Interstice
Jun. 25th, 2012 05:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shinonFandom: Fire Emblem 6/7
Characters: Canas, Niime
Word count: ~1150
Warnings: There's a little blood in it and this family is creepy?
Notes: Set in some weird urban fantasy AU crossover universe like I've been talking about and never used.Originally I intended this for fe_contest, but then I was like "how much spooky magical Canas doom does this community really need I mean seriously." I have ideas for other fic in the same universe, which I'll perhaps try to write instead, since I think I have done too much worldbuilding in my head to not use any of it.
ETA: haha just kidding, I'm a hack and I'm totally entering it.
The crossing was paid in blood. Most crossings are.
"Safety scissors," said Niime. "Really, now."
Canas adjusted his glasses, leaving a dark red smudge over the bridge of his nose. "Hugh was doing crafts."
"He'll wonder where you went."
He might also wonder why his father had suddenly snatched his scissors away and started cutting the thin skin covering the inside of his own elbow. Then again, he might not. "He's a bright boy. Anyway, the neighbor upstairs said she'd check on him if she felt a portal opening."
"You keep odd neighbors."
"Yes," Canas said brightly. He thought he'd chosen their apartment well. His wife agreed. With Niime it was a bit more of a point of contention. Too far from the leylines, she said, meaning too far from my control. He tucked the scissors into his pocket and had to admit, on further consideration, that there was something in their green plastic handles that did not inspire much confidence. Well, perhaps the shadows had an appreciation for irony.
"At least you answered promptly enough," she said, and nodded further into the dark – to the extent that distance meant anything here, outside the borders of physical space. He had tried to take some measures of distance on this side before. His brothers had considered this impractical.
His brothers had been lost for five years now – even though, in the end, he had concluded that they were right.
"Come," said Niime, "the shadows are restless and the walls are weak. I'll have to talk to that Grado boy. Don't know what the hell he thinks he's doing." She turned and walked into the dark.
Canas followed. "It might not be him, Mother. There are others."
"Oh, I know. Ashnard's bastard, for one. It's going the rounds at the universities these days, I hear. Very trendy, like heroin and that nonsense with the gears and goggles. Idiot children."
"I'd consider elder magic to be, ah, on somewhat of a different tier than steampunk," said Canas, who happened to have more than cursory knowledge of both. Not that he would ever think of discussing the latter with his mother, who claimed to have been alive for the real Victorian era and said it had not impressed her. This was within the realm of possibility, if time worked as differently under the influence of magic as did all the other dimensions. There were no records of Niime's birth anywhere.
They walked on. The sound of their footfalls was muffled, like they were treading on velvet. There were so many odd physical properties to this space between the worlds. Had they not been on more urgent business, Canas might have tried to take more samples. It was still hard to believe that a mere ten years ago, no one had even known this was here, this fascinating border state between their reality and –
Well, nobody had crossed all the way through the wall yet, but whatever was on the other side was something far more ancient and unfathomable. He could feel something of its atmosphere, sometimes, leaking through. It smelled like gasoline and dead flowers, and it wrapped its tendrils around you, filling the inside of your skull.
He and his mother talked of going there sometimes. They would conjecture about what awaited them and lay plans for contingencies for an hour or more, and then Canas would remember himself and say, blinking, "After Hugh is in college, of course." That always put an end to it. He could not leave his family now. But Hugh was only five. The day for that journey of discovery seemed unfairly far off.
"Can you hear them yet?" said Niime.
Canas cocked his head to one side. He could hear something – a susurrus in many voices, coming from no defined point but swirling around them in a circle. "Yes," he said, and listened a moment more. The circle seemed to be narrowing. "It seems they find us faster every time."
Niime snorted. "What did I tell you?"
The circle continued to close. The sound grew louder – the whispering of madmen, the hissing of beasts, or the final gasps of the dying, perhaps; these things were hard to characterize. The time for idle contemplation, at any rate, was over. Niime held her left hand up in front of her, palm out. Canas put his back against his mother's and did the same.
