[Fic] "Lives by Mending" -- The Darkangel
A random thought that occurred to me: the inhabitants of the moon can't go to Oceanus because the gravity and air pressure will kill them. But if the Ancients could create life designed for the moon's environment, couldn't Aeriel use their technology to create lons (or some equivalent) that are designed to live on Oceanus? Then perhaps the people of the moon could learn what remains on earth after the Ancients' wars. (400 words)
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Lives by Mending
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"The Ancients gave our world life," Erin says once to Aeriel as day slides slowly, inexorably, into night, and Oceanus hangs alone in the sky like a monstrous jewel veiled in white-feather clouds. They walk the perimeter of the city, resting from the daymonth's labors. The dancing brides have flown heavenward to spend the dark hours in the sky; they will return at dawn.
"They created us all," Aeriel agrees. "And we are walking in their footsteps, however awkwardly." The pearlstuff murmurs voicelessly in her blood, whispering of patterns and archetypes.
Erin smiles, and shakes her head. "You misunderstand. The Lady told you nobody born of our world could survive on Oceanus. We would be crushed to death by the weight of the Ancients' air. But if they created us, surely you can use their sorcery to create a being that could withstand that pressure. What if you made new lons and sent them to guard the Lady's world?"
Aeriel pauses, one hand groping to catch on Erin's arm and steady herself with the warm solidity of her friend's body and pulse. The Lady was so certain her world had died, so sure her people were crumbled to dust. But she had never gone to look. She had thought only of her daughter. She had never thought to rebuild the world that was her home, only the world that was her burden.
"Can you do that?" Erin asks.
The pearlstuff is silent; this is no part of its charge. But Aeriel knows the way to build a heavenly chariot, and the sorcery to gather its fuel -- hers will run on light, not on souls and heartache. She can shape a lon. She can cast a scrying mirror, and spin a gossamer link to carry her voice across the void.
She can give this gift to the Lady. She can pour out her life to save the Lady's world as the Lady spent herself to save Aeriel's. The gesture is too little too late -- as she was too late for Irrylath, too late for Oriencor -- but given with love.
"Yes," Aeriel says to Erin. "Yes, I can. For the Lady." And for Erin, who makes her better than she has any right to be.
She slides her hand down Erin's arm to twine their fingers together. Erin draws her close, wraps her in human warmth and loving silence. They watch Oceanus dance in its veil of clouds until the stars come out.
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Inspired by the 3/1/10 15_minute_fic word #132: breakdown
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My canon may be slightly iffy, but I do not have the trilogy to hand at the moment. *sigh* I really must buy copies one of these days.
And now to bed.
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)
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Lives by Mending
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"The Ancients gave our world life," Erin says once to Aeriel as day slides slowly, inexorably, into night, and Oceanus hangs alone in the sky like a monstrous jewel veiled in white-feather clouds. They walk the perimeter of the city, resting from the daymonth's labors. The dancing brides have flown heavenward to spend the dark hours in the sky; they will return at dawn.
"They created us all," Aeriel agrees. "And we are walking in their footsteps, however awkwardly." The pearlstuff murmurs voicelessly in her blood, whispering of patterns and archetypes.
Erin smiles, and shakes her head. "You misunderstand. The Lady told you nobody born of our world could survive on Oceanus. We would be crushed to death by the weight of the Ancients' air. But if they created us, surely you can use their sorcery to create a being that could withstand that pressure. What if you made new lons and sent them to guard the Lady's world?"
Aeriel pauses, one hand groping to catch on Erin's arm and steady herself with the warm solidity of her friend's body and pulse. The Lady was so certain her world had died, so sure her people were crumbled to dust. But she had never gone to look. She had thought only of her daughter. She had never thought to rebuild the world that was her home, only the world that was her burden.
"Can you do that?" Erin asks.
The pearlstuff is silent; this is no part of its charge. But Aeriel knows the way to build a heavenly chariot, and the sorcery to gather its fuel -- hers will run on light, not on souls and heartache. She can shape a lon. She can cast a scrying mirror, and spin a gossamer link to carry her voice across the void.
She can give this gift to the Lady. She can pour out her life to save the Lady's world as the Lady spent herself to save Aeriel's. The gesture is too little too late -- as she was too late for Irrylath, too late for Oriencor -- but given with love.
"Yes," Aeriel says to Erin. "Yes, I can. For the Lady." And for Erin, who makes her better than she has any right to be.
She slides her hand down Erin's arm to twine their fingers together. Erin draws her close, wraps her in human warmth and loving silence. They watch Oceanus dance in its veil of clouds until the stars come out.
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Inspired by the 3/1/10 15_minute_fic word #132: breakdown
---------------------------------------------
My canon may be slightly iffy, but I do not have the trilogy to hand at the moment. *sigh* I really must buy copies one of these days.
And now to bed.
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)