Post by Carbon Kiwi on Jul 30, 2011 13:21:43 GMT 10
Title: Progression
Rating: PG-13
Couple/Character: Dedicate Rosethorn, Mind-healer Dedicate Cicelysong (some Rosethorn/Cicelysong).
Event: 4 x 100 word relay
Words: 400
Warnings:
Summary: “They don’t know how happy they are.”
Notes: I'm sorry for not responding to comments--I really want to! Working at a summer camp in a mountain-like town without much Internet or even time for Internet. I may end up responding super late. Thank you for reading, anyway! Hopefully I'll have the rest of the fic up soon; they're all written. Also hope you all are keeping well and having fun!
Envy
“They don’t know how happy they are.” Rosethorn leaned back against the tree—Mind-healer Dedicate Cicelysong allowed outdoor sessions—and frowned until the line was deep between her eyebrows.
“They don’t?” Cicelysong inquired, her voice of legitimate curiosity rather than the pretence of humouring the daft. “How can you tell?”
“I was them. I could grumble for days about things I now find inconsequential, taking some small pleasure out of simply complaining. Those were legitimate complaints, then.”
“And you were happy?”
“I was happy. I know now because that is gone. I’ve hardly been envious before, but I am now.”
Greed
Once a moon, Dedicate Moonstream and her colleagues had suggested, for mind-healing appointments.
After three moons of Dedicate Cicelysong for two hours each session, Rosethorn found herself suggesting more. She felt silly that she was the one to present the issue, rather than her mind-healer; however Cicelysong had agreed without a second’s hesitation. Dedicate Moonstream had said nothing, but she was seldom required to: her eyebrows spoke wonders. Rosethorn was well versed in the language of eyebrows.
Lark had been supportive of the improved frequency of the meetings; she saw the changes in Rosethorn.
Rosethorn rediscovered the feeling of greed.
Pride
“You’re improving, Rosethorn. You’re doing well.”
Rosethorn stared at her garden. It looked different; perhaps it appeared as it had before her travels. She couldn’t recall mind-sets the way she could events or people.
She could feel the life of every leaf and stem, root and nodule; they were one with her again. They called to her in a chatty manner—the silly nonsense of happy plants. Such talk had been forgotten, somehow; perhaps the plants themselves had been as afraid of frivolously approaching her as her human kin were.
“I think this is pride,” she told Lark, who smiled.
Lust
It was a lazy Sunsday. The heat of the sun necessitated all residents take advantage of the rest period.
There was a strange dichotomy in rest period behaviour: Dedicate Cicelysong witnessed residents napping in the shade or sun while hers was a more active response, walking the winding road of the temple. Discipline Cottage approached on her right.
There was a lull around the cottage. Cicelysong assumed the dedicated residents were of the slumber sort. The window revealed something different: two dedicates kissing by the kitchen table.
Sparks of heat erupted between Cicelysong’s legs.
Well, she thought, that was surprising.
Rating: PG-13
Couple/Character: Dedicate Rosethorn, Mind-healer Dedicate Cicelysong (some Rosethorn/Cicelysong).
Event: 4 x 100 word relay
Words: 400
Warnings:
Summary: “They don’t know how happy they are.”
Notes: I'm sorry for not responding to comments--I really want to! Working at a summer camp in a mountain-like town without much Internet or even time for Internet. I may end up responding super late. Thank you for reading, anyway! Hopefully I'll have the rest of the fic up soon; they're all written. Also hope you all are keeping well and having fun!
Envy
“They don’t know how happy they are.” Rosethorn leaned back against the tree—Mind-healer Dedicate Cicelysong allowed outdoor sessions—and frowned until the line was deep between her eyebrows.
“They don’t?” Cicelysong inquired, her voice of legitimate curiosity rather than the pretence of humouring the daft. “How can you tell?”
“I was them. I could grumble for days about things I now find inconsequential, taking some small pleasure out of simply complaining. Those were legitimate complaints, then.”
“And you were happy?”
“I was happy. I know now because that is gone. I’ve hardly been envious before, but I am now.”
Greed
Once a moon, Dedicate Moonstream and her colleagues had suggested, for mind-healing appointments.
After three moons of Dedicate Cicelysong for two hours each session, Rosethorn found herself suggesting more. She felt silly that she was the one to present the issue, rather than her mind-healer; however Cicelysong had agreed without a second’s hesitation. Dedicate Moonstream had said nothing, but she was seldom required to: her eyebrows spoke wonders. Rosethorn was well versed in the language of eyebrows.
Lark had been supportive of the improved frequency of the meetings; she saw the changes in Rosethorn.
Rosethorn rediscovered the feeling of greed.
Pride
“You’re improving, Rosethorn. You’re doing well.”
Rosethorn stared at her garden. It looked different; perhaps it appeared as it had before her travels. She couldn’t recall mind-sets the way she could events or people.
She could feel the life of every leaf and stem, root and nodule; they were one with her again. They called to her in a chatty manner—the silly nonsense of happy plants. Such talk had been forgotten, somehow; perhaps the plants themselves had been as afraid of frivolously approaching her as her human kin were.
“I think this is pride,” she told Lark, who smiled.
Lust
It was a lazy Sunsday. The heat of the sun necessitated all residents take advantage of the rest period.
There was a strange dichotomy in rest period behaviour: Dedicate Cicelysong witnessed residents napping in the shade or sun while hers was a more active response, walking the winding road of the temple. Discipline Cottage approached on her right.
There was a lull around the cottage. Cicelysong assumed the dedicated residents were of the slumber sort. The window revealed something different: two dedicates kissing by the kitchen table.
Sparks of heat erupted between Cicelysong’s legs.
Well, she thought, that was surprising.