After dinner was done and after everyone pitched in for clean-up, Kirel heated up some delicious tea for the three. They sat, sipping it around the fireplace. A warm flame danced around logs of wood, keeping the room warm. The night had fallen, and it was suddenly extremely chilly. The tantalizing phenomenon, the burning flame, tempted Daja to stare at it for long minutes. Kirel's profile was outlined against the golden light.
Frostpine sat farther away from the fire. He looked eerie as the gleaming fire sent shadows across his face, shading his beard darkly and causing a gleam across his bare forehead. His eyes were light in his face, illuminated by the light source. His chair rocked as he kicked back and forth, swallowing his tea.
Daja and Kirel sat together on a sort of chair seated for two, a bench made of stained light wood but with pillows stitched into the seat. Daja was to Kirel's right. She buried her nose in her cup, looking over the edge at Frostpine. His eyes were laughing merrily over his drink.
"What are you thinking?" asked Kirel suddenly. Daja grinned at Kirel, thinking how her mind echoed his own.
Frostpine swallowed quickly and set down his teacup on the tiny table between the two furniture items. "Oh, it's nothing really," insisted Frostpine, his face screaming to spill his secret. "I was thinking about you, that's all."
"About which of us?" asked Daja, peeking at her long-time master and friend.
"Both of you, together," Frostpine replied wickedly. "I saw the two of you earlier, today."
Daja nearly choked on her drink. She gulped down the amount in her mouth and put her cup down.
"Oh," was all that she managed to mutter once she was able to breathe again.
"'Oh'?" asked Frostpine, sounding hurt, though his dancing eyes betrayed the secret. He was actually quite amused. "Is that all? Aren't you going to tell me if there's something going on that I don't know about?"
It was one of the single times in her life that Daja felt awkward around Frostpine. Apparently, he had no idea how that kiss had been – brief, and unexpected, and disturbing, and lacking in reason. Daja didn't know where to look, how to hide; she saw Kirel's face, turned towards her, asking her the exact same question.
"How did you see us?" Kirel asked, breaking the long silence and tension.
"Well, I was just walking along to the well for water for dinner, and I saw Kirel talking to yourself, your friends, and Lark. I was about to come up, say hello – and, well, Kirel, you just kissed her and—"
"Alright. I understand," Kirel interrupted.
It was at this point that Frostpine realized that perhaps he had embarrassed them. He saw Daja, unable to look at either Kirel or himself, and Kirel, looking at Daja with an unusual look. Frostpine could see the worry in his eyes. Quickly, he stood, leaving his tea to get cold, and left the room before they could even argue.
Daja didn't know. She just didn't know anything – not what to do, not what to say, not even what she felt. All she knew was that Kirel had kissed her, again, and she had liked it, again. Would it be like before? Would nothing come of it? Did she want anything to come out of it?
"Daja," said Kirel. She turned her head back to him, her eyes blank, barren.
His eyes held the same coldness; the repression of emotion was due to want of acceptance, and fear of not getting that. His eyes, framed by the whiteness of his hair, looked like ice to her, untouchable. "I've missed you," he said suddenly.
She felt as though something inside her had shifted against her ribcage, pressing, aching.
"Is it – is it bad to want to show you that?" Kirel asked her quietly, and the humanity slipped back into his eyes.
Daja felt herself soften; she had not realized that her entire body had been tense. You've missed him, too, a part of Daja told herself. Why must you resist that? Why don't you accept that he does mean something to you? Kirel is not a man of the past. He is here, a man of the present. The opportunity is still there; the relationship was never over.
---
Meanwhile, at home, Sandry was waking up in her room after her nap. It was night, but the sun had just set and the stars were just beginning to twinkle in the sky. Sandry sat up in her bed, the light fabric of her dress pooling out around her like a lake made of ivory. She blinked her eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them. Standing up, she ran her fingers through free, loose hair. She made her way to her window, staring out through the sheer pane.
She flung open the window on a whim, letting the chilled air whip through her hair. The ribbons on her sleeping gown tangled with the honey-colored strands of hair that danced with the breeze. She was freezing, but she felt so utterly alive, as if she was breathing for the first time in a decade. She stuck her head out of the window, her bright eyes reflecting the celestial heavens' strange pattern.
Laughing, Sandry picked up a flower that she'd found earlier that day with Raeldro. It was lying on the table by her bed. Giggling, she plucked off all the half-dried pinkish petals and threw them to the wind, releasing them to whatever fortune lay before them. Sandry giddily watched them go away from her; the petals flew towards the Hub on wings of air.
---
Across the city at the temple dormitories, a young mage was walking through the halls. At the end of the hallway, there was a huge bay window, lined with red curtains. He made his way to the window. He stood there for a moment, watching the giant yellowed moon, the color of faded paper. His hazel eyes grazed the whip-lashed trees.
