Origfic Bingo #1: Singing
Oct. 15th, 2010 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakfastofchampionsFirst story for ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
origfic_bingo, for the prompt "singing".
Title: A Heart's Song
Universe: The Wind & the Foxes
Characters, pairings: Reian/Pasha, Nelius
Rating: G
Word count: 1646
Summary: Reian hears a strange noise in the night.
Notes: Set after the novel, but not very long after, when Tribe Telan still only consists of Reian, Pasha, Imbri, and Nelius.
Reian started awake. He blinked in the darkness, not yet fully conscious of where he was or why he was awake. Moments of confusion passed before the world resolved into sense. He remembered that he was in his tent and was able to pinpoint what had interrupted his sleep. It was that sound again: a high, keening note unlike any voiced by human or bird. He'd heard it a few times over the past few nights, yet it hadn't managed to fully rouse him before. Each time, he'd curled up and returned to sleep, deciding it was something he was dreaming. Yet the memory had remained, and over time, his sleeping mind must have become suspicious. Tonight, it had all but kicked his body awake so he could get a good listen. His sleeping mind was right: it was undeniably no part of a dream, as he was awake now, yet the sound did not falter or fade.
Reian rolled out of his hammock and over to Pasha, who was lying on a more traditional sleeping mat beside him. "Pasha," he whispered in her ear.
She made one of her sharp, self-satisfied sleep noises, the ones that made him suspect she was more capable than he was even when unconscious.
"Pasha, wake up," he said.
"Yes, what is it?" Her voice upon being awoken in the middle of the night was as clear as it would have been at noon. She touched his face. Her fingertips could kiss as well as lips.
"Do you hear that?" he asked.
"Do I hear what?"
"The noise. The--" He didn't quite know how to describe it in a word, but he tried his best. "The singing."
She was quiet. Listening. He listened, too. The sound was soft with distance, but distinct enough. Now that he was truly paying attention to it, he could tell that there was an emotion in it, even though it was one, long note that scarcely wavered. It was a sad song, wasn't it? Hearing it, he felt sadder than he had been before.
"I don't hear anything," Pasha said, but there was no trace of doubt in her tone when she asked him, "What does it sound like?"
"Like nothing else I've heard," said Reian. With these words, he guessed what the source of the sound must be. Something that was like nothing else. "I should go and see."
"I think you should," said Pasha, who likely had a good guess of her own.
He leaned down to kiss her mouth, which reminded him that her lips were far better than her fingertips, even though her fingertips were superior to most lips. "I'll be back."
"I'll be asleep," she laughed.
"As you should be," he said. He managed to locate his robe in the shadows and pulled it on over his night clothes.
He stepped out under a clear and endless sky--dark, but not without its multitude of bright landmarks. The stars showed him that he faced north and west, in case he had forgotten. Over the sound of the strange song he sought, he could hear the calls of night birds. They greeted him as he left the tent, with their much more earthly songs. He replied to them in their own speech: Hello, yes, it's a lovely night. He was glad he could still understand and speak to them, since learned knowledge could not be taken away. The gift of shamanism he had been born with had mostly been drained from him. When he focused on it, he could feel an empty space inside of him. It was fortunate he hadn't been using most of his gift, so he did not miss it a great deal. That emptiness, like a small, cold cavern formed within him, was the only lack he felt.
Tonight, Reian realized that when his gift had been taken from him, something else had been given to him: a new kind of understanding, one that was much more focused. He had lost the possibility of utilizing his untapped gift, of learning how to talk to trees and stones and water, but he had learned how to talk to sorcerers. That is, one particular sorcerer, but as there was only one sorcerer in the world, that meant he could talk to all of them.
And somewhere, Nelius was singing.
Tribe Telan's sorcerer was an elusive creature. Though he had joined them, he seldom slept in the tent Reian had made for him. That was a little hurtful, as Reian was proud of his tent-building abilities, but Nelius was more likely to be found wandering through the woods surrounding their campsite. He might wander for days without pause. He seemed to have little sense of time or distance, as he had lived alone for so long, in that vast and empty city. Finding him when needed would have been a difficult task, but Reian's friends the birds were always a help to him.
