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rainbowfic2013-07-04 02:08 pm
dray) wrote in rainbowfic2013-07-04 02:08 pm
Iceberg #3, Silver #2
Name: dray
Story: Edilion
Colors: Iceberg #3 (Sleet), Silver #2 (Electroplate)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Brush ("Vouchsafe"), Seedbeads (Prudentu Vesper's POV); Photography
Word Count: 1652
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: A very special Makanan Asandus meets (un)expectedly with Fara and her family on their journey north.
Notes: Constructive criticism and comments are always welcome!
It was always the visions of shimmering opalescent sheets and folds of magic made incarnate that prompted Prudentu Vesper to realize that his daydreaming was not, in fact, a product of a wandering mind, but the byproduct of a mind prone to picking up on the wanderings of time. This was not because the images themselves of fine silken veils were a prerequisite for his visions, but more because of the people who wore them.
Prudentu was Novinitu's foremost Prophet, an Asandus of merit and rank. As such, he was consulted on nigh upon everything from the upcoming elections of Sanctuary's polyarchy, to the likelihood of a father to be an influential part of his daughter's life, to the far reaching oily residue of the Caetrans' incursion into the continent. Always, the veil-wearing Fida'venae made the visit to his humble abode in the cliffside Makanan village of Affabilis, pomp and circumstance and sacralized political pressure bearing down on him with questions: "Who?" and "When?" and "Where?" And so Prudentu of course saw these people, cluttering his timelines, confusing him because they came by so Zenite-bitten often.
This, however, was one place that the Fida'venae did not seem to have visited. Not yet, if he understood correctly. The pounding sleet outside the hostel had cleared the ambitious manipulators out of his mind as surely as it had cleared the traders that made their trips between the port city of Navale and the Asandus capital of Sanctuary. Nobody wanted to be sitting by the blazing hearth with an old, amber-skinned man and his idle tune-playing tonight. Prudentu felt gratified in making the long journey: his vision drifted, his mind cleared. One reason he rarely visited his lavish home in Sanctuary was because avoiding the leaders there afforded him many moments like this. The second was because it required his pesterers to make their own long journeys, which meant they (sometimes) had less odious questions that needed answering in the name of the Goddess (and their own egos of course!)
The only vision that passed in and out of Prudentu's mind at the moment was of the small caravan of coaches that was struggling northward along the trade route. Three, in fact, were pausing (in his mind) at the hostel, and blurred by the pounding wet snow and the uncertain probability factor, a family of four luxurious little humans in Edilion colours were preparing to make their stay.
Prudentu was curious. Edilion blue and black and grey had been in his field of vision for some time now, in fits and starts. It had taken him some time to track down the colour combination as an artifact of a human noble household -- he had not been interested in human doings at the time, and knew Edilion only as a human city-state somewhere... oh, that way. Once he'd made the connection he had begun a phase of fervent study during his off-hours, so that now he wasn't sure if he had managed to contaminate his own knowledge with the truth of the future, or if the future was merely bearing down on him in that inexorable way that it sometimes did.
He felt that these people might be important, or they might at least be important to him. Never the less, piecing together the time of this snow-storm and the trade village's whereabouts had been a lovely diversion. Sitting beside the fire by himself with his sculpted metal whistle to practice a tune had been another. When he caught sight of the carriages passing by on the road outside of the common room, he felt positively vindicated...
But the carriages continued by.
Prudentu paused in his practice, waiting for a moment as they carriages passed beyond his small square of vision, lost again in the heavy fall of snow. After several minutes, when nothing changed, the Asandus-made-human furrowed his brows with concern and tugged at his thin, pepper-streaked beard. He was a Prophet, and a powerful one at that. He was well aware of the shifts of time. Many of his visions never came to fruition without conscious prompting, but somehow the Makanan had begun to expect this one to be a natural truth.
Ah well. Eventually the Prophet was able to let go of his expectations, able to return to his practice. If he didn't meet with the primary people he'd guessed were associated with this particular branch of his propheteering on this particular day, that did not mean the entire future would collapse around his silver-adorned ears. In fact, he was certain that new branches would open, providing him with different insights. Eventually the opalescent splendour of the suited Asandae would get in the way, as always, but he looked forward to searching for the continuing reprieve of Edilion Blue in his future.