Something bumped into the window. Raeldro did not even jump as the thing contacted the glass. He saw that a few petals of a flower had collided with the window pane. Raeldro smiled lightly, as if he knew who had sent them to him. He opened the window very carefully. Nonetheless, they flew open beyond his control, crashing into the walls. Glass shattered as a multitude of leaves and petals streaked through the hall around Raeldro, who stood crucified at the window, black against the weathered moon.
His ebony hair was plastered against his face as the harsh gale blew against him. The wind was calling his name, but the wind had Sandry's voice. It was a low sigh, so quiet even in chaos. The shards of the broken window panes streaked down the hall. The scene was dangerous and mystical and beautiful all at once.
Raeldro smiled and called back her name on the wind. Everything settled to the ground as the wind changed direction. Raeldro turned away and closed the wrecked windows pointlessly. He knelt down to pick up a flower petal from the floor.
---
"Close the window!" hissed Briar. Sandry shrieked and hopped back into the room, whirling on her friend. He thought she looked rather strange, wind-blown and lively, but she was so pale, like death had touched her.
"You scared me," she said, closing the window very quietly. "I didn't hear you come in, with the wind roaring so much." She smiled and brushed her light hair behind her ear. Briar sighed and blinked his eyes at her.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I could feel the wind all the way in the hallway," he explained. "What do you think you're doing, anyway, flinging open the window and leaning halfway out of it?"
"Casting petals to the wind," she said. "And making wishes on them." She held the drying stalk in her hands.
"Oh, Sandry," Briar said, rolling his eyes. "How about you make wishes in the morning, when the whole house doesn't have to freeze to death while you do it?" She shivered and nodded. Her sleeping gown was flimsy, and he could see her goose bumps rising on the surface of her skin.
Briar added, "Maybe you ought to get some hot tea or something. There's some left from the meal."
Sandry shrugged and agreed to the offer. They wandered out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
"Is there any tea?" asked Sandry, taking a seat next to Tris, who was reading a book. Lark's eyes rose easily and weightlessly from her spindle to Sandry. She went around the kitchen, spooning in sugar and humming, while Briar stole looks at Tris's book.
"Stop reading over my shoulder, thief-boy," Tris muttered, elbowing him in the side.
Lark brought the tea, set it in front of the young woman, who began to sip on it contentedly. As Lark did so, her hand brushed up against Sandry's arm. "You're freezing," Lark remarked, raising an eyebrow. She touched her hand more firmly to Sandry's arm, while her once-apprentice looked over the teacup innocently.
"I found her with her head out the window," Briar told her. Tris, at Lark's urging, hurried to the stocked attic to get a blanket, taking a candle to light her way.
"Am I really that bad?" asked Sandry, staring at her hands. "You don't think I'll get sick, do you?" Lark shook her head to show her disapproval, not to comment on her student's remark.
"Don't you have common sense?" Lark chided, giving her the cup of tea. Sandry sipped it down.
"I'm sorry," she said, some of the color returning to her face. "The wind is wonderful, though, and the sky is just beautiful. All the stars were glimmering, as if they were excited."
There was a thudding noise in the attic. Briar and Sandry heard Tris exclaiming swear words rather loudly.
"Briar," said Lark downstairs, "I think Tris is having some trouble."
"My cue," Briar groaned, leaping up the stairs.
Sandry watched him go, his loose shirt flapping as he went. She turned back to Lark with moist eyes that sparkled. "She has become lost up there," she murmured. "The dark is ugly, sometimes." Sandry gazed gratefully at the crystal beacons that shone out of her light-stone.
Lark gripped Sandry's hand briefly. "I know it is," she said softly. Lark smoothed a wrinkle on her habit. "I've overheard a few things in the last few hours," Lark said nonchalantly. Her eyes flickered up to Sandry's, who were lowered into the teacup.
"What sort of things?" asked Sandry in a whisper, even though she knew the answer.
"Things ... about you," Lark said, fingering the handle on her teacup. "Things about you and a certain someone else. I don't think it's necessary to say his name."
Sandry shook her head. "No, it's not," she replied, not taking her eyes off of her cup.
Lark pushed her tea away from her. "I need to know a few things, Sandry," she said firmly.
Now Sandry lifted her eyes. She'd never heard Lark sound so determined over something that seemed so trivial. "What do you need to know?" she asked quietly. Her hair fell into her face, masking her one eye from Lark's view.
Lark smiled as if she were a sly panther. "Everything," she said.
Sandry threw back her hair and sighed. "It's a very long story," she began.
"I have time."
