We got a new keyboard! WOOHOO! I was so happy about it. Anyway, here is the FULL version of Part 6. I started school today, so I can't be sure when the next part will be posted, but hopefully soon. Thank you guys AGAIN for the reviews and encouragement. See ya again soon!
Part 6 - Strange Occurrences
Daja tugged slightly on the collar of her soft cotton shirt and sent a worried look over in Tris's direction. The shorter girl kept bumping into things and losing her balance at the least likely of times. Like tripping backwards for no apparent reason while standing still and drying a plate. Tris may not have been born into the elegance and grace of the noble classes, but she was not usually so clumsy.
"What's wrong, Tris?"
"Nothing," came the mumbled reply. Tris averted her eyes from Daja and continued drying the dishes and carefully stacking them in the cupboard. Daja went on with her sweeping of the floor, deciding that she wasn't going to pull the information out of Tris if the girl was unwilling to give it. Besides, it was way too hot in the cottage to bother with Tris's attitude today.
Suddenly a loud crash sounded from the area of the sink as a glass dropped to the floor. Daja whirled around just in time to witness Tris's feet being swept out from under her. She tumbled to her backside as though a strong wind had knocked her right over. Rushing over to offer a hand to her now cranky-looking friend, Daja realized something wasn't right on that side of the room. Something she couldn't put her finger on. Dismissing that thought for the moment, she hauled Tris once again to her feet and stepped back. Tris hated accepting anyone's help; and after giving it to her, the best thing one could do was get away.
Just then Lark burst through her workroom door and into the main room. A frightened body rambled on in behind her, Comas not sure he wanted to be around the two girls. Daja generally found it amusing that the boy feared herself and her friends, but right then she had the urge to snap at him for acting as if this was a crisis. And that thought alone gave her pause. Why was she becoming just as cross as Tris?
And then she wished that whatever draft that had hit Tris would come to her; she could sure use a cool breeze in her face at the moment. That thought caused her to glance at the window in annoyance for not offering her a relief from the afternoon heat. But it wasn't open. How could a stray wind have possibly pushed Tris down if the window was closed?
Lark, unaware of these thoughts, kindly steered Tris toward a seat at the table. "Are you all right, Tris? What happened?"
"I'm fine."
"But what happened?" Lark persisted.
"Nothing happened. I fell, ok?" the redhead practically shouted. Everyone fell into shocked silence after that, even Tris. She may have a quick temper, but her anger usually stayed to low volumes. It took a lot to upset Tris enough to cause her to yell.
And strangely, Daja felt herself becoming angrier by the moment because Lark was making such a big deal out of this.
"Let me take your temperature, dear," Lark begged, moving closer to Tris in order to place the back of her hand against the girl's forehead. "Nothing," she whispered.
"Of course it's nothing. She said she's fine!" Daja argued, feeling her temper run away with her. Once again there was silence, this time with Lark rushing over to feel Daja's forehead. As though she'd been touched by hot coals, Lark snatched her hand back faster than eyes could follow. Her own dark eyes were round saucers.
"What is it?" Daja wondered, seeming to have calmed down considerably now.
"Daja, you're temperature's well over regulation. I'll have to get you to the infirmary." Passing a glance toward Tris, she continued, "Tris, why don't you come with us? Comas, stay and watch Discipline until we return."
Tris and Daja exchanged bewildered looks. Neither felt like anything was wrong, but Lark would probably know best anyway. Setting her broom against the wall, Daja joined Tris and they followed Lark out through the front door.
* * * * * *
Sandry looked down in dismay at the fourth cloth she'd torn in the last five minutes. She didn't know what was wrong with her; every time she went to wipe her fingers on a cloth, it tore to pieces before she barely touched it. It was even starting to make her angry; something that didn't happen to Sandry often. Sending a surreptitious glance at Briar, she was relieved to see that he was happily eating another sandwich and hadn't noticed her folly. The last thing she needed was for Briar to witness her unladylike behavior. Glaring back down at the torn cloth, she just assumed it was due to a servant's poor weaving. Sweeping away her most recent mess while trying not to destroy it any more, Sandry returned her attention to Briar and their midday meal.
Briar was flinging his left arm around as though there were something attached to it, the red flush of temper rising up his neck. Looking for a second back at Sandry and realizing she'd seen his actions, he clumsily tried to pull something off his elbow. Leaning in to get a better look at it, Sandry realized it was a crawling piece of lettuce, struggling for all it was worth to be free of Briar's grasp and climb further up his arm. Her previous anger faded, and she had to stifle a giggle at the sight of her friend wrestling a vegetable.
Briar gave a sigh of defeat and gave up the fight. Accusatory eyes shot at Sandry for her amusement. "You think this is pretty funny, do you?"
She laughed out right in his face. "Can't you command it down, or something?"
Briar shrugged. "Normally I would, but this little one isn't listening to me," he answered grumpily.
