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runicloreHymn to the Goddess
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 25 - singing voice
Rating: K
Word count: 677
Notes: n/a
............................................
Zelgius returned to the Persis manor at half past three in the morning, after the rain had washed the walkways clean of dust and left the shrubs bordering the walk smelling sweet and sharply green. The stars lit his way to the door, the moon new, and after taking his cloak and mud-caked boots, a servant escorted him to the second-floor landing with a brass lamp. The corridor was lit at intervals with flames turned low in their crystal spheres. The indoor slippers he wore from the door clipped on his heels, but it was his armor that clanked, scraped, and echoed in the whitewashed, tiled hallway.
He went to his room first, changed, and bathed. There was some rule, some universal quirk that allowed mud to cake on everything and smear everywhere, no matter where one stood or what one did to prevent it. A simple patrol of the surrounding region turned into a pitched battle with a group of laguz resistance fighters in the forest, and Zelgius lost three men and a good steel dagger in the melee. He also, apparently, attracted splatters of the dark gray, clay-like mud simply by being present. The water sluiced gray and cloudy from his body when he rinsed the residue away. He ignored the scented soaps and lathers left by the servants and used the same plain, white bar he'd preferred in Daein.
Begnion luxuries rarely had a point. He used the oil because the climate dried his skin to the point of discomfort, but the scent blended with it served no purpose; he refrained from asking for another bottle because his master said pine and sandal suited him, and the tenor of his voice, the play of his fingertips, convinced Zelgius this one small concession wouldn't be a waste after all.
When he was dressed, and the cuts on his arms cleaned, he walked down the hall, around the corner toward the back, and entered the suite reserved for Sephiran's use. The two female knights stationed outside gave him pause, but they simply nodded and motioned for him to pass.
The sitting room was dark as pitch, the only glimmer of light from the door to the bedchamber, open a crack. From beyond, the chancellor's voice danced the notes of a song, and he recognized the phrase shine your light upon me from temples visited up north. A hymn to the goddess. It made his skin prickle. The old tongue always did when Sephiran's lips formed the words, whispered on his ear, against his throat, muffled in the bedsheets. Zelgius crossed over to the door and stepped inside.
Sephiran sat at the foot of his bed, hair loose and fanning over the parted sheets, and the princess clung to the collar of his robe, her legs drawn up on his lap. Dry, salty trails traced over her round cheeks, and her dark hair clung to them, matted and damp. She breathed deep and even, and the chancellor continued to sing, though he lifted his head to acknowledge Zelgius's entrance.
Then Sephiran looked away with knitted brows, and the hand combing the child's hair paused, curling into the indigo strands. His voice faded, and she didn't stir.
His master's nature was a matter unspoken between them, just as Zelgius preferred his brand to be. He knew; the moment they met he knew Sephiran was no ordinary human, but he'd never raised his voice in song, never used the gifts of his tribe to turn the tide of a battle or convince someone to cooperate with their search. He assumed the motivation in hiding them had something to do with his disguise.
Now he knew.
"I'm sorry," Zelgius said, voice pitched low.
Sephiran's eyes drifted closed, as if the lids were too heavy to hold open. His hand resumed its calming motions. "No need," he said, and they slitted open again, the aqua color vibrant in the yellow lamplight. "The regret is mine."
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 25 - singing voice
Rating: K
Word count: 677
Notes: n/a
............................................
Zelgius returned to the Persis manor at half past three in the morning, after the rain had washed the walkways clean of dust and left the shrubs bordering the walk smelling sweet and sharply green. The stars lit his way to the door, the moon new, and after taking his cloak and mud-caked boots, a servant escorted him to the second-floor landing with a brass lamp. The corridor was lit at intervals with flames turned low in their crystal spheres. The indoor slippers he wore from the door clipped on his heels, but it was his armor that clanked, scraped, and echoed in the whitewashed, tiled hallway.
