SHATTERGLASS (TCO BOOK 4) COMES OUT IN FEBRUARY!!!
Ahem, anyway, hey people! Oh my goodness, has it been a WHILE, and now there are new readers in the reviews! I'm so happy, thanks to everyone -- new and old readers alike -- for telling me what you guys think! Please keep up the encouragement; I love it! :) I'll continue with the story now, but I want to make a last note to Andrea Rimsky: I'll address your review at the end of this chapter. So anyway, see you all later!
DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters belong to Tamora Pierce. For those that do, you know who they are, and TAMMY knows who they are, so there is no point in naming them all. The point is, I don't own them and I'm not making money off of them. The plot is mine, the writing is mine. That's it.
Part 8 - Empty Space
Lark was the first of the four solemn figures to enter Discipline, leaving the last dying streaks of sunlight outside behind them. Having heard the door shut, Comas hurried into the main room of the cottage, looking to his teaching for answers about what was going on and plainly expecting to resume whatever lesson they had began earlier that day. With barely a cursory glance at his open mouth, Lark immediately headed to Rosethorn's workroom and meaningfully closed the door on the youths left in the room.
Comas remained rooted to his spot, gaping at the shut door. Sandry sighed painfully, gently pulled away from Briar's hand, and started toward the kitchen area of the room. Opening a drawer, she produced a half of a loaf of bread; then she walked toward the icebox to retrieve some ham and cheese. Seeing her plan, Tris went to the dish cabinet and brought down enough plates and glasses for all six people that would be eating that night and began to set the table. Rummaging through the icebox, Sandry also found some of Rosethorn's potato salad to add to the sandwiches she was preparing to fix.
Not really knowing what else to do, Briar retrieved the wine flask from his private packs in his room. Normally he would have saved it for a special occasion, but everybody looked like they could use something that would calm nerves and relieve stress. Upon reentering the main room with his small dinner contribution, Briar immediately noticed Comas's close proximity to Sandry. Although his friend seemed completely obvious herself, Comas was gazing at her adoringly while fumbling with the small task she had set him to. When he finally announced that he'd finished slicing the bread, Sandry gave him an encouraging pat on his arm. Something which, Briar saw, sent shivers of pleasure through the younger boy while at the same time causing rippling jealousy to course through his own body.
Giving himself a slight shake to banish his thoughts, Briar strode up to Tris, who was just finishing placing the glasses at the table. Without comment, he poured some wine into each cup, recapped the flask, and laid it upon the table. Tris also refrained from comment, though they both knew that she knew he kept liquor in that flask.
Just then, the door to Rosethorn's study creaked open to reveal the two older women, both with red-rimmed eyes. Rosethorn's features were stone, her attempt to hide her emotions, while Lark was openly sniffing with a tissue held to her face. With grateful nods in Sandry and Tris's direction, Rosethorn pulled out the chair at the table's head for Lark and then took her place in the chair opposite of Lark. Following her que, the four youths sat down at their own respective seats, Briar barely beating Comas to the open seat next to Sandry. Seeing this, Tris smirked at her friend, teasing him with her half-mock sympathy.
After all six were seated, the dinner proceeded rather uneventfully. Conversation was of mundane matters with many large gaps of silence. For the most part, all members seemed to prefer being left to their own thoughts.
* * * * * *
Clutching Tris's spare nightgown to herself, Sandry spanned the dark room with her eyes. Even with Daja's small shrine to the Trader Gods and her unfinished metalworks laying all over every available surface, the chamber seemed eerily empty. Because it was impractical to switch around the sleeping arrangements for one night so that Sandry could sleep in her old room, it had been decided that she would sleep in Daja's room. At the time it had seemed perfectly logical, but now that she was actually faced with the prospect of spending a night in her friend's room without her there, Sandry felt completely alone and forlorn.
