Briar had finally retreated to his room.
He didn't think he would have been able to stand one more minute of their
"visitor".
As much as he hated to admit it, he was just a little jealous of Sandry's
friend, Wilbur.
The guy had an air of nobility, money that could rival the Duke's treasury
and connections that a lowly, ex-street rat mage-in-training could never
hope to make.
Feeling sentimental, and slightly lonely, Briar went to the chest in the
corner of his room.
It had been a birthday gift from the girls last year.
Opening it, he removed his shirts, breeches, and a few other miscellaneous
clothing items.
He found the latch hidden away in the bottom.
Pressing the catch, the false bottom lifted to reveal about two inches of
space.
It was here that Briar hid his most precious treasures.
He picked up the first of his treasures. It was a note that had been
included with the chest.
He carefully unfolded the note written in the delicate, feminine scrawl.
It stated quite clearly what each girl had contributed in the construction
of the chest.
He read the letter over, memorizing the signature handwriting of one Lady
Sandrilene fa Toren.
Briar,
This is a chest to keep your things in. This way, they are composed and not
strewn about your room.
Daja, Tris and I all worked together to construct the chest.
Daja put together the structure, and spelled the metal to protect your
things from thieves.
Briar smiled at the joke, and continued.
Tris added air contained inside to keep your things fresh and clean.
Now he was at his favorite part of the note.
And I lined the chest with fabric, not only to pad the sides, but the
pockets along the back wall are perfect for housing smaller objects.
It was Tris's idea to add the hidden compartment, and Daja fitted the false
bottom to perfection.
The catch is easy to find if you know what to look for.
I trust that you are still proficient in finding such things.
Briar smiled even wider. He'd found the catch before he'd even read the
letter. Finally to the end, Briar looked at the signatures.
Happy Birthday, Briar,
Sandry, Tris, and Daja
Tris's was tiny and scrunched, almost rushed. Much like her personality, it
was tight and clean.
Daja's signature was written in broad steady lettering, showing the power
and strength that was Daja.
But, like before, Briar's attention was drawn to the flowing script of a
fiercely loyal, extremely determined noble.
Sandry's signature was very much a mirror of the girl herself.
While it had the soft curves and gentle loops of a noble lady, it also held
pride, determination, and a loyal integrity that you would be hard pressed
to find elsewhere.
Setting the letter aside, Briar picked up his next treasure.
A small white lace handkerchief edged in black.
He smiled when he remembered how he'd come across such a delicate item.
It had been shortly after the four of them had met for the first time.
He'd stolen a magical shakken from Dedicate Crane's greenhouse.
Rosethorn had just finished instructing him in how to care and prune his
priceless tree, and he'd taken his shakken to the new shelf on his window,
when Sandry had come out of the cottage.
They'd talked for a few minutes about the different kinds of hurts, and
then she'd offered him the handkerchief.
He'd tried to return it, but she'd refused, telling him to keep it.
So, unbeknownst to the rest of Discipline cottage, he'd laundered it and
stored it away.
He'd moved it here to the chest when he got it.
There was a short rap on his bedroom door.
Briar quickly stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket when the door
opened.
Sandry stuck her head into the room.
Looking at Briar's things spread about in disarray, she frowned.
"Briar, what are you doing?" she asked curiously.
"I'm cleaning my room. Is that all right with you, Lady Sandrilene?" he
snapped.
He wasn't sure why he felt the need to be aggressive, but he was sure it
had something to do with Whiny Wilbur.
Looking shocked, Sandry stepped into the room completely, and closed the
door behind her.
"What is the matter with you? You've been acting strange ever since Wilbur-
Oh!"
Realization dawned on Sandry's face.
"I see now."
"You don't see anything!" Briar retorted shortly.
"I see that you're jealous."
"I'm not jealous." He adamantly denied.
She smiled and walked over to his chest.
Carefully, she closed the false bottom, and began to fold and replace his
clothing.
"I'm not jealous." He repeated, this time with less vigor.
"Of course you're not." She agreed sweetly.
"I'm not!" he said.
Sandry closed the newly packed chest and stood.
"Fine Briar. I believe you," she walked over to him, "Really I do."
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms.
"I'm not," he whispered, before his mouth descended to hers.