He went to his room first, changed, and bathed. There was some rule, some universal quirk that allowed mud to cake on everything and smear everywhere, no matter where one stood or what one did to prevent it. A simple patrol of the surrounding region turned into a pitched battle with a group of laguz resistance fighters in the forest, and Zelgius lost three men and a good steel dagger in the melee. He also, apparently, attracted splatters of the dark gray, clay-like mud simply by being present. The water sluiced gray and cloudy from his body when he rinsed the residue away. He ignored the scented soaps and lathers left by the servants and used the same plain, white bar he'd preferred in Daein.
Begnion luxuries rarely had a point. He used the oil because the climate dried his skin to the point of discomfort, but the scent blended with it served no purpose; he refrained from asking for another bottle because his master said pine and sandal suited him, and the tenor of his voice, the play of his fingertips, convinced Zelgius this one small concession wouldn't be a waste after all.
When he was dressed, and the cuts on his arms cleaned, he walked down the hall, around the corner toward the back, and entered the suite reserved for Sephiran's use. The two female knights stationed outside gave him pause, but they simply nodded and motioned for him to pass.
The sitting room was dark as pitch, the only glimmer of light from the door to the bedchamber, open a crack. From beyond, the chancellor's voice danced the notes of a song, and he recognized the phrase shine your light upon me from temples visited up north. A hymn to the goddess. It made his skin prickle. The old tongue always did when Sephiran's lips formed the words, whispered on his ear, against his throat, muffled in the bedsheets. Zelgius crossed over to the door and stepped inside.
Sephiran sat at the foot of his bed, hair loose and fanning over the parted sheets, and the princess clung to the collar of his robe, her legs drawn up on his lap. Dry, salty trails traced over her round cheeks, and her dark hair clung to them, matted and damp. She breathed deep and even, and the chancellor continued to sing, though he lifted his head to acknowledge Zelgius's entrance.
Then Sephiran looked away with knitted brows, and the hand combing the child's hair paused, curling into the indigo strands. His voice faded, and she didn't stir.
His master's nature was a matter unspoken between them, just as Zelgius preferred his brand to be. He knew; the moment they met he knew Sephiran was no ordinary human, but he'd never raised his voice in song, never used the gifts of his tribe to turn the tide of a battle or convince someone to cooperate with their search. He assumed the motivation in hiding them had something to do with his disguise.
Now he knew.
"I'm sorry," Zelgius said, voice pitched low.
Sephiran's eyes drifted closed, as if the lids were too heavy to hold open. His hand resumed its calming motions. "No need," he said, and they slitted open again, the aqua color vibrant in the yellow lamplight. "The regret is mine."
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no subject
Date: 2008-11-25 06:39 pm (UTC)Does that mean he can sing but it carries none of the power of gladrar that it used to?
no subject
Date: 2008-11-25 11:03 pm (UTC)He lost the ability to transform, but not his wings. He has them again at the end when he meets Ashunera, so I think the voice is still there too, but with the magic faded. From his point of view I think it would be the same thing - that there's no point in singing if he can't do it the way he used to, so he just doesn't.
I think of the loss of power as an equalizer, not as something that kills their nature. He's still a heron, and he has the same instincts and characteristics, just not the magic properties that set him so far apart from other races. If you think of Ashunera as a goddess of balance, and the herons are the most spiritually (?) balanced of the tribes, then when a laguz parent loses their powers after mating with a human, it seems to me it should be interpreted as an enforced balance so the family can co-exist. Unequal relationships (in terms of power, religion, education even) are harder to maintain, and since the children are usually born without any laguz characteristics, I think of it as a way to preserve the parent-child relationship too.
... I came up with all of that because I figured Lehran had 800 years to philosophize and talk himself into some form of acceptance of his loss.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-26 03:28 am (UTC)I loved the exposition and how you're able to really make us SEE what's going on. I loved the lines are the end too, and the description of Zelgius' voice.
"The old tongue always did when Sephiran's lips formed the words, whispered on his ear, against his throat, muffled in the bedsheets."
You SOMEHOW made that the sexiest thing ever, though it isn't pornographic in the least.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-26 09:45 am (UTC)Thank you~ I'm glad you enjoyed it. These prompts are just the best ever for lingering on the pretty details. They really are inspirational.