It was some time before the door to the hostel banged open and the bells hanging from above it jangled ceremoniously, but when they did, Prudentu felt a genuine start -- something novel in and of itself! He settled his whistle upon the heavy folds of his baggy pants, leaning back in the large, comfortable chair that had been provided for him before his hosts had evacuated the room, and he allowed himself a self-satisfied grin when Edilion-blue servants carted several trunks in out of the wet and cold, and after them, a quartet of positively regal looking humans followed. They looked sodden and frustrated. It was entirely likely that they had attempted to continue on the road but had had to turn back.
Prudentu raised a hand and waved at the two girls when they noticed him and would not stop staring, and he was smiling with genuine glee. 'Ah,' he felt a thought bubble up, 'things are beginning to make sense.' He offered a suitably solemn nod to the mother when she noticed him waving, smiling for her, too. Humans were so difficult, sometimes. The ones in power had only Askans to deal with, day in and day out, and Prudentu could tell by the way that this woman looked carefully over him that she saw a snake in the grass just far enough away that she need only be wary, not yet alarmed. He supposed that smiling cheerfully at her wasn't helping, so he did the lot of them a favour by turning his attention back to the fire, and to his instrument.
His vision had been a little off, but not entirely. How that was always the case!
Prudentu positively cheered to himself that he'd caught a hook into something in time to witness it in person. This wasn't a political or a religious frivolity, he knew. This was all about finding out what Edilion meant to the future; it was a personal hobby at this point. The Makanan practised a chipper piece of music while the family checked in with their host, sitting on the sidelines as they trucked their belongings into quarters for the night. He softened his tune to something more mellow once he'd managed to work the worst of his enthusiasm out of his system. As much as he wanted to greet the mother with a firm bow and a clasping of hands, he knew that he ought to be more subtle. They'd come to him: he'd already put himself enough in their way now that he was here at all.
Sure enough, the family entered the common room for their supper, sitting a respectful distance from the Makanan Asandus and keeping amongst themselves save for when their host brought them the best the house had to offer. Eventually they seemed to grow more comfortable in Prudentu's presence, for the girls -- having finished their dessert -- made their way over to the fire.
By the time that the night had drawn on and it was time for them to retire, the Prophet's mental space felt changed, somehow. He was pleased: Fara fa Edilion reminded him of his youngest granddaughter, minus wings and ebullient giggles. Jael nu Edilion reminded him of something he could not quite put to coherent memory (forward or back) yet, but her strength of will and her fearless questioning put him on track to something that he was certain would come to him later. Prudentu put a golden hand on Fara's shoulder before she left, a thought crossing his mind. The whistle was short, composed of silver and brass, the functional portion nested in an articulate, coiling rendition of tiny Makanans playing with a breeze. The way that the girl's eyes looked fit to fall out of their sockets made the old man laugh; the way that her mother gave him a hard, discerning glare made him apologize profusely, but Fara was holding the whistle like a helpless baby chick and nobody was going to take it from her.
The next morning the skies were clear, even if the roads were going to be a wasteland to deal with for land-bound carriages. Prudentu was certain to leave the Edilion mother an apologetic and explanatory note: he suspected that it would neither change her view on Asandae in general nor her recently formed opinion of him in particular, but Edilion Blue ran in her veins. He was sure to thank her for a congenial evening, at the very least.
His trip back South along the ley line to Sanctuary was freckled with visions of veils. Prudentu never enjoyed the impending tedium of a day caught in session, but at least now he knew he had a breath of fresh opportunity. Sometimes the Prophet smiled when he visited Sanctuary, and the Fida'venae took it as a sign that Aska had given him a fortuitous sign of her love. Sometimes they were even correct. Prudentu never told them directly -- that was only for him to know.
drayStory: Edilion
Colors: Iceberg #3 (Sleet), Silver #2 (Electroplate)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Brush ("Vouchsafe"), Seedbeads (Prudentu Vesper's POV); Photography
Word Count: 1652
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: A very special Makanan Asandus meets (un)expectedly with Fara and her family on their journey north.
