#sfbb2019

Call to War Trinity painted by Gassada

(art by @finngualart)

They sit there in silence for a while. Thomas adds another log to the fire. He wonders if he should go, if they should leave it there for today, but something tells him to wait.

At last Silver sighs.  “You found me. You washed me. You tended my wounds. What else did you do that I don’t remember?”

Thomas glances quickly at Silver, expecting to see some accusation in his eyes, but there is none. Silver is truly, simply, asking the question.

“I read to you.” Thomas says at last.

Silver’s brow creases. “You read to me.” With this admission too, he’s at a loss.

“It passes the time.” Thomas says easily. “I already intended to read, I might as well do it aloud.”

Silver nods to himself, rubbing his thumb moodily against his chin. “Will you read to me now?”

“Yes.” Thomas says, when the surprise has finally left him room enough to speak.

He reaches for the book that he had put to one side the other evening. Silver settles back upon the bed. Thomas takes up his place on the stool, leaning forward as he reads.

the whole estate of mortal man by @runawaymarbles

He can’t rest unless he removes himself from the war. Otherwise it will continue to consume him bit by bit until there is nothing left to take from him. Once that happens, he’d just be a pile of bits and pieces, boiling over with rage that he didn’t do something sooner.

“ Here is a story:

Many years ago, under the blooms of a jacaranda tree, there was a boy born in a house next to the sea.

This boy who had no mother, save for the moon, would change his face like hers and call himself by many names. Would be raised by himself and by magic, caught between many lives and belonging to no one.

This is a boy with no name, but full to bursting with the desire to be known. To be loved.

How does one without a name become known?

So he named himself Silver, after the moon that taught him how to survive. Who taught him that the dark was not so frightening as long as her bright, kind face looked down on him. That the world was livable in those quiet hours when mankind slept and the animals and plants had time to breathe without fear.

This was a boy who desired to be loved in a world where love was not easy and this, perhaps, is the most tragic thing of all. ”

SilverFlint Big Bang 2019

Cover for the fic Elijah’s Violin written by @jadedbirch