Sandry smiled at Lark's undying persistence. "Well, I'm sure you know that Raeldro and I have been talking in the last few days. We've gone on walks," Sandry explained, gesturing with nimble hands. "We were walking earlier today. We went to this little spot, a little grove by a stream. It's a gorgeous place; I really ought to take you there some time."
Lark nodded. "Go on."
"Well, he was telling me that he thought it was a beautiful day. And, I wondered what could make it more perfect. And then, well, he kissed me." Sandry blushed. "He kissed me a few times, Lark. I'd never been kissed before, not like that."
Lark leaned forward. "Not like what?"
"Not so... so powerfully," Sandry sighed. "It was like something deep inside me woke up, like someone started to draw fire out of my gut. It was a wonderful, strong feeling." Her eyelashes fluttered closed. "It burns even still when I think about it." Her voice was the merest whisper, like the sound of trees conversing.
"But do you love him, Sandry?" Lark asked. "Romance is one thing, while love is another completely."
Sandry thought of that kiss and the hotness that came with it, the joy of the quiet woods. But, words of Daja's rang in her head. Was it enough? Would their relationship expand beyond embraces in between the tree trunks while the Hub clock ticked? Right now, she thought of him and ached all over the surfaces; but when he passed the skin of her, what would happen? And what would happen once she sorted through his outside and delved in? "I… I don't know, Lark."
Lark nodded and craned her neck to look better at Sandry. The young woman's eyes were stark with distress. Lark said with a laugh, "Come, Sandry. I don't mean to depress you and spoil your romance. I am not a guardian anymore, and I cannot tell you if you ought to be kissing young men in the grove. If you do not love him now, perhaps you will later. It is unrealistic of me to think you'll find the man of your dreams before you turn twenty." Sandry gave a small smile, somewhat comforted.
"Although," Lark added, "it would be wonderful if Raeldro Earthkin himself was the man of your dreams, hmm?" She winked and nudged a laughing Sandry, and all chaos settled into monotony and normality.
---
Meanwhile, Briar entered the attic upstairs. He snuck into the room, seeing crates piled up to his head in a strange winding path. When he had organized up there earlier, had he made the rows in a pattern? If so, that would have made everything easier. The room was somewhat large, the size of the kitchen and sitting room that it hovered over, but the higher ceiling was what made it intimidating.
Briar saw a glimmer from the far corner. "Tris!" he called.
Tris yelped at his voice. The glimmer faded to black, and nothingness filled the room. "You made me drop my candle!" she hissed at him from somewhere in the darkness.
"You'll live," Briar remarked. "I came up because you were taking a while, Coppercurls."
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't know which crate has the blankets in it."
"Where are you?" he asked. He heard a great deal of shuffling and some bumping into boxes, along with a few flavorful swear words that he had never taught her.
"I'm here," she said. Her voice sounded even farther away than before.
Briar edged around a box corner, following the sound of her speaking. "Just stay where you are, okay? Can you at least make it that much easier for me?" he joked.
"Stop it," Tris growled. "You'll kill the remainder of my pride."
"I'm sorry," he said, listening closely. "It's very... eerie up here." He paused. "Hum for me, or make some sort of noise, so I can follow the sound of it."
"I can't believe you didn't bring a candle yourself, genius," Tris said scornfully. She made an out-of-tune humming noise.
"You had one before!" Briar protested.
Tris was about to stop her humming to make a cruel comment back. She flinched when his hands touched upon her face, brushing her nose and lips. His index finger could feel the moistness on the inside of her lip where her mouth was parted in mid-hum.
"Found me," Tris whispered. For a moment, his hands hesitated, liking the way that her lips touched his fingertips as she spoke. Then he drew them back, taking her hand instead. "Let's just get this done and over with," he remarked, glad that she could not see the hot blush on his face.
"Should we go and get a light?" Tris asked.
"There's no need. The blankets should be around here somewhere," said Briar quietly. He let go of Tris and reached into a crate to his left. "Spider!" he yelled suddenly, flinging something at her. She gasped, annoyed and surprised, and brushed it off her. It fell to the ground, lifeless. It was a small coil of yarn.
"Was that supposed to be funny?" Tris shot at him. He was chuckling.
Briar pulled a fuzzy white blanket out of the box. "It's easy to tease you," he said with a smile, winking at her. He tossed the blanket at her head. It unfurled, falling over her shoulders. Briar started to walk down the darkened aisle from where they came.
Tris's stomach danced around, and she lifted the blanket from her eyes. I don't know what it is about him that I like, she said, angry at his silly, childish prank. But I like something about that boy.
Briar leaned on the edge of a crate, staring into the dark crosses on his hands. "Don't you want to get back downstairs? C'mon now." He walked ahead of her, this feet padding on the floor in a fair whisper.
