wintersday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wintersday) wrote2022-07-10 06:58 pm
wintersday) wrote2022-07-10 06:58 pm
Fic: Cosmogenesis
Title: Cosmogenesis
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: Jade
Wordcount: 250
Rating: PG
POV: Second person
Summary: Jade tends her garden
Notes: Vaguely AU-ish
They’re seeds, these bright, dense cores, star-sized but small and hot in your hands. You scatter them in their fields of dust, and one by one, they collapse into fusion.
The flowers on your island didn’t need cultivation. They were in their own ecosystem, self-sufficient, but you liked digging your nails into the dirt, watching life grow from your efforts. You needed something to love. It’s like that now, watching gravity do its work on ice and dust. Each globe would form without you there, in its own time without Dave’s hand to spin time along, but you’re the one who tends them.
This one will be red and gold, you think, as you set the right spin on it, and that one cold and distant, turbulent with storms on methane oceans. This one will pull a handful of wandering satellites into its orbit. And that one, close enough to the center for warmth – that one might one day be blue and green and brown, like a cloudy marble.
It’s only a guess, or a hope. You can’t control what grows from the seeds you planted. You don’t really want to, and if no good place for humans and trolls ever comes of any of it, there’s another Earth sitting safe in your pocket. Still, you’re in the mood for something new, a world to match the layered beat this whole universe keeps time to. And you like the thought that maybe, somewhere in your garden, you might find home.
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: Jade
Wordcount: 250
Rating: PG
POV: Second person
Summary: Jade tends her garden
Notes: Vaguely AU-ish
They’re seeds, these bright, dense cores, star-sized but small and hot in your hands. You scatter them in their fields of dust, and one by one, they collapse into fusion.
The flowers on your island didn’t need cultivation. They were in their own ecosystem, self-sufficient, but you liked digging your nails into the dirt, watching life grow from your efforts. You needed something to love. It’s like that now, watching gravity do its work on ice and dust. Each globe would form without you there, in its own time without Dave’s hand to spin time along, but you’re the one who tends them.
This one will be red and gold, you think, as you set the right spin on it, and that one cold and distant, turbulent with storms on methane oceans. This one will pull a handful of wandering satellites into its orbit. And that one, close enough to the center for warmth – that one might one day be blue and green and brown, like a cloudy marble.
It’s only a guess, or a hope. You can’t control what grows from the seeds you planted. You don’t really want to, and if no good place for humans and trolls ever comes of any of it, there’s another Earth sitting safe in your pocket. Still, you’re in the mood for something new, a world to match the layered beat this whole universe keeps time to. And you like the thought that maybe, somewhere in your garden, you might find home.