Notes: Constructive criticism and comments are always welcome!
It was always the visions of shimmering opalescent sheets and folds of magic made incarnate that prompted Prudentu Vesper to realize that his daydreaming was not, in fact, a product of a wandering mind, but the byproduct of a mind prone to picking up on the wanderings of time. This was not because the images themselves of fine silken veils were a prerequisite for his visions, but more because of the people who wore them.
Prudentu was Novinitu's foremost Prophet, an Asandus of merit and rank. As such, he was consulted on nigh upon everything from the upcoming elections of Sanctuary's polyarchy, to the likelihood of a father to be an influential part of his daughter's life, to the far reaching oily residue of the Caetrans' incursion into the continent. Always, the veil-wearing Fida'venae made the visit to his humble abode in the cliffside Makanan village of Affabilis, pomp and circumstance and sacralized political pressure bearing down on him with questions: "Who?" and "When?" and "Where?" And so Prudentu of course saw these people, cluttering his timelines, confusing him because they came by so Zenite-bitten often.
This, however, was one place that the Fida'venae did not seem to have visited. Not yet, if he understood correctly. The pounding sleet outside the hostel had cleared the ambitious manipulators out of his mind as surely as it had cleared the traders that made their trips between the port city of Navale and the Asandus capital of Sanctuary. Nobody wanted to be sitting by the blazing hearth with an old, amber-skinned man and his idle tune-playing tonight. Prudentu felt gratified in making the long journey: his vision drifted, his mind cleared. One reason he rarely visited his lavish home in Sanctuary was because avoiding the leaders there afforded him many moments like this. The second was because it required his pesterers to make their own long journeys, which meant they (sometimes) had less odious questions that needed answering in the name of the Goddess (and their own egos of course!)
The only vision that passed in and out of Prudentu's mind at the moment was of the small caravan of coaches that was struggling northward along the trade route. Three, in fact, were pausing (in his mind) at the hostel, and blurred by the pounding wet snow and the uncertain probability factor, a family of four luxurious little humans in Edilion colours were preparing to make their stay.
Prudentu was curious. Edilion blue and black and grey had been in his field of vision for some time now, in fits and starts. It had taken him some time to track down the colour combination as an artifact of a human noble household -- he had not been interested in human doings at the time, and knew Edilion only as a human city-state somewhere... oh, that way. Once he'd made the connection he had begun a phase of fervent study during his off-hours, so that now he wasn't sure if he had managed to contaminate his own knowledge with the truth of the future, or if the future was merely bearing down on him in that inexorable way that it sometimes did.
He felt that these people might be important, or they might at least be important to him. Never the less, piecing together the time of this snow-storm and the trade village's whereabouts had been a lovely diversion. Sitting beside the fire by himself with his sculpted metal whistle to practice a tune had been another. When he caught sight of the carriages passing by on the road outside of the common room, he felt positively vindicated...
But the carriages continued by.
Prudentu paused in his practice, waiting for a moment as they carriages passed beyond his small square of vision, lost again in the heavy fall of snow. After several minutes, when nothing changed, the Asandus-made-human furrowed his brows with concern and tugged at his thin, pepper-streaked beard. He was a Prophet, and a powerful one at that. He was well aware of the shifts of time. Many of his visions never came to fruition without conscious prompting, but somehow the Makanan had begun to expect this one to be a natural truth.
Ah well. Eventually the Prophet was able to let go of his expectations, able to return to his practice. If he didn't meet with the primary people he'd guessed were associated with this particular branch of his propheteering on this particular day, that did not mean the entire future would collapse around his silver-adorned ears. In fact, he was certain that new branches would open, providing him with different insights. Eventually the opalescent splendour of the suited Asandae would get in the way, as always, but he looked forward to searching for the continuing reprieve of Edilion Blue in his future.