Delicately making her way over to the shrine in the corner, Sandry was careful not to make a sound, feeling as if it would be a desecration to something sacred. Kneeling in front of the small statues and candles, she lightly ran a single finger over the features of the gods whom Daja worshipped. She may not believe in these beings the way a trader did, but tonight she would put her faith in them. Having reached for the box of matches on the floor at the base of the shrine, Sandry struck one match's head against the floor and quickly began to light each candle around the alter. Although unsure of what the symbols stamped in the wax stood for, she was confident that none of them would bode ill for Daja.
Sandry then blew out the match, set it in the small clay pot by the box of matches that she had discovered was used for their disposal, and folded her hands upon her lap. With a silent prayer to the Trader Gods and any others who would listen, she asked for Daja's health to return and a quick discovery on what had caused it to fail. Drawing a circle to her gods on her chest, Sandry regained her feet and tiptoed to her friend's bed. She hoped it would be safe to leave the wax burning all night.
Sandry laid on the bed for several minutes, not bothering to crawl beneath the covers. Somehow she knew it would be no use, for she could not sleep in Daja's bed tonight. Her mind and heart were racked with unanswered questions, and staying in the room where Daja should have been sleeping only served to further unsettle her.
Slowly, Sandry gingerly sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed even as her tired body protested. Sliding to the floor, she padded back to the door and quietly slipped into the upstairs hallway. When she reached Tris's door, her hand was almost to the door latch before she decided against bothering the redhead. Something told her that Tris was already in a deep sleep, and if at least one person at Discipline was able to find sleep that night, she wasn't going to wake her up. Moving on past Tris's room and down the stairs to the main room, Sandry debated with herself whether or not she should approach Lark's room. Lark was like a mother to her in so many ways, but Lark also liked to find solace within herself, and probably wouldn't appreciate Sandry's intrusion at such a time. Since in Sandry's mind Comas and Rosethorn seemed illogical options to go to, the only door left lead to Briar's room.
Sandry steeled herself before actually placing her hand on Briar's door latch. Would it be decent to be alone with Briar in his room at night in nothing but a nightgown? She knew she'd done it as a child, but they'd both been so much more naive and innocent then. Not to mention, she'd never used to look at him as anything other than a brother and a friend. In the past day, Sandry had been assailed with a riot of emotions toward the young man, many of them screaming for her see her old housemate as just that: a man. At the same time, she was disgusted with herself for feeling this way about her foster brother.
Besides, what would Briar think if he knew the thoughts running through her head?
Swallowing her doubt and ignoring the apprehension rising in the back of her mind, Sandry pulled down on the latch and stepped into the darkness on the other side. A shiver of fear ran through her as it suddenly occurred to her that Briar could be sleeping and she might awaken him. Just before she had the chance to slip back out the door, however, a voice came from the other side of the room.
"Hello?" The light sound of someone shuffling to their feet followed the quiet whisper. Sandry could just imagine him poised for an intruder's attack, knife ready in hand. In nothing but his loincloth.
Her face paled with that thought even as she realized that she'd have to announce herself now. It was too late to back out unnoticed. "H-hello."
"Sandry?" He sounded shocked, unsure, incredulous. But Sandry also noticed that there was a hint of pleasure in his voice, as well. She wasn't certain whether she was more disturbed by his joy at having her come into his room at night or her relief that he wanted her there.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't get to sleep. It was weird... in her room. I just thought maybe you wouldn't mind..? But of course you do, I shouldn't ha-"
"No, not at all. You can sleep in here if you want to," Briar cut in, fairly tripping over the words in his haste to keep her from leaving. He couldn't believe that Sandry had actually come to him at this hour, but he wasn't going to turn her away.
"Is it all right if I just sleep on the floor?" she wondered.
"You can't spend the night on the floor. Take the bed; I'll be fine on the floor with a blanket," he countered.
"No, I couldn't-"
"You want to share the bed?"
The question hovered in the space between them, punctuated by silence. Briar had no idea what had possessed him to actually suggest such a thing. And yet he wouldn't take it back. Sandry, on the other hand, felt thrills run down her spine at the idea of sleeping next to Briar. He had voiced the exact thought that she had been entertaining in her mind, and she was certainly glad she hadn't been the one to bring it up.
"Sure," was her quiet response, in lieu of having nothing better to say.
