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rainbowfic2012-11-03 12:16 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2012-11-03 12:16 pm
Entry tags:
Dove Grey 4; Bone Black 17
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Equinox
Colors: Dove Grey 4. He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.; Bone Black 17. Rite
Word Count: 740
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Mitchell prays on the Equinox.
Even at midnight the Grove was lit up as bright as the sun, candle- and wizardlight adorning the walls and trees. Mitchell kept his hood down, hoping he looked modest instead of shifty. He was a bit shifty, but that grew from self-preservation, not maliciousness.
The Grove consisted of several acres of grassland and forest, although most visitors didn't travel very far in. Mitchell himself had never ventured beyond the Pools. In theory a neutral sanctuary, all were welcome -- wizards of the Assembly, independence, or otherwise; humans, kernen, alfar, and whoever else wandered in. In reality, wizards were fallible and even the Grove Mothers held biases.
The entrance consisted of several buildings, all but one open to the sky. He passed through one of these, catching snippets of conversation -- "he nearly tore me in half" "may Our Lady bless us all on this day and every other" "cats, so many bloody cats" -- and stopping for a moment to admire the budding apple trees.
Several paths lines with stones led to various other areas -- the Healer's Quarter, Seminary Circle, one of the dozens of specific Gardens, and his current destination, the Pools. Most nights -- at least when he'd been a teenager -- the Grove was fairly empty, but tonight the paths were full of wizards, here to worship Her and ask for Her blessing on the Spring Equinox.
She -- if there was a She, or is She actually listened at all -- would probably appreciate it if they spaced things out a bit. But, well, tradition. Wizards loved tradition.
Mitchell wandered past the opening Pools, full of wizards doing more talking than praying. He dodged around racing children and their enraged father, nearly knocking over a young woman who was either too shy or too drunk to do anything but giggle at his apology.
He reached the last of the Pools, populated by only a handful of quiet, praying wizards. He knelt at the stone Pool, raised a meter off the ground and adorned with several lit candles of varying colors. Unlit candles and stone grails lay at the base of the Pool. He filled a grail with water and placed it on the ground.
("Blue for blood family," his mother said, smiling slightly as she took two. "Green for friends and chosen family."
"What do you mean?" Mitchell asked, fidgeting. Tammy made a disgusted noise and grabbed a grail.
"Wives and husbands," his mother said, frowning a little at Tammy. "Sometimes friends we feel are sisters and brothers. The people we love the most but aren't related to by blood, you see?"
"Like Aunty Nieve?"
His mother grinned, grabbing a green candle. "Yes, exactly. Now where was I... blue, green, red for, ah, boyfriends and girlfriends. I don't think you need one of those." Mitchell shook his head. "Black for the beloved dead."
"What's white for?"
"Ah. White is for the self." His mother wagged her finger. "You do not need that one. It is only for the very selfish or the very sad."
"Why?"
"Most don't need to prayer for themselves, dear boy. I am praying for you, and Tamsin is praying for you. That's two prayers. You're fine."
Mitchell looked at Tammy's candles. She really did have two blue ones. "Oh. But what about being sad?"
His mother pat his hand. "It is sad for a person who truly needs to pray for themselves, because no one else is praying for them.")
Black, for Mother. Blue, for Tam. Would she appreciate it, if she knew? Would she care?
Did she have a blue candle for him? His fingers brushed over a white candle, but he didn't. He couldn't.
He reached for Cagri's candle, hesitated. Red or green? Could he mash two together and hope no one noticed?
"If you're not sure," a woman nearby whispered, "then I don't think you're at green quite yet."
Mitchell faced her, ready to snap; but she was smiling, pale wrinkled face framed by silver-white hair, and he let it go. "You're probably right."
She chuckled. "Maybe green next year, hm?"
He glanced at her candles; if she was being nosy, he could be too. A dozen black, nothing else. He wanted to ask, but that was a little too nosy. "At this rate? Yeah."
