Post by Deleted on Sept 25, 2011 18:03:11 GMT 10
Title: Frost in her Heart
Rating: PG
Word Count: 407
Card: Winter
Bingo: Skating + White + Ice + Silver + People Who Matter
Summary: Frostpine can see Daja missing them. Set during Cold Fire.
Daja's steps left deep puddles in the otherwise frozen snow as she headed to the skating rink.
It was alarming to watch how comfortable she was with the cold. Frostpine always shuddered whenever he imagined snow or ice against his cheek -- when the world was so cold it bleached his complexion from mahogany, as though his forbearers had been scorched by the sun, beyond frost-bite blue, to the pristine, endless silver-tipped white of a glacier. But the shudder was often play-acting, and as he watched Daja tracing clumsy circles over the ice, blades flashing, Frostpine felt a different chill grip his heart.
They'd received letters from the others, of course. Frostpine had expected them. What he hadn't expected was their contents, which had foreshadowed Daja's trials in Kugisko, the way fingers of frost touched his heart, reading the letters, had foreshadowed how he felt now.
Somewhere in Emelan, perhaps on the roof of the Duke's Citadel, Sandry was washing her hands in melted sleet: raindrops sliding off her dress, and never managing to take with it the impression of blood on her hands. Her fingers would never be white again.
Somewhere between Yanjing and Chammur, Briar woke every second night from nightmares of standing in a lush, green garden, streams tucked in the corners, and death tangled in the roots of desert trees. He'd never look at silver or gold the same way again.
Somewhere in the South, Tris was riding towards her own adventure. Maybe she'd already reached it.
None of them had written, in so many words, of their nightmares, but Frostpine knew enough of guilt to read between the lines. Daja, now, did too.
He glanced momentarily back at the letter Daja had struggled over for the past week as she pondered what to write. What not to say.
Daja was skating by herself on the ice, face composed but not serene, the empty space around her underlined by how she could spin -- and did spin -- without colliding with someone else. Frostpine wished he could allay some of the loneliness in Daja's heart, but he could only do so much. Her siblings would be like a miracle. It wouldn't come close to making her guilt vanish -- which was exactly how that ought to be -- but having these people who mattered so very much by her side would help them all.
Maybe, Frostpine thought, it was time to go home.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 407
Card: Winter
Bingo: Skating + White + Ice + Silver + People Who Matter
Summary: Frostpine can see Daja missing them. Set during Cold Fire.
Daja's steps left deep puddles in the otherwise frozen snow as she headed to the skating rink.
It was alarming to watch how comfortable she was with the cold. Frostpine always shuddered whenever he imagined snow or ice against his cheek -- when the world was so cold it bleached his complexion from mahogany, as though his forbearers had been scorched by the sun, beyond frost-bite blue, to the pristine, endless silver-tipped white of a glacier. But the shudder was often play-acting, and as he watched Daja tracing clumsy circles over the ice, blades flashing, Frostpine felt a different chill grip his heart.
They'd received letters from the others, of course. Frostpine had expected them. What he hadn't expected was their contents, which had foreshadowed Daja's trials in Kugisko, the way fingers of frost touched his heart, reading the letters, had foreshadowed how he felt now.
Somewhere in Emelan, perhaps on the roof of the Duke's Citadel, Sandry was washing her hands in melted sleet: raindrops sliding off her dress, and never managing to take with it the impression of blood on her hands. Her fingers would never be white again.
Somewhere between Yanjing and Chammur, Briar woke every second night from nightmares of standing in a lush, green garden, streams tucked in the corners, and death tangled in the roots of desert trees. He'd never look at silver or gold the same way again.
Somewhere in the South, Tris was riding towards her own adventure. Maybe she'd already reached it.
None of them had written, in so many words, of their nightmares, but Frostpine knew enough of guilt to read between the lines. Daja, now, did too.
He glanced momentarily back at the letter Daja had struggled over for the past week as she pondered what to write. What not to say.
Daja was skating by herself on the ice, face composed but not serene, the empty space around her underlined by how she could spin -- and did spin -- without colliding with someone else. Frostpine wished he could allay some of the loneliness in Daja's heart, but he could only do so much. Her siblings would be like a miracle. It wouldn't come close to making her guilt vanish -- which was exactly how that ought to be -- but having these people who mattered so very much by her side would help them all.
Maybe, Frostpine thought, it was time to go home.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!