And spring opened the door [OCs - Seija]
Apr. 1st, 2017 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: And spring opened the door
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent
Characters: Seija (Original character)
Rating: 0+
Length: 400 words
Summary: With spring comes the thaw, and with the thaw comes the river breakup. It's time to go.
Other: I've wanted to write something with Niko's river-navigator sister for a while. So, here she is. (I will write other things with her, but that's it for now) [Original post]
And spring opened the door
Winter has bedded down again. For a while.
The ice has splintered, cracked like an egg, set the lake and rivers free-flowing. The birds have come back, and the sun. Kajaani has come alive.
The thaw has stirred other things. It always does.
Seija breathes the air, takes it in, tastes it. Sharp and cold but not half as chilled as it was a week ago, even a day ago. A smoky tang tells her that clearance across the lake has already started.
Spring is short here, far shorter than she'd like, briefer than it would be if she had anything to say about it. They don't have much time. She doesn't have much time.
If all goes well, her convoy will leave tomorrow.
Along the lake, then down the river, slipping out in their quick boats through a land some call silent. But it's hardly silent at all. The air there is filled with the shouting of rapids, the banks stirring with who-knows-what.
It'll all be cleansed eventually. Some day. Or so they say. So Keuruu says. So she heard the last time she was down there. When was that? Two years ago. Three.
Seija will believe it when she sees it. They say a lot of things in Keuruu, and most of it is bullshit. She can't remember the last time anyone from down there came up here, saw Kajaani for themselves. Too difficult to get here, they said. It's too much of a risk. Radio contact will have to do.
Not "you're on your own". That isn't what they say down there. Not in so many words. But everyone knows the truth – that they should think themselves lucky to have any contact. That they should be grateful for the tiny sliver of funding allotted to them.
She turns to go, slip inside. There are things she needs to tend to. Check things over, all of it. Her personal effects, and the trade goods, and the travel permits. The bundle of mail bound for Luleå.
This evening she will say her goodbyes. Her brother will cling to her like he always does, and her mother will look pale and troubled, like she always does.
They all know that this time could be the last. Or the next. Or the one after that.
It doesn't matter.
As long as she lives and the river flows, she'll ride it again.
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent
Characters: Seija (Original character)
Rating: 0+
Length: 400 words
Summary: With spring comes the thaw, and with the thaw comes the river breakup. It's time to go.
Other: I've wanted to write something with Niko's river-navigator sister for a while. So, here she is. (I will write other things with her, but that's it for now) [Original post]
And spring opened the door
Winter has bedded down again. For a while.
The ice has splintered, cracked like an egg, set the lake and rivers free-flowing. The birds have come back, and the sun. Kajaani has come alive.
The thaw has stirred other things. It always does.
Seija breathes the air, takes it in, tastes it. Sharp and cold but not half as chilled as it was a week ago, even a day ago. A smoky tang tells her that clearance across the lake has already started.
Spring is short here, far shorter than she'd like, briefer than it would be if she had anything to say about it. They don't have much time. She doesn't have much time.
If all goes well, her convoy will leave tomorrow.
Along the lake, then down the river, slipping out in their quick boats through a land some call silent. But it's hardly silent at all. The air there is filled with the shouting of rapids, the banks stirring with who-knows-what.
It'll all be cleansed eventually. Some day. Or so they say. So Keuruu says. So she heard the last time she was down there. When was that? Two years ago. Three.
Seija will believe it when she sees it. They say a lot of things in Keuruu, and most of it is bullshit. She can't remember the last time anyone from down there came up here, saw Kajaani for themselves. Too difficult to get here, they said. It's too much of a risk. Radio contact will have to do.
Not "you're on your own". That isn't what they say down there. Not in so many words. But everyone knows the truth – that they should think themselves lucky to have any contact. That they should be grateful for the tiny sliver of funding allotted to them.
She turns to go, slip inside. There are things she needs to tend to. Check things over, all of it. Her personal effects, and the trade goods, and the travel permits. The bundle of mail bound for Luleå.
This evening she will say her goodbyes. Her brother will cling to her like he always does, and her mother will look pale and troubled, like she always does.
They all know that this time could be the last. Or the next. Or the one after that.
It doesn't matter.
As long as she lives and the river flows, she'll ride it again.
