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glass_icarus) wrote2009-10-18 12:13 pm
glass_icarus) wrote2009-10-18 12:13 pm
NYR 2009 fic: light all around them
Title: light all around them
Fandom: Guy Gavriel Kay- The Sarantine Mosaic
Rating: G/PG
Summary: Aliana and Crispin, the days after. Written fortelesilla's NYR 2009 prompt; posted here because I couldn't for the life of me stretch it to 1,000 words. /o\ I hope you like this!
Caius Crispus surveys the dome of the modest church with hands on his hips. He runs a hand along the tesserae, watching with satisfaction as the afternoon sunlight reflects off of each individual surface, transforming the mediocre glass into something luminous. "It’s finished," he says.
A low chuckle sounds from below. "Good," says his wife, looking up at him with a measuring eye.
Crispin laughs, clambering impatiently down the scaffolding. Aliana- Alixana no longer- prudently puts down her breadbasket and opens her arms, disregarding the fine cloud of plaster-dust that drifts from his skin to her clothes.
"Do you like it?"
"I like everything you make, Crispin," she says wryly into his shoulder. He grins into her hair and lets her go, waiting for a truer assessment. Aliana walks into the center of the floor, turning slowly.
The image of Valerius’s dome still burns in his mind, even so many years later: larger than life; seared indelibly upon his heart. He dreams of it, sometimes, the unfinished design complete and dazzling with glorious colors; a wonder to match all the other wonders of the world that he has known. The pain of it is distant now, more nostalgia than anything else- as Aliana put it once, there are some visions too bright to be shared.
Still, there are some things he has told her, and so he watches, waiting for her appraisal.
"You-" Aliana’s fingers close around his sleeve. "You gave me dolphins."
Crispin smiles. "I did," he agrees. "I thought it was time we kept that promise."
Aliana makes a strangled noise, incoherent and undignified. For a moment, he wonders if she’s going to hit him. But- "He would have loved it," she says instead, and the happiness in her voice is laced with old sorrows. Crispin looks up at his dome again, following her gaze.
The church is provincial, at the very outskirts of Batiara, not far from the Trakesian border. Not very far at all from the town where he’d stolen a sacrifice, once upon a time; where he’d first learned- in the hardest of ways- that there were traditions older than and outside of Jad. The priests here, he has discovered, are more tolerant than most, and so Crispin feels safe in leaving these traces of his own small heresies: a bird and a zubir, lurking among the wild animals on the walls below the god’s face, and a subtle ring of dolphins around the base of the dome.
Some knowledge is sacred, and needs to be earned. Some secrets, he has come to realize over the years, are meant to be kept. He looks up at Jad’s face at the center of the dome, his warm dark eyes reminiscent of Valerius, and thinks that the god will forgive him his trespasses, his pride.
Aliana leans against his shoulder, a warm and comforting weight. Her eyes, when he looks down, are full of memories. "It’s beautiful," she says quietly, leaning up to kiss him. "Thank you."
Crispin folds his arms around her, a wordless acknowledgement. "Do you know," he says contemplatively, surprised at himself, "I think I could pray now."
Aliana, for once, doesn’t laugh at him. "Yes," she replies, an enigmatic smile flickering across her face. "Yes, I think that would be- good." She walks forward into the nave, kneeling gracefully a few paces from the altar. Crispin smiles and stoops to take his place at her side. Sun-warmed and at peace, he closes his eyes.
Fandom: Guy Gavriel Kay- The Sarantine Mosaic
Rating: G/PG
Summary: Aliana and Crispin, the days after. Written for
telesilla's NYR 2009 prompt; posted here because I couldn't for the life of me stretch it to 1,000 words. /o\ I hope you like this!Caius Crispus surveys the dome of the modest church with hands on his hips. He runs a hand along the tesserae, watching with satisfaction as the afternoon sunlight reflects off of each individual surface, transforming the mediocre glass into something luminous. "It’s finished," he says.
A low chuckle sounds from below. "Good," says his wife, looking up at him with a measuring eye.
Crispin laughs, clambering impatiently down the scaffolding. Aliana- Alixana no longer- prudently puts down her breadbasket and opens her arms, disregarding the fine cloud of plaster-dust that drifts from his skin to her clothes.
"Do you like it?"
"I like everything you make, Crispin," she says wryly into his shoulder. He grins into her hair and lets her go, waiting for a truer assessment. Aliana walks into the center of the floor, turning slowly.
The image of Valerius’s dome still burns in his mind, even so many years later: larger than life; seared indelibly upon his heart. He dreams of it, sometimes, the unfinished design complete and dazzling with glorious colors; a wonder to match all the other wonders of the world that he has known. The pain of it is distant now, more nostalgia than anything else- as Aliana put it once, there are some visions too bright to be shared.
Still, there are some things he has told her, and so he watches, waiting for her appraisal.
"You-" Aliana’s fingers close around his sleeve. "You gave me dolphins."
Crispin smiles. "I did," he agrees. "I thought it was time we kept that promise."
Aliana makes a strangled noise, incoherent and undignified. For a moment, he wonders if she’s going to hit him. But- "He would have loved it," she says instead, and the happiness in her voice is laced with old sorrows. Crispin looks up at his dome again, following her gaze.
The church is provincial, at the very outskirts of Batiara, not far from the Trakesian border. Not very far at all from the town where he’d stolen a sacrifice, once upon a time; where he’d first learned- in the hardest of ways- that there were traditions older than and outside of Jad. The priests here, he has discovered, are more tolerant than most, and so Crispin feels safe in leaving these traces of his own small heresies: a bird and a zubir, lurking among the wild animals on the walls below the god’s face, and a subtle ring of dolphins around the base of the dome.
Some knowledge is sacred, and needs to be earned. Some secrets, he has come to realize over the years, are meant to be kept. He looks up at Jad’s face at the center of the dome, his warm dark eyes reminiscent of Valerius, and thinks that the god will forgive him his trespasses, his pride.
Aliana leans against his shoulder, a warm and comforting weight. Her eyes, when he looks down, are full of memories. "It’s beautiful," she says quietly, leaning up to kiss him. "Thank you."
Crispin folds his arms around her, a wordless acknowledgement. "Do you know," he says contemplatively, surprised at himself, "I think I could pray now."
Aliana, for once, doesn’t laugh at him. "Yes," she replies, an enigmatic smile flickering across her face. "Yes, I think that would be- good." She walks forward into the nave, kneeling gracefully a few paces from the altar. Crispin smiles and stoops to take his place at her side. Sun-warmed and at peace, he closes his eyes.