, Nieve would be executed by the week's end. There were Assembly members she called friends, but no one she felt she could trust. Her fellow Masters? Donat was up north, half keeping an eye on his former apprentice and half chasing after rumors. Nieve was almost certainly right about Talles. Who else was there?
The wheel jerked out of her grip. Horns blared as she snatched it back, missing the oncoming car by a breath and a prayer. Heart in her throat, she realized that she had forgotten to check the wards on her car; again the wheel wrenched from her grasp. She had a split second to wonder, as the tree filled her vision, which sect had gotten to her first.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Memento Mori
Colors: Bone Black 10. Memento Mori; Sulphur 9. Fallen
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Brush: rebuff
Word Count: 1046
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Moira's research is questionable.
The space between worlds need not be a metaphor. Any seasoned Ghost Seer can speak of the path the dead travel to this other side
No, that was no good. Moira tapped her pen against the desk. She was tempted to ask Mitchell for help -- her son had a gift for words, a talent that had driven him to study journalism, of all things. An odd occupation for a wizard, but who was she to stop him? The Assembly loved the idea, as long as it didn't interfere with his duties as a Seer.
He would ask questions about her research, though, questions she was not yet prepared to answer. Perhaps in a few years, when she had more reliable results and he had learned just a dash of patience. A pinch. A sprinkle. Nearly twenty-two and he still went hunting for his birthday presents.
When a soul departs, it follows a path easily discernible to a seasoned Seer, one who has learned how to look
Lady's sake. She rubbed her palm into her eyes. She was too tired for this, that was the problem. The rest of the day-timers had left hours ago, having no important Assembly business to attend to and no secret research they were hiding from their fellows. Her work wasn't precisely illegal, but it was questionable. Attention-grabbing.
She grunted and slapped the notebook shut, dropping it into the bottom drawer of her desk with the others. Locked and warded, she collected her bag and coat, taking a quick look around before leaving the office. She shut the door with a certain finality, adjusting the wards to account for her absence.
"Bit tedious, isn't it?"
Moira turned on her heel, but smiled at Nieve. "Can you blame me?"
Nieve spread her arms. She wore her formal robes, black cloth with black silk trim at the cuffs and hood, a silver skull pinned to the chest. "With your research? No."
"Hush." She ran her fingers over the raised marble lettering next to her door: Master Pathing, GS. "They're not ready for it. Not yet."
"Not ever," Nieve muttered. She offered Moira her arm, which Moira accepted with a chuckle. "There are easier ways to obtain results."
The hallway they walked was empty. Even so, Moira glanced over her shoulder. "Be careful what you say."
Nieve shook her head. "It's only talk."
"Questionable workings barely outside of Assembly guidelines are a bit different from what you're referring to." Moira squeezed Nieve's arm. "Be patient and have faith."
"Faith," Nieve snorted. "They're both the same, you know. Morgause and Niviane. Mordred and Emeris. The only difference is which set is the fool and which is the wise."
Moira chewed her lip. "That's blasphemy," she said, tone light, but something dug into her gut. "What's got you on about this?"
Nieve was silent for several moments. "My projects have been stalled at every turn."
"Your basement is as deep as mine. No one will come looking unless you do something to catch their notice." Nieve didn't return her smile. "Nieve?"
"I needed somewhere I could continue my work without risk of being disturbed."
Moira stopped, forcing Nieve to stop with her. "What are you saying?"
Nieve met her gaze unflinching. "They offered me space to continue my work. I took it."
"They." Moira tugged on Nieve's arm. "Who are 'they'?"
"You know who I mean." It was Nieve's turn to glance up and down the hallway. "Moira, you know as well as I do that this Assembly will never accept an expansion to what defines a Ghost Seer." She spat the title, twisting her mouth. "Her Lady's Court is too close. I'm almost certain Talles and Erraine are members. Everything we do is dangerous. I just want to work without that hanging over my head. You must understand."
Moira's chest tightened. "Of course I do, but the things they do... you know those aren't rumors. You've seen the bodies, the trapped souls -- what they did to Mary's Comfort alone is proof of their collective derangement. The Followers of Morgause are murderers, Nieve. You're comfortable with that? Working with killers and psychopaths?"
Nieve's gaze never wavered. "Sometimes these things are necessary."
Moira could hardly breath. She tore her arm from Nieve's. "Necessary? What have you been doing, Nieve?"
Nieve frowned. "I can't simply wait for accidents to fall into my lap. Everyone dies, Moira."
Moira's hand crept up until it covered her mouth. "I have known you since we were girls. But it appears I do not know you at all."
"Moira, please."
Ice cold horror shot up her spine. "You have been spending time with my son."
Nieve's eyes went wide. "I was assigned to his adept education, that's all. I haven't included him in--"
"Stay away from him." Moira set her jaw, her power coiling inside of her. "Stay away from Tamsin. Stay away from me."
"Moira!"
She stormed to the nearest exit, nearly taking the door off its hinges. She had to tell someone. Nieve had essentially confessed to murder, sacrifice in the name of -- of what? Lady's grace, she didn't even know what Nieve was researching. What did a person need fresh bodies for? The recently dead?
She slammed her car door shut, not bothering with her seat belt, tires squealing as she left the parking lot. She couldn't just turn her into the Assembly as a whole, Nieve would be executed by the week's end. There were Assembly members she called friends, but no one she felt she could trust. Her fellow Masters? Donat was up north, half keeping an eye on his former apprentice and half chasing after rumors. Nieve was almost certainly right about Talles. Who else was there?
The wheel jerked out of her grip. Horns blared as she snatched it back, missing the oncoming car by a breath and a prayer. Heart in her throat, she realized that she had forgotten to check the wards on her car; again the wheel wrenched from her grasp. She had a split second to wonder, as the tree filled her vision, which sect had gotten to her first.
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