It was some time before the door to the hostel banged open and the bells hanging from above it jangled ceremoniously, but when they did, Prudentu felt a genuine start -- something novel in and of itself! He settled his whistle upon the heavy folds of his baggy pants, leaning back in the large, comfortable chair that had been provided for him before his hosts had evacuated the room, and he allowed himself a self-satisfied grin when Edilion-blue servants carted several trunks in out of the wet and cold, and after them, a quartet of positively regal looking humans followed. They looked sodden and frustrated. It was entirely likely that they had attempted to continue on the road but had had to turn back.
Prudentu raised a hand and waved at the two girls when they noticed him and would not stop staring, and he was smiling with genuine glee. 'Ah,' he felt a thought bubble up, 'things are beginning to make sense.' He offered a suitably solemn nod to the mother when she noticed him waving, smiling for her, too. Humans were so difficult, sometimes. The ones in power had only Askans to deal with, day in and day out, and Prudentu could tell by the way that this woman looked carefully over him that she saw a snake in the grass just far enough away that she need only be wary, not yet alarmed. He supposed that smiling cheerfully at her wasn't helping, so he did the lot of them a favour by turning his attention back to the fire, and to his instrument.
His vision had been a little off, but not entirely. How that was always the case!
Prudentu positively cheered to himself that he'd caught a hook into something in time to witness it in person. This wasn't a political or a religious frivolity, he knew. This was all about finding out what Edilion meant to the future; it was a personal hobby at this point. The Makanan practised a chipper piece of music while the family checked in with their host, sitting on the sidelines as they trucked their belongings into quarters for the night. He softened his tune to something more mellow once he'd managed to work the worst of his enthusiasm out of his system. As much as he wanted to greet the mother with a firm bow and a clasping of hands, he knew that he ought to be more subtle. They'd come to him: he'd already put himself enough in their way now that he was here at all.
Sure enough, the family entered the common room for their supper, sitting a respectful distance from the Makanan Asandus and keeping amongst themselves save for when their host brought them the best the house had to offer. Eventually they seemed to grow more comfortable in Prudentu's presence, for the girls -- having finished their dessert -- made their way over to the fire.
By the time that the night had drawn on and it was time for them to retire, the Prophet's mental space felt changed, somehow. He was pleased: Fara fa Edilion reminded him of his youngest granddaughter, minus wings and ebullient giggles. Jael nu Edilion reminded him of something he could not quite put to coherent memory (forward or back) yet, but her strength of will and her fearless questioning put him on track to something that he was certain would come to him later. Prudentu put a golden hand on Fara's shoulder before she left, a thought crossing his mind. The whistle was short, composed of silver and brass, the functional portion nested in an articulate, coiling rendition of tiny Makanans playing with a breeze. The way that the girl's eyes looked fit to fall out of their sockets made the old man laugh; the way that her mother gave him a hard, discerning glare made him apologize profusely, but Fara was holding the whistle like a helpless baby chick and nobody was going to take it from her.
The next morning the skies were clear, even if the roads were going to be a wasteland to deal with for land-bound carriages. Prudentu was certain to leave the Edilion mother an apologetic and explanatory note: he suspected that it would neither change her view on Asandae in general nor her recently formed opinion of him in particular, but Edilion Blue ran in her veins. He was sure to thank her for a congenial evening, at the very least.
His trip back South along the ley line to Sanctuary was freckled with visions of veils. Prudentu never enjoyed the impending tedium of a day caught in session, but at least now he knew he had a breath of fresh opportunity. Sometimes the Prophet smiled when he visited Sanctuary, and the Fida'venae took it as a sign that Aska had given him a fortuitous sign of her love. Sometimes they were even correct. Prudentu never told them directly -- that was only for him to know.
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If it's wrong I totaly snickered at that, I do not wish to right. Sorry.
It's really cool how you go Prudentu's personality to come through in the phrasing here. I like him!
And I loof forward to reading more of thissssssssss. I know I said so before, but it's really deliciously visual.
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Prudentu is a character that I borrowed from my partner. I have a fondness for him; originally he played a bit-part in Fara's main story arc, but I think that working him in this far back in her life helps me give reason for him being there later, too!
More is on the way! I figure I'd better only post one per day while I still have a bit of a head start. Don't want to overwhelm anyone with piles of new words!
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Thank you for the encouragement, Isana!
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Thank you!
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