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rainbowfic2013-05-02 04:10 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2013-05-02 04:10 pm
Fire Opal 20, Dove Grey 15
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Nieve Lac
Colors: Fire Opal 20. Destroy what you love/want most; Dove Grey 15. Numb with shock, we can only stand and watch as they fall away from us, gradually getting smaller…
Supplies and Styles: Miniature Collection, Novelty Beads (frombookblather, And the ones that can know you so well are the ones that can swallow you whole. - The Ocean, Dar Williams), Canvas, Seed Beads
Word Count: 1090
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Snapshots from Nieve's life, centering around Moira and Alistair.
Nieve is on the cusp of regretting that last mouthful of wine, that dizzy giddy balloon in her stomach filling with lead but Moira is there, brushing her hair back, and Alistair towers over them, laughing and shaking his head. Nieve tries to tell them to go have fun but the words keep getting stuck, but that's all right because they always have tomorrow.
*
The tent only just fits the three of them and the night is colder than they expected; Moira is the smallest and huddles in the middle, Nieve and Alistair wrapped around her. Nieve tucks Moira's head under her chin and Alistair spreads his fingers across their bare stomachs, deep brown over Nieve's tan and Moira's white.
*
It is rare for a witch to be barren, less-so for those with Nieve's particular talent. She visits every Healer in Krixos, a Formator, even a human doctor; nothing medical or magical can change what nature failed to give her.
She watches Moira's belly grow and swell, Alistair's fond smile. She prepares small workings, reads aloud, keeps Moira's house tidy. Alistair stays with Moira more often, and with Nieve less.
*
Tamsin Pathing bursts forth unto the world, her father's hair and nose, her mother's eyes and complexion. Moira is exhausted, and not as happy as everyone told them she would be; Nieve stays over most nights. They all sleep in separate beds.
*
Alistair travels overseas on a mad quest; Moria does not let him leave quietly. Nieve finds herself caring for mother and child, working Moira's exorcisms, sleeping an hour at a time. Tamsin's first word is Mama, and she says it to Nieve; Nieve does not tell Moira.
*
Alistair returns from the Americas, leaves for Wales, returns and leaves for Spain. He returns and Nieve greets him with a fist, points to his toddler and asks him what Tammy's favorite color is and that he's not allowed to leave again until he can answer Nieve without asking Tammy.
Moira's belly swells once more, and they are all happier, they have done this once already, they know the drill; Alistair receives a thick envelope, looks Nieve in the eye, and says "blue."
He is not present when Mitchell is born.
*
When Alistair returns from Egypt, Tamsin is eight and Mitchell is six and neither of them know who he is. Moira refuses to speak to him. Nieve takes him out for a drink, out from under the pointed silence and who's-that-man-aunty. They are mainly silent.
She asks him what he found in Egypt.
Sand, he tells her.
They laugh, and for a moment they are nineteen and twenty but it passes and they are silent again.
*
Alistair stays with Nieve and Moira is furious and miserable and will not return either of their calls. Nieve visits the Grove again, just one more time; nothing, nothing, nothing. Alistair is heavy in her bed and heavy in her heart but she remains forever empty.
*
Six months in and he is always researching, scouring scraps and letters and books, harassing everyone they know, angering Donat of all people, and Moira calls Nieve but only because the babies are upset without her.
They deserve to know him, she tells Moira.
We barely know him, Moira snaps back.
If he falls in love with them the way we have, he won't leave again, she reasons.
And for three years, he doesn't.
*
He is convinced that he's found it, beyond the Curtain; it is not theory but fact, and he raises his voice and Moira raises hers and Nieve stands, stone silent, her gut twisting until she is certain she will vomit over the both of them.
Alistair Draig, Nieve says, her voice slicing through theirs. You are a fool, she tells him.
Don't bother coming back, she tells him.
*
The years pass, and they hear nothing; their sisterhood is never quite repaired but Moira's smiles are gentle, and Nieve's relief eases into complacency.
