Ficlet #2. I've been busy.
Jan. 3rd, 2004 03:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreI'm not sure if this counts as a second draft or not. My original draft is in pieces at home, and I hadn't actually written the beginning, so... This is the first half... or the first 2/3, maybe. Notes on stuff at the end, as always.
Blessings in Disguise (Suikoden 3)
By Amber Michelle
There was glass beneath his feet.
The history chronicles said Crystal Valley had earned its name from the mines in the mountains, but the shining surface he stood on and the facets beneath were a facade. Perhaps glass was structurally more reliable. Or maybe it was simply one more lie about the beloved temple that lay at the heart of that myth.
Globes of light hung at intervals along the walls, behind the stained glass and before it. Even the support beams were polished bright, as if to imitate the glass rather than take away from the glitter. There wasn't a noise to be heard, nor soldiers to see lined up ahainst the walls like the lights, and no benches to sit on and rest one's legs. Moving was difficult; footsteps echoed and disturbed the heavy silence, always loud enough in comparison that it seemed the entire temple must hear them. Once was enough. So Luc stood still at the center of the circular chamber and stared at the doors ahead, the only part of the room not fashioned to resemble crystal. They were blue, with the Circle raised upon them.
His gaze traced the design without much interest. Luc knew it well, at least in his dreams, more intimately than most of the visitors this chamber saw come and go. The memories weren't pleasant, but a door lacked the intimidation of the real thing.
When would they finally open to admit him? It seemed hours had passed. While he didn't look forward to this meeting, getting it out of the way would be more productive than trying to avoid it and earning the wrath of the man he wanted - at least now - to impress. His frown was thin, bitter, but hidden behind the mask. They couldn't know. It kept his secrets well.
As if on cue, perfectly timed of course, the Circle was split by a ray of light, and the doors parted to reveal a white-robed priest. The man pushed them only halfway open and stopped, beckoned, and halted without making a sound. Even his footsteps were silent, and Luc was tempted to remain still so his own would not break the quiet. He took a purposeful step forward a minute later, harder than it could have been, louder, and then another. Better. It was almost satisfying to disturb that peace, despite his better judgement.
The priest stepped aside to let him enter but did not follow. His eyes could be felt, lingering, before the doors were swept closed with a faint click and the feeling disappeared.
It must be strange for someone so unimportant to gain an audience with the Chief Bishop. The room was empty, but for the two of them. It could be felt.
Luc paused, head tilted down, as he swept the room as well as he could. Yes, alone. He resumed his step a half second later, knew every hesitation would be noted, and felt the first stirrings of nerves. The mask covered his expression, the gloves hid his hands, but nothing would strengthen the weakness in his knees. Kneeling was difficult. He tried not to show it.
"I am honored to have this audience." Luc gripped his knee tightly and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Not a brush of air disturbed the heaviness of the gaze he felt settled on his shoulders like a leaden cloak. He kept his own to the floor, refusing to look up even as far as the hem of his host's robes. It was hard not to feel exposed under that scrutiny. Sarah's presence at his back would have been a welcome relief, if only that were possible.
"You are well-received." The voice sent a chill down his spine. There was nothing extraordinary about it beyond a fascinating resemblence to his own, and a hint of an accent, soft and lethargic. "I have looked forward to this meeting, son. You may look up."
How generous. He didn't want to, but the temptation was overpowering. It was an order, after all, and not a choice. "Thank you, my lord."
What Luc saw wasn't unexpected, but it made him swallow again. THe features appeared a little older than he himself was, perhaps a little taller, the hair longer and more feathery, brushing the stiff shoulders of formal robes, and green eyes that seemed run through with lavendar, like the veins of a leaf. That was an illusion too, but it cut to the heart. Were they the eyes of a man, or the eyes of a rune?
He wanted to think the latter, and felt like an idealistic fool for it.
The high priest bestowed upon him a benevolent smile, almost believable. "You have a report to give, I believe."
"Yes." Of course he had a report to make, if only he could remember it. He licked his lips and tasted the tang of metal. When he began, there was no room for eloquence. Keeping his irritation from creeping into his voice was difficult enough; his voice wanted to crack and betray him.
It was a short report, but the recital felt as if it took hours. The solitude of the other chamber was sorely missed. The solitary feeling of the one he was in felt worse, wrong. Someone else should have been there - a guard, an attendant, or one of the other bishops. Personal audiences were /unheard/ of as far as he knew.