"All right, um," Briar paused, unsure of what to say next. "Hold on for a moment." Blindly searching around the floor with his feet for the shirt he'd tossed there earlier, Briar prayed he would be able to find it without a light. He gave a silent message of thanks to the Thief Gods when his foot came into contact with cloth, scooped up the tunic off the floor, and hastily pulled it over his head. Sitting back down on the bed and scooting over to the far side to give Sandry enough room, he held open the covers. "Ok."
Not sure why but feeling the need to, Sandry tiptoed over to where she remembered the edge of the bed being and carefully felt around for the mattress before crawling onto it. As soon as she was completely on the bed, she reached to pull down the blanket that Briar was holding over her while being careful to not actually touch him. A minute passed in silence as the two laid on their backs, eyes wide open, too aware of the other to become comfortable. Eventually Sandry gave into her desire and moved slightly closer to Briar's side, just enough to brush her arm against his. Hesitant, but determined, she asked a single question. "Will you hold me?"
Briar happily, though shakily, complied. He turned on his side to face her and edged even closer as his arms reached out toward her. In response, Sandry turned on her side toward him and cuddled into his arms, laying her hands and face against his chest. Briar's arms tightened around her as he allowed himself to relax against her slim form.
They were sound asleep in moments.
Andrea Rimsky: Thanks for the review! ^_^ First I was confused by it... what prince am I killing? But anyway, that's not the main point of this address. You have a great point about why characters have to be thin. And I totally agree with you, being overweight doesn't make a character bad. In fact, in the books, I always felt like Tris's being overweight really contributed to who she is. However, there is a guy in this story that Tris likes [He hasn't been introduced yet, but I did mention him in the 2nd part of the story]. Tris lost weight because she wanted to look nice for the guy she likes. And I always got the feeling from Tris in the books that she never lost weight because she just didn't feel like it, not necessarily because she couldn't, so now I gave her a reason to want to lose it, and she did. I'm sorry if this still bothers you, but that's my reasoning. I just wanted to make it clear that I never thought Tris had to be thin in order to be an interesting character.
Ahem, anyway, hey people! Oh my goodness, has it been a WHILE, and now there are new readers in the reviews! I'm so happy, thanks to everyone -- new and old readers alike -- for telling me what you guys think! Please keep up the encouragement; I love it! :) I'll continue with the story now, but I want to make a last note to Andrea Rimsky: I'll address your review at the end of this chapter. So anyway, see you all later!
DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters belong to Tamora Pierce. For those that do, you know who they are, and TAMMY knows who they are, so there is no point in naming them all. The point is, I don't own them and I'm not making money off of them. The plot is mine, the writing is mine. That's it.
Part 8 - Empty Space
Lark was the first of the four solemn figures to enter Discipline, leaving the last dying streaks of sunlight outside behind them. Having heard the door shut, Comas hurried into the main room of the cottage, looking to his teaching for answers about what was going on and plainly expecting to resume whatever lesson they had began earlier that day. With barely a cursory glance at his open mouth, Lark immediately headed to Rosethorn's workroom and meaningfully closed the door on the youths left in the room.
Comas remained rooted to his spot, gaping at the shut door. Sandry sighed painfully, gently pulled away from Briar's hand, and started toward the kitchen area of the room. Opening a drawer, she produced a half of a loaf of bread; then she walked toward the icebox to retrieve some ham and cheese. Seeing her plan, Tris went to the dish cabinet and brought down enough plates and glasses for all six people that would be eating that night and began to set the table. Rummaging through the icebox, Sandry also found some of Rosethorn's potato salad to add to the sandwiches she was preparing to fix.
Not really knowing what else to do, Briar retrieved the wine flask from his private packs in his room. Normally he would have saved it for a special occasion, but everybody looked like they could use something that would calm nerves and relieve stress. Upon reentering the main room with his small dinner contribution, Briar immediately noticed Comas's close proximity to Sandry. Although his friend seemed completely obvious herself, Comas was gazing at her adoringly while fumbling with the small task she had set him to. When he finally announced that he'd finished slicing the bread, Sandry gave him an encouraging pat on his arm. Something which, Briar saw, sent shivers of pleasure through the younger boy while at the same time causing rippling jealousy to course through his own body.
