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rainbowfic2012-02-23 11:46 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2012-02-23 11:46 am
Entry tags:
Black #7, Tea Rose #2
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Black #7 (blacked out), Tea Rose #2 (A mind lively and at ease can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer)
Style/Supplies Canvas
Word Count: 1,573
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; No standard warnings apply
Summary: Jay needs to learn to listen.
When it was time for their survival training test, Jay was partnered with Eyth.
Jay and Eyth were the only two girls in their training group, which wasn't that impressive considering there were only five students to begin with. Still, because of the unbalanced numbers the three boys were put together, which left Jay with the other girl.
It wasn't so much that Eyth was a girl that was the problem. Jay hardly cared what gender her groupmates were, because they all represented the same thing to her: someone to compete with and, ultimately, defeat.
She understood that as a member of the Sun Guard everyone had to work together, had to trust each other with their lives and not get caught up in petty rivalries. She could recite it in her sleep, it had been stressed so often to her.
But that didn't mean she still couldn't be the best. She trusted every one of her groupmates, as she was supposed to. She just didn't want any of them to beat her at anything.
Her main problem with Eyth was that Eyth had always been an odd girl, with the air of someone who wasn't entirely in the real world. When she was around Jay had uncomfortable memories of a grandparent she barely remembered telling tales of Jay's ancestors, the royal family and their mystics, people touched by the gods. Jay believed strongly in her religion, but the stories were just tales from long ago, belonging to ancient people who were no longer around. Eyth made Jay think of these people, and though she would never admit it, that frightened her.
Always quiet, always reserved. That was how Eyth was. When she was around Jay got louder and bolder to compensate, and that usually led to her getting into more trouble than usual. When the two had started training they had been paired up a lot. It didn't occur to Jay until years later why the instructors might have done that: perhaps they thought the two girls would balance each other, Eyth teaching Jay patience and quiet while Jay kept Eyth tethered to the earthly realm. But that only confirmed to Jay that her instructors didn't know their students at all, because around each other both Jay and Eyth became more themselves. The gulf widened instead of narrowed, until neither girl could understand the other at all.
After awhile the instructors had caught on and stopped pairing them up.
Until now. Sixteen years old they were, and about to embark on a series of tests that would show the rest of the Sun Guard whether they were worthy of entering those hallowed ranks. And on this, the first day of what Jay knew would be the most important days of her life, she was saddled with Eyth.
The gods were laughing at her, she knew it. She wondered what she had done to deserve such a thing. She went to her head instructor and complained at first. Why couldn't she be paired up with Hever? The two of them were fierce rivals and best friends. They would encourage each other, push each other to be their best through their own innate sense of competition. She and Hever worked well together, she had argued. They almost knew what the other was thinking without anyone saying a word.
Before she could continue, the head instructor had held up her hand for silence. Jay bit her tongue, not a natural reaction for her, but one she had forced herself to learn throughout the years because the alternative was punishment. She wasn't a child anymore, and she was too close to finishing her training. Jay, who had never worried about what others thought of her, knew it was time to start worrying, because her future was determined by others.
So she had fallen silent, and the head instructor had said, "As a member of the Sun Guard, you will not always be working with friends. You must learn to work with everyone."
"I understand," Jay had acknowledged. "But--"
"You have said that you and Hever act nearly as one," said the head instructor. Jay had nodded vigorously, relieved that the instructor understood her point. "Do not think we have not noticed how well the two of you work together. That is exactly why you are not paired together."
Jay opened her mouth to argue, but she got nowhere before the head instructor spoke again.
"This is not testing your ability to be the best," she said, her brows knitting together. "This is a test of your worthiness."
Jay did not understand the difference, but she knew from the tone in the head instructor's voice that the woman would not listen to any argument, so she had merely nodded.
Of course she wasn't going to be the best, not paired with Eyth.
It wasn't that Eyth was incompetent. She did just as well as the rest of them in their training. But she was aloof, and strange, and Jay didn't know the language of her body the way she knew Hever's. Hever was an extension of Jay herself. When he was there she was doubly aware of everything, experiencing the world through his eyes and senses.
With Eyth, Jay felt like she was blind.
But there was no getting away from the head instructor's decree, so early on the first morning of the survival test, before the first sun had even thought about breaking the eastern horizon, Jay found herself bundled up with Eyth in the cart that would take them somewhere--they weren't to know where--and leave them in the wilderness to survive and find their way back to the training camp.
They had three days. It was the middle of winter.
They were blindfolded the entire way, and wrapped up in blankets to protect against the chill. A whole day's carriage ride to where they were going, and then they would be left with nothing but a few supplies and their years of training.
During the ride, Jay talked even though she was blindfolded, because she couldn't stand the silence, the creaking of the carriage and the soft breathing of Eyth beside her.