"Here, let me, then," Sandry offered. Scooting around the sofa closer to him, she slowly leaned across Briar's front to reach the offending lettuce leaf that was now perched on his shoulder.
Briar had to hold his breath with Sandry in such close proximity, poised gracefully in front of him. He didn't even want to think what smelling her unique feminine fragrance this close up would do to his senses. As it was, he was forced to clench his hands into fists to keep them from touching her. Pretending not to notice their position, Briar instead turned his head to watch her elegant hand reach for the stray piece of lettuce.
Sandry's fingers made contact with the fabric of Briar's shirt just as a large rip spread down the sleeve. Quickly jerking her hand back in surprise at what she'd done, Sandry lost her balance only to pitch herself onto the floor. At the same time, the rogue lettuce leaf slipped into Briar's shirt through the rip. The shock of the wet, cold vegetable sliming around on his warm skin made Briar squirm uncontrollably, until he ended up following Sandry off the sofa.
Landing unceremoniously on top of Sandry, Briar hurriedly gathered his bearings and returned to his feet. Straightening his clothing with a few quick brushes, he then leaned down to offer his hand to Sandry. With crimson cheeks and averted eyes, Sandry took Briar's hand and hauled herself off the floor.
Then she gasped as she caught a glance at was once his beautiful flaxen shirt. Tears and loose threads popped out everywhere, leaving the magnificent garment in tatters, still unraveling before her eyes. Knowing that it had been her own magic and skill that had gone into the shirt, Sandry also knew that her magic alone could be the only thing that would undo it. Gaping strickenly at what her hands had done, she backed away from Briar.
"Oh, Sandry it's all right," Briar consoled, mistaking the reason for her look of upset. He slowly stepped toward her, trying to calm her down, but Sandry only backed further away.
"Hold still, Briar," she said, signaling for him to give her a minute to think. As he stopped, she delicately ran a fingertip down the upholstery of a nearby chair, only to watch the fabric's weave come apart as smoothly as if she had cut it with a knife. Now Briar joined in her amazement, staring slack-jawed at Sandry's hand. She looked up at him with concern gleaming in her eyes. "I didn't mean to do that."
Briar felt worry twist in his stomach; what was happening to his friend? Without thinking, he grabbed her hand. "Can you leave the Citadel now? Would your Uncle care?"
Sandry shot him a confused look. "No, I'd just have to make sure a servant lets him know where I am." There was a slight pause. "Where are we going, Briar?"
He gave her hand a slight squeeze of reassurance. "Just to Winding Circle. Maybe Lark will understand this."
Part 6 - Strange Occurrences
Daja tugged slightly on the collar of her soft cotton shirt and sent a worried look over in Tris's direction. The shorter girl kept bumping into things and losing her balance at the least likely of times. Like tripping backwards for no apparent reason while standing still and drying a plate. Tris may not have been born into the elegance and grace of the noble classes, but she was not usually so clumsy.
"What's wrong, Tris?"
"Nothing," came the mumbled reply. Tris averted her eyes from Daja and continued drying the dishes and carefully stacking them in the cupboard. Daja went on with her sweeping of the floor, deciding that she wasn't going to pull the information out of Tris if the girl was unwilling to give it. Besides, it was way too hot in the cottage to bother with Tris's attitude today.
Suddenly a loud crash sounded from the area of the sink as a glass dropped to the floor. Daja whirled around just in time to witness Tris's feet being swept out from under her. She tumbled to her backside as though a strong wind had knocked her right over. Rushing over to offer a hand to her now cranky-looking friend, Daja realized something wasn't right on that side of the room. Something she couldn't put her finger on. Dismissing that thought for the moment, she hauled Tris once again to her feet and stepped back. Tris hated accepting anyone's help; and after giving it to her, the best thing one could do was get away.
Just then Lark burst through her workroom door and into the main room. A frightened body rambled on in behind her, Comas not sure he wanted to be around the two girls. Daja generally found it amusing that the boy feared herself and her friends, but right then she had the urge to snap at him for acting as if this was a crisis. And that thought alone gave her pause. Why was she becoming just as cross as Tris?
And then she wished that whatever draft that had hit Tris would come to her; she could sure use a cool breeze in her face at the moment. That thought caused her to glance at the window in annoyance for not offering her a relief from the afternoon heat. But it wasn't open. How could a stray wind have possibly pushed Tris down if the window was closed?
Lark, unaware of these thoughts, kindly steered Tris toward a seat at the table. "Are you all right, Tris? What happened?"
"I'm fine."
"But what happened?" Lark persisted.
"Nothing happened. I fell, ok?" the redhead practically shouted. Everyone fell into shocked silence after that, even Tris. She may have a quick temper, but her anger usually stayed to low volumes. It took a lot to upset Tris enough to cause her to yell.
And strangely, Daja felt herself becoming angrier by the moment because Lark was making such a big deal out of this.