It wasn't light they made, but a hole punched through the blackness. Canas held his half of the image in his mind and let the magic flow down his arm, riding his blood. He slowly expanded the image, let it rise up and meet Niime's half. They stitched together seamlessly, and the spell came alive.
As well it should have. She had drilled him on this from the moment their duties became clear, and harder when the others were gone. Elder magic weakened the walls of the world; someone had to cauterize these wounds.
That was the justification, anyway. In truth, Canas would have done anything to get this close to the source of magic. He knew his mother would have, too. Saving the world was a bonus, though not a small one when he reminded himself that the world had his wife and son in it.
Canas lowered his hand, and Niime hers. The pattern they had drawn in their minds shimmered around their feet, a circle filled with sigils it would have taken far too long to draw by hand (not that his eldest brother hadn't tried). The whispering rose to a wail, and then subsided.
You never noticed how much these things took out of you until they were done. Canas reeled as he let go of the spell, reached out to steady himself, and found nothing.
Niime grabbed his arm, and quite charitably did not speak any of the criticism that must have hovered on her tongue. "Spirit charming, I think."
"That's ... disheartening," said Canas, woozy. "If people would only study it properly, and not try to take shortcuts –"
"It's a route to knowledge and power," said his mother, "and the stakes are high enough. People don't do that who aren't serious." She let go of him and took a few steps away.
He found his equilibrium had returned, but he was tired to his bones. Those shadows had been stronger than the usual. Was that what a spirit charmer could do? And what had been the effect in the everyday world, if it had done such damage here?
"We'll do this on a schedule from now on," said Niime. "Keep ahead of the damage, instead of just waiting to do repairs."
"You want to see what this newcomer can do," said Canas. "Observe the changes in the topography..."
Niime smirked. "So do you." With a wave of her hand, she crossed back over.
Canas stood studying the darkness a few minutes before he did the same.
Characters: Canas, Niime
Word count: ~1150
Warnings: There's a little blood in it and this family is creepy?
Notes: Set in some weird urban fantasy AU crossover universe like I've been talking about and never used.
ETA: haha just kidding, I'm a hack and I'm totally entering it.
The crossing was paid in blood. Most crossings are.
"Safety scissors," said Niime. "Really, now."
Canas adjusted his glasses, leaving a dark red smudge over the bridge of his nose. "Hugh was doing crafts."
"He'll wonder where you went."
He might also wonder why his father had suddenly snatched his scissors away and started cutting the thin skin covering the inside of his own elbow. Then again, he might not. "He's a bright boy. Anyway, the neighbor upstairs said she'd check on him if she felt a portal opening."
"You keep odd neighbors."
"Yes," Canas said brightly. He thought he'd chosen their apartment well. His wife agreed. With Niime it was a bit more of a point of contention. Too far from the leylines, she said, meaning too far from my control. He tucked the scissors into his pocket and had to admit, on further consideration, that there was something in their green plastic handles that did not inspire much confidence. Well, perhaps the shadows had an appreciation for irony.
"At least you answered promptly enough," she said, and nodded further into the dark – to the extent that distance meant anything here, outside the borders of physical space. He had tried to take some measures of distance on this side before. His brothers had considered this impractical.
His brothers had been lost for five years now – even though, in the end, he had concluded that they were right.
"Come," said Niime, "the shadows are restless and the walls are weak. I'll have to talk to that Grado boy. Don't know what the hell he thinks he's doing." She turned and walked into the dark.
Canas followed. "It might not be him, Mother. There are others."
"Oh, I know. Ashnard's bastard, for one. It's going the rounds at the universities these days, I hear. Very trendy, like heroin and that nonsense with the gears and goggles. Idiot children."
