AN: This's a double drabble written in the wee hours of a morning while at university. To explain a couple things: I got introduced to this series by an aunt who was watching an early episode and was walked in on by a ten-year-old me. Years later I rediscovered and remembered. and when I say I hear colors and see words, it's literal. Blindness gives one a unique sense of the world.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate SG-1, if I did... well that's wishful thinking on my part. I've just got a headful of quirky ideas, and that's it.
I hear colors and I see words, and if their voices formed an audible tapestry they would be tinted champagne and ocean sand. Two woven almost as one, to finish each other's thoughts and strike each other's balance, rival each other's loud and compliment each other's velveteen quiet.
and if their voices formed a visible tapestry they would be heartwood of ebony and forest green to make a druid euphoric. The warrior and the intellectual, ascended, descended but human, traitor but human, alien but human. So unlikely, to see the forest and the trees.
And if five voices formed a mental tapestry, they would be auburn and gold, copper threaded and trained, silver sparked seriousness harboring delicate Northern windchimes for laughter. Soldiers lose their steel and enemy become charge, do no harm, I will do no harm.
And if woven voices form a tangible tapestry, let them be a patchwork of squares pieced together on this memory's ever cluttered wall, and I will gift these voices to my children as they were unwittingly gifted to me. They are beloved, five-shaded calico irrevocably sewn, five-stranded, braided, a quintet in an unlikely harmony and they are wonderfully familiar fabric when they sing.