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rainbowfic2013-10-21 10:02 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2013-10-21 10:02 pm
Entry tags:
- author: shadowsong26 supreme whumpmaster,
- color: dirt brown,
- color: glitter,
- color: spilt ink,
- story: feredar,
- style: bichromatic,
- style: miniature collection,
- style: photography,
- supply: acrylic,
- supply: brush,
- supply: canvas,
- supply: chalk,
- supply: frame,
- supply: novelty beads,
- supply: oils,
- supply: seed beads
Spilt Ink #9, Dirt Brown #16, Glitter #25
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Beauty, Charm, and Wit
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Spilt Ink #9. You keep trying to tell the truth about who you are but you keep changing, every time someone listens., Dirt Brown #16. Patience, Glitter #25. I feel pretty. - West Side Story
Supplies and Materials: bichromatic, photography, miniature collection, canvas (the first), frame (the last), brush (asservate), acrylic, oils, chalk, seed beads, novelty beads
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sola
Warnings: Manipulation, references to adultery, oblique references to war and genocide
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
During her father’s reign, she had youth and beauty on her side. She hid her mind behind a cloak of paint and perfume, of silk and sighs, and they opened their hearts and their minds to her, believing her safe.
She promised much, with a careless whisper and a secret smile, but she never gave. Not for this. For pleasure, once or twice, of course—she had her own needs, and her husband had his—but never when only information was in play.
But she always left that avenue open, and relished in the freedom and the power of it.
During her elder brother’s reign, she relies on charm and fond memories. True, she isn’t much past forty, and she can employ her former tricks, when she chooses, but she deploys them much less frequently. That is a game for fresh young things, more easily underestimated, more apt to dazzle.
She holds salons and parties, drawing on multiple social circles, listening to the whirlwinds of who’s-romancing-whom and plays expertly into the forced joy of these days, as her brother brings them closer to the brink.
Maintenance is her game now, rather than development. Maintaining friendships, so all is never lost.
During her younger brother’s reign, she will rely on wit. Inch by inch, day by day, she will put cracks in her careless façade—only cracks, just enough to let an canny old woman’s mind through a faded beauty’s eyes.
She won’t prefer it, necessarily, but it will be an exciting change, a chance to stretch her wings and be less confined by role and expectation. Oh, she’ll still take her pleasure and there are those who, for rank or for fond memories, will still pursue her. She’ll enjoy those.
Through beauty and charm and wit, she will master peace.
Story: Beauty, Charm, and Wit
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Spilt Ink #9. You keep trying to tell the truth about who you are but you keep changing, every time someone listens., Dirt Brown #16. Patience, Glitter #25. I feel pretty. - West Side Story
Supplies and Materials: bichromatic, photography, miniature collection, canvas (the first), frame (the last), brush (asservate), acrylic, oils, chalk, seed beads, novelty beads
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sola
Warnings: Manipulation, references to adultery, oblique references to war and genocide
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
During her father’s reign, she had youth and beauty on her side. She hid her mind behind a cloak of paint and perfume, of silk and sighs, and they opened their hearts and their minds to her, believing her safe.
She promised much, with a careless whisper and a secret smile, but she never gave. Not for this. For pleasure, once or twice, of course—she had her own needs, and her husband had his—but never when only information was in play.
But she always left that avenue open, and relished in the freedom and the power of it.
During her elder brother’s reign, she relies on charm and fond memories. True, she isn’t much past forty, and she can employ her former tricks, when she chooses, but she deploys them much less frequently. That is a game for fresh young things, more easily underestimated, more apt to dazzle.
She holds salons and parties, drawing on multiple social circles, listening to the whirlwinds of who’s-romancing-whom and plays expertly into the forced joy of these days, as her brother brings them closer to the brink.
Maintenance is her game now, rather than development. Maintaining friendships, so all is never lost.
During her younger brother’s reign, she will rely on wit. Inch by inch, day by day, she will put cracks in her careless façade—only cracks, just enough to let an canny old woman’s mind through a faded beauty’s eyes.
She won’t prefer it, necessarily, but it will be an exciting change, a chance to stretch her wings and be less confined by role and expectation. Oh, she’ll still take her pleasure and there are those who, for rank or for fond memories, will still pursue her. She’ll enjoy those.
Through beauty and charm and wit, she will master peace.
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