"Wait here. I'm going to grab another one, just in case, so we don't have to come up to this cursed place again," Tris commented. She set down the white blanket on the floor by Briar's feet. Warily, she stumbled through the boxes and crates and found the one with the blankets. Finding a dark green one, she wrapped it over her shoulders and turned around. It was very dark. She could see nothing but her own hands, white against the darkness. Her hands touched something solid and sturdy.
"I thought I had run into a brick wall," she said, and Briar laughed softly. His chest quivered underneath her hands.
"Carrying my shakkan around has given me muscles like rocks," Briar responded.
Tris wondered at this prospect; he was not lying about the strength of his body. She could feel that his body had changed in three years. "Oh, really?" Tris responded sarcastically.
"Oh, yes," Briar replied. Is he flirting? she asked herself. "I think you'd be able to tell," he remarked, jokingly. Suddenly she felt the closeness between her and Briar for the first time.
Oh my, thought Tris as she realized the situation she was in. Slowly, she stopped laughing. Briar was silent as well. Both sets of eyes were diverted to Tris's hands planted firmly on his chest. Her fingers and the backs of her hands shone out against the dark green of his shirt, which blended into the black of the room. Her eyes somehow raised to meet his own, both of them questioning the moment. Shyly, Tris looked down.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, taking her hands off of him and stepping back, the blanket falling from her shoulders.
Briar felt cold as she backed up from him. He wasn't sure if the cold was inside or out, but it certainly did sting to have Tris look at him as if she were afraid. What did I do now? he asked himself, running his hand through his mussed hair. He breathed out, simply hoping maybe he wasn't being the antagonist. There were enough messes already; he didn't need another. Shuddering a little, he nodded to her.
Tris offered Briar the white blanket. When he turned down her offer, she wrapped the second blanket around herself as well and followed him with a nod to the back of his head. They went back in silence, somehow finding the route through the maze of boxes.
When they headed down the stairway, Lark looked up to see their tired eyes searching for Sandry. The light-haired noble gazed back at them, her face notably colored. Briar sighed his relief and went to get himself some tea.
Tris stood behind Sandry and wrapped one blanket around her friend, her eyes gentle. "Cold still?"
Gratefully, Sandry turned her eyes on her redheaded friend. "I'm better now, thank you," she whispered. "And I'm very sorry about all of this. I should have known better, but I suppose I wasn't thinking straight."
"We are humans, not gods," admitted Lark thoughtlessly, stirring her own tea. "It's no trouble." She smiled at Briar, Sandry, and Tris. "You aren't the same without Daja," she said with a blink. "It's almost like you're all incomplete without just one of you."
Briar diverted his eyes to his tea. "She needs this time with Frostpine and Kirel," he said intelligently, picking up his cup. He brought it to his lips, watching Lark's sad and misty eyes. "Besides, she's probably sick of us."
Even Lark had to chuckle at him. "She hasn't seen them in a while, so I suppose you're right. But you all heard what Niko said earlier today. The thought unsettles me as much as it unsettles you, you know," she remarked.
"Certainly is unsettling," muttered Tris. Somehow, Sandry thought she was right.
"I wonder what they're doing now," Sandry asked herself aloud. Tris's eyes snapped to Briar's.
Personally, I have no desire to know, Briar told his curly-haired friend.
---
Briar was half-right, and yet he wasn't even understanding that Kirel and Daja's moment at the cottage was very different from simple physical touches. Something deep was brewing as Kirel and Daja lay sleepily in front of a smoldering pile of logs in the fireplace, hands caressing one another. Each touch between fingertips and cheekbones was like gods touching men. This desire for knowledge of one another fully was unbearable pressure, coming in by way of a fiery unseen blaze but washing them over like a tingle, an itch and a passion that was drawing them together like magnets. Oh, how they wanted more of each other.
Their dark outlined forms came together in a sweet kiss before one body leaned back, pulling the other down with him or her. Who was who did not matter anymore; now they were one being, one blessed being silkily pushing through the air in a smooth movement that could never be replicated. Something was heating, and it was not the metals under an anvil or their body heat. Yes, this blazing hot fire was more emotional, more spiritual, and overall, more important than any of the others. This fresh love, this new love that knew nothing, could conquer all else; this newborn emotion wanted to explore and know and experience slowly and carefully without missing a heartbeat or a breath.
Like yin and yang, two different people of two different worlds, two different religions, two different races, two genders and two personalities, began to melt into a solid and unbreakable whole, a whole being that would triumph over the errs of mankind together. Hair fell over shoulders. Skin pressed against forms hidden by cloth. Eyes met and lips clashed in a beautiful love tango. Words unspoken curled through warm, fire-heated air, floating and seeping into living, sensitive skin. In this endless, timeless, flawless night, love came to stay and to change the face of their worlds.
