Week # 11 (Limn) : Corposant
Aug. 13th, 2011 12:19 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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sga_saturdayTitle: Corposant
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ceitie
Category/Characters: Gen, Teyla and John
Rating: G
Disclaimer: SGA and its characters don't belong to me.
Word Count: 791
Summary:Faith, hope and electrical weather phenomena.
The crossing was not arduous, but it was long. They were lucky enough to arrive on Deln on an evening where the sea was calm, although the boat’s captain had warned Teyla that a storm was drawing near. There would be no difficulty making the journey from the small island on which Deln’s gate was located to the larger land mass that held its towns and villages, but the storm would likely keep them from making the trip back for at least a few days.
Teyla welcomed this extension of their time on Deln; Deln was warm and humid in this season, and the salt smell of its sea was lighter and less brackish than that of the waters surrounding Atlantis. It had been some time since she had been off-world, and the cool, processed air and smooth surfaces of the city had begun to itch at her skin. Standing at the boat dock, earth and stones under her feet and seabirds wailing overhead, Teyla had closed her eyes and breathed deep.
The boat itself was somewhat less invigorating. Teyla had no particular fondness for boats and her teammates seemed to feel the same way, judging from Rodney’s grumbling and John and Ronon’s frowns. The boat was not large, and they had to tuck themselves against the side in order to avoid getting in the way of its crew. There was nowhere to sit but the hard wooden floor of the open deck, and the boards were rough and smelled of fish.
Ronon immediately stretched out on the ground, stole Rodney’s pack to use as pillow and closed his eyes. John shrugged and pulled out a pack of cards, and began to lay them out in now familiar patterns of Patience when neither Teyla nor Rodney took up his offer to play. Rodney poked busily at his tablet, and Teyla watched the crew at their mysterious work that seemed to involve much grunting and tugging at ropes. The sky darkened, stars beginning to appear even as the dark clouds on the horizon crept closer and blotted them out.
Teyla fell asleep, and when she woke it was nearly full night. The wind had picked up, the sailcloths overhead were full and straining. Teyla sat up from her slump against the side of the boat, rubbing the soreness out of her neck and shoulder, her clothing clammy from the damp in the air. She could feel the tension humming through the ship and the wind, through the whole world around them, raising the hair on her arms. The storm was near.
As far as she could tell, John was the only one awake. He was staring up into the forest of masts above them, and his eyes were wide with something that looked closer to wonder than fear.
“John?” Teyla asked, keeping her voice quiet.
He glanced over at her, startled, but then smiled like a boy, wide and delighted. “Teyla, look,” he said, pointing up at the tops of the masts.
She followed the line of his hand and gasped when she saw it. Light, blue-violet and flickering, dancing along the tops of each mast and gleaming even from the maze of ropes connecting them. It was lovely and eerie all at once, and for a moment Teyla thought that they must have stumbled upon some work of the Ancestors, before she remembered.
“Ancestors’ light,” Teyla said, thinking of drunken stories told of perilous voyages, from which the teller had always barely managed to survive thanks to their daring, wits and luck. “That’s what sailors call it. It comes before a storm sometimes, or during, to show their blessing on the journey.”
“We call it St. Elmo’s fire,” John said, his head tipped back against the wooden side. “I’ve never seen it before. It’s –” He stopped. “I don’t know, it looks like it shouldn’t be real.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and then John's eyes shifted over to her. "A blessing on the journey, huh?"
There was something vulnerable in his face, and Teyla could hear the weight of five years and countless losses in his question. She reached out and took his hand in hers without thinking about it. John swallowed, and Teyla turned her face back up to the pale flames.
“They are beautiful,” Teyla said. She didn’t ask whether Rodney, if he were awake, would be able to provide one of his beloved scientific explanations for the light, and John didn’t seem inclined to volunteer one. Rodney would scoff, but Teyla thought that some things, sometimes, were better left as strange and wondrous.