Another smile. "Good. Sorry to intrude."
He shrugged, turning back, and chose a red candle.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Equinox
Colors: Dove Grey 4. He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.; Bone Black 17. Rite
Word Count: 740
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Mitchell prays on the Equinox.
Even at midnight the Grove was lit up as bright as the sun, candle- and wizardlight adorning the walls and trees. Mitchell kept his hood down, hoping he looked modest instead of shifty. He was a bit shifty, but that grew from self-preservation, not maliciousness.
The Grove consisted of several acres of grassland and forest, although most visitors didn't travel very far in. Mitchell himself had never ventured beyond the Pools. In theory a neutral sanctuary, all were welcome -- wizards of the Assembly, independence, or otherwise; humans, kernen, alfar, and whoever else wandered in. In reality, wizards were fallible and even the Grove Mothers held biases.
The entrance consisted of several buildings, all but one open to the sky. He passed through one of these, catching snippets of conversation -- "he nearly tore me in half" "may Our Lady bless us all on this day and every other" "cats, so many bloody cats" -- and stopping for a moment to admire the budding apple trees.
Several paths lines with stones led to various other areas -- the Healer's Quarter, Seminary Circle, one of the dozens of specific Gardens, and his current destination, the Pools. Most nights -- at least when he'd been a teenager -- the Grove was fairly empty, but tonight the paths were full of wizards, here to worship Her and ask for Her blessing on the Spring Equinox.
She -- if there was a She, or is She actually listened at all -- would probably appreciate it if they spaced things out a bit. But, well, tradition. Wizards loved tradition.
Mitchell wandered past the opening Pools, full of wizards doing more talking than praying. He dodged around racing children and their enraged father, nearly knocking over a young woman who was either too shy or too drunk to do anything but giggle at his apology.
He reached the last of the Pools, populated by only a handful of quiet, praying wizards. He knelt at the stone Pool, raised a meter off the ground and adorned with several lit candles of varying colors. Unlit candles and stone grails lay at the base of the Pool. He filled a grail with water and placed it on the ground.
("Blue for blood family," his mother said, smiling slightly as she took two. "Green for friends and chosen family."
"What do you mean?" Mitchell asked, fidgeting. Tammy made a disgusted noise and grabbed a grail.
"Wives and husbands," his mother said, frowning a little at Tammy. "Sometimes friends we feel are sisters and brothers. The people we love the most but aren't related to by blood, you see?"
"Like Aunty Nieve?"
His mother grinned, grabbing a green candle. "Yes, exactly. Now where was I... blue, green, red for, ah, boyfriends and girlfriends. I don't think you need one of those." Mitchell shook his head. "Black for the beloved dead."
"What's white for?"
"Ah. White is for the self." His mother wagged her finger. "You do not need that one. It is only for the very selfish or the very sad."
"Why?"
"Most don't need to prayer for themselves, dear boy. I am praying for you, and Tamsin is praying for you. That's two prayers. You're fine."
Mitchell looked at Tammy's candles. She really did have two blue ones. "Oh. But what about being sad?"
His mother pat his hand. "It is sad for a person who truly needs to pray for themselves, because no one else is praying for them.")
Black, for Mother. Blue, for Tam. Would she appreciate it, if she knew? Would she care?
Did she have a blue candle for him? His fingers brushed over a white candle, but he didn't. He couldn't.
He reached for Cagri's candle, hesitated. Red or green? Could he mash two together and hope no one noticed?
"If you're not sure," a woman nearby whispered, "then I don't think you're at green quite yet."
Mitchell faced her, ready to snap; but she was smiling, pale wrinkled face framed by silver-white hair, and he let it go. "You're probably right."
She chuckled. "Maybe green next year, hm?"
He glanced at her candles; if she was being nosy, he could be too. A dozen black, nothing else. He wanted to ask, but that was a little too nosy. "At this rate? Yeah."
Another smile. "Good. Sorry to intrude."
He shrugged, turning back, and chose a red candle.