"What direction do you suppose we are going?" Jay whispered. They weren't supposed to try and gain clues of their whereabouts while they were in the carriage, but Jay thought that was unfair. Were this a real life situation, she would be expected to use whatever she could learn to survive the situation.
"We're not supposed to talk about that," said Eyth. Her voice had always been breathy and light, as if the air itself hoisted her words high and far away with reverence, and it had only become more so as she'd grown older and the childish shrillness had worked itself out. It irritated Jay in ways she couldn't begin to describe.
"That is a stupid rule," said Jay with all the imperiousness she could muster.
There was the sound of blankets rustling; Eyth was shrugging. "It's still a rule."
Jay huffed and sat back against the side of the carriage. There was a moment of silence and then Jay felt something warm on her arm: Eyth's hand. Jay suppressed the urge to flinch; there was something about being touched without her being able to see it coming that made her deeply uncomfortable.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
Eyth said nothing, but started softly moving her fingers against Jay's arm.
Jay frowned but didn't pull away. Did Eyth fancy her or something? That was a little disturbing. Jay didn't even like the girl, and she wasn't sure how she should respond. Truth was, Jay's only experience in those matters so far were quick fumblings with Hever in the woods behind their training camp. Even that hadn't been very pleasant, even though Hever was her best friend and had, if Jay said so herself, grown nicely out of the skinny, clumsy child he had once been.
She decided to move her arm away because she really didn't want to do anything with Eyth, especially not here, but the other girl tightened her grip, keeping Jay's arm close to her.
"What are you doing?" Jay asked again, her voice coming out in a growl. This wasn't amusing.
"Do you know what your problem is?" Eyth had never sounded breathier, or more condescending. Jay frowned again, even though Eyth couldn't see her.
"I do not have a problem," said Jay.
"You never listen," Eyth continued as if Jay hadn't said anything. "You always want to be the best, but if you listened to others more you would be even better than you are."
Jay remained silent. Was Eyth praising her? This was too strange for words.
Eyth resumed stroking her arm, and Jay remained still, wondering what to do. She could listen. She did listen. But Eyth wasn't talking, she was touching her. That wasn't listening. That was feeling.
This trip had becoming too confusing.
But as she sat, thoughts whirling around in her head, she gradually became aware that there was a pattern to Eyth's strokes. Jay stilled herself as much as possible, trying to figure out the pattern. Then she realized: Eyth was spelling something on her arm.
East east east east east east
Jay smirked and moved her arm away. "I am listening," she said.
"Good," said Eyth, and Jay could hear the smile in her voice.
kay_brookeStory: The Myrrosta
Colors: Black #7 (blacked out), Tea Rose #2 (A mind lively and at ease can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer)
Style/Supplies Canvas
Word Count: 1,573
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; No standard warnings apply
Summary: Jay needs to learn to listen.
When it was time for their survival training test, Jay was partnered with Eyth.
Jay and Eyth were the only two girls in their training group, which wasn't that impressive considering there were only five students to begin with. Still, because of the unbalanced numbers the three boys were put together, which left Jay with the other girl.
It wasn't so much that Eyth was a girl that was the problem. Jay hardly cared what gender her groupmates were, because they all represented the same thing to her: someone to compete with and, ultimately, defeat.
She understood that as a member of the Sun Guard everyone had to work together, had to trust each other with their lives and not get caught up in petty rivalries. She could recite it in her sleep, it had been stressed so often to her.
But that didn't mean she still couldn't be the best. She trusted every one of her groupmates, as she was supposed to. She just didn't want any of them to beat her at anything.
Her main problem with Eyth was that Eyth had always been an odd girl, with the air of someone who wasn't entirely in the real world. When she was around Jay had uncomfortable memories of a grandparent she barely remembered telling tales of Jay's ancestors, the royal family and their mystics, people touched by the gods. Jay believed strongly in her religion, but the stories were just tales from long ago, belonging to ancient people who were no longer around. Eyth made Jay think of these people, and though she would never admit it, that frightened her.
Always quiet, always reserved. That was how Eyth was. When she was around Jay got louder and bolder to compensate, and that usually led to her getting into more trouble than usual. When the two had started training they had been paired up a lot. It didn't occur to Jay until years later why the instructors might have done that: perhaps they thought the two girls would balance each other, Eyth teaching Jay patience and quiet while Jay kept Eyth tethered to the earthly realm. But that only confirmed to Jay that her instructors didn't know their students at all, because around each other both Jay and Eyth became more themselves. The gulf widened instead of narrowed, until neither girl could understand the other at all.
After awhile the instructors had caught on and stopped pairing them up.
Until now. Sixteen years old they were, and about to embark on a series of tests that would show the rest of the Sun Guard whether they were worthy of entering those hallowed ranks. And on this, the first day of what Jay knew would be the most important days of her life, she was saddled with Eyth.
