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hso2012_r3s12012-07-21 03:00 pm
centrumlumina) wrote in hso2012_r3s12012-07-21 03:00 pm
FIC: Refraction (Aradia<3Rose)
Summary: There is a God of every galaxy whose traits are absorbed.
Characters: Rose Lalonde, Aradia Megido
Ships: Aradia<Rose
Category One:
Tags Present: None.
Tags Not Used: None.
No other Cat.1 tags apply.
Category Two:
Tags Present: None.
Tags Not Used: None.
No other Cat.2 tags apply.
Category Three (Optional):
Tags Present: Hand Imagery, Dragonfly Imagery, Potential Derealization, Potential Reality Bending, Tentacles (Nonsexual)
Tags Not Used: None.
No other Cat.3 tags apply.
Additional Tags (Optional): Mentions of dystopia and broken society.
There is a galaxy of gold that shivers with the anticipation and anxiety of movement. It is a galaxy that glitters with reckless abandon and dazzles with the possibility and potential of the future.
There is a galaxy of silver that shudders with the frenzy and frequency of stillness. It is a galaxy that gleams with controlled catastrophe and burns with the presence and absence of time.
The God of this galaxy delights in dark, deep warmth. She is Rose and she delights in dripping long tendrils of shadows into the universe; delights in poking and prodding the boundaries of space for reactions and answers and control. She is a God who grasps novas around their waists and juggles them until they crack and squeezes them until they shatter into trillions of trillion-cut sunstone and petalite exploding as fireworks across the empty void. She is a God with a mantle of shimmering, iridescent dragonfly wings and a tunic plated in gilded scales.
This galaxy is a thriving, bustling dystopia of strength and displays of intellectual superiority with a currency paid in the highest of commodities: clean water. It is full of magic and science and its citizens are proud and courageous and they would walk to their dooms to be successful. (They would walk to their dooms to see their own destruction; would see themselves as villains and martyrs before heroes.)
They are cynical and sly and worst of all, they remember how to laugh.
The God of this galaxy delights in loud, shallow noise. She is Aradia and she delights in completely encompassing her protectorate; delights in knowing nothing will ever get in or get out and feeling the control in her fingertips. She is a God who sees death dance through red giants and black holes and sneers and waltzes to the aubade of her cackling moons and planets in-out-in-out of its pattern with only stepped-on toes to sigh foul. She is a God with a mantle adorned in the glitter of crushed bones and a tunic woven of adamantite.
This galaxy is a broken, apathetic haven of despair and hope that mold unused in the streets with a currency paid in the highest of commodities: pure silence. It is full of things lost and things found and its citizens are resilient and passive and they would see everything scattered and proliferated simply to remember to find it. (They would see everything lost to remember there are things to lose; would lose themselves to find their empty bodies.)
They are calm and disinterested and worst of all, they remember how to fight.
You are a busy God. Your people have pooled their resources together and, through the whispering coos of the ageless, are on the brink of discovering a way to produce clean water. You have been gambling and bartering for this discovery since the beginning of the water crisis and you are so close you could break your nails on it. You will have water and your people will live and you will be the strongest society of all and no one shall suffer again.
You will weave a basket of solidarity and objective truth and line it with luck and miracles and it will hold water. And. No one shall suffer again.
You are a static God. Your people do not need your interference much to exist and you don’t know what you are supposed to give beyond sustenance. Your people have been born, have grown, and have died and this is something they all share and no one asks for more.
You hear of a nearby galaxy that is dying of dehydration; has been dying for thousands of years. You wonder why they haven’t ever asked for help. You don’t care.
Something misfires between gravity and the elimination of inclusions within it. It is a something too big to contain with science and a something too present to contain with magic. You reach out to push from the void and it encroaches and tangles around you writhing and smacking and slurping and the whispers become wretched screams and you envelop everything that is you within your form and hear yourself snap.
You see true green.
And then see nothing at all.
Something comes careening around you like wet whiplash. It is a something that looks hot hot hot and zooms by so quickly for a split, isolated moment outside your continuum you hear nothing. You pull in on yourself for protection and feel everything around you tighten until you it is close enough to grab and you prod outward with outstretched fingers and grab it with joints locked in place don’t let go don’t let go and you hear yourself snap.
You feel the weight of eternity.
And then feel nothing at all.
You awaken.
You awaken and can still feel your existence and can still feel the blips of life that you watch over and can still count your extra planets and stars as earrings and necklaces and they still sparkle. You are golden, first. And then you start to see once more. See the sweeping silver that twines around in gentle curls and holds you in place.