But what did he know? His manner could be in error, and Luc would never know. He wasn't raised to do this as his brother was. Common sense was usually enough, but here... here it felt very inadequate.
When at last he finished and fell silent to wait, the high priest's only response was a nod. The motion was stiff, as was his right hand when it flexed, as if he wasn't used to moving beyond the occasional smile. His robes were too heavy to ripple with the movement, his hair caught on the material to remain still.
LUc bowed his head again to keep from staring and took a deep breath to steady his voice. "Do you require anything else of me, Lord Hikusaak?"
The answer was slow in coming, drawn out purposely. "Just one more thing."
He cursed the man silently and gripped his knee more tightly, seizing on the shot of pain in his hand as something to distract from the matter at hand. His body wanted to shake, and he wanted nothing more than to leave and end things so he could breathe more easily, and go back to Sarah with a smug 'I-told-you-so' and an assurance that everything was all right. He wanted to believe it himself.
A flicker of movement caught his attention and he flicked his eyes up to see, through a fringe of light brown hair, that the high priest had risen from his throne. He cut a graceful figure in the diffuse light, as imposing as Luc remembered, hindered only by a grip on the right arm of his chair. He watched that hand release its hold reluctantly to gather a handfull of the heavy velvet robe and lift it out of the way.
He was descending from the dais. Luc's eyes widened before they flickered down again and he stared hard at the floor. The priest's slow footsteps brought the hem into his view and he felt the man towering over him. Something brushed his hair - a hand, just the fingertips, passing over in a blessing. They brushed the mask and he tensed, waited for them to pass on. It was nothing, he /knew/ that, simply another part of the ceremony he should have guessed at, even if he hadn't known about it.
The bishop's fingers paused, and there was only a hint of pressure before the mask was ripped away, the cord snapped, and the pale light rushed to replace it, blinding now that there was nothing to shield Luc's eyes from it. He pushed to his feet and grabbed the mask before he thought about it, tried to pull it back, and found himself confronted again with a gaze he'd hoped to never meet again. There was no smile now.
Never in his life had he wanted to turn and run this badly. The moment their eyes met seemed eternal, frozen the way the rune was, glimmering between them, until the priest released the mask and allowed Luc to stumble back.
"You always were the stubborn one," Hikusaak murmured, raising his hand again between them. "My blessing upon you, son."
The flash of the rune unleashed a river of ice, like one of Sarah's spells, and Luc fell to his knees shuddering and gasping for breath. The mask clattered to the floor and skittered away a few inches - too far away for him to reach with his frozen fingers. He could not even look up to meet his fate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes:
- Hikusaak fascinates me, and so does his rune. A while ago I started thinking about the effect the Circle Rune would have on him. It's specialty is harmony and stagnation, and we know it's keeping Harmonia together by the skin of its teeth, so to speak. And his host? It is rumored he disappeared something like... two hundred years ago, yet the priests insist he is alive and well. Sasarai claims to have orders from him.
So what if, in the beginning, Hikusaak was much like the Tenkai stars we know and love, leading his own troops, appearing before his people, and so on. And then, over time as the rune began to take hold, he was unable to leave Harmonia, and then confined to Crystal Valley, then to the temple interior, and so on until he was unable to lift a finger for anything but necessity? A living statue.
The freezing power of the rune that you see in this snippet was inspired by something on Phoenix. It does make sense, and I hadn't thought about it until the others started talking about freezing Nanami.
In any case. I think it's very unlikely that Hikusaak didn't know Luc was the masked bishop, and it's also unlikely that he was unaware of the grand scheme. I'd always wanted a scene between the two of them. I'm sure it would be laced with enough double-meanings to sink the Titanic, certainly more than I have here, but... oh well. ^^ Maybe I can play with it a little more after I finish it.
I don't have much experience writing Luc, and even less with Hikusaak, so forgive me if this doesn't mesh with your views of the characters. We all have our own opinions on these things.
Blessings in Disguise (Suikoden 3)
By Amber Michelle
There was glass beneath his feet.
The history chronicles said Crystal Valley had earned its name from the mines in the mountains, but the shining surface he stood on and the facets beneath were a facade. Perhaps glass was structurally more reliable. Or maybe it was simply one more lie about the beloved temple that lay at the heart of that myth.
