Disclaimer: I don't own any of the COM characters; they were, of course,
written by the wonderfully talented, all powerful Tamora Pierce. However,
Meagan the maid and the funny man in a robe belong to me. And the handsome
Lord Dallin is ALL MINE!!!! He wasn't my first choice, but Briar seems to
be taken..
Thanks for reviewing guys! I love it.
Lady Katharine Heartspark: Yeah, I know that 6'9 is tall, but I seem to have this obsession with tall men. *A/N: I have changed the heights! More comments later.*
Bored Little Muse (hehe, I like that): I'm glad that you like my story.
Babooshka: Yeah! Another S/B fan.
FlagDiva!!: Yeah! You got MSN!! I'll try to get on and talk with you sometime. Thanks for reading!! Makes me happy!!
A/N: This part has a lot of descriptions, because I felt like describing everything. It's a phase I seem to be going through. So hopefully it all makes sense.
* * * *
Scrutinizing herself in the full length mirror, Sandry finally nodded with satisfaction. She swooshed her full skirts, listening with pleasure to their soft whisper. It was a beautiful dress. A light sky blue, it complimented her blue eyes and brought out the soft flush of her cheeks. The neckline was square and the bodice was tight and stiff with heavy embroidering. The sleeves were a sheer material that fell to her elbows before flaring out and dropping almost to her knees. But the skirt was her favorite part. She wore a full, flaring petticoat underneath an underskirt of blue silk. On top of this, layers upon layers of the same gauzy material as her sleeves were sewn, giving her the look and feeling as though she were floating.
Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a carefree style that had taken forever to create. Sandry wasn't too sure about how well it looked on her, but Meagan, who had helped her with her hair, had declared it quite flattering. So Sandry put up with the feeling of top-heaviness and the curls that hung loosely about her face, because Meagan usually knew what looked best.
So, now that she was ready, Sandry strode out the door to supervise the final touches on the banquet hall.
* * * *
Briar frowned at his reflection in the mirror. The well worn clothing that he usually wore was replaced by dark blue britches, a white silk shirt that he stubbornly kept open at the neck, and a long vest that fell to just past his hips. At least it doesn't have any embroidery, he thought ruefully. When Sandry was in charge of your wardrobe, you learned to expect well decorated shirts.
However, she seemed to have taken his plea for plain clothing to heart, so while his outfit reeked of nobility, it was at least tolerable. His hair, however, was driving him crazy. A little old man in a robe had come to help him get ready, and had slicked Briar's hair back with a stiff gel that froze his usually tousled locks in place. His fingers itched to run through it, but he restrained himself. It's only for a couple of hours, he reminded himself. He could put up with it for Sandry.
Glancing at the clock, he sighed. Fifteen minutes to go. Grabbing a book from his end table, he plopped down in a nearby chair and began to read.
* * * *
"How many people are coming?" Briar whispered to Sandry as they waited at the door to greet the incoming guests. Sandry smiled and nodded at a middle aged Lord and Lady who had paused to exchange pleasantries.
"One-hundred and fifty," she said when they left, a hand rising to hovering a couple of inches over her curls. Briar chuckled. He could tell that Sandry's hairstyle was causing her great anxiety, but in his opinion, she looked beautiful.
"You look wonderful," he told her, pushing her hand down.
Sandry looked up, startled. "Why, thank you," she said, a warm smile spreading across her face. "You don't look too bad yourself." Briar grinned, keeping to himself the fact that he felt like a birthday candle compared to Sandry's bonfire. Not that he minded; he was proud of the spectacular presence that Sandry had.
It took another fifteen more minutes for the remaining guests to arrive, and another ten to get them all seated. Briar found himself at the end of the middle table, with the Duke at the head of the table on the right and Sandry seated right across from him. On his left was a sleepy, gray-haired man who didn't look like someone who would provide any stimulating conversation. Curious, he glanced across the table to see who was seated beside Sandry. And frowned.
It was a very handsome young man, maybe a year or two older than Briar, with a head of dark hair, a pair of large brown eyes, and an air about him that put Briar on edge. The man leaned over to Sandry and said something that caused her to laugh.
"Be careful. You're beginning to look jealous."
Briar's head jerked to the right to see Duke Vedris smiling kindly at him. "I'm not jealous," he said shortly, but Duke Vedris only shook his head and leaned back in his chair.
* * * *
Sandry glanced at Briar, listening to the young Lord Dallin with only half an ear. (A/N: is that the right expression? Half an ear?) Throughout dinner, Briar had been eating with a very sulky look on his face. And if the evil looks that Dallin was receiving were any indication, then Sandry thought that she knew the reason for Briar's mood. She smiled and waited for Dallin to finish talking.
"Would you excuse me?" Sandry said. "I'm afraid that my duties as hostess are about to intrude in on our conversation."
Dallin smiled. "Of course," his said, his voice deep and powerful. Sandry nodded and picked up her glass.
"Excuse me!" she called, her crystalline voice ringing through the room. She tapped on her glass with her spoon, making a loud chiming noise. "Excuse me!" The conversation at the three tables quickly died down as one-hundred and fifty people turned to look at her expectantly.
"I trust that all of you have enjoyed your meal?" There were nods of confirmation all around. Sandry smiled. "Then I would now like for us to move on to the dance hall. If you would please follow me." Across from her, Briar stood up and moved around the head of the table to take his place by her side. She accepted his offered arm, and together they moved toward the dance hall. Around them, the guests began to rise from their chairs to follow.