---
Early the next morning, so early that the sun had barely woken up itself, a wide-eyed and lively Daja burst through the door while the rest were still eating their breakfast. "Good morning," she said to the three exhausted young people at the table. They looked at her with glassy, tired eyes as if she had grown a second head. Daja casually tossed her maroon sack on the bench and sat on the stool at the end of the table. She leaned forward, resting her elbows.
"How was your visit?" asked Sandry sleepily, buttering a piece of warm, toasted bread.
"I had a good time," replied Daja smoothly yet curtly. "Kirel and Frostpine give their greetings." Her voice conveyed no inner, hidden meaning; none of the three could guess anything about her experience. In fact, it was almost as if she refrained purposefully from sharing anything; did she have a secret? Or was she just private about her affairs?
"That's nice," commented Tris, setting down a half-full glass of milk. "Did you eat breakfast?" She held out a slice of bread, her eyes questioning about more than one thing. Daja's feathery lashes lowered to the bread; she then gazed into Tris's eyes, either ignoring her suggestive looks or not noticing.
"Oh, I ate, but thank you," Daja said, flapping a careless hand at Tris. The redhead smiled awkwardly, as if she didn't know how to take the rejection. She set the bread back on the plate, only for it to be quickly taken up by a hungry Briar Moss.
Silence hung strangely in the air, as if no one had anything to say. However, all of the four had many things to say. No one could bring up their probing questions against Daja; Daja, on the other hand, was unable to ask how her friends had spent their night, fearful they might bombard her furiously and relentlessly with embarrassing, personal questions that she didn't want to answer, questions she didn't think she could answer if she tried. Daja bit her lip nervously, chewing at it until it grew reddish with agitation.
Sandry's eyes fluttered over to Daja's. The brown girl looked down at her lap, twiddling her thumbs. "I think I should go and unpack," she said in a nearly inaudible voice. Sandry nodded dumbly and began to slowly trace the edge of her glass with a slender finger to amuse herself. The taller girl rose from the stool, picked her bag up, and crossed the room.
Daja was almost to the stairs when she stopped and turned around to face them, as if she had just remembered something very important that she needed to say. She looked half-distant. Sandry twisted on the bench to glance back at her friend, watching them with such kind and warm eyes. Tris glanced down at Sandry's hand on her glass; Sandry's finger was caught on the rim, tipping the nearly empty glass. Tris laid a hand on the drink and set it back correctly.
"Can we talk?" asked Daja in a very quiet voice. Sandry's head shot up straight, her hair flopping like a delicate milkweed. She looked Daja dead in the eye, as if she couldn't believe her friend's openness.
Daja wandered over back to the stool, dropping her bag in its former place. "What did you do while you were there?" Sandry asked smartly, twisted a strand of hair and putting it behind her ear.
"Oh, we talked a great deal. We chatted about the planet, about Raeldro and his experiment, about how good it is to be back where we started off. You know, returning to someplace I know makes this trouble less alarming. It's like ... it's like I'm home, even if that's all I've got," she said in a very quiet voice.
"I think we all know that feeling, Daja," said Lark upon entering. Daja smiled and waved as the dark-skinned dedicate walked past them with a flapping of her gown. "I'll leave you all to your peace. I'm too old to be in the room right now."
"Nonsense," insisted Sandry passionately. "We'd never exclude you!"
"And you're not old, not that old anyway," Briar replied with a wink.
Lark made a crooked, wicked face at him. "That's a sure-fire way to win a lady's heart," Lark commented dryly, narrowing her eyes at him while smiling at the world openly.
"I don't plan on winning any lady's heart, not anytime soon," Briar responded tartly, snatching up another slice of the tasty bread.
His eyes glinted, as if maybe Lark had struck some tightly wound coil in his heart, some sensitive spot in the hard-shelled soul of Briar Moss.
Tris felt a jolt run through her taut veins; it felt like strumming a guitar. She looked away from his green eyes, the color of light shining through tree leaves at sunset. Why does that sting so badly? she asked herself.
Lark shook her head. "You'll change your mind about love," they heard her mutter as she walked past towards the door. She cast a wink at Sandry. "No, honestly, I won't be staying," Lark announced aloud. "I've got to leave anyways. Niko is going to update me on Gazelle's story."
"Oh! Have you heard?" asked Sandry in a very gossipy manner, looking straight into Daja's eyes.
"Frostpine told us this morning," replied Daja grimly. Daja turned worried eyes on Sandry, then on Briar and Tris. "I hope this will lead to the end of this mess."