"I'd consider elder magic to be, ah, on somewhat of a different tier than steampunk," said Canas, who happened to have more than cursory knowledge of both. Not that he would ever think of discussing the latter with his mother, who claimed to have been alive for the real Victorian era and said it had not impressed her. This was within the realm of possibility, if time worked as differently under the influence of magic as did all the other dimensions. There were no records of Niime's birth anywhere.
They walked on. The sound of their footfalls was muffled, like they were treading on velvet. There were so many odd physical properties to this space between the worlds. Had they not been on more urgent business, Canas might have tried to take more samples. It was still hard to believe that a mere ten years ago, no one had even known this was here, this fascinating border state between their reality and –
Well, nobody had crossed all the way through the wall yet, but whatever was on the other side was something far more ancient and unfathomable. He could feel something of its atmosphere, sometimes, leaking through. It smelled like gasoline and dead flowers, and it wrapped its tendrils around you, filling the inside of your skull.
He and his mother talked of going there sometimes. They would conjecture about what awaited them and lay plans for contingencies for an hour or more, and then Canas would remember himself and say, blinking, "After Hugh is in college, of course." That always put an end to it. He could not leave his family now. But Hugh was only five. The day for that journey of discovery seemed unfairly far off.
"Can you hear them yet?" said Niime.
Canas cocked his head to one side. He could hear something – a susurrus in many voices, coming from no defined point but swirling around them in a circle. "Yes," he said, and listened a moment more. The circle seemed to be narrowing. "It seems they find us faster every time."
Niime snorted. "What did I tell you?"
The circle continued to close. The sound grew louder – the whispering of madmen, the hissing of beasts, or the final gasps of the dying, perhaps; these things were hard to characterize. The time for idle contemplation, at any rate, was over. Niime held her left hand up in front of her, palm out. Canas put his back against his mother's and did the same.
It wasn't light they made, but a hole punched through the blackness. Canas held his half of the image in his mind and let the magic flow down his arm, riding his blood. He slowly expanded the image, let it rise up and meet Niime's half. They stitched together seamlessly, and the spell came alive.
As well it should have. She had drilled him on this from the moment their duties became clear, and harder when the others were gone. Elder magic weakened the walls of the world; someone had to cauterize these wounds.
That was the justification, anyway. In truth, Canas would have done anything to get this close to the source of magic. He knew his mother would have, too. Saving the world was a bonus, though not a small one when he reminded himself that the world had his wife and son in it.
Canas lowered his hand, and Niime hers. The pattern they had drawn in their minds shimmered around their feet, a circle filled with sigils it would have taken far too long to draw by hand (not that his eldest brother hadn't tried). The whispering rose to a wail, and then subsided.
You never noticed how much these things took out of you until they were done. Canas reeled as he let go of the spell, reached out to steady himself, and found nothing.
Niime grabbed his arm, and quite charitably did not speak any of the criticism that must have hovered on her tongue. "Spirit charming, I think."
"That's ... disheartening," said Canas, woozy. "If people would only study it properly, and not try to take shortcuts –"
"It's a route to knowledge and power," said his mother, "and the stakes are high enough. People don't do that who aren't serious." She let go of him and took a few steps away.
He found his equilibrium had returned, but he was tired to his bones. Those shadows had been stronger than the usual. Was that what a spirit charmer could do? And what had been the effect in the everyday world, if it had done such damage here?
"We'll do this on a schedule from now on," said Niime. "Keep ahead of the damage, instead of just waiting to do repairs."
"You want to see what this newcomer can do," said Canas. "Observe the changes in the topography..."
Niime smirked. "So do you." With a wave of her hand, she crossed back over.
Canas stood studying the darkness a few minutes before he did the same.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-03 10:08 am (UTC)But yeah, I enjoyed reading this, and I thought all the details about the universe itself were really fun (Canas's odd neighbors, university student trendiness, etc).
I'd love to know more about the nature of magic in this world and that realm o' darkness—do you have any plans for future fics set in this 'verse?
(no subject)
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