“Yeah,” John said softly, and they watched the lights together until the boat glided in to shore, leaving the storm behind them.
Author:
ceitieCategory/Characters: Gen, Teyla and John
Rating: G
Disclaimer: SGA and its characters don't belong to me.
Word Count: 791
Summary:Faith, hope and electrical weather phenomena.
The crossing was not arduous, but it was long. They were lucky enough to arrive on Deln on an evening where the sea was calm, although the boat’s captain had warned Teyla that a storm was drawing near. There would be no difficulty making the journey from the small island on which Deln’s gate was located to the larger land mass that held its towns and villages, but the storm would likely keep them from making the trip back for at least a few days.
Teyla welcomed this extension of their time on Deln; Deln was warm and humid in this season, and the salt smell of its sea was lighter and less brackish than that of the waters surrounding Atlantis. It had been some time since she had been off-world, and the cool, processed air and smooth surfaces of the city had begun to itch at her skin. Standing at the boat dock, earth and stones under her feet and seabirds wailing overhead, Teyla had closed her eyes and breathed deep.
The boat itself was somewhat less invigorating. Teyla had no particular fondness for boats and her teammates seemed to feel the same way, judging from Rodney’s grumbling and John and Ronon’s frowns. The boat was not large, and they had to tuck themselves against the side in order to avoid getting in the way of its crew. There was nowhere to sit but the hard wooden floor of the open deck, and the boards were rough and smelled of fish.
Ronon immediately stretched out on the ground, stole Rodney’s pack to use as pillow and closed his eyes. John shrugged and pulled out a pack of cards, and began to lay them out in now familiar patterns of Patience when neither Teyla nor Rodney took up his offer to play. Rodney poked busily at his tablet, and Teyla watched the crew at their mysterious work that seemed to involve much grunting and tugging at ropes. The sky darkened, stars beginning to appear even as the dark clouds on the horizon crept closer and blotted them out.
Teyla fell asleep, and when she woke it was nearly full night. The wind had picked up, the sailcloths overhead were full and straining. Teyla sat up from her slump against the side of the boat, rubbing the soreness out of her neck and shoulder, her clothing clammy from the damp in the air. She could feel the tension humming through the ship and the wind, through the whole world around them, raising the hair on her arms. The storm was near.
As far as she could tell, John was the only one awake. He was staring up into the forest of masts above them, and his eyes were wide with something that looked closer to wonder than fear.
“John?” Teyla asked, keeping her voice quiet.
He glanced over at her, startled, but then smiled like a boy, wide and delighted. “Teyla, look,” he said, pointing up at the tops of the masts.
She followed the line of his hand and gasped when she saw it. Light, blue-violet and flickering, dancing along the tops of each mast and gleaming even from the maze of ropes connecting them. It was lovely and eerie all at once, and for a moment Teyla thought that they must have stumbled upon some work of the Ancestors, before she remembered.
“Ancestors’ light,” Teyla said, thinking of drunken stories told of perilous voyages, from which the teller had always barely managed to survive thanks to their daring, wits and luck. “That’s what sailors call it. It comes before a storm sometimes, or during, to show their blessing on the journey.”
“We call it St. Elmo’s fire,” John said, his head tipped back against the wooden side. “I’ve never seen it before. It’s –” He stopped. “I don’t know, it looks like it shouldn’t be real.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and then John's eyes shifted over to her. "A blessing on the journey, huh?"
There was something vulnerable in his face, and Teyla could hear the weight of five years and countless losses in his question. She reached out and took his hand in hers without thinking about it. John swallowed, and Teyla turned her face back up to the pale flames.
“They are beautiful,” Teyla said. She didn’t ask whether Rodney, if he were awake, would be able to provide one of his beloved scientific explanations for the light, and John didn’t seem inclined to volunteer one. Rodney would scoff, but Teyla thought that some things, sometimes, were better left as strange and wondrous.
“Yeah,” John said softly, and they watched the lights together until the boat glided in to shore, leaving the storm behind them.
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