"It has to," Sandry said passionately. "This is a solid lead."
"A solid lead without any evidence to lead us to the killer," Tris remarked. "Very solid, indeed."
"Have a handful of faith," Sandry replied. "Do you think that the gods are on the side of this madman?"
"No," grumbled Tris. "I don't. But explain this to me. Why did the gods cast their blind sides onto us and let this happen in the first place? Why would they make it simple to live?" She angrily shoved her glasses onto her nose a bit further.
The others glanced at her, feeling very small and insignificant after her statement. Her eyes glittered maliciously under her spectacles. "It's true," she hissed. "Hasn't existence wrung all the life out of us already? Hasn't it worn us thin with trouble, with worry, with sorrow and pain? Thinking about it makes you want to ... to stop living for a while until the storm passes by."
The other shuddered at her words. "She's got a point," Briar admitted with a glance at the depressed girl across from him at the table.
"No, she does not!" exclaimed Sandry passionately. "The gods have made obstacles for us; this is true. And some of us have had a great deal more trouble than others. But haven't they given us so much? We have the ability to live and exist in the first place. We have our planet, our magics. The gods have given us friendship and each other. They've given us love." Her hair fell into her face, spinning wildly around her head as she turned from person to person.
"They've given some of us love," remarked Tris fiercely. She picked up her drink and sipped from it as carefully as she could; her hands were shaky.
"Are you alright?" Sandry asked, leaning across the table to place a cool hand on Tris's cheek. The redhead flinched a little at the touch, but she then looked gratefully at Sandry's comforting eyes.
"I think I'm alright," said Tris in a genuinely thankful manner. "I just get myself wound up sometimes."
Sandry smiled and removed her hand. "I think it's because you're just tired and worn out; aren't we all?" She laughed. She reseated herself, being careful not to knock over any milk glasses or get her sleeves in the butter.
You'll get somebody one of these days, if that's what you're mad about, Sandry told Tris quietly in her head. Tris's eyes flashed underneath her spectacles and she looked Sandry in the eyes, hope shimmering there.
I hope you're right, Tris thought to her friend. But I hope that one of those days is soon, because I'm worried that we don't have that many days left.
---
"News on Gazelle?" asked the four an hour later when Lark and Niko arrived back at the house. They could tell by the bleariness of Niko's eyes and the watermarks dashing Lark's cheeks that their answer was not a good one.
"Her body was scoured by the best of the best forensic mages. She's absolutely the cleanest of all murders. There's not a trace of anything foreign on her," Niko replied glumly, saddened by the lack of progress.
"Damn," muttered Briar. "I've never heard of such a case, and I've heard of lots of killings." He shut his eyes in disbelief, anxiously raking his fingers through his dark, shining hair in a cat-like motion.
"It's amazing, isn't it? We are dealing with someone wealthy enough to pay for such an excellent, perfect murder, unless the person killed Gazelle himself. Either way, this person is very, very dangerous," Lark muttered.
Niko rubbed his forehead. "We don't have any evidence," he concluded sorrowfully, his deep eyes lowering to his white-knuckled hands. Daja looked worriedly at his strained expression, wishing she could just throw this burden out the window.
"Well, is there a way to track the opal, maybe?" Tris suggested. "You say that all things have a specific color, a specific place in the earth core. Could this opal be tracked using that?"
Niko shook his head. "Tracking as such is not easy. It is a process that has not been done in thousands of years, and even then it took twenty mages of the highest caliber to do so. Still, anyone who had purchased an opal from Dedicated Gazelle is asked to return it," he explained.
"On such a happy note, should we start the activity?" Rosethorn interrupted quietly as she came from her room. Sarcasm dripped like snake's venom from the fangs of her lips. The four nodded, lost in the hells of their own minds, twisting evil, purple-black deaths for themselves. The rest of the morning was very, very grim. They warded the house and then proceeded to dig into the earth.
---
It was just after the midday meal. Tris was sitting on her bed, trying to amuse herself by reading a book. However, it was difficult to read with that deep, wet shadow sliding up and around her brain, squeezing tight and holding on.
She dropped her book with a sob and worriedly shook her head, causing her glasses to clatter to the floor; luckily they stayed in
one piece. "Damn," she hissed under her breath. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"
Savagely she smashed her worn hands into the pillow. It's not fair! she screamed in her mind. I don't want to die! I don't deserve to die! Won't some god have pity on me, please, just let me stay a decade more? It's all I ask! That same trickle of ominous doom tingled up her spine, as if it answered her with a menacing, demon-like laugh.
