If Briar Moss had known that parties were a large part of mage etiquette, he would have just chosen to work himself to the bone at the docks. Unfortunately, it hadn't been mentioned in the job description, leaving him with dreams of growing an entire forest and a reality of Sandry flapping about him like a mother hen.
"Enough already!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in irritation. "You of all people ought to know that our clothes adjust themselves, seeing as you made them. And yet you're the one fussing about!"
Sandrilene fa Toren scowled at him, both hands on hips. "I'm just making sure," she snapped, her Duchess mode on. Her hair was bound up in the most recent fashion, with little elegant curls framing her face, while a pale blue dress the color of wave foam fluttered around her ankles. "First impressions are always important, especially with these Bags, as you so love to call them. Plus you're a magnet for trouble."
"Am not! Besides, it's a party. What can happen?"
"Will you two calm down?" Smiling, Daja Kisubo walked into the room, resplendent in dark red and gold Trader clothes. "And don't talk like that, Briar, when the last party we went to ended up with a man hanging from the trees."
"Don't forget the visit to Dragonstone," Sandry added, mentioning the fight during a garden visit in Namorn.
Briar rolled his eyes. The tattoos on his arms twitched in response to his mood. The flowers bloomed pale green and gold, matching his golden-lined emerald tunic and dark brown leggings. "That wasn't my fault. Those kaqs started it."
"And yet you continued it." Daja pointed out. Briar ginned toothily at her.
"And you just stood there and won money," he replied. His copper-skinned sister shook her head, giving up on him. She turned to Sandry.
"Have any of you seen Tris, by the way?" she asked. The other girl shook her head. Briar shrugged.
"Look someplace high," he suggested, just as Sandry said, "Can't you reach her?"
Daja shook her head at Sandry's query. "She's blocked herself off."
"That leaves the 'someplace high'," Briar sighed. "Where's the closest tower, Sandry?"
They were currently at the duke's, preparing for yet another party. As Sandry's foster-family and some of the most powerful mages in the entire country, they had an obligation to come to what he liked to call 'preening parties'. After all, their guests' only purpose in coming seemed to be to gauge just how much power he and his sisters had, and whether the soon-to-be Duchess Sandry would be easy to manipulate or get rid of.
He grinned at that thought. People had a tendency to underestimate his family. It would be their demise in the end.
"Try the northern one, it's just a few corners away," Sandry told him absently, taking one last look in the mirror. "And do be quick, I don't think she's changed yet."
With a roll of his eyes and a mutter of, "Why must I always do everything?", Briar sauntered to the door. Pausing, he turned to look back. Daja had a pained, long-suffering expression on her face as Sandry fiddled with a crease here, a wrinkle there….
Briar grinned and walked out. Better you than me, he thought cheerily.
Daja mentally responded with the suggestion he talk things out physically with a snail.
Whistling, he walked on, his bad mood vaporizing. Just around the corner he passed Tris, hair messy and windswept. She raised an eyebrow at his expression. He glanced at her clothes, noting that she was already in her lime green sleeveless gown trimmed in gold and a sky blue under gown with long, puffed sleeves and golden cuffs. Flicking a smirk at her, he jerked a thumb behind him.
"Her Highness wants you," he told her merrily. "'Do be quick', she says. And someone needs to save Daja."
"I will do no saving, and Sandry can fuss with her own clothes for all I care," the redheaded Trisana Chandler said tartly. "We will be seeing you downstairs?" she added, in a tone that clearly meant 'If we have to suffer, so do you'.
"I'll be the first one there," Briar promised. He watched as Tris opened the door, swatted away Sandry's outstretched hand, and walked out of sight. He and Daja shared a look and grinned at the same time.
There was a loud crash, and a scream of, "CHIME!" The door slammed close.
Chuckling, he walked on, hands in his pockets. It was little moments like these that made sure he didn't regret choosing 'temple' over 'docks'.