#131: Gargantuan(picture)- Revolution: 1/?- ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rhiana_fayette - Or
Jan. 24th, 2009 09:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tamingthemuseTitle: Revolution (1/?)
Fandom: Original Fiction
Prompt #131: Gargantuan(picture)
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: "It was pudgy little Paccett who turned the cogs of change and dusted the layer of dust off of time's mantle... Paccett found the Revolution, and Piruta began it."
It was Paccett who originally brought Piruta into the village. It was pudgy little Paccett who turned the cogs of change and dusted the layer of dust off of time's mantle; bright little Paccett who was interested in the wildthing and thought her useful. But it was twiggy, wide-eyed Piruta who kicked the old ways like a decrepit brick into a well. It was Piruta, who spoke Cavui in chopped-up wild syllables, who posted her arms against the boulder and drove it back down the mountain. Paccett found the Revolution, and Piruta began it.
Normalcy hung in the air of the village like the ghost of a benign ancestor, swishing through the marketplace and dust-roads as an amiable sparkle in the heavy humidity. The Rumelean ladies, done up in wool and cotton with ornate patterns, prowled the stalls as watchful lionesses, wares scrutinized so that the very spirit of the object might shudder under the green-eyed gazes and reveal its flaws. Things moved in Rumelea at a steady, unhurried pace; for a village of above average size it was surprisingly slothful, unwilling to move any quicker than a strolling meander. The thick, heavy canopies capped the wooden stalls. It was just a moon ago that omens of the rainy season were sighted, so the lady-merchants brought the thicker, water-resistant tarps out of storage and beat them. The plumes of must were like the polluted bellows of Maqica Mabeo's ciwai. Ciwai was the Rumelean word for a kind of bar without liquor, and this is where Maq. Mabeo and Bab. Grott spent most of their time.
Maq. Mabeo was a kind man who favored scrolls, firelight, and children to adult company. He and Paccett were particular friends in that they had never spoken more than a sentence to one another, but enjoyed each others' presence nearly every day. When she spoke to others, she called him Maqica Mabeo, or just Maqica-- "mister"-- out of respect, but in her head she liked to think of Maq. Mabeo as Sahu, or Uncle. He lent her scrolls to read and they painted pictures together, sometimes late into the night. Paccett's parents didn't mind-- she was the second youngest of seven, with a two moon old baby sister-- because they had far too much to worry about as it was.
Bab. Grott was gifted with perhaps the ugliest name in the world. All the Rumelean lady-merchants and town-workers mocked her, so she tended to remain inside the Ciwai with her twin brother, Mabeo. Grott, in Rumelean, means "blood clot," which is not a very pretty name for anyone at all. But Babae Grott was a kind woman with tan skin, grey eyes, and brown hair. She was delicate, with a long, mournful face. Her marriage had left laugh lines around her mouth; her childlessness, three craggy wrinkles on her brow; her husband's early death, wizened crow's feet curling back from her eyes like engraved lashes. Grott had been beautiful once upon a time. She asked for Paccett to call her Babae.
"Be thankful for your name," she once told Paccett. "You may have a bit of meat on your bones but you're bright and not hard to look at. Your name is what a man will marry you for, Crisp-Sky. I had all the beauty in the world and wit enough for three women, but my name created ugliness in men's hearts. You, Crisp-Sky, Paccett... the parents that named you knew well the consequences of their decision."
Babae said nothing of the parents that named her. She placed a hand over the young girl's stout fingers, her skin cool and refreshing like a cool ocean breeze. Paccett nodded, not completely understanding, and made a silly joke to see her Babae's young-old face break into its usual leaf-filtered-light radiance.
Paccett's father and mother didn't have any siblings, so Paccett was without any Uncles or Aunts. Mabeo and Grott filled that hole as if it were naturally meant to be. Babae more than made up for Sahu's silence; she was a gentle and chatty woman who adored children and often thought of Paccett as her own. In a way, she was.
