"Do you know why you're in here?" asked Deryn. The phrase sounded incredibly stupid, especially when talking to a fifteen—year old who had been grounded for no good reason.
Sophie sighed. She was laid spread—eagle across her bed, agitated by being confined to her room for the past three hours, all for something that she'd done almost every day when the weather was nice.
"For hitting golf balls off the roof," she said, flipping over and staring straight into her mother's eyes. Her green eyes were filled with indignation, and a frown had settled on her face.
"Not exactly, lassie."
"Then why am I in here?" cried Sophie, standing up and folding her arms across her chest. She was almost as tall as Deryn, and had the same, thin features, even if she did have her father's eyes and hair.
"Because shooting golf balls off the roof of Konopischt is dangerous, for one," said Deryn feebly. As if she could lecture her daughter about avoiding dangerous things.
Sophie actually snorted.
"I'll have none of that from you," said Deryn. "Even if I don't really want to reprimand you, I'm still your ma."
Sophie mumbled a "Sorry," opened her window, and leaned her head out. A spring breeze blew in, ruffling the hundreds of sketches tacked up on Sophie's walls.
"It's only because Count Volger spotted me. If you had found out by yourself, or Franzl or Ernst or Max had told you, you wouldn't mind."
"You almost hit Volger in the head!"
"I did not! I was aiming for the fountain, and I never miss. Although his nose would have made a much easier target."
"Sophie, please. The count says your shot barely missed him."
"Then he's lying! He was three feet from the fountain at least, and it's his fault for being up so barking early! It's not like I do it when there are people I could hit about."
Deryn had to agree with her daughter. Volger was always eager to point out how "unladylike" Sophie was, and playing golf on the roof was certainly, in Volger's mind, unladylike. Deryn could easily see him exaggerating the event.
"I believe you, Sophs."
Sophie smiled.
"Does this mean I can keep doing it?" she asked hopefully.
"Only when there's no company, and before anyone else is up. Is that clear?" Deryn knew it was useless to try to set any limits beyond those.
"Yes, sir!" said Sophie, saluting smartly, and grinning.
Deryn reached out and mussed her daughter's short, curly hair (another thing Volger disliked), and she suddenly wondered why a lecture had been needed.
"Right. But at least pretend you're sorry when you apologize to the count."
Well, calculus homework may be eating up all my free time, but coming up with stories in class has been most productive. Anyway, Sophie was orginally going to be playing bagpipes on the roof, but that would wake everyone up. And "Franzl" is a nickname for Franz.
Also, I saw a man with this absolutely glorious moustache the other day. It curled over and everything, and reminded me of several Leviathan characters. Please review!