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rainbowfic2012-10-26 12:20 am
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-10-26 12:20 am
Liver 2, Russet 10, Harvest Gold 3: Lighthouse
Title: Lighthouse
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Liver 2 (eye), russet 10 (cotton), harvest gold 3 (crisp breeze)
Supplies and Materials: Bichromatic, feathers (this photo), novelty beads (this photo), glitter (this photo), chalk (this one too), pastels (a crowd).
Word Count: 650
Rating: G
Summary: Ivy and Gina look at photographs.
Warnings: none
Notes: For cottoncandybingo, prompt "making out", and a meme fill forisana. Please brush your teeth before and after reading.
"I'm not completely sure why we're here," Ivy commented, wandering hand-in-hand with Gina through the bustling, buzzing streets. She tucked in close to her girlfriend to dodge a heavily-laden woman barging through the crowd, and stayed there because Gina was warm, the breeze carried a crisp taste of fall, and she was only wearing a cotton shirt. "Not that I mind. This stuff is kind of cool. If way out of our price range."
"That's not the point," Gina said, and then, "Ooh, look at that." She tugged Ivy after her past an eddy of mothers with strollers and a big guy carrying a bench over one shoulder and into a small tent. It was empty apart from the proprietor, a middle-aged woman rocking her chair slowly back and forth and fanning herself lazily. She nodded to Gina and Ivy, but didn't bother to speak.
"What are you..." Ivy began, and then said, "Oh," because the walls of the tent were covered with photographs, blown large and framed with black matting. Dark photographs, in comparison to the sunny pink and yellow ones they'd seen in the rest of the fair, photographs more suited to autumn. Perhaps the reason why the tend was so empty. "These are..." Ivy said, and stopped, because she didn’t know how to say it.
"Yeah," Gina said, her voice warm with pleasure. "Look at this one, it's so Halloween."
An old Victorian house, gabled and shingled and just this side of wrecked, orange-tinted windows the only pop of color in a grey façade. Bare-limbed trees spidered against a grey storm sky, flecks of black birds spiraling around the roof. "Beautiful," Gina breathed, tracing her fingers an inch from those black spots.
"Spooky," Ivy commented, "but yeah, beautiful." The breeze picked up and she cuddled into Gina's side again.
Gina put an arm around her and tilted her head, smiling. "Afraid?"
"Cold," Ivy said, "but if afraid gets me kissed..."
Gina laughed, and kissed her, soft and lingering. The woman in the rocking chair made a noise in her throat, but it as it seemed neither approving nor disapproving, they ignored her.
A painfully lonely photograph hung next to the Victorian house; photographs scattered on a cracked concrete floor, the whole scene tinted in desolate, poison green. Ivy stared at it for a while, then shivered from something that was not cold at all, and pushed her face into Gina's shoulder. "I love you, you know that?"
"Yes," Gina said, immediately. "And I love you."
"Yes," Ivy said.
They stared a moment later, then moved on.
Photograph after photograph. Deep brown rocks pocking up from a barren landscape, lunar and empty. Skeleton trees presiding over drifts of dead leaves. A hand releasing a bird from a brown, scabby windowpane. A man bent over, cutting grain, a sickle in his hand and a frown of effort on his face. Endings, new beginnings, life in death in life again and Gina's arm around her, her warmth a bulk against the breezes that kept creeping into the tent.
Ivy's favorite was a black-and-white photo of a full moon, sailing high above a sea of clouds, gilding the dark edges with silver light. Beneath it, just picked out with moonlight, a lighthouse stood firm against the night, flashing hope out over the water. The ocean was too dark to really see, but Ivy imagined a little lonely boat far out on the water, its captain shading her eyes against the moon to see that little pinprick of light.
Home, waiting patiently, a candle in the window no matter where you went. An arm around your shoulders when you were chilled or lonely. A shield from the wind or the storm, soft cotton quilts wrapped around you, kisses brushed across your forehead in the night. A light in dark corners, when all other lights go out.
"I want that one," Ivy said.
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Liver 2 (eye), russet 10 (cotton), harvest gold 3 (crisp breeze)
Supplies and Materials: Bichromatic, feathers (this photo), novelty beads (this photo), glitter (this photo), chalk (this one too), pastels (a crowd).