Globes of light hung at intervals along the walls, behind the stained glass and before it. Even the support beams were polished bright, as if to imitate the glass rather than take away from the glitter. There wasn't a noise to be heard, nor soldiers to see lined up ahainst the walls like the lights, and no benches to sit on and rest one's legs. Moving was difficult; footsteps echoed and disturbed the heavy silence, always loud enough in comparison that it seemed the entire temple must hear them. Once was enough. So Luc stood still at the center of the circular chamber and stared at the doors ahead, the only part of the room not fashioned to resemble crystal. They were blue, with the Circle raised upon them.
His gaze traced the design without much interest. Luc knew it well, at least in his dreams, more intimately than most of the visitors this chamber saw come and go. The memories weren't pleasant, but a door lacked the intimidation of the real thing.
When would they finally open to admit him? It seemed hours had passed. While he didn't look forward to this meeting, getting it out of the way would be more productive than trying to avoid it and earning the wrath of the man he wanted - at least now - to impress. His frown was thin, bitter, but hidden behind the mask. They couldn't know. It kept his secrets well.
As if on cue, perfectly timed of course, the Circle was split by a ray of light, and the doors parted to reveal a white-robed priest. The man pushed them only halfway open and stopped, beckoned, and halted without making a sound. Even his footsteps were silent, and Luc was tempted to remain still so his own would not break the quiet. He took a purposeful step forward a minute later, harder than it could have been, louder, and then another. Better. It was almost satisfying to disturb that peace, despite his better judgement.
The priest stepped aside to let him enter but did not follow. His eyes could be felt, lingering, before the doors were swept closed with a faint click and the feeling disappeared.
It must be strange for someone so unimportant to gain an audience with the Chief Bishop. The room was empty, but for the two of them. It could be felt.
Luc paused, head tilted down, as he swept the room as well as he could. Yes, alone. He resumed his step a half second later, knew every hesitation would be noted, and felt the first stirrings of nerves. The mask covered his expression, the gloves hid his hands, but nothing would strengthen the weakness in his knees. Kneeling was difficult. He tried not to show it.
"I am honored to have this audience." Luc gripped his knee tightly and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Not a brush of air disturbed the heaviness of the gaze he felt settled on his shoulders like a leaden cloak. He kept his own to the floor, refusing to look up even as far as the hem of his host's robes. It was hard not to feel exposed under that scrutiny. Sarah's presence at his back would have been a welcome relief, if only that were possible.
"You are well-received." The voice sent a chill down his spine. There was nothing extraordinary about it beyond a fascinating resemblence to his own, and a hint of an accent, soft and lethargic. "I have looked forward to this meeting, son. You may look up."
How generous. He didn't want to, but the temptation was overpowering. It was an order, after all, and not a choice. "Thank you, my lord."
What Luc saw wasn't unexpected, but it made him swallow again. THe features appeared a little older than he himself was, perhaps a little taller, the hair longer and more feathery, brushing the stiff shoulders of formal robes, and green eyes that seemed run through with lavendar, like the veins of a leaf. That was an illusion too, but it cut to the heart. Were they the eyes of a man, or the eyes of a rune?
He wanted to think the latter, and felt like an idealistic fool for it.
The high priest bestowed upon him a benevolent smile, almost believable. "You have a report to give, I believe."
"Yes." Of course he had a report to make, if only he could remember it. He licked his lips and tasted the tang of metal. When he began, there was no room for eloquence. Keeping his irritation from creeping into his voice was difficult enough; his voice wanted to crack and betray him.
It was a short report, but the recital felt as if it took hours. The solitude of the other chamber was sorely missed. The solitary feeling of the one he was in felt worse, wrong. Someone else should have been there - a guard, an attendant, or one of the other bishops. Personal audiences were /unheard/ of as far as he knew.
But what did he know? His manner could be in error, and Luc would never know. He wasn't raised to do this as his brother was. Common sense was usually enough, but here... here it felt very inadequate.
When at last he finished and fell silent to wait, the high priest's only response was a nod. The motion was stiff, as was his right hand when it flexed, as if he wasn't used to moving beyond the occasional smile. His robes were too heavy to ripple with the movement, his hair caught on the material to remain still.
LUc bowed his head again to keep from staring and took a deep breath to steady his voice. "Do you require anything else of me, Lord Hikusaak?"
The answer was slow in coming, drawn out purposely. "Just one more thing."