She leaned back and hugged herself, rocking back and forth. For all my life before I came here, I just wanted to die. In the minds of my peers, wasn't I already dead? I was this bug they could squash, a heartless toy, an inanimate puppet. But ever since I met Niko, all I've wanted is to live. I suppose that I should have been careful about what I prayed for.
Her mind revolted powerfully. But, no! My friends never asked for death's hand upon them, she reasoned. She laid down softly. And yet... I may have wanted to die, but no god granted that favor to me, thankfully. And that was the only thing I wished for, anyway. I never asked for much. Would it be so wrong to ask for a little help in this crisis, just a little helping hand? Could it be so bad to just ask the gods to keep me from not dying? They've done it before, despite my protests, and I'm sure that they can do it again, she pondered. Pitifully, she let out a moan of distress, unheard by anyone but the breeze that sauntered through her home.
What do I have to hold on to? she asked no one, yet still begging for an answer. Is there something left? Someone left?
Visions of Sandry, giggling as she wandered back from a walk with Raeldro, swept through her mind. She saw Sandry from years ago, her hair in those pigtails, frustrated with threads clinging to her clothes, tears beading in her eyes. She heard Sandry's words in her mind; Tris felt her fingers trace that masterpiece of Sandry's, the lumpy eternal circle of them. Sandry was a masterpiece in herself, the Bag who stood up for Traders and closed the gate on Dedicate Crane's face.
The memory of Niko's face, shocked and curious as he exited the Dedicate Superior's office, appeared; that was when she had first seen him. She saw him angry at her when she had tried to control the tides; she saw him afraid when he had walked into Discipline earlier. But she saw that the hole her own father had made was filled by the whole of Niko. She saw him smiling proudly as they left Discipline three years ago, and she could hear in his voice the hidden tears that dwelt behind his eyelids.
Rosethorn, covered in soot with leaves twined through her fingers, rose up in the frame of her past. Tris heard her threatening words, promising to hang them in the well. She saw Rosethorn's glower at the back of Crane's head. She felt the thanks when life ebbed back into Rosethorn's body after the four had rescued her from death's garden.
Tris smelled Lark's tea and watched her show them acrobatics across the planes of her mind's eye. Lark had fostered the chick in Tris and had released the eagle. A memory of Lark, spinning at the table a few nights prior, murmuring sweet, soft love songs, turned her eyes briefly up at Tris, comforting Tris like her true mother never did.
Frostpine and Daja hammered nails lovingly in the wood framework of a door. Daja's staff hitting the ground was a familiar sound to her ears; perhaps it was actually a noise downstairs. Daja was like a boy with her calloused ship hands and alien ways. But Tris saw pieces of herself in Daja, parts that knew what it was like to be alone, parts that recognized what was gruff in her. Tris saw Daja throw away all her preconceived notions of merchant girls.
Briar flipped through a book in her mind's eye, able to read thanks to Tris's dedication. She remembered teaching him to dust, recalled how frightened he had been of Rosethorn. She remembered his dislike of bathing. But she saw Briar soften at the edges like watercolor paints. She saw him go tender at the smiles of his female friends and saw him stick up for them while they defended Little Bear.
Isn't that enough? she asked herself. A little gremlin tinkered with her wants, rooted deep in the cavernous pits of her mind.
An imaginative thought popped into her brain. Briar looked tenderly at her, drawing near enough to touch her cheek with a sweet kiss. Tris's mind jolted tenfold at the sight. As much as she thought it to be odd, new, didn't she see it as something she desired?
I've asked myself this a million times, and I never can answer, she thought sadly.
The idea of Sandry loving someone else, somebody foreign, was weird. The notion that Daja was perhaps in love with Kirel was also unfamiliar. But the idea of Tris loving Briar? That was the strangest, most insane thing to imagine. ...The image has already sunk within me. Won't it remain?
He is already my friend, Tris reminded herself. Why can't he be more than that?
Something evil in her mind hissed that he was her friend and nothing more. She had asked so much of him already. Hadn't he already helped her in a crisis, given her his shoulder to cry on, and gotten her to learn outside of her world? To ask Briar to love her would be pushing the limits.
The smallness slithered away into the recesses of night. We know no limits.
A knocking noise arose from the door. Jumping a little, Tris turned her stormy blue-gray eyes towards the entrance to her room. Clumsily, with hands that had grown but still seemed childlike, she picked her glasses up and shoved them on her nose savagely as she stumbled to the door and opened it, trying to regain that normal, cold composure.
Coincidentally, Briar was standing there. "The rest of us are downstairs, but we felt you crying. Are you alright?" he whispered quietly to her. His face leaned towards her own in a worried, sympathetic way. Tris was tempted to lean forward and gratefully peck his cheek, but she didn't dare.
Feigning that independent, powerful exterior, Tris backed up a step and made her way to the bed again, her back away from his.