He didn't think he would have been able to stand one more minute of their
"visitor".
As much as he hated to admit it, he was just a little jealous of Sandry's
friend, Wilbur.
The guy had an air of nobility, money that could rival the Duke's treasury
and connections that a lowly, ex-street rat mage-in-training could never
hope to make.
Feeling sentimental, and slightly lonely, Briar went to the chest in the
corner of his room.
It had been a birthday gift from the girls last year.
Opening it, he removed his shirts, breeches, and a few other miscellaneous
clothing items.
He found the latch hidden away in the bottom.
Pressing the catch, the false bottom lifted to reveal about two inches of
space.
It was here that Briar hid his most precious treasures.
He picked up the first of his treasures. It was a note that had been
included with the chest.
He carefully unfolded the note written in the delicate, feminine scrawl.
It stated quite clearly what each girl had contributed in the construction
of the chest.
He read the letter over, memorizing the signature handwriting of one Lady
Sandrilene fa Toren.
Briar,
This is a chest to keep your things in. This way, they are composed and not
strewn about your room.
Daja, Tris and I all worked together to construct the chest.
Daja put together the structure, and spelled the metal to protect your
things from thieves.
Briar smiled at the joke, and continued.
Tris added air contained inside to keep your things fresh and clean.
Now he was at his favorite part of the note.
And I lined the chest with fabric, not only to pad the sides, but the
pockets along the back wall are perfect for housing smaller objects.
It was Tris's idea to add the hidden compartment, and Daja fitted the false
bottom to perfection.
The catch is easy to find if you know what to look for.
I trust that you are still proficient in finding such things.
Briar smiled even wider. He'd found the catch before he'd even read the
letter. Finally to the end, Briar looked at the signatures.
Happy Birthday, Briar,
Sandry, Tris, and Daja
Tris's was tiny and scrunched, almost rushed. Much like her personality, it
was tight and clean.
Daja's signature was written in broad steady lettering, showing the power
and strength that was Daja.
But, like before, Briar's attention was drawn to the flowing script of a
fiercely loyal, extremely determined noble.
Sandry's signature was very much a mirror of the girl herself.
While it had the soft curves and gentle loops of a noble lady, it also held
pride, determination, and a loyal integrity that you would be hard pressed
to find elsewhere.
Setting the letter aside, Briar picked up his next treasure.
A small white lace handkerchief edged in black.
He smiled when he remembered how he'd come across such a delicate item.
It had been shortly after the four of them had met for the first time.
He'd stolen a magical shakken from Dedicate Crane's greenhouse.
Rosethorn had just finished instructing him in how to care and prune his
priceless tree, and he'd taken his shakken to the new shelf on his window,
when Sandry had come out of the cottage.
They'd talked for a few minutes about the different kinds of hurts, and
then she'd offered him the handkerchief.
He'd tried to return it, but she'd refused, telling him to keep it.
So, unbeknownst to the rest of Discipline cottage, he'd laundered it and
stored it away.
He'd moved it here to the chest when he got it.
There was a short rap on his bedroom door.
Briar quickly stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket when the door
opened.
Sandry stuck her head into the room.
Looking at Briar's things spread about in disarray, she frowned.
"Briar, what are you doing?" she asked curiously.
"I'm cleaning my room. Is that all right with you, Lady Sandrilene?" he
snapped.
He wasn't sure why he felt the need to be aggressive, but he was sure it
had something to do with Whiny Wilbur.
Looking shocked, Sandry stepped into the room completely, and closed the
door behind her.
"What is the matter with you? You've been acting strange ever since Wilbur-
Oh!"
Realization dawned on Sandry's face.
"I see now."
"You don't see anything!" Briar retorted shortly.
"I see that you're jealous."
"I'm not jealous." He adamantly denied.
She smiled and walked over to his chest.
Carefully, she closed the false bottom, and began to fold and replace his
clothing.
"I'm not jealous." He repeated, this time with less vigor.
"Of course you're not." She agreed sweetly.
"I'm not!" he said.
Sandry closed the newly packed chest and stood.
"Fine Briar. I believe you," she walked over to him, "Really I do."
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms.
"I'm not," he whispered, before his mouth descended to hers.