You awaken to a galaxy that shivers and shudders; glitters and gleams. Your people are sitting and awestruck and confused and they are at peace. And because you can feel her and see her blinking at you slowly, you look into the presence of a God.
You awaken first.
You awaken with the startling realization that you have caught something in your recklessness and that you are not quite appalled but are sort of bemused. You are almost a spider and isn’t that silly! And you laugh. You laugh as you notice your silver has roped itself around her gold in knots to keep her in place.
You awaken to a galaxy that shudders and shivers; gleams and glitters. Your people are moving and reacting viscerally and chattering and they find progress. And because you know she must also awaken you blink and you wait as you stare into the presence of a God.
“Do you suppose we’re stuck this way?”
“Probably! We might as well make it home.”
You put yourself forward, mistakes and successes and you.
You put yourself forward, lost and found and you.
For a moment what happens you are sure must be a joke. But you feel parts of your galaxy start to warp distinct from your existence and start to form anew. The shapes twirl and twirl until the circles of your galaxy and hers overlap and collide and there is a central planet now amongst you. You refocus your eyes to its existence and find:
where once many small planets existed, one large one lies. It is magnificent. A crystal castle grows up from its ground like a tree of life and stretches tendrils out across oceans and plains and deserts to enclose a singular kingdom. Its size lends most easily to quartz and spires of amethyst climb up towards the sky, but its central heart is beryllium and as roots reach new temperatures and depths and heights it fades into citrine and apatite and tanzanite-
the rain pours down in cascading waves of mist and each drop leaks across the faceted surface of the castle like liquid light splashing leaping rainbows through the atmosphere. You can see them on the grass and in the rivers and even in the sand and the clouds and they bend until you hear them as a quiet chorus that echoes through empty glistening chambers and out into the air and just as they hit their sweetest peak, their gentlest high, you hear the voices of a million people chime in-
the people are dancing and prancing and swaying and they’re drinking water that shines clear as glass and singing notes softer than silence and the people feel.
It is strange to be so near someone after eternal solitude. It is strange to think you will be amiable and the surreality of it makes you flush. You haven’t combined and you aren’t completed. You can feel her strength but it isn’t yours. You can feel your mistakes and they are still yours alone. But this is a fortuitous future.
It is strange to be so near someone after endless seclusion. It is strange to think you will care about her amicability and her flush makes you smile. You haven’t combined and you aren’t completed. You will forget what to do often. You will sometimes need to be reminded of life. But there are far worse ways to spend time.
Characters: Rose Lalonde, Aradia Megido
Ships: Aradia<Rose
Category One:
Tags Present: None.
Tags Not Used: None.
No other Cat.1 tags apply.
Category Two:
Tags Present: None.
Tags Not Used: None.
No other Cat.2 tags apply.
Category Three (Optional):
Tags Present: Hand Imagery, Dragonfly Imagery, Potential Derealization, Potential Reality Bending, Tentacles (Nonsexual)
Tags Not Used: None.
No other Cat.3 tags apply.
Additional Tags (Optional): Mentions of dystopia and broken society.
There is a galaxy of gold that shivers with the anticipation and anxiety of movement. It is a galaxy that glitters with reckless abandon and dazzles with the possibility and potential of the future.
There is a galaxy of silver that shudders with the frenzy and frequency of stillness. It is a galaxy that gleams with controlled catastrophe and burns with the presence and absence of time.
The God of this galaxy delights in dark, deep warmth. She is Rose and she delights in dripping long tendrils of shadows into the universe; delights in poking and prodding the boundaries of space for reactions and answers and control. She is a God who grasps novas around their waists and juggles them until they crack and squeezes them until they shatter into trillions of trillion-cut sunstone and petalite exploding as fireworks across the empty void. She is a God with a mantle of shimmering, iridescent dragonfly wings and a tunic plated in gilded scales.
This galaxy is a thriving, bustling dystopia of strength and displays of intellectual superiority with a currency paid in the highest of commodities: clean water. It is full of magic and science and its citizens are proud and courageous and they would walk to their dooms to be successful. (They would walk to their dooms to see their own destruction; would see themselves as villains and martyrs before heroes.)
They are cynical and sly and worst of all, they remember how to laugh.
The God of this galaxy delights in loud, shallow noise. She is Aradia and she delights in completely encompassing her protectorate; delights in knowing nothing will ever get in or get out and feeling the control in her fingertips. She is a God who sees death dance through red giants and black holes and sneers and waltzes to the aubade of her cackling moons and planets in-out-in-out of its pattern with only stepped-on toes to sigh foul. She is a God with a mantle adorned in the glitter of crushed bones and a tunic woven of adamantite.
