shadowsong26 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shadowsong26) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2012-10-18 12:37 am
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2012-10-18 12:37 am
Heart Gold #27, Mellow Yellow #6, Harvest Gold #15
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Transition
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Heart Gold #27. Love is the life of the soul. It is the harmony of the universe. - William Ellery Channing, Mellow Yellow #6. Reflections, Harvest Gold #15. nothing gold can stay
Supplies and Materials: photography, frame (1040 FY), brush (worldly-wise), oils, stain, feathers, seed beads, novelty beads ("...he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him. Swiftly he sank under its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep." - JRR Tolkien), beading wire
Word Count: 262
Rating: PG
Characters: Istell/Isselu
Warnings: Parental death
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Last Heart Gold at long freakin' last. Bonus points/a prize of some kind to anyone who manages to guess who the grey-eyed woman is.
The weird thing is, Dad always hated this type of big, formal event. This is bigger than my wedding was, his funeral. I think it's even bigger than his wedding. But, then, that was all shadows and ashes, the War still hanging over it. Things have been peaceful lately, especially since Grandmother died.
It's dizzying, all the smoke and flowers, candles and incense.
Riva's crying.
We've known this was coming for a while, since he got sick last year. I've been taking over more and more, and now that it's come, now that it's finally real, I just feel...numb.
Mom's sitting next to me, effortlessly calm. She has my hand in one of hers, and is holding Riva's with the other, trying to comfort my daughter. The way Dad and I did for her when Aunt Lony died.
An old woman in the crowd meets my eyes. Ancient old eyes, grey eyes, full of loss and wisdom and somehow familiar. She's older than Mom, I think--it's hard to tell for certain, past eighty or so.
She holds my eyes for a long moment, inclines her head, then turns away. The crowd melts around her, letting her pass, without seeming to realize. I watch her go, slowly sliding out of focus, as my father's coffin is lowered into place.
Everyone turns to me, surrounded by my mother and my wife and children, King now--better prepared than he was, raised to it, the late and long-awaited child of the love that was not love, but still somehow managed to save the world.
Story: Transition
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Heart Gold #27. Love is the life of the soul. It is the harmony of the universe. - William Ellery Channing, Mellow Yellow #6. Reflections, Harvest Gold #15. nothing gold can stay
Supplies and Materials: photography, frame (1040 FY), brush (worldly-wise), oils, stain, feathers, seed beads, novelty beads ("...he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him. Swiftly he sank under its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep." - JRR Tolkien), beading wire
Word Count: 262
Rating: PG
Characters: Istell/Isselu
Warnings: Parental death
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Last Heart Gold at long freakin' last. Bonus points/a prize of some kind to anyone who manages to guess who the grey-eyed woman is.
The weird thing is, Dad always hated this type of big, formal event. This is bigger than my wedding was, his funeral. I think it's even bigger than his wedding. But, then, that was all shadows and ashes, the War still hanging over it. Things have been peaceful lately, especially since Grandmother died.
It's dizzying, all the smoke and flowers, candles and incense.
Riva's crying.
We've known this was coming for a while, since he got sick last year. I've been taking over more and more, and now that it's come, now that it's finally real, I just feel...numb.
Mom's sitting next to me, effortlessly calm. She has my hand in one of hers, and is holding Riva's with the other, trying to comfort my daughter. The way Dad and I did for her when Aunt Lony died.
An old woman in the crowd meets my eyes. Ancient old eyes, grey eyes, full of loss and wisdom and somehow familiar. She's older than Mom, I think--it's hard to tell for certain, past eighty or so.
She holds my eyes for a long moment, inclines her head, then turns away. The crowd melts around her, letting her pass, without seeming to realize. I watch her go, slowly sliding out of focus, as my father's coffin is lowered into place.
Everyone turns to me, surrounded by my mother and my wife and children, King now--better prepared than he was, raised to it, the late and long-awaited child of the love that was not love, but still somehow managed to save the world.
no subject
I think I've lost track of who's related to who. I'm not sure who the old woman is.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Nope. Riluke is younger than the woman he saw, has dark eyes, and he'd recognize her on sight, not be confused. Good guess, though. ^^
no subject
no subject