Post by wordy on May 11, 2012 9:00:23 GMT 10
Series: Provenance
Title: Between dreaming and waking
Rating: PG
Event: 4x100 relay
Words: 400
Summary: an ending and a beginning; a mage; a find; a death.
I
Her skin looks even paler beneath the golden light of the ballroom, but she had insisted on making an appearance tonight—our anniversary, Vedris—and he cannot be anything other than pleased, her hand on his arm. The room is alive with laughter and tinkling voices, tinkling glasses; even though he knows the end is nearer than before, he is content.
Erdogun arranged the entertainment, something for everyone; their boys briefly halt in their running to watch a fire-swallower.
She appears from the crowd, curtseys. He knows who she is without his wife’s whispered comment: Yazmín Hebet, dancer. He knows.
II
They found her at the Guildhall, just as the clock struck noon.
Seeing a great mage doing paperwork was not something Sandry was unaccustomed to, having been raised at Winding Circle, but when the aforementioned mage was Emelan’s most famous dancer, it was odd to see her so still.
Yazmín Hebet didn’t look up when they finally reached the front of the line. “I have no more time today. If you want a protection dance, you’ll be two days in the waiting.”
“Mistress Hebet? Dedicate Lark recommended you.”
She looked at them, and smiled. “Then it seems I have time.”
III
He wouldn’t have paused if not for the crowd, and when he makes his way uncomfortably through the press of bodies, yes, it’s the girl again.
The small crowd scatters as soon as she stops dancing, but she’s too slow in scooping up her cap full of coins. Niko grabs her by the ear and she yelps, scowling up at him.
“I wish you’d listen to me,” he says, unrelenting, “just once. This is dangerous.”
The kick to his knee is not unexpected. His leg buckles anyway, and she grabs her cap and runs, coins and magic trailing behind her.
IV
The tent-like veil had already been raised in preparation for the cleansing when he turned and caught sight of Nomasdina’s arrival. Leaving the other priests to their work, he thinned his lips and waited for the arurim dhaskoi to come to him.
“Another request to postpone a cleansing?”
The man’s face hardened. “How am I expected to make progress without evidence?” he asked, his tone strained.
“The All-Seeing will provide.”
Nomasdina grimaced and pushed past, stopping to stare at the bloated face of the dead yaskedasi, her lips and veil spotted with blood.
The priest left him to his work.
Title: Between dreaming and waking
Rating: PG
Event: 4x100 relay
Words: 400
Summary: an ending and a beginning; a mage; a find; a death.
I
Her skin looks even paler beneath the golden light of the ballroom, but she had insisted on making an appearance tonight—our anniversary, Vedris—and he cannot be anything other than pleased, her hand on his arm. The room is alive with laughter and tinkling voices, tinkling glasses; even though he knows the end is nearer than before, he is content.
Erdogun arranged the entertainment, something for everyone; their boys briefly halt in their running to watch a fire-swallower.
She appears from the crowd, curtseys. He knows who she is without his wife’s whispered comment: Yazmín Hebet, dancer. He knows.
II
They found her at the Guildhall, just as the clock struck noon.
Seeing a great mage doing paperwork was not something Sandry was unaccustomed to, having been raised at Winding Circle, but when the aforementioned mage was Emelan’s most famous dancer, it was odd to see her so still.
Yazmín Hebet didn’t look up when they finally reached the front of the line. “I have no more time today. If you want a protection dance, you’ll be two days in the waiting.”
“Mistress Hebet? Dedicate Lark recommended you.”
She looked at them, and smiled. “Then it seems I have time.”
III
He wouldn’t have paused if not for the crowd, and when he makes his way uncomfortably through the press of bodies, yes, it’s the girl again.
The small crowd scatters as soon as she stops dancing, but she’s too slow in scooping up her cap full of coins. Niko grabs her by the ear and she yelps, scowling up at him.
“I wish you’d listen to me,” he says, unrelenting, “just once. This is dangerous.”
The kick to his knee is not unexpected. His leg buckles anyway, and she grabs her cap and runs, coins and magic trailing behind her.
IV
The tent-like veil had already been raised in preparation for the cleansing when he turned and caught sight of Nomasdina’s arrival. Leaving the other priests to their work, he thinned his lips and waited for the arurim dhaskoi to come to him.
“Another request to postpone a cleansing?”
The man’s face hardened. “How am I expected to make progress without evidence?” he asked, his tone strained.
“The All-Seeing will provide.”
Nomasdina grimaced and pushed past, stopping to stare at the bloated face of the dead yaskedasi, her lips and veil spotted with blood.
The priest left him to his work.