Tonight, he didn't need their help. He followed a different song. The song of a sorcerer.
It was said that the stars sung the world into being. Singing was the purest and the oldest form of magic, a power born of nothing but joy. That was what creation was: joy. Over the millennia, sadness and weariness had crept into this first song, and it had become an echo of itself. Singing could no longer make a world.
The power of song had faded, but it had not yet lost all its strength. Among the Kelisavians, the prayers of the Devoted still took the form of song. Prophets heard of days to come within a song, winding its way through their dreams with a flowing, liquid music, like a twisting stream. The shamans could hear the songs of stones and trees and the wind, but unlike the prophets, the songs they heard were of the present time, so they knew all that could be known of the world around them. They could ask the wind to sing for them, and sometimes it would. They could bring the rain to a dry land.
Devoted, prophets, and shamans knew songs of power, but only sorcerers could sing songs that could move mountains, or make flowers bloom in winter, or knit broken flesh and cause a stopped heart to beat again--or a beating heart to stop. Few ears could hear a sorcerer's song, but any eyes could see its result.
With such a powerful song at his command, the fact that Nelius was singing was worrisome. He could cause a great deal of harm with his power, and it was Reian's responsibility to ensure that he did not. Fortunately, Reian had noticed no strange or alarming events since he'd begun to hear the song, days ago now, so his fear that Nelius would harm someone was slight. He was more concerned with the well-being of Nelius himself, which was why he was making his way through the woods at this hour.
Unlike a sorcerer, Reian did not find it easy to walk through the woods at night. He did not even manage anything so pleasant as a walk--a blundering series of stumbles was more like it. He crashed through branches and misstepped into unseen hollows. The thorns were not kind. In retrospect, he should have brought a lantern with him, but by the time he came up with that incredibly sensible idea, he was so far into the woods, he decided he would do himself less damage by continuing to follow the sound. Nelius hadn't gone too far.
Nelius, with his sharper sorcerer's senses, had found himself a clearing to rest in, so it was with relief that Reian reached him, rearranging his now-tattered robes in the safe and open space. He could see more clearly, there where the trees parted and allowed the moon and starlight to fall. There was another light there, too, emanating from Nelius, who was seated facing away from him, his pale-clad back so slender and still. Nelius must have known he was there, but he did not turn or acknowledge Reian's presence with a single movement or sound.
Yet the song changed. It swelled, greeting him, and as Reian came closer, he saw what Nelius was doing.
The first song in the world had been a song of creation, and so was this one, shot through with sorrow as it might have been. The air in front of Nelius glowed with sorcerous light. At first, Reian saw it as only that: light, though of many colors, but as he reached the sorcerer and sat down beside him, he viewed the light from Nelius' vantage point. Then he could see the images within the light.
So bright and strange and shifting, it was like a dream shining before them, visible in the waking world, but Reian quickly realized it was far more than a dream. He picked out scenes in the light. There was a young boy, whose face he knew. There was a gray house, on a narrow, dusty street. There was a dark river, choked with weeds. There was a mouth, livid with blood. There was a green valley in the middle of a wasteland. There was a city, as ancient as it was dead. There was the boy grown into a man, whose face Reian knew better. There was night and day and morning and midnight, all the moments of a life glowing before him. How sad it was, but how beautiful.
Reian glanced at Nelius. As usual, his expression was impassive, his dark eyes almost dead of feeling, though they reflected the light before him. His appearance was deceptive. There was a deep emotion behind those eyes. Reian could hear it. Nelius was trying to tell him something. Reian put a hand on his shoulder.
Nelius was singing.
origfic_bingo, for the prompt "singing".Title: A Heart's Song
Universe: The Wind & the Foxes
Characters, pairings: Reian/Pasha, Nelius
Rating: G
Word count: 1646
Summary: Reian hears a strange noise in the night.