Giving himself a slight shake to banish his thoughts, Briar strode up to Tris, who was just finishing placing the glasses at the table. Without comment, he poured some wine into each cup, recapped the flask, and laid it upon the table. Tris also refrained from comment, though they both knew that she knew he kept liquor in that flask.
Just then, the door to Rosethorn's study creaked open to reveal the two older women, both with red-rimmed eyes. Rosethorn's features were stone, her attempt to hide her emotions, while Lark was openly sniffing with a tissue held to her face. With grateful nods in Sandry and Tris's direction, Rosethorn pulled out the chair at the table's head for Lark and then took her place in the chair opposite of Lark. Following her que, the four youths sat down at their own respective seats, Briar barely beating Comas to the open seat next to Sandry. Seeing this, Tris smirked at her friend, teasing him with her half-mock sympathy.
After all six were seated, the dinner proceeded rather uneventfully. Conversation was of mundane matters with many large gaps of silence. For the most part, all members seemed to prefer being left to their own thoughts.
* * * * * *
Clutching Tris's spare nightgown to herself, Sandry spanned the dark room with her eyes. Even with Daja's small shrine to the Trader Gods and her unfinished metalworks laying all over every available surface, the chamber seemed eerily empty. Because it was impractical to switch around the sleeping arrangements for one night so that Sandry could sleep in her old room, it had been decided that she would sleep in Daja's room. At the time it had seemed perfectly logical, but now that she was actually faced with the prospect of spending a night in her friend's room without her there, Sandry felt completely alone and forlorn.
Delicately making her way over to the shrine in the corner, Sandry was careful not to make a sound, feeling as if it would be a desecration to something sacred. Kneeling in front of the small statues and candles, she lightly ran a single finger over the features of the gods whom Daja worshipped. She may not believe in these beings the way a trader did, but tonight she would put her faith in them. Having reached for the box of matches on the floor at the base of the shrine, Sandry struck one match's head against the floor and quickly began to light each candle around the alter. Although unsure of what the symbols stamped in the wax stood for, she was confident that none of them would bode ill for Daja.
Sandry then blew out the match, set it in the small clay pot by the box of matches that she had discovered was used for their disposal, and folded her hands upon her lap. With a silent prayer to the Trader Gods and any others who would listen, she asked for Daja's health to return and a quick discovery on what had caused it to fail. Drawing a circle to her gods on her chest, Sandry regained her feet and tiptoed to her friend's bed. She hoped it would be safe to leave the wax burning all night.
Sandry laid on the bed for several minutes, not bothering to crawl beneath the covers. Somehow she knew it would be no use, for she could not sleep in Daja's bed tonight. Her mind and heart were racked with unanswered questions, and staying in the room where Daja should have been sleeping only served to further unsettle her.
Slowly, Sandry gingerly sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed even as her tired body protested. Sliding to the floor, she padded back to the door and quietly slipped into the upstairs hallway. When she reached Tris's door, her hand was almost to the door latch before she decided against bothering the redhead. Something told her that Tris was already in a deep sleep, and if at least one person at Discipline was able to find sleep that night, she wasn't going to wake her up. Moving on past Tris's room and down the stairs to the main room, Sandry debated with herself whether or not she should approach Lark's room. Lark was like a mother to her in so many ways, but Lark also liked to find solace within herself, and probably wouldn't appreciate Sandry's intrusion at such a time. Since in Sandry's mind Comas and Rosethorn seemed illogical options to go to, the only door left lead to Briar's room.
Sandry steeled herself before actually placing her hand on Briar's door latch. Would it be decent to be alone with Briar in his room at night in nothing but a nightgown? She knew she'd done it as a child, but they'd both been so much more naive and innocent then. Not to mention, she'd never used to look at him as anything other than a brother and a friend. In the past day, Sandry had been assailed with a riot of emotions toward the young man, many of them screaming for her see her old housemate as just that: a man. At the same time, she was disgusted with herself for feeling this way about her foster brother.
