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rainbowfic2013-07-01 09:27 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2013-07-01 09:27 am
Blue #1, Transparent #11
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Blue #1 (singing the blues), Transparent #11 (sword)
Styles/Supplies: Seed Beads
Word Count: 793
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Eira's story.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
She’d once been considered the sweetest singing voice in Yorhearne. Born to the troupe, her mother a favored actress, her talent had been cultivated from the moment she had learned how to talk. She’d brought further fame to the well-known troupe, performed for every satmar in Madeve, probably. The highest point had come only a month ago, when she’d performed for the korenmar of Madeve himself, Uwan fidh Belanus.
Only a month ago. But now her voice was useless, no shield at all against the sword aimed at her throat, the point floating just barely under her chin. The wielder’s grip wasn’t entirely certain, and occasionally the tip raised up, tapping the fleshy underside of her chin, making a shiver pass through her every time. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to live, not now they had all found out what she’d been desperately trying to hide for months.
But the sword wielder was none other than Daisen, her own brother, and she did not want him to kill her. Not for her sake, but for his own.
“Did Delwyn put you up to this?” she asked.
“Shut up, Jasmar,” he hissed. The sword point dipped, and he straightened it. His arm was straining; he was only twelve and a juggler, and he was unused to holding something so heavy for so long.
“It’s me,” she said. “Eira. Your sister.”
His face contorted with hatred. “I have no sister.”
“No?” said Eira. “Then who sang you to sleep as a baby? Who told you stories of our mother’s adventures? Did I dream those things, or did you?”
Daisen worked his jaw. “I said shut up! You won’t enchant me!”
She was starting to cry, and she hated herself for it. Perhaps she wasn’t afraid to die. Perhaps part of her believed she deserved it. But not like this. Not her brother. He may be angry now, but she couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t one day come to regret it.
And it hurt her, how quickly he had turned against her. Which made her wonder.
“Was this Delwyn’s price for your training? That you kill me?”
Now his eyes were watering, too, and the sword point dropped to somewhere below her breastbone. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” he said. He strengthened his grip. “But you’re a Jasmar. They all deserve to die.”
“You don’t have to do this,” said Eira. “If Delwyn wants me dead, let her do it herself. It’s a travesty to force a child to do her dirty work.”
His gaze hardened. “I’m not a child! Delwyn demanded nothing. I do this of my own free will.” The waver in his voice belied the truth.
So the woman had dangled his dream in front of his face, in exchange for a crime she couldn’t do herself. Eira could not blame her brother. He was young, confused, and eager to make his own place in the troupe. He was a talented actor, and after years of yearning for the spotlight this was his chance. Eira understood that it wasn’t just for his own fame that he was in this position. He wasn’t stupid; he knew if he didn’t carry out Delwyn’s task, he would be a mere juggler forever. His future depended on his actions here, and she couldn’t hate him for what he felt he needed to do.
Delwyn, though. Delwyn she could hate. For trying to kill her. For using Daisen in such a horrible way.
“I understand,” she said. “I didn’t ask for this, but it’s my sin to bear. Do it. Just please do it quickly.”
Daisen closed his eyes as if to escape her gaze, his anger visibly fading away. “What do I do?”
Her heart thumped painfully. Perhaps she really didn’t want to die, despite the shame she felt. “Let me go,” she said tentatively, trying out the words on her tongue. Let me go. Let me live despite that I’m an abomination. More weakness on her part, she was sure. “I’ll live out my life in the wilderness, away from everyone, I promise. Tell Delwyn I ran and you couldn’t catch me. She won’t blame you for that.”
“She will.” The sword was pointed at the ground now.
Eira bent down and slowly picked up her pack. She had been on the way out, she knew that she had to run, but Daisen had discovered her. “That is not my problem,” she whispered. Bold words to say to a boy with a sword, but she knew now Daisen would not be able to bring himself to hurt her.
He wouldn’t look at her, either.