Notes: Set after the novel, but not very long after, when Tribe Telan still only consists of Reian, Pasha, Imbri, and Nelius.
Reian started awake. He blinked in the darkness, not yet fully conscious of where he was or why he was awake. Moments of confusion passed before the world resolved into sense. He remembered that he was in his tent and was able to pinpoint what had interrupted his sleep. It was that sound again: a high, keening note unlike any voiced by human or bird. He'd heard it a few times over the past few nights, yet it hadn't managed to fully rouse him before. Each time, he'd curled up and returned to sleep, deciding it was something he was dreaming. Yet the memory had remained, and over time, his sleeping mind must have become suspicious. Tonight, it had all but kicked his body awake so he could get a good listen. His sleeping mind was right: it was undeniably no part of a dream, as he was awake now, yet the sound did not falter or fade.
Reian rolled out of his hammock and over to Pasha, who was lying on a more traditional sleeping mat beside him. "Pasha," he whispered in her ear.
She made one of her sharp, self-satisfied sleep noises, the ones that made him suspect she was more capable than he was even when unconscious.
"Pasha, wake up," he said.
"Yes, what is it?" Her voice upon being awoken in the middle of the night was as clear as it would have been at noon. She touched his face. Her fingertips could kiss as well as lips.
"Do you hear that?" he asked.
"Do I hear what?"
"The noise. The--" He didn't quite know how to describe it in a word, but he tried his best. "The singing."
She was quiet. Listening. He listened, too. The sound was soft with distance, but distinct enough. Now that he was truly paying attention to it, he could tell that there was an emotion in it, even though it was one, long note that scarcely wavered. It was a sad song, wasn't it? Hearing it, he felt sadder than he had been before.
"I don't hear anything," Pasha said, but there was no trace of doubt in her tone when she asked him, "What does it sound like?"
"Like nothing else I've heard," said Reian. With these words, he guessed what the source of the sound must be. Something that was like nothing else. "I should go and see."
"I think you should," said Pasha, who likely had a good guess of her own.
He leaned down to kiss her mouth, which reminded him that her lips were far better than her fingertips, even though her fingertips were superior to most lips. "I'll be back."
"I'll be asleep," she laughed.
"As you should be," he said. He managed to locate his robe in the shadows and pulled it on over his night clothes.
He stepped out under a clear and endless sky--dark, but not without its multitude of bright landmarks. The stars showed him that he faced north and west, in case he had forgotten. Over the sound of the strange song he sought, he could hear the calls of night birds. They greeted him as he left the tent, with their much more earthly songs. He replied to them in their own speech: Hello, yes, it's a lovely night. He was glad he could still understand and speak to them, since learned knowledge could not be taken away. The gift of shamanism he had been born with had mostly been drained from him. When he focused on it, he could feel an empty space inside of him. It was fortunate he hadn't been using most of his gift, so he did not miss it a great deal. That emptiness, like a small, cold cavern formed within him, was the only lack he felt.
Tonight, Reian realized that when his gift had been taken from him, something else had been given to him: a new kind of understanding, one that was much more focused. He had lost the possibility of utilizing his untapped gift, of learning how to talk to trees and stones and water, but he had learned how to talk to sorcerers. That is, one particular sorcerer, but as there was only one sorcerer in the world, that meant he could talk to all of them.
And somewhere, Nelius was singing.
Tribe Telan's sorcerer was an elusive creature. Though he had joined them, he seldom slept in the tent Reian had made for him. That was a little hurtful, as Reian was proud of his tent-building abilities, but Nelius was more likely to be found wandering through the woods surrounding their campsite. He might wander for days without pause. He seemed to have little sense of time or distance, as he had lived alone for so long, in that vast and empty city. Finding him when needed would have been a difficult task, but Reian's friends the birds were always a help to him.
Tonight, he didn't need their help. He followed a different song. The song of a sorcerer.