A/N: Weird ending, I know, but I need time to think about the next part!! Sorry! I always have trouble with dances.
Thanks for reviewing guys! I love it.
Lady Katharine Heartspark: Yeah, I know that 6'9 is tall, but I seem to have this obsession with tall men. *A/N: I have changed the heights! More comments later.*
Bored Little Muse (hehe, I like that): I'm glad that you like my story.
Babooshka: Yeah! Another S/B fan.
FlagDiva!!: Yeah! You got MSN!! I'll try to get on and talk with you sometime. Thanks for reading!! Makes me happy!!
A/N: This part has a lot of descriptions, because I felt like describing everything. It's a phase I seem to be going through. So hopefully it all makes sense.
* * * *
Scrutinizing herself in the full length mirror, Sandry finally nodded with satisfaction. She swooshed her full skirts, listening with pleasure to their soft whisper. It was a beautiful dress. A light sky blue, it complimented her blue eyes and brought out the soft flush of her cheeks. The neckline was square and the bodice was tight and stiff with heavy embroidering. The sleeves were a sheer material that fell to her elbows before flaring out and dropping almost to her knees. But the skirt was her favorite part. She wore a full, flaring petticoat underneath an underskirt of blue silk. On top of this, layers upon layers of the same gauzy material as her sleeves were sewn, giving her the look and feeling as though she were floating.
Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a carefree style that had taken forever to create. Sandry wasn't too sure about how well it looked on her, but Meagan, who had helped her with her hair, had declared it quite flattering. So Sandry put up with the feeling of top-heaviness and the curls that hung loosely about her face, because Meagan usually knew what looked best.
So, now that she was ready, Sandry strode out the door to supervise the final touches on the banquet hall.
* * * *
Briar frowned at his reflection in the mirror. The well worn clothing that he usually wore was replaced by dark blue britches, a white silk shirt that he stubbornly kept open at the neck, and a long vest that fell to just past his hips. At least it doesn't have any embroidery, he thought ruefully. When Sandry was in charge of your wardrobe, you learned to expect well decorated shirts.
However, she seemed to have taken his plea for plain clothing to heart, so while his outfit reeked of nobility, it was at least tolerable. His hair, however, was driving him crazy. A little old man in a robe had come to help him get ready, and had slicked Briar's hair back with a stiff gel that froze his usually tousled locks in place. His fingers itched to run through it, but he restrained himself. It's only for a couple of hours, he reminded himself. He could put up with it for Sandry.
Glancing at the clock, he sighed. Fifteen minutes to go. Grabbing a book from his end table, he plopped down in a nearby chair and began to read.
* * * *
"How many people are coming?" Briar whispered to Sandry as they waited at the door to greet the incoming guests. Sandry smiled and nodded at a middle aged Lord and Lady who had paused to exchange pleasantries.
"One-hundred and fifty," she said when they left, a hand rising to hovering a couple of inches over her curls. Briar chuckled. He could tell that Sandry's hairstyle was causing her great anxiety, but in his opinion, she looked beautiful.
"You look wonderful," he told her, pushing her hand down.
Sandry looked up, startled. "Why, thank you," she said, a warm smile spreading across her face. "You don't look too bad yourself." Briar grinned, keeping to himself the fact that he felt like a birthday candle compared to Sandry's bonfire. Not that he minded; he was proud of the spectacular presence that Sandry had.
It took another fifteen more minutes for the remaining guests to arrive, and another ten to get them all seated. Briar found himself at the end of the middle table, with the Duke at the head of the table on the right and Sandry seated right across from him. On his left was a sleepy, gray-haired man who didn't look like someone who would provide any stimulating conversation. Curious, he glanced across the table to see who was seated beside Sandry. And frowned.
It was a very handsome young man, maybe a year or two older than Briar, with a head of dark hair, a pair of large brown eyes, and an air about him that put Briar on edge. The man leaned over to Sandry and said something that caused her to laugh.
"Be careful. You're beginning to look jealous."
Briar's head jerked to the right to see Duke Vedris smiling kindly at him. "I'm not jealous," he said shortly, but Duke Vedris only shook his head and leaned back in his chair.
* * * *
Sandry glanced at Briar, listening to the young Lord Dallin with only half an ear. (A/N: is that the right expression? Half an ear?) Throughout dinner, Briar had been eating with a very sulky look on his face. And if the evil looks that Dallin was receiving were any indication, then Sandry thought that she knew the reason for Briar's mood. She smiled and waited for Dallin to finish talking.
"Would you excuse me?" Sandry said. "I'm afraid that my duties as hostess are about to intrude in on our conversation."
Dallin smiled. "Of course," his said, his voice deep and powerful. Sandry nodded and picked up her glass.
"Excuse me!" she called, her crystalline voice ringing through the room. She tapped on her glass with her spoon, making a loud chiming noise. "Excuse me!" The conversation at the three tables quickly died down as one-hundred and fifty people turned to look at her expectantly.
"I trust that all of you have enjoyed your meal?" There were nods of confirmation all around. Sandry smiled. "Then I would now like for us to move on to the dance hall. If you would please follow me." Across from her, Briar stood up and moved around the head of the table to take his place by her side. She accepted his offered arm, and together they moved toward the dance hall. Around them, the guests began to rise from their chairs to follow.
A/N: Weird ending, I know, but I need time to think about the next part!! Sorry! I always have trouble with dances.