amaranthh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenling) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2014-02-16 11:00 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2014-02-16 11:00 pm
Entry tags:
Iceberg #7
Name: Greenling
Story: Lords of Strife and Cunning
Colors: Iceberg #7 (skiing)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Graffiti (Mod Kat's Mom's Birthday)
Word Count: 550
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Summary: Snow comes early to the river valley, and Mist doesn't like birthdays.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Mist was born on the day the tribes of the river valley come together on the rocky hill below the temple of the Gods' Truce; specifically, in the great hall of the temple, in the middle of the meeting, shortly before the high priests had finished their speech to call down the gods. Sie had heard the story many times from many different perspectives, some more blunt than others, and sie had noticed, by the time sie was nearing twelve, that it seemed to come up more often every three years as another meet approached. That particular year seemed as if it would be worse than usual. For one thing, the subject of the year's ceremonies had come up among the priests of the temple, including whether Mist should join in the coming of age ceremony that year, or later, or at all. For another, people had just begun showing up and snow had already piled up past the foundation stones of the temple, threatening to start blocking doorways.
Mist wasn't sure how sie felt about the first one, but the second was worrying. Groups could be delayed, the ceremony might be delayed, the gods might be angry, people might not be able to leave- the last option was especially worrying to Mist, being trapped with so many people, maybe unable to even go outside, not to mention the rational problem of food. They told hir not to worry about it, that the gods would figure something out if it came to it, but that didn't help much. Mist wasn't a priest.
The snow piled up until it came up past hir knees, layer upon fluffy layer. The children laughed, playing around in it, building snow forts and forests and mazes for the little ones, as the adults stood watch with warm drinks, or traded supplies for the early winter. It was a very important time for the tribes, so Mist was told. For the most part, sie sat on the lower roof of the priest's quarters, curled behind a piece of decorative gable and watched. If people saw hir fluffy tail poking out, none looked too closely.
Sie was in just that position the morning before the first real day of the meeting, curled up in a snow-hollow. Sie had skipped breakfast that morning, nervous of so many strange people in the hall; though most elected to eat in their tents, the priests had families filing in and out, prospective apprentices, and those who just wanted to get out of the wind for a moment. Sie watched some people begin setting up a windbreak on one side of the tents with the help of some who had winged shapes, possibly to gauge the best placement; some of the adults were speaking to children, seemingly negotiating the movement of some little snow sculptures.
A ways off, on the slope of a lower hill, some others had gathered, mostly children, with planks of wood; they looked a little like thinner versions of snowshoes. They were taking turns, skidding down the hill at impressive speed, not always successfully.
Hir ears perked up, twitching. It looked... really fun. Whatever it was. It looked...
Sie scooted a little closer to the edge, wondering how terrible of an idea it might be to sneak over there and wait for a turn.
Story: Lords of Strife and Cunning
Colors: Iceberg #7 (skiing)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Graffiti (Mod Kat's Mom's Birthday)
Word Count: 550
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Summary: Snow comes early to the river valley, and Mist doesn't like birthdays.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Mist was born on the day the tribes of the river valley come together on the rocky hill below the temple of the Gods' Truce; specifically, in the great hall of the temple, in the middle of the meeting, shortly before the high priests had finished their speech to call down the gods. Sie had heard the story many times from many different perspectives, some more blunt than others, and sie had noticed, by the time sie was nearing twelve, that it seemed to come up more often every three years as another meet approached. That particular year seemed as if it would be worse than usual. For one thing, the subject of the year's ceremonies had come up among the priests of the temple, including whether Mist should join in the coming of age ceremony that year, or later, or at all. For another, people had just begun showing up and snow had already piled up past the foundation stones of the temple, threatening to start blocking doorways.
Mist wasn't sure how sie felt about the first one, but the second was worrying. Groups could be delayed, the ceremony might be delayed, the gods might be angry, people might not be able to leave- the last option was especially worrying to Mist, being trapped with so many people, maybe unable to even go outside, not to mention the rational problem of food. They told hir not to worry about it, that the gods would figure something out if it came to it, but that didn't help much. Mist wasn't a priest.
The snow piled up until it came up past hir knees, layer upon fluffy layer. The children laughed, playing around in it, building snow forts and forests and mazes for the little ones, as the adults stood watch with warm drinks, or traded supplies for the early winter. It was a very important time for the tribes, so Mist was told. For the most part, sie sat on the lower roof of the priest's quarters, curled behind a piece of decorative gable and watched. If people saw hir fluffy tail poking out, none looked too closely.
Sie was in just that position the morning before the first real day of the meeting, curled up in a snow-hollow. Sie had skipped breakfast that morning, nervous of so many strange people in the hall; though most elected to eat in their tents, the priests had families filing in and out, prospective apprentices, and those who just wanted to get out of the wind for a moment. Sie watched some people begin setting up a windbreak on one side of the tents with the help of some who had winged shapes, possibly to gauge the best placement; some of the adults were speaking to children, seemingly negotiating the movement of some little snow sculptures.
A ways off, on the slope of a lower hill, some others had gathered, mostly children, with planks of wood; they looked a little like thinner versions of snowshoes. They were taking turns, skidding down the hill at impressive speed, not always successfully.
Hir ears perked up, twitching. It looked... really fun. Whatever it was. It looked...
Sie scooted a little closer to the edge, wondering how terrible of an idea it might be to sneak over there and wait for a turn.
no subject