Word Count: 650
Rating: G
Summary: Ivy and Gina look at photographs.
Warnings: none
Notes: For cottoncandybingo, prompt "making out", and a meme fill for
isana. Please brush your teeth before and after reading. "I'm not completely sure why we're here," Ivy commented, wandering hand-in-hand with Gina through the bustling, buzzing streets. She tucked in close to her girlfriend to dodge a heavily-laden woman barging through the crowd, and stayed there because Gina was warm, the breeze carried a crisp taste of fall, and she was only wearing a cotton shirt. "Not that I mind. This stuff is kind of cool. If way out of our price range."
"That's not the point," Gina said, and then, "Ooh, look at that." She tugged Ivy after her past an eddy of mothers with strollers and a big guy carrying a bench over one shoulder and into a small tent. It was empty apart from the proprietor, a middle-aged woman rocking her chair slowly back and forth and fanning herself lazily. She nodded to Gina and Ivy, but didn't bother to speak.
"What are you..." Ivy began, and then said, "Oh," because the walls of the tent were covered with photographs, blown large and framed with black matting. Dark photographs, in comparison to the sunny pink and yellow ones they'd seen in the rest of the fair, photographs more suited to autumn. Perhaps the reason why the tend was so empty. "These are..." Ivy said, and stopped, because she didn’t know how to say it.
"Yeah," Gina said, her voice warm with pleasure. "Look at this one, it's so Halloween."
An old Victorian house, gabled and shingled and just this side of wrecked, orange-tinted windows the only pop of color in a grey façade. Bare-limbed trees spidered against a grey storm sky, flecks of black birds spiraling around the roof. "Beautiful," Gina breathed, tracing her fingers an inch from those black spots.
"Spooky," Ivy commented, "but yeah, beautiful." The breeze picked up and she cuddled into Gina's side again.
Gina put an arm around her and tilted her head, smiling. "Afraid?"
"Cold," Ivy said, "but if afraid gets me kissed..."
Gina laughed, and kissed her, soft and lingering. The woman in the rocking chair made a noise in her throat, but it as it seemed neither approving nor disapproving, they ignored her.
A painfully lonely photograph hung next to the Victorian house; photographs scattered on a cracked concrete floor, the whole scene tinted in desolate, poison green. Ivy stared at it for a while, then shivered from something that was not cold at all, and pushed her face into Gina's shoulder. "I love you, you know that?"
"Yes," Gina said, immediately. "And I love you."
"Yes," Ivy said.
They stared a moment later, then moved on.
Photograph after photograph. Deep brown rocks pocking up from a barren landscape, lunar and empty. Skeleton trees presiding over drifts of dead leaves. A hand releasing a bird from a brown, scabby windowpane. A man bent over, cutting grain, a sickle in his hand and a frown of effort on his face. Endings, new beginnings, life in death in life again and Gina's arm around her, her warmth a bulk against the breezes that kept creeping into the tent.
Ivy's favorite was a black-and-white photo of a full moon, sailing high above a sea of clouds, gilding the dark edges with silver light. Beneath it, just picked out with moonlight, a lighthouse stood firm against the night, flashing hope out over the water. The ocean was too dark to really see, but Ivy imagined a little lonely boat far out on the water, its captain shading her eyes against the moon to see that little pinprick of light.
Home, waiting patiently, a candle in the window no matter where you went. An arm around your shoulders when you were chilled or lonely. A shield from the wind or the storm, soft cotton quilts wrapped around you, kisses brushed across your forehead in the night. A light in dark corners, when all other lights go out.
"I want that one," Ivy said.
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I really love it--the way the sober, haunting photographs contrast Ivy and Gina, and then that last paragraph! Oh man, so perfectly fall, and it makes me want to curl up in blankets, safe.
Thank you so much, bb.
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Thank you very much!
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You do such a great job of describing the photographs in a way that can conjure each striking image in just a handful of words. The one that Ivy chooses, because she and Gina are each others' harbor, is especially lovely.
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Wonderfully described! And I especially love the last paragraph.
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And those pictures! They all sound so delicious.
I agree with Ivy though (bird would be second choice).
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