Post by Carbon Kiwi on May 29, 2011 7:29:26 GMT 10
Title: Shadows [6]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 230
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: “Good night,” she whispered against Briar’s neck. “And good night, shadows.”
Notes: I've always wondered what would happen when Sandry's stone finally dimmed.
It was a tight fit, four grown mages in one bed. Sandry lay between Daja and Briar, clutching Tris’ hand over Briar’s hip.
It was her first evening of darkness. Thirty-five, and the stone filled with light from her friends in pre-adolescence had finally gone dead. Dark, she hurried to correct herself: dark did not mean death. Dark meant that the light was gone, but that it may come back.
In this case it was a choice. They were trained, adult great mages now: she knew she could fill the stone with light again with their assistance. What mattered to her now was the choice: would she?
Sandry breathed deep and smiled at the smell of Briar’s hair, evergreen strength and deciduous seasonality with the hint of earth and herbs. It grounded her. She knew her room was filled with shadows, but the meaning of shadows was up to personal interpretation.
She thought that now, as a grown woman, she would cease to see them as the poxed come to haunt her; she would see them as the antithesis of light, or beloved family members to check in on her, or the formation of dreams yet to come. It would be tricky, she thought, but she was stubborn enough for the task, surely.
“Good night,” she whispered against Briar’s neck. “And good night, shadows.”
Good night Sandry, her family responded.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 230
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings:
Summary: “Good night,” she whispered against Briar’s neck. “And good night, shadows.”
Notes: I've always wondered what would happen when Sandry's stone finally dimmed.
It was a tight fit, four grown mages in one bed. Sandry lay between Daja and Briar, clutching Tris’ hand over Briar’s hip.
It was her first evening of darkness. Thirty-five, and the stone filled with light from her friends in pre-adolescence had finally gone dead. Dark, she hurried to correct herself: dark did not mean death. Dark meant that the light was gone, but that it may come back.
In this case it was a choice. They were trained, adult great mages now: she knew she could fill the stone with light again with their assistance. What mattered to her now was the choice: would she?
Sandry breathed deep and smiled at the smell of Briar’s hair, evergreen strength and deciduous seasonality with the hint of earth and herbs. It grounded her. She knew her room was filled with shadows, but the meaning of shadows was up to personal interpretation.
She thought that now, as a grown woman, she would cease to see them as the poxed come to haunt her; she would see them as the antithesis of light, or beloved family members to check in on her, or the formation of dreams yet to come. It would be tricky, she thought, but she was stubborn enough for the task, surely.
“Good night,” she whispered against Briar’s neck. “And good night, shadows.”
Good night Sandry, her family responded.