malapropism (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
malapropism) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2012-10-22 08:34 pm
malapropism) wrote in rainbowfic2012-10-22 08:34 pm
Harvest Gold 14, Fire Opal 13, Mouse Grey 19
Title: White Out
Canon: Down By the Water
Colors: Harvest Gold 14 (south for the winter), Fire Opal 13 (it consumed...), Mouse Grey 19 (somewhere out there)
Supply: Canvas (Dawn is still alive and unmarried)
Character: Dawn Billingslea
Words: 177
Rating: PG (warnings for sexism?)
Summary: Dawn and winter do not mix well.
In winter Dawn sometimes finds herself stepping out wearing her mother's favorite widow's veil, the black blotting out her visage like a great helm. A widow keeps a silence far longer than her veil, and in the darker months silence and stillness is the one thing that doesn't make her feel hollowed out and aching in places even deeper than marrow. Something is there in the bright, blinding whiteness that envelops winter like a glove, and it clings to her skin and sinks into her veins, something more insidious and evil than anything hidden in the darkest shadows of the city. Her parents suggest marriage, predictably. Dawn rather thinks that if marriage was the miraculous cure they claim it is then they might be happy at any given time and not carry daggers in their chests where they have clawed out each other's hearts.
Dawn has learned a winter's patience. Her happiness is as inevitable as the first snowfall.
But the veil is always there upon her crown every December, and every December she gets a little less patient.
Canon: Down By the Water
Colors: Harvest Gold 14 (south for the winter), Fire Opal 13 (it consumed...), Mouse Grey 19 (somewhere out there)
Supply: Canvas (Dawn is still alive and unmarried)
Character: Dawn Billingslea
Words: 177
Rating: PG (warnings for sexism?)
Summary: Dawn and winter do not mix well.
In winter Dawn sometimes finds herself stepping out wearing her mother's favorite widow's veil, the black blotting out her visage like a great helm. A widow keeps a silence far longer than her veil, and in the darker months silence and stillness is the one thing that doesn't make her feel hollowed out and aching in places even deeper than marrow. Something is there in the bright, blinding whiteness that envelops winter like a glove, and it clings to her skin and sinks into her veins, something more insidious and evil than anything hidden in the darkest shadows of the city. Her parents suggest marriage, predictably. Dawn rather thinks that if marriage was the miraculous cure they claim it is then they might be happy at any given time and not carry daggers in their chests where they have clawed out each other's hearts.
Dawn has learned a winter's patience. Her happiness is as inevitable as the first snowfall.
But the veil is always there upon her crown every December, and every December she gets a little less patient.
no subject
no subject
no subject
This line. So terrific.
no subject
no subject
no subject