This galaxy is a broken, apathetic haven of despair and hope that mold unused in the streets with a currency paid in the highest of commodities: pure silence. It is full of things lost and things found and its citizens are resilient and passive and they would see everything scattered and proliferated simply to remember to find it. (They would see everything lost to remember there are things to lose; would lose themselves to find their empty bodies.)
They are calm and disinterested and worst of all, they remember how to fight.
You are a busy God. Your people have pooled their resources together and, through the whispering coos of the ageless, are on the brink of discovering a way to produce clean water. You have been gambling and bartering for this discovery since the beginning of the water crisis and you are so close you could break your nails on it. You will have water and your people will live and you will be the strongest society of all and no one shall suffer again.
You will weave a basket of solidarity and objective truth and line it with luck and miracles and it will hold water. And. No one shall suffer again.
You are a static God. Your people do not need your interference much to exist and you don’t know what you are supposed to give beyond sustenance. Your people have been born, have grown, and have died and this is something they all share and no one asks for more.
You hear of a nearby galaxy that is dying of dehydration; has been dying for thousands of years. You wonder why they haven’t ever asked for help. You don’t care.
Something misfires between gravity and the elimination of inclusions within it. It is a something too big to contain with science and a something too present to contain with magic. You reach out to push from the void and it encroaches and tangles around you writhing and smacking and slurping and the whispers become wretched screams and you envelop everything that is you within your form and hear yourself snap.
You see true green.
And then see nothing at all.
Something comes careening around you like wet whiplash. It is a something that looks hot hot hot and zooms by so quickly for a split, isolated moment outside your continuum you hear nothing. You pull in on yourself for protection and feel everything around you tighten until you it is close enough to grab and you prod outward with outstretched fingers and grab it with joints locked in place don’t let go don’t let go and you hear yourself snap.
You feel the weight of eternity.
And then feel nothing at all.
You awaken.
You awaken and can still feel your existence and can still feel the blips of life that you watch over and can still count your extra planets and stars as earrings and necklaces and they still sparkle. You are golden, first. And then you start to see once more. See the sweeping silver that twines around in gentle curls and holds you in place.
You awaken to a galaxy that shivers and shudders; glitters and gleams. Your people are sitting and awestruck and confused and they are at peace. And because you can feel her and see her blinking at you slowly, you look into the presence of a God.
You awaken first.
You awaken with the startling realization that you have caught something in your recklessness and that you are not quite appalled but are sort of bemused. You are almost a spider and isn’t that silly! And you laugh. You laugh as you notice your silver has roped itself around her gold in knots to keep her in place.
You awaken to a galaxy that shudders and shivers; gleams and glitters. Your people are moving and reacting viscerally and chattering and they find progress. And because you know she must also awaken you blink and you wait as you stare into the presence of a God.
“Do you suppose we’re stuck this way?”
“Probably! We might as well make it home.”
You put yourself forward, mistakes and successes and you.
You put yourself forward, lost and found and you.
For a moment what happens you are sure must be a joke. But you feel parts of your galaxy start to warp distinct from your existence and start to form anew. The shapes twirl and twirl until the circles of your galaxy and hers overlap and collide and there is a central planet now amongst you. You refocus your eyes to its existence and find:
where once many small planets existed, one large one lies. It is magnificent. A crystal castle grows up from its ground like a tree of life and stretches tendrils out across oceans and plains and deserts to enclose a singular kingdom. Its size lends most easily to quartz and spires of amethyst climb up towards the sky, but its central heart is beryllium and as roots reach new temperatures and depths and heights it fades into citrine and apatite and tanzanite-
the rain pours down in cascading waves of mist and each drop leaks across the faceted surface of the castle like liquid light splashing leaping rainbows through the atmosphere. You can see them on the grass and in the rivers and even in the sand and the clouds and they bend until you hear them as a quiet chorus that echoes through empty glistening chambers and out into the air and just as they hit their sweetest peak, their gentlest high, you hear the voices of a million people chime in-
the people are dancing and prancing and swaying and they’re drinking water that shines clear as glass and singing notes softer than silence and the people feel.
It is strange to be so near someone after eternal solitude. It is strange to think you will be amiable and the surreality of it makes you flush. You haven’t combined and you aren’t completed. You can feel her strength but it isn’t yours. You can feel your mistakes and they are still yours alone. But this is a fortuitous future.
It is strange to be so near someone after endless seclusion. It is strange to think you will care about her amicability and her flush makes you smile. You haven’t combined and you aren’t completed. You will forget what to do often. You will sometimes need to be reminded of life. But there are far worse ways to spend time.
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