It was said that the stars sung the world into being. Singing was the purest and the oldest form of magic, a power born of nothing but joy. That was what creation was: joy. Over the millennia, sadness and weariness had crept into this first song, and it had become an echo of itself. Singing could no longer make a world.
The power of song had faded, but it had not yet lost all its strength. Among the Kelisavians, the prayers of the Devoted still took the form of song. Prophets heard of days to come within a song, winding its way through their dreams with a flowing, liquid music, like a twisting stream. The shamans could hear the songs of stones and trees and the wind, but unlike the prophets, the songs they heard were of the present time, so they knew all that could be known of the world around them. They could ask the wind to sing for them, and sometimes it would. They could bring the rain to a dry land.
Devoted, prophets, and shamans knew songs of power, but only sorcerers could sing songs that could move mountains, or make flowers bloom in winter, or knit broken flesh and cause a stopped heart to beat again--or a beating heart to stop. Few ears could hear a sorcerer's song, but any eyes could see its result.
With such a powerful song at his command, the fact that Nelius was singing was worrisome. He could cause a great deal of harm with his power, and it was Reian's responsibility to ensure that he did not. Fortunately, Reian had noticed no strange or alarming events since he'd begun to hear the song, days ago now, so his fear that Nelius would harm someone was slight. He was more concerned with the well-being of Nelius himself, which was why he was making his way through the woods at this hour.
Unlike a sorcerer, Reian did not find it easy to walk through the woods at night. He did not even manage anything so pleasant as a walk--a blundering series of stumbles was more like it. He crashed through branches and misstepped into unseen hollows. The thorns were not kind. In retrospect, he should have brought a lantern with him, but by the time he came up with that incredibly sensible idea, he was so far into the woods, he decided he would do himself less damage by continuing to follow the sound. Nelius hadn't gone too far.
Nelius, with his sharper sorcerer's senses, had found himself a clearing to rest in, so it was with relief that Reian reached him, rearranging his now-tattered robes in the safe and open space. He could see more clearly, there where the trees parted and allowed the moon and starlight to fall. There was another light there, too, emanating from Nelius, who was seated facing away from him, his pale-clad back so slender and still. Nelius must have known he was there, but he did not turn or acknowledge Reian's presence with a single movement or sound.
Yet the song changed. It swelled, greeting him, and as Reian came closer, he saw what Nelius was doing.
The first song in the world had been a song of creation, and so was this one, shot through with sorrow as it might have been. The air in front of Nelius glowed with sorcerous light. At first, Reian saw it as only that: light, though of many colors, but as he reached the sorcerer and sat down beside him, he viewed the light from Nelius' vantage point. Then he could see the images within the light.
So bright and strange and shifting, it was like a dream shining before them, visible in the waking world, but Reian quickly realized it was far more than a dream. He picked out scenes in the light. There was a young boy, whose face he knew. There was a gray house, on a narrow, dusty street. There was a dark river, choked with weeds. There was a mouth, livid with blood. There was a green valley in the middle of a wasteland. There was a city, as ancient as it was dead. There was the boy grown into a man, whose face Reian knew better. There was night and day and morning and midnight, all the moments of a life glowing before him. How sad it was, but how beautiful.
Reian glanced at Nelius. As usual, his expression was impassive, his dark eyes almost dead of feeling, though they reflected the light before him. His appearance was deceptive. There was a deep emotion behind those eyes. Reian could hear it. Nelius was trying to tell him something. Reian put a hand on his shoulder.
Nelius was singing.
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(no subject)
Date: 2010-10-16 03:03 am (UTC)The sad and beautiful song of Nelius, and this sad and beautiful story! I love them so <3 And the wonderful storyteller <3<3<3
(no subject)
Date: 2010-10-16 03:26 am (UTC)Aw, and I love you, too. ♥
Hello, yes, it's a lovely night.
Date: 2010-10-16 04:08 am (UTC)That was what creation was: joy.
I do love to listen to the songs you sing. ♥