Post by Ankhiale on Feb 6, 2014 4:37:49 GMT 10
Title: Spinning in Place
Rating: PG to be safe
Warnings: references to death, oblique mentions of character death, suggestions of madness
Summary: She wanted them all to be happy, and to stay with her. Post series, but no spoilers.
Notes: for Muse
***
It had been the only way to keep them with her.
No, that is wrong. It had been the only way to keep them all alive.
The cave under the temple, the earthquake, the darkness - it had been so easy to take the threads of their souls and spin them all together, and just like that, as quick as a panicked thought, they were one. Stronger together, just like Lark said. Able to fight off earthquakes and pirates and forest fires and death itself, even when every great mage was helpless.
Sandry spun them together, and for the first time in ages, they weren’t alone.
“I don’t know whether to love you or hate you for making me separate us again,” the duchess murmurs, standing on the balcony that faced Winding Circle. But they hadn’t really been separated, not completely, because Sandry had been too desperate to keep their bond.
Sandry is the only mage in the whole world who can weave pure magic. But magic is mind is soul, and it took only a simple (panicked, as her uncle lay dying of another heart attack) stitch to bind them.
Traders - both traders and Traders - all know that Summersea is a lucrative port, now. The northern Emelanese nobles pay premium prices for their goods, and the duchess routes all trade through her city.
Even premium prices are barely enough to keep business. No one leaves the ships save as necessary, now, hurriedly unloading goods to be taken away by cold hands, quickly taking the money they are owed by silent dead-eyed local resellers. They can resupply out in Capchen.
If you stay too long in Summersea, the duchess adds you to her tapestry, and then there is no going home. The city is a mausoleum, now, populated by those who should long be ghosts.
High above the streets, the only living person in Summersea says, “I only wanted you to be happy here with me.” There is no one to say that to, but she believes they hear her anyway. (She thinks she is the dead one, in a land of the vibrant living.)
She wanted them to be happy, and she looks out at her (cold, dead, silent) bustling city and thinks she has succeeded.
The hanging in the great hall is not a true tapestry, but an odd, immense collection of fine knotted threads, in all the colors of the rainbow. Sandry runs her hand gently along the threads and basks in the clamor of voices in her head.
Rating: PG to be safe
Warnings: references to death, oblique mentions of character death, suggestions of madness
Summary: She wanted them all to be happy, and to stay with her. Post series, but no spoilers.
Notes: for Muse
***
It had been the only way to keep them with her.
No, that is wrong. It had been the only way to keep them all alive.
The cave under the temple, the earthquake, the darkness - it had been so easy to take the threads of their souls and spin them all together, and just like that, as quick as a panicked thought, they were one. Stronger together, just like Lark said. Able to fight off earthquakes and pirates and forest fires and death itself, even when every great mage was helpless.
Sandry spun them together, and for the first time in ages, they weren’t alone.
“I don’t know whether to love you or hate you for making me separate us again,” the duchess murmurs, standing on the balcony that faced Winding Circle. But they hadn’t really been separated, not completely, because Sandry had been too desperate to keep their bond.
Sandry is the only mage in the whole world who can weave pure magic. But magic is mind is soul, and it took only a simple (panicked, as her uncle lay dying of another heart attack) stitch to bind them.
Traders - both traders and Traders - all know that Summersea is a lucrative port, now. The northern Emelanese nobles pay premium prices for their goods, and the duchess routes all trade through her city.
Even premium prices are barely enough to keep business. No one leaves the ships save as necessary, now, hurriedly unloading goods to be taken away by cold hands, quickly taking the money they are owed by silent dead-eyed local resellers. They can resupply out in Capchen.
If you stay too long in Summersea, the duchess adds you to her tapestry, and then there is no going home. The city is a mausoleum, now, populated by those who should long be ghosts.
High above the streets, the only living person in Summersea says, “I only wanted you to be happy here with me.” There is no one to say that to, but she believes they hear her anyway. (She thinks she is the dead one, in a land of the vibrant living.)
She wanted them to be happy, and she looks out at her (cold, dead, silent) bustling city and thinks she has succeeded.
The hanging in the great hall is not a true tapestry, but an odd, immense collection of fine knotted threads, in all the colors of the rainbow. Sandry runs her hand gently along the threads and basks in the clamor of voices in her head.
Aaaaaaah.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!