well, just my thoughts...i have more reasons, but i forget right now.
by the way, im sorry its all messed up. i told myself i would change it so rosethorn was with him but im too lazy. and by the way, im already in school, sniffs, so i might not be able to update everyday but i will make my goal at least every few days!
~~~~~~~~~Sandry, fourteen
Sandry smiled down at the small sprig of flowers. Breathing in deeply, she inhaled the clean scent of green growing things, though the flowers were pressed and obviously old. "Pretty," she commented aloud, her forefinger brushing the tip of the tiny blue blossoms. The dried petals crackled slightly, and she traced his clumsy signature with her thumb.
"They're called faerie's eyes," Pasco said over her shoulder. Sandry jumped, before glaring at the boy. "What, just saying," he told her defensively.
She sighed, counting to ten. And how did he always manage to get into her room? Last she had seen of him, he was with Yazmin in her Uncle's study, three halls away. "Faerie's eyes?"
"The white blot in the middle and the blue petals. Mama used to grow them, until my brother accidentally broke the pot. They died," he explained. Jumping around the room, he asked, "Is that from your friends?"
"Yeah, Briar, the street boy," she told him, already expecting the slight glower the provost-bred mage would give her. "Far away," she sighed. "It's been eight months or so since we last met, and letters send slowly."
"That's sad."
"Shouldn't you be practicing your dance steps for Yazmin?" she said, slightly irritable. "If you even brush the edge of that net..."
"I know," Pasco whined half-heartedly. "I'll be sucked up into the mesh of nothing, suffering a horrible illness and perhaps death when you wind the net on your spindle. The little devil will not stop talking about it."
"Well, it's important!" One low point, Sandry told herself, was having the teacher only two years older than the student. He won't listen to me! Patience. Don't take out your own fear on the poor boy...she softened. "We cannot let anything happen to you," she told him more gently.
"But I can do it!"
"Then do it again, please. There are some honey-cakes and tea coming soon, freshly baked by yours truly." She smiled as sweetly as she could, though her hands trembled slightly. Food, any kind of food, always subdued Briar, so maybe it could make Pasco calm down. "A treat before...tomorrow."
He grunted and went to a clear area in the honey-gold room that Sandry had kept for herself in Emelan. Sufficiently satisfied with his obediance, she slowly read the letter, soaking in every bit of knowledge.
A few minutes later, the letter nearly memorized, Pasco reappeared. "I did it three times," he said defensively, when she glared at him. "What's that?" He pointed to the blotch near the "Bye, Briar." "Is that...love?" he hooted. "He's your boyfriend?"
Stifling the urge to propel her hankerchief into his mouth, Sandry counted to ten again. "No!" she cried aloud. "Probably can't spell." She could still feel her cheeks flushing red, though for what reasons she knew not. Pasco was just teasing anyway, what was the fuss? It wasn't as if she liked him that way...did she? He was attractive, she decided, with his curly mop of hair and green eyes. Funny, too, and a much more serious thinker than anyone would expect, with the bizzare things that came out of his mouth...then she remembered the last time they had seen each other, and what she had done, and blushed. She shoved the thought out of her head.
She sat down at her golden-varnished wood desk, pen in hand. "What should I say?" she pondered, before setting the tip of the quill to the stationary. "How can I possibly describe these last few days, merchants piled into the strongest keep, weaving nothingness..." Her pen touched the paper, and her neat cursive graced the page with emerald green ink. "I wish you were here to talk to me." She missed his strange, sometimes pointless chatter the most, even the teasing tug on her short nose.
Dear Briar...
~~~~~~~~~