He cursed the man silently and gripped his knee more tightly, seizing on the shot of pain in his hand as something to distract from the matter at hand. His body wanted to shake, and he wanted nothing more than to leave and end things so he could breathe more easily, and go back to Sarah with a smug 'I-told-you-so' and an assurance that everything was all right. He wanted to believe it himself.
A flicker of movement caught his attention and he flicked his eyes up to see, through a fringe of light brown hair, that the high priest had risen from his throne. He cut a graceful figure in the diffuse light, as imposing as Luc remembered, hindered only by a grip on the right arm of his chair. He watched that hand release its hold reluctantly to gather a handfull of the heavy velvet robe and lift it out of the way.
He was descending from the dais. Luc's eyes widened before they flickered down again and he stared hard at the floor. The priest's slow footsteps brought the hem into his view and he felt the man towering over him. Something brushed his hair - a hand, just the fingertips, passing over in a blessing. They brushed the mask and he tensed, waited for them to pass on. It was nothing, he /knew/ that, simply another part of the ceremony he should have guessed at, even if he hadn't known about it.
The bishop's fingers paused, and there was only a hint of pressure before the mask was ripped away, the cord snapped, and the pale light rushed to replace it, blinding now that there was nothing to shield Luc's eyes from it. He pushed to his feet and grabbed the mask before he thought about it, tried to pull it back, and found himself confronted again with a gaze he'd hoped to never meet again. There was no smile now.
Never in his life had he wanted to turn and run this badly. The moment their eyes met seemed eternal, frozen the way the rune was, glimmering between them, until the priest released the mask and allowed Luc to stumble back.
"You always were the stubborn one," Hikusaak murmured, raising his hand again between them. "My blessing upon you, son."
The flash of the rune unleashed a river of ice, like one of Sarah's spells, and Luc fell to his knees shuddering and gasping for breath. The mask clattered to the floor and skittered away a few inches - too far away for him to reach with his frozen fingers. He could not even look up to meet his fate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes:
- Hikusaak fascinates me, and so does his rune. A while ago I started thinking about the effect the Circle Rune would have on him. It's specialty is harmony and stagnation, and we know it's keeping Harmonia together by the skin of its teeth, so to speak. And his host? It is rumored he disappeared something like... two hundred years ago, yet the priests insist he is alive and well. Sasarai claims to have orders from him.
So what if, in the beginning, Hikusaak was much like the Tenkai stars we know and love, leading his own troops, appearing before his people, and so on. And then, over time as the rune began to take hold, he was unable to leave Harmonia, and then confined to Crystal Valley, then to the temple interior, and so on until he was unable to lift a finger for anything but necessity? A living statue.
The freezing power of the rune that you see in this snippet was inspired by something on Phoenix. It does make sense, and I hadn't thought about it until the others started talking about freezing Nanami.
In any case. I think it's very unlikely that Hikusaak didn't know Luc was the masked bishop, and it's also unlikely that he was unaware of the grand scheme. I'd always wanted a scene between the two of them. I'm sure it would be laced with enough double-meanings to sink the Titanic, certainly more than I have here, but... oh well. ^^ Maybe I can play with it a little more after I finish it.
I don't have much experience writing Luc, and even less with Hikusaak, so forgive me if this doesn't mesh with your views of the characters. We all have our own opinions on these things.
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Closing comments
Date: 2004-01-04 11:40 am (UTC)I don't see any problems with the character development of Luc or Hikusaak here. Luc is envisioned as tense, nervous, and feeling inadequate about his position. Hikusaak is described as regal and strict. The introductory paragraphs, including the description of the palace, sets a stage for Luc's tension - large, intimidating chambers and the sort. In my opinion, it's actually not necessary to insert the description, but it helps round out the story and establish the location.
In the middle you often tell us that Luc is nervous. It is more effective to describe symptoms of Luc's nervousness. The more nervous he gets, and the more symptoms you describe (especially as the story goes on), the more suspence that we feel. The climax becomes more shocking as Luc's apprehension goes up, and this is something that you want to build, as there is clearly a high point of this story. If you want to categorize this story, you may as well say that it's a suspence novel because you have to build everything up to a point, and then have it shock us completely (the fact that Hikusaak actually knows). You contribute to this with a good buildup, the false cadence, and then the man tearing Luc's mask off in a flurry of activity. As mentioned, the last few paragraphs are the best ones in the work.