The gods were laughing at her, she knew it. She wondered what she had done to deserve such a thing. She went to her head instructor and complained at first. Why couldn't she be paired up with Hever? The two of them were fierce rivals and best friends. They would encourage each other, push each other to be their best through their own innate sense of competition. She and Hever worked well together, she had argued. They almost knew what the other was thinking without anyone saying a word.
Before she could continue, the head instructor had held up her hand for silence. Jay bit her tongue, not a natural reaction for her, but one she had forced herself to learn throughout the years because the alternative was punishment. She wasn't a child anymore, and she was too close to finishing her training. Jay, who had never worried about what others thought of her, knew it was time to start worrying, because her future was determined by others.
So she had fallen silent, and the head instructor had said, "As a member of the Sun Guard, you will not always be working with friends. You must learn to work with everyone."
"I understand," Jay had acknowledged. "But--"
"You have said that you and Hever act nearly as one," said the head instructor. Jay had nodded vigorously, relieved that the instructor understood her point. "Do not think we have not noticed how well the two of you work together. That is exactly why you are not paired together."
Jay opened her mouth to argue, but she got nowhere before the head instructor spoke again.
"This is not testing your ability to be the best," she said, her brows knitting together. "This is a test of your worthiness."
Jay did not understand the difference, but she knew from the tone in the head instructor's voice that the woman would not listen to any argument, so she had merely nodded.
Of course she wasn't going to be the best, not paired with Eyth.
It wasn't that Eyth was incompetent. She did just as well as the rest of them in their training. But she was aloof, and strange, and Jay didn't know the language of her body the way she knew Hever's. Hever was an extension of Jay herself. When he was there she was doubly aware of everything, experiencing the world through his eyes and senses.
With Eyth, Jay felt like she was blind.
But there was no getting away from the head instructor's decree, so early on the first morning of the survival test, before the first sun had even thought about breaking the eastern horizon, Jay found herself bundled up with Eyth in the cart that would take them somewhere--they weren't to know where--and leave them in the wilderness to survive and find their way back to the training camp.
They had three days. It was the middle of winter.
They were blindfolded the entire way, and wrapped up in blankets to protect against the chill. A whole day's carriage ride to where they were going, and then they would be left with nothing but a few supplies and their years of training.
During the ride, Jay talked even though she was blindfolded, because she couldn't stand the silence, the creaking of the carriage and the soft breathing of Eyth beside her.
"What direction do you suppose we are going?" Jay whispered. They weren't supposed to try and gain clues of their whereabouts while they were in the carriage, but Jay thought that was unfair. Were this a real life situation, she would be expected to use whatever she could learn to survive the situation.
"We're not supposed to talk about that," said Eyth. Her voice had always been breathy and light, as if the air itself hoisted her words high and far away with reverence, and it had only become more so as she'd grown older and the childish shrillness had worked itself out. It irritated Jay in ways she couldn't begin to describe.
"That is a stupid rule," said Jay with all the imperiousness she could muster.
There was the sound of blankets rustling; Eyth was shrugging. "It's still a rule."
Jay huffed and sat back against the side of the carriage. There was a moment of silence and then Jay felt something warm on her arm: Eyth's hand. Jay suppressed the urge to flinch; there was something about being touched without her being able to see it coming that made her deeply uncomfortable.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
Eyth said nothing, but started softly moving her fingers against Jay's arm.
Jay frowned but didn't pull away. Did Eyth fancy her or something? That was a little disturbing. Jay didn't even like the girl, and she wasn't sure how she should respond. Truth was, Jay's only experience in those matters so far were quick fumblings with Hever in the woods behind their training camp. Even that hadn't been very pleasant, even though Hever was her best friend and had, if Jay said so herself, grown nicely out of the skinny, clumsy child he had once been.
She decided to move her arm away because she really didn't want to do anything with Eyth, especially not here, but the other girl tightened her grip, keeping Jay's arm close to her.
"What are you doing?" Jay asked again, her voice coming out in a growl. This wasn't amusing.
"Do you know what your problem is?" Eyth had never sounded breathier, or more condescending. Jay frowned again, even though Eyth couldn't see her.
"I do not have a problem," said Jay.
"You never listen," Eyth continued as if Jay hadn't said anything. "You always want to be the best, but if you listened to others more you would be even better than you are."
Jay remained silent. Was Eyth praising her? This was too strange for words.
Eyth resumed stroking her arm, and Jay remained still, wondering what to do. She could listen. She did listen. But Eyth wasn't talking, she was touching her. That wasn't listening. That was feeling.
This trip had becoming too confusing.
But as she sat, thoughts whirling around in her head, she gradually became aware that there was a pattern to Eyth's strokes. Jay stilled herself as much as possible, trying to figure out the pattern. Then she realized: Eyth was spelling something on her arm.
East east east east east east
Jay smirked and moved her arm away. "I am listening," she said.
"Good," said Eyth, and Jay could hear the smile in her voice.
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Well done.
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Loved it!
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