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rainbowfic2013-10-15 10:04 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2013-10-15 10:04 pm
Entry tags:
- author: shadowsong26 supreme whumpmaster,
- color: dirt brown,
- color: glitter,
- color: spilt ink,
- story: feredar,
- style: bichromatic,
- style: miniature,
- supply: acrylic,
- supply: beading wire,
- supply: brush,
- supply: chalk,
- supply: charcoal,
- supply: eraser,
- supply: feathers,
- supply: glitter,
- supply: oils,
- supply: pastels,
- supply: stain
Spilt Ink #19, Dirt Brown #2, Glitter #16
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Promise
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Spilt Ink #19. You are nobody's hero. And nobody needs you. Desperately., Dirt Brown #2. Barren, Glitter #16. Every day a little death. - A Little Night Music
Supplies and Materials: miniature, bichromatic, eraser (Bonded Creatures AU), brush (ensky), acrylic, oils, stain, feathers, charcoal, pastels (my current gen + romance card N3 "FREE SPACE"), chalk, beading wire, glitter ("Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists" – Antonio Porchia)
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sorell, Vedia
Warnings: References to parental/familial death
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. This takes place in an alternate 940 FY.
He knew he shouldn’t go unguarded, but he had Vedia. He still felt safe.
And he had to see them.
There they were, six bodies in a row, cleaned and redressed and dead.
This shouldn’t have happened.
“I’ll do good,” he whispered to the family he’d lost.
:Do you want to stay?:
He shook his head. “I want to run.”
:Of course.:
They took off across the grounds, smooth and silent as moonlight. He wished they could just keep running, and never come back.
But he’d promised.
I’ll do good.
He buried his face in the unicorn’s neck and cried.
Story: Promise
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Spilt Ink #19. You are nobody's hero. And nobody needs you. Desperately., Dirt Brown #2. Barren, Glitter #16. Every day a little death. - A Little Night Music
Supplies and Materials: miniature, bichromatic, eraser (Bonded Creatures AU), brush (ensky), acrylic, oils, stain, feathers, charcoal, pastels (my current gen + romance card N3 "FREE SPACE"), chalk, beading wire, glitter ("Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists" – Antonio Porchia)
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sorell, Vedia
Warnings: References to parental/familial death
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. This takes place in an alternate 940 FY.
He knew he shouldn’t go unguarded, but he had Vedia. He still felt safe.
And he had to see them.
There they were, six bodies in a row, cleaned and redressed and dead.
This shouldn’t have happened.
“I’ll do good,” he whispered to the family he’d lost.
:Do you want to stay?:
He shook his head. “I want to run.”
:Of course.:
They took off across the grounds, smooth and silent as moonlight. He wished they could just keep running, and never come back.
But he’d promised.
I’ll do good.
He buried his face in the unicorn’s neck and cried.
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I was semi-deliberately referencing Victoria, actually. So I'm glad you caught it.