Work Text:
It was well after midnight, both moons at their peak in the sky, and Liinnae stood in front of the workbench in the greenhouse. While she normally worked on these projects during the day, it was essential for this miniature garden that she work in the night. In fact, the darkness, along with the moonlight, was the most important element this time.
Liinnae picked up the clear crystal orb Dorian gave her earlier in the day. Her centerpiece. She peered into the orb and allowed her thoughts to fall to her friend, Neirine. Liinnae knew she would love whatever Liinnae created for her. Normally that thought would be enough for Liinnae, but this time, her friend, Neirine, needed something more. That something more is what made her nervous and insecure about this one in ways far different than what she’s felt with previous ones she’s made. She was relying on intuition this time, and not carefully laid chaotic plans.
She placed the orb in the moonbeam shining across the workbench. She then picked up her brush, dipped it in the black paint, and touched it to the basin in front of her.
The images came to her clearly, and the brush moved deftly with a skill that was almost magical. Blue-black river water, swirling, lapping, cleansing, both calm and turbulent, stretching into the sky, wrapping itself around the moon with a gentle embrace. Violet-gold moonbeams rolling, falling, leading, guiding, a kiss caressing the two occupants of the vessel on the water. The self. The shadow. Same but different. Always seeking. Both competing for, both craving the touch of their never failing, never faltering lover: the moon.
Her brush stopped and she found that her breathing was heavy, her cheeks were wet. She had to pull the brush away, but the images in her mind weren’t finished. There was more, just one more, they demanded. One more. Liinnae gave in; she could give it one more.
A sword piercing, rending, bleeding the unseen heart at the feet of the occupants on the bottom of the vessel. She set the brush aside. The images in her head were quiet, she was done.A wave of her hand and the paint dried, sealed.
Liinnae closed her eyes and breathed through the ache in her heart. When she opened them she began work on the garden itself. The empty dark basin found itself slowly filled, keeping, holding, possessive of what it held inside. A foundation, a bed of small, smooth stones, pulled from the depths of the river, familiar, solid, an anchor for the blue-black river water that filled the basin. Blue-black water: a resting place, protecting and nourishing the dawn lotus floating in the middle.
To the side, an island; a respite from the heavy blue-black waters, the heartbeat measuring the ever slow change of time, sustenance for the life entrusted within. Life: a pair of orchids demanding space and attention for their delicate beauty, space for their ever evolving, ever scarred and perfect love for one another. Life: a cloak of ivy: befriending, protecting, falling, entwining itself into the inhabitants of the environment, supporting, and strangling, suffocating when gone unchecked.
Upon the obsidian pedestal, Liinnae placed the now darkened and luminous crystal orb. Whorling inside: the unconditional love and acceptance of darkness, embracing without question, recipient of tears and burdens without impossible demands for change. Gentle light of the moon leading, guiding, following, careful not to encroach on the domain it shares with the darkness, and always careful not to smother its charge
She stepped back to take in the entirety of what she just created. It was perfect and flawed, and … she exhaled slowly trying to find the right word … private. She had created a pocket of the night time universe just for Neirine. Or--more accurately--it used Liinnae to create itself.
All at once she was exhausted, and elated, and terrified at its existence. Her previous miniature gardens were created for the purpose of cheering one up, a prompt for joy. This one--Liinnae attached a small chime to a thin stake and pushed it into the island--this one’s purpose seemed to be one of absolute acceptance, a reminder that someone cares.
She bit her lower lip and contemplated setting it aside and creating a brighter one, a more cheery one. Could she really give this to her? She shook her head to dislodge the doubt. Solas is always telling to trust her instincts, and her instincts … or something like them … created this.
Before she could change her mind, she encased the miniature water garden in a stasis field to keep it from sloshing around. And another to make it light enough to carry, but she couldn’t take it just yet. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon. The miniature garden was created in, and with the darkness, it should be given in the darkness.
“Until tomorrow night,” she said as she left the greenhouse, gently closing the door behind her.