But when Paccett came through the door tugging in a wildthing, everything changed.
Fandom: Original Fiction
Prompt #131: Gargantuan(picture)
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: "It was pudgy little Paccett who turned the cogs of change and dusted the layer of dust off of time's mantle... Paccett found the Revolution, and Piruta began it."
It was Paccett who originally brought Piruta into the village. It was pudgy little Paccett who turned the cogs of change and dusted the layer of dust off of time's mantle; bright little Paccett who was interested in the wildthing and thought her useful. But it was twiggy, wide-eyed Piruta who kicked the old ways like a decrepit brick into a well. It was Piruta, who spoke Cavui in chopped-up wild syllables, who posted her arms against the boulder and drove it back down the mountain. Paccett found the Revolution, and Piruta began it.
Normalcy hung in the air of the village like the ghost of a benign ancestor, swishing through the marketplace and dust-roads as an amiable sparkle in the heavy humidity. The Rumelean ladies, done up in wool and cotton with ornate patterns, prowled the stalls as watchful lionesses, wares scrutinized so that the very spirit of the object might shudder under the green-eyed gazes and reveal its flaws. Things moved in Rumelea at a steady, unhurried pace; for a village of above average size it was surprisingly slothful, unwilling to move any quicker than a strolling meander. The thick, heavy canopies capped the wooden stalls. It was just a moon ago that omens of the rainy season were sighted, so the lady-merchants brought the thicker, water-resistant tarps out of storage and beat them. The plumes of must were like the polluted bellows of Maqica Mabeo's ciwai. Ciwai was the Rumelean word for a kind of bar without liquor, and this is where Maq. Mabeo and Bab. Grott spent most of their time.
Maq. Mabeo was a kind man who favored scrolls, firelight, and children to adult company. He and Paccett were particular friends in that they had never spoken more than a sentence to one another, but enjoyed each others' presence nearly every day. When she spoke to others, she called him Maqica Mabeo, or just Maqica-- "mister"-- out of respect, but in her head she liked to think of Maq. Mabeo as Sahu, or Uncle. He lent her scrolls to read and they painted pictures together, sometimes late into the night. Paccett's parents didn't mind-- she was the second youngest of seven, with a two moon old baby sister-- because they had far too much to worry about as it was.
Bab. Grott was gifted with perhaps the ugliest name in the world. All the Rumelean lady-merchants and town-workers mocked her, so she tended to remain inside the Ciwai with her twin brother, Mabeo. Grott, in Rumelean, means "blood clot," which is not a very pretty name for anyone at all. But Babae Grott was a kind woman with tan skin, grey eyes, and brown hair. She was delicate, with a long, mournful face. Her marriage had left laugh lines around her mouth; her childlessness, three craggy wrinkles on her brow; her husband's early death, wizened crow's feet curling back from her eyes like engraved lashes. Grott had been beautiful once upon a time. She asked for Paccett to call her Babae.
"Be thankful for your name," she once told Paccett. "You may have a bit of meat on your bones but you're bright and not hard to look at. Your name is what a man will marry you for, Crisp-Sky. I had all the beauty in the world and wit enough for three women, but my name created ugliness in men's hearts. You, Crisp-Sky, Paccett... the parents that named you knew well the consequences of their decision."
Babae said nothing of the parents that named her. She placed a hand over the young girl's stout fingers, her skin cool and refreshing like a cool ocean breeze. Paccett nodded, not completely understanding, and made a silly joke to see her Babae's young-old face break into its usual leaf-filtered-light radiance.
Paccett's father and mother didn't have any siblings, so Paccett was without any Uncles or Aunts. Mabeo and Grott filled that hole as if it were naturally meant to be. Babae more than made up for Sahu's silence; she was a gentle and chatty woman who adored children and often thought of Paccett as her own. In a way, she was.
But when Paccett came through the door tugging in a wildthing, everything changed.