Besides, what would Briar think if he knew the thoughts running through her head?
Swallowing her doubt and ignoring the apprehension rising in the back of her mind, Sandry pulled down on the latch and stepped into the darkness on the other side. A shiver of fear ran through her as it suddenly occurred to her that Briar could be sleeping and she might awaken him. Just before she had the chance to slip back out the door, however, a voice came from the other side of the room.
"Hello?" The light sound of someone shuffling to their feet followed the quiet whisper. Sandry could just imagine him poised for an intruder's attack, knife ready in hand. In nothing but his loincloth.
Her face paled with that thought even as she realized that she'd have to announce herself now. It was too late to back out unnoticed. "H-hello."
"Sandry?" He sounded shocked, unsure, incredulous. But Sandry also noticed that there was a hint of pleasure in his voice, as well. She wasn't certain whether she was more disturbed by his joy at having her come into his room at night or her relief that he wanted her there.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't get to sleep. It was weird... in her room. I just thought maybe you wouldn't mind..? But of course you do, I shouldn't ha-"
"No, not at all. You can sleep in here if you want to," Briar cut in, fairly tripping over the words in his haste to keep her from leaving. He couldn't believe that Sandry had actually come to him at this hour, but he wasn't going to turn her away.
"Is it all right if I just sleep on the floor?" she wondered.
"You can't spend the night on the floor. Take the bed; I'll be fine on the floor with a blanket," he countered.
"No, I couldn't-"
"You want to share the bed?"
The question hovered in the space between them, punctuated by silence. Briar had no idea what had possessed him to actually suggest such a thing. And yet he wouldn't take it back. Sandry, on the other hand, felt thrills run down her spine at the idea of sleeping next to Briar. He had voiced the exact thought that she had been entertaining in her mind, and she was certainly glad she hadn't been the one to bring it up.
"Sure," was her quiet response, in lieu of having nothing better to say.
"All right, um," Briar paused, unsure of what to say next. "Hold on for a moment." Blindly searching around the floor with his feet for the shirt he'd tossed there earlier, Briar prayed he would be able to find it without a light. He gave a silent message of thanks to the Thief Gods when his foot came into contact with cloth, scooped up the tunic off the floor, and hastily pulled it over his head. Sitting back down on the bed and scooting over to the far side to give Sandry enough room, he held open the covers. "Ok."
Not sure why but feeling the need to, Sandry tiptoed over to where she remembered the edge of the bed being and carefully felt around for the mattress before crawling onto it. As soon as she was completely on the bed, she reached to pull down the blanket that Briar was holding over her while being careful to not actually touch him. A minute passed in silence as the two laid on their backs, eyes wide open, too aware of the other to become comfortable. Eventually Sandry gave into her desire and moved slightly closer to Briar's side, just enough to brush her arm against his. Hesitant, but determined, she asked a single question. "Will you hold me?"
Briar happily, though shakily, complied. He turned on his side to face her and edged even closer as his arms reached out toward her. In response, Sandry turned on her side toward him and cuddled into his arms, laying her hands and face against his chest. Briar's arms tightened around her as he allowed himself to relax against her slim form.
They were sound asleep in moments.
Andrea Rimsky: Thanks for the review! ^_^ First I was confused by it... what prince am I killing? But anyway, that's not the main point of this address. You have a great point about why characters have to be thin. And I totally agree with you, being overweight doesn't make a character bad. In fact, in the books, I always felt like Tris's being overweight really contributed to who she is. However, there is a guy in this story that Tris likes [He hasn't been introduced yet, but I did mention him in the 2nd part of the story]. Tris lost weight because she wanted to look nice for the guy she likes. And I always got the feeling from Tris in the books that she never lost weight because she just didn't feel like it, not necessarily because she couldn't, so now I gave her a reason to want to lose it, and she did. I'm sorry if this still bothers you, but that's my reasoning. I just wanted to make it clear that I never thought Tris had to be thin in order to be an interesting character.