"I'm fine," she told him loudly enough for him to hear, but quietly enough so that he couldn't pull any emotion from her voice. She crawled onto the mattress. He stepped into the room, nudging the door with the tip of his shoe. However, he was unable to walk any closer to her.
"You sure?" he asked her in a kind and gentle voice. Tris liked the way he talked when he was trying to be nice, as if he held a subtle hum behind his words. But she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
"I'm alright, really," she insisted. She picked her book up casually, leafing through the pages as if she were bored. "I just ... need some time alone, to think." Her eyes rose to his own. She saw isolation rooted in his eyes. You don't understand, she thought, though not to him. You don't understand that half of the problem is you, and you can't solve it, not this time.
"If you need to talk ... we're here," he offered simply enough. Something kindred shone in his eyes, something that seemed to stretch out in a kind gesture.
Tris blinked at him. "I know that, thank you," she said with a slight cough stuck in her throat. Briar looked at her with a strange unfamiliarity in his eyes, as if he couldn't understand her resistance to assistance. And, indeed, he didn't understand. Why
is she always so distant? he asked himself. Even her eyes had that watery, alien blue drifting in them, a swirl of a sky and an unseen world. A stretched, tense feeling hung between them for an instant, making them each want to run away forever.
He frowned at her regretfully, resentful that he was still unable to get through to her after all these years. "Alright then, Coppercurls," Briar said affectionately and somewhat teasingly as he turned towards the door, masking his distress. "Just remember what I said." Mournfully, his hand touched the doorknob, turning it halfway in a manner that suggested a hesitation in leaving at that critical moment.
Briar was almost out the door when Tris called him back. "Wait," she squeaked, setting her book down. He turned back to her with a very visible question in his eyes. Tris shyly lowered her eyes. Suddenly, she was afraid to ask him something, anything.
Briar somehow was able to figure out the problem lurking in the dark of Tris's brain. "We're all afraid, if that's what you're wondering," he replied to her unspoken words. "Including me." His voice was soft and almost quivering, as if that fear had taken root years ago and was already starting its ugly decay cycle.
Her eyes fluttered up, glimmering beneath the glass of her spectacles. "I'd thought so. Maybe I'd even hoped that I wasn't the only one, as horrible as that sounds," she whispered.
He shook his head at her. "There's nothing wrong with being scared," Briar commented. "We've got reason to be." He laughed. When Tris cast him a sideways glance, he explained, "We're on the loose again. Who knows what messes we might make this time."
Tris chuckled. Niko can't fix up our problems anymore, she thought to herself. And that means we can't make them anymore, especially now. That's going to be a challenge.
Briar grinned at her. "Cheer up, okay? We'll make it," he assured her. With a wink, he headed out of the door, leaving that warm Briar-ish scent behind him, a fresh, lingering aura that was so entirely human with that magical green glint that was his essence.
Tris sighed in his identity and hoped that he was right this once. Flipping curls the color of bronze behind her ears, she reopened her storybook mindlessly.
Briar headed down the stairs, thinking of Tris. Even now, she couldn't speak her mind to him. Running his hand through his hair vainly, he tried to block out the wary tremble he saw in Sandry's and Daja's eyes.
"Is she alright?" Sandry asked in a strained whisper, trying to keep Tris from overhearing.
Briar nodded and reseated himself at the bench next to Daja. "She'll be fine. And she's in that 'I-want-to-be-alone' mood, anyways, so don't even try it," he told them. He folded his arms and laid his head on them, gazing at the ceiling in the general direction of her room with puppy-dog eyes.
Daja tugged his sleeve. "Street-boy," she murmured playfully, "you seem upset."
"Some things we'll never reach," he answered her, not looking at her. "Some people we'll never really reach, not all the way. We'll always be a step behind, a moment late, and at the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Don't talk so, 'kid,'" Daja remarked, elbowing him. "We were able to get you to stop talking slang constantly. I think we can do anything."
---
The afternoon crawled by slowly and painfully; Briar had decided against sleeping in order to help Rosethorn restock her workroom. He strained herbs and sifted sands and poured sweet-smelling mixtures into puddle-like globs on a dish, his mind concentrated on the task at hand. It did him good to not think for a while. Rosethorn watched him work with a critical eye.
Daja, hoping to clear her mind as well, went for a walk. She watched the sky, dotted with light gray clouds in patches that covered that familiar crystal blueness. She went to Frostpine and Kirel's shop; they weren't there. Perhaps there was a meeting at the Fire Temple or at the Hub. She wandered through their house aimlessly for fifteen minutes, gazing at the fireplace, smeared with charcoal, or leafing through a stack of books on the table.
Sandry sat spinning thread