She comes across a theory; a way for the living to shift over, to follow the dead. Not a new theory but the process has merit. Something new to focus on, now that the babies are old enough to mostly watch themselves. They work on it quietly, slowly, not expecting results and not minding when nothing comes of it.
*
They find the right combination, the right working, the right time, and the results are extraordinary; Nieve shifts, she feels it, she is no longer here but there and there is here, now, and a gray mist convalesces into an endless, featureless desert.
She turns in a slow circle: golden sand, desert sand, all around, fading into the horizon.
Then Moira is drowning and Nieve saves her, or is saved, and they will be better prepared next time, they know what to expect now, they know the drill.
*
Nothing, nothing, nothing. They repeat the ritual to the letter -- Nieve even goes against Moira's wishes and steals parts from freshly dead bodies -- but they do not return. Moira is frustrated; Nieve is furious. They were there, they shifted, they crossed-over, they walked in the land of the dead, if for but a moment, and they could go back there if only they did it right.
Moira only sighs; she has her babies. Nieve doesn't have that, this could be Nieve's greatest achievement but Moira just isn't trying, she doesn't care enough, she doesn't understand.
*
Aldric Dweven understands.
*
The Followers of Morgause have a bad reputation for a good reason: most of it is true.
Aldric's true Talents are not Necromancy, as he claims, and Kaija is not as strong as she thinks she is, but together they are stronger than Moira, and Aldric does not chastise her for insisting on fresh ingredients.
Fresh blood drips from her hands as she opens her eyes There, once again; the desert is gone, a forest grown in its place, lovely dark and deep. She shifts back, and when she wonders what changed Aldric takes her hand and says, you have.
*
She knows how Moira will react but she can't keep this secret inside of her forever, not from her deargirl, not from her sister. The argument is frustrating, but once Moira calms down, they will speak again. Nieve will convince her of the necessity.
Tamsin calls her so late the night has become morning, her voice toneless, to inform Nieve that Moira's car was found wrapped around a tree.
Is she, Nieve asks and Tamsin says, Yes, and her voice cracks.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Nieve Lac
Colors: Fire Opal 20. Destroy what you love/want most; Dove Grey 15. Numb with shock, we can only stand and watch as they fall away from us, gradually getting smaller…
Supplies and Styles: Miniature Collection, Novelty Beads (from
bookblather, And the ones that can know you so well are the ones that can swallow you whole. - The Ocean, Dar Williams), Canvas, Seed BeadsWord Count: 1090
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Snapshots from Nieve's life, centering around Moira and Alistair.
Nieve is on the cusp of regretting that last mouthful of wine, that dizzy giddy balloon in her stomach filling with lead but Moira is there, brushing her hair back, and Alistair towers over them, laughing and shaking his head. Nieve tries to tell them to go have fun but the words keep getting stuck, but that's all right because they always have tomorrow.
*
The tent only just fits the three of them and the night is colder than they expected; Moira is the smallest and huddles in the middle, Nieve and Alistair wrapped around her. Nieve tucks Moira's head under her chin and Alistair spreads his fingers across their bare stomachs, deep brown over Nieve's tan and Moira's white.
*
It is rare for a witch to be barren, less-so for those with Nieve's particular talent. She visits every Healer in Krixos, a Formator, even a human doctor; nothing medical or magical can change what nature failed to give her.
She watches Moira's belly grow and swell, Alistair's fond smile. She prepares small workings, reads aloud, keeps Moira's house tidy. Alistair stays with Moira more often, and with Nieve less.
*
Tamsin Pathing bursts forth unto the world, her father's hair and nose, her mother's eyes and complexion. Moira is exhausted, and not as happy as everyone told them she would be; Nieve stays over most nights. They all sleep in separate beds.
*
Alistair travels overseas on a mad quest; Moria does not let him leave quietly. Nieve finds herself caring for mother and child, working Moira's exorcisms, sleeping an hour at a time. Tamsin's first word is Mama, and she says it to Nieve; Nieve does not tell Moira.