“Goodbye,” she said. Shouldering her pack, she ran into the woods, leaving the troupe’s camp behind.
kay_brookeStory: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Blue #1 (singing the blues), Transparent #11 (sword)
Styles/Supplies: Seed Beads
Word Count: 793
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Eira's story.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
She’d once been considered the sweetest singing voice in Yorhearne. Born to the troupe, her mother a favored actress, her talent had been cultivated from the moment she had learned how to talk. She’d brought further fame to the well-known troupe, performed for every satmar in Madeve, probably. The highest point had come only a month ago, when she’d performed for the korenmar of Madeve himself, Uwan fidh Belanus.
Only a month ago. But now her voice was useless, no shield at all against the sword aimed at her throat, the point floating just barely under her chin. The wielder’s grip wasn’t entirely certain, and occasionally the tip raised up, tapping the fleshy underside of her chin, making a shiver pass through her every time. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to live, not now they had all found out what she’d been desperately trying to hide for months.
But the sword wielder was none other than Daisen, her own brother, and she did not want him to kill her. Not for her sake, but for his own.
“Did Delwyn put you up to this?” she asked.
“Shut up, Jasmar,” he hissed. The sword point dipped, and he straightened it. His arm was straining; he was only twelve and a juggler, and he was unused to holding something so heavy for so long.
“It’s me,” she said. “Eira. Your sister.”
His face contorted with hatred. “I have no sister.”
“No?” said Eira. “Then who sang you to sleep as a baby? Who told you stories of our mother’s adventures? Did I dream those things, or did you?”
Daisen worked his jaw. “I said shut up! You won’t enchant me!”
She was starting to cry, and she hated herself for it. Perhaps she wasn’t afraid to die. Perhaps part of her believed she deserved it. But not like this. Not her brother. He may be angry now, but she couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t one day come to regret it.
And it hurt her, how quickly he had turned against her. Which made her wonder.
“Was this Delwyn’s price for your training? That you kill me?”
Now his eyes were watering, too, and the sword point dropped to somewhere below her breastbone. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” he said. He strengthened his grip. “But you’re a Jasmar. They all deserve to die.”
“You don’t have to do this,” said Eira. “If Delwyn wants me dead, let her do it herself. It’s a travesty to force a child to do her dirty work.”
His gaze hardened. “I’m not a child! Delwyn demanded nothing. I do this of my own free will.” The waver in his voice belied the truth.
So the woman had dangled his dream in front of his face, in exchange for a crime she couldn’t do herself. Eira could not blame her brother. He was young, confused, and eager to make his own place in the troupe. He was a talented actor, and after years of yearning for the spotlight this was his chance. Eira understood that it wasn’t just for his own fame that he was in this position. He wasn’t stupid; he knew if he didn’t carry out Delwyn’s task, he would be a mere juggler forever. His future depended on his actions here, and she couldn’t hate him for what he felt he needed to do.
Delwyn, though. Delwyn she could hate. For trying to kill her. For using Daisen in such a horrible way.
“I understand,” she said. “I didn’t ask for this, but it’s my sin to bear. Do it. Just please do it quickly.”
Daisen closed his eyes as if to escape her gaze, his anger visibly fading away. “What do I do?”
Her heart thumped painfully. Perhaps she really didn’t want to die, despite the shame she felt. “Let me go,” she said tentatively, trying out the words on her tongue. Let me go. Let me live despite that I’m an abomination. More weakness on her part, she was sure. “I’ll live out my life in the wilderness, away from everyone, I promise. Tell Delwyn I ran and you couldn’t catch me. She won’t blame you for that.”
“She will.” The sword was pointed at the ground now.
Eira bent down and slowly picked up her pack. She had been on the way out, she knew that she had to run, but Daisen had discovered her. “That is not my problem,” she whispered. Bold words to say to a boy with a sword, but she knew now Daisen would not be able to bring himself to hurt her.
He wouldn’t look at her, either.
“Goodbye,” she said. Shouldering her pack, she ran into the woods, leaving the troupe’s camp behind.
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The emotions and conflicts are so great.
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I'm curious about pretty much everything you've got up here, from the various characters to the world-build-y bits of ranks and offices, how the troupe works and how they travel, to what Eira will need to do in order to survive -- just what is her lot in life going to be?
...Ha ha, I suppose I just enjoy this.
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This is a newer world I'm working on, so I'm still figuring out all the bits and pieces of things, but I'm glad you enjoy it so far! Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading!