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rainbowfic2013-05-21 11:22 am
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2013-05-21 11:22 am
Transparent 17, Dove Grey 29
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Alone
Colors: Transparent 17. Incense, Dove Grey 29. There is a period for hope and one for mourning.
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Brush (filial), Miniature Collection, Photography
Word Count: 260
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Tamsin is alone in the house after Mitchell moves out.
The air is clear on a brilliant mid-week morning. The street is empty but Tamsin could easily imagine a couple riding their bikes or kids running past. She is on call but doubts Galfrede will call her in: he has gone easy on her since,
well,
since.
She sits on the porch steps, drinking coffee. This is her third cup. She made too much, refused to let it sit there; she has no appetite for food and her gut is churning even as she takes another sip.
*
Tamsin runs the tap until the water is ice cold and splashes her face. She studies her reflection. Gray eyes stare back at her, a wizard's eyes, her mother's eyes. They are not uniform, pupil circled by a starburst of color so pale it must be white darkening until the edges of her iris are black. She pulls her magic across her skin, white-hot fire and her eyes flash red orange yellow.
Steam fogs up the mirror until she can no longer see herself.
*
The basement is too cold for spring, the cement painful against her bare feet. Her toes smudge an old chalk circle. Her mother's desk is a mess, covered in papers, an open journal, a leaning stack of books. She lights incense against the mildew smell and corrects the lean, neatens sheafs of paper, closes the journal. She is halfway up the stairs when she hears paper shuffling; she looks back to find her work undone.
She should call Mitchell.
Instead she installs a padlock on the basement door.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Alone
Colors: Transparent 17. Incense, Dove Grey 29. There is a period for hope and one for mourning.
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Brush (filial), Miniature Collection, Photography
Word Count: 260
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Tamsin is alone in the house after Mitchell moves out.
The air is clear on a brilliant mid-week morning. The street is empty but Tamsin could easily imagine a couple riding their bikes or kids running past. She is on call but doubts Galfrede will call her in: he has gone easy on her since,
well,
since.
She sits on the porch steps, drinking coffee. This is her third cup. She made too much, refused to let it sit there; she has no appetite for food and her gut is churning even as she takes another sip.
*
Tamsin runs the tap until the water is ice cold and splashes her face. She studies her reflection. Gray eyes stare back at her, a wizard's eyes, her mother's eyes. They are not uniform, pupil circled by a starburst of color so pale it must be white darkening until the edges of her iris are black. She pulls her magic across her skin, white-hot fire and her eyes flash red orange yellow.
Steam fogs up the mirror until she can no longer see herself.
*
The basement is too cold for spring, the cement painful against her bare feet. Her toes smudge an old chalk circle. Her mother's desk is a mess, covered in papers, an open journal, a leaning stack of books. She lights incense against the mildew smell and corrects the lean, neatens sheafs of paper, closes the journal. She is halfway up the stairs when she hears paper shuffling; she looks back to find her work undone.
She should call Mitchell.
Instead she installs a padlock on the basement door.
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