*
Alistair returns from the Americas, leaves for Wales, returns and leaves for Spain. He returns and Nieve greets him with a fist, points to his toddler and asks him what Tammy's favorite color is and that he's not allowed to leave again until he can answer Nieve without asking Tammy.
Moira's belly swells once more, and they are all happier, they have done this once already, they know the drill; Alistair receives a thick envelope, looks Nieve in the eye, and says "blue."
He is not present when Mitchell is born.
*
When Alistair returns from Egypt, Tamsin is eight and Mitchell is six and neither of them know who he is. Moira refuses to speak to him. Nieve takes him out for a drink, out from under the pointed silence and who's-that-man-aunty. They are mainly silent.
She asks him what he found in Egypt.
Sand, he tells her.
They laugh, and for a moment they are nineteen and twenty but it passes and they are silent again.
*
Alistair stays with Nieve and Moira is furious and miserable and will not return either of their calls. Nieve visits the Grove again, just one more time; nothing, nothing, nothing. Alistair is heavy in her bed and heavy in her heart but she remains forever empty.
*
Six months in and he is always researching, scouring scraps and letters and books, harassing everyone they know, angering Donat of all people, and Moira calls Nieve but only because the babies are upset without her.
They deserve to know him, she tells Moira.
We barely know him, Moira snaps back.
If he falls in love with them the way we have, he won't leave again, she reasons.
And for three years, he doesn't.
*
He is convinced that he's found it, beyond the Curtain; it is not theory but fact, and he raises his voice and Moira raises hers and Nieve stands, stone silent, her gut twisting until she is certain she will vomit over the both of them.
Alistair Draig, Nieve says, her voice slicing through theirs. You are a fool, she tells him.
Don't bother coming back, she tells him.
*
The years pass, and they hear nothing; their sisterhood is never quite repaired but Moira's smiles are gentle, and Nieve's relief eases into complacency.
She comes across a theory; a way for the living to shift over, to follow the dead. Not a new theory but the process has merit. Something new to focus on, now that the babies are old enough to mostly watch themselves. They work on it quietly, slowly, not expecting results and not minding when nothing comes of it.
*
They find the right combination, the right working, the right time, and the results are extraordinary; Nieve shifts, she feels it, she is no longer here but there and there is here, now, and a gray mist convalesces into an endless, featureless desert.
She turns in a slow circle: golden sand, desert sand, all around, fading into the horizon.
Then Moira is drowning and Nieve saves her, or is saved, and they will be better prepared next time, they know what to expect now, they know the drill.
*
Nothing, nothing, nothing. They repeat the ritual to the letter -- Nieve even goes against Moira's wishes and steals parts from freshly dead bodies -- but they do not return. Moira is frustrated; Nieve is furious. They were there, they shifted, they crossed-over, they walked in the land of the dead, if for but a moment, and they could go back there if only they did it right.
Moira only sighs; she has her babies. Nieve doesn't have that, this could be Nieve's greatest achievement but Moira just isn't trying, she doesn't care enough, she doesn't understand.
*
Aldric Dweven understands.
*
The Followers of Morgause have a bad reputation for a good reason: most of it is true.
Aldric's true Talents are not Necromancy, as he claims, and Kaija is not as strong as she thinks she is, but together they are stronger than Moira, and Aldric does not chastise her for insisting on fresh ingredients.
Fresh blood drips from her hands as she opens her eyes There, once again; the desert is gone, a forest grown in its place, lovely dark and deep. She shifts back, and when she wonders what changed Aldric takes her hand and says, you have.
*
She knows how Moira will react but she can't keep this secret inside of her forever, not from her deargirl, not from her sister. The argument is frustrating, but once Moira calms down, they will speak again. Nieve will convince her of the necessity.
Tamsin calls her so late the night has become morning, her voice toneless, to inform Nieve that Moira's car was found wrapped around a tree.
Is she, Nieve asks and Tamsin says, Yes, and her voice cracks.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Will you accept a standing ovation for your cinema of words?
Because *DOES THAT*.
no subject
not blushing nope look awayno subject
no subject