"Let me take your temperature, dear," Lark begged, moving closer to Tris in order to place the back of her hand against the girl's forehead. "Nothing," she whispered.
"Of course it's nothing. She said she's fine!" Daja argued, feeling her temper run away with her. Once again there was silence, this time with Lark rushing over to feel Daja's forehead. As though she'd been touched by hot coals, Lark snatched her hand back faster than eyes could follow. Her own dark eyes were round saucers.
"What is it?" Daja wondered, seeming to have calmed down considerably now.
"Daja, you're temperature's well over regulation. I'll have to get you to the infirmary." Passing a glance toward Tris, she continued, "Tris, why don't you come with us? Comas, stay and watch Discipline until we return."
Tris and Daja exchanged bewildered looks. Neither felt like anything was wrong, but Lark would probably know best anyway. Setting her broom against the wall, Daja joined Tris and they followed Lark out through the front door.
* * * * * *
Sandry looked down in dismay at the fourth cloth she'd torn in the last five minutes. She didn't know what was wrong with her; every time she went to wipe her fingers on a cloth, it tore to pieces before she barely touched it. It was even starting to make her angry; something that didn't happen to Sandry often. Sending a surreptitious glance at Briar, she was relieved to see that he was happily eating another sandwich and hadn't noticed her folly. The last thing she needed was for Briar to witness her unladylike behavior. Glaring back down at the torn cloth, she just assumed it was due to a servant's poor weaving. Sweeping away her most recent mess while trying not to destroy it any more, Sandry returned her attention to Briar and their midday meal.
Briar was flinging his left arm around as though there were something attached to it, the red flush of temper rising up his neck. Looking for a second back at Sandry and realizing she'd seen his actions, he clumsily tried to pull something off his elbow. Leaning in to get a better look at it, Sandry realized it was a crawling piece of lettuce, struggling for all it was worth to be free of Briar's grasp and climb further up his arm. Her previous anger faded, and she had to stifle a giggle at the sight of her friend wrestling a vegetable.
Briar gave a sigh of defeat and gave up the fight. Accusatory eyes shot at Sandry for her amusement. "You think this is pretty funny, do you?"
She laughed out right in his face. "Can't you command it down, or something?"
Briar shrugged. "Normally I would, but this little one isn't listening to me," he answered grumpily.
"Here, let me, then," Sandry offered. Scooting around the sofa closer to him, she slowly leaned across Briar's front to reach the offending lettuce leaf that was now perched on his shoulder.
Briar had to hold his breath with Sandry in such close proximity, poised gracefully in front of him. He didn't even want to think what smelling her unique feminine fragrance this close up would do to his senses. As it was, he was forced to clench his hands into fists to keep them from touching her. Pretending not to notice their position, Briar instead turned his head to watch her elegant hand reach for the stray piece of lettuce.
Sandry's fingers made contact with the fabric of Briar's shirt just as a large rip spread down the sleeve. Quickly jerking her hand back in surprise at what she'd done, Sandry lost her balance only to pitch herself onto the floor. At the same time, the rogue lettuce leaf slipped into Briar's shirt through the rip. The shock of the wet, cold vegetable sliming around on his warm skin made Briar squirm uncontrollably, until he ended up following Sandry off the sofa.
Landing unceremoniously on top of Sandry, Briar hurriedly gathered his bearings and returned to his feet. Straightening his clothing with a few quick brushes, he then leaned down to offer his hand to Sandry. With crimson cheeks and averted eyes, Sandry took Briar's hand and hauled herself off the floor.
Then she gasped as she caught a glance at was once his beautiful flaxen shirt. Tears and loose threads popped out everywhere, leaving the magnificent garment in tatters, still unraveling before her eyes. Knowing that it had been her own magic and skill that had gone into the shirt, Sandry also knew that her magic alone could be the only thing that would undo it. Gaping strickenly at what her hands had done, she backed away from Briar.
"Oh, Sandry it's all right," Briar consoled, mistaking the reason for her look of upset. He slowly stepped toward her, trying to calm her down, but Sandry only backed further away.
"Hold still, Briar," she said, signaling for him to give her a minute to think. As he stopped, she delicately ran a fingertip down the upholstery of a nearby chair, only to watch the fabric's weave come apart as smoothly as if she had cut it with a knife. Now Briar joined in her amazement, staring slack-jawed at Sandry's hand. She looked up at him with concern gleaming in her eyes. "I didn't mean to do that."
Briar felt worry twist in his stomach; what was happening to his friend? Without thinking, he grabbed her hand. "Can you leave the Citadel now? Would your Uncle care?"
Sandry shot him a confused look. "No, I'd just have to make sure a servant lets him know where I am." There was a slight pause. "Where are we going, Briar?"
He gave her hand a slight squeeze of reassurance. "Just to Winding Circle. Maybe Lark will understand this."