(This is my first attempt at Emelan fics. I think its cute. A little random, but cute. Lark and Rosie might be a little out of character. It's been awhile since I read Circle of Magic... Please R/R. Flamers will be given to Daine Sarrasri for target practice.)
The sun rose slowly over Winding Circle. The little sprouts turned their leaves to the light and sighed as it filled them. The soft click-clack of a weaving loom filled the morning air. In one of the rooms in the cabin Discipline sat a Dedicate, her hands guiding the shuttle back and forth in and out of the brightly colored threads. Another Dedicate stood by a work bench repotting herbs with care and a practiced hand. Lark hummed softly as she passed the shuttle from hand to hand, weaving her magic into the strands, glancing up from time to time to see how Rosethorn was doing. Rosethorn laughed suddenly, startling Lark.
"Now, what were you doing in the herb garden?"
The subject of her questioning was a small purple flower, a lilac.
"Isn't it obvious, Rosie? It thinks you pay more attention to the herbs than the flowers."
"Of course!" The sarcasm dripped from Rosethorn's words, "Why didn't I think to ask you sooner? After all, you've the greenest thumb in Emelan!"
She cupped the young flower's pot in her hands and walked over to stand beside Lark. She knelt down and placed the flower by Lark's loom and beckoned it to open its petals. The little flower opened its petals wide for Rosethorn and she smiled. Inside, it was a tapestry of purple hues comparable to any Lark could make. Lark fingered the petals gently and then grasped Rosethorn's hand.
"Looks like this little fellow knows something, eh Rosie?"
"Quite so. And what are we going to do about it?"
Lark grinned mischievously, placed her thread and shuttle beside the loom and kissed Rosethorn on the cheek.
"Who says we have to do anything about it?"
With that, she pushed the other woman to the ground and kissed her again, this time passionately and forcefully. Rosethorn's arms encircled Lark, holding her close. Neither of them heard the footsteps coming up the path towards Discipline and neither heard the door as it opened. Each was the other's sole thought and care.
"Rosethorn, Lark, I……"
The voice was unmistakably Briar's. Lark stood up and stepped to the side to allow Rosethorn to get up. The plant mage brushed off her skirt and then looked at her former student.
"I s'pose I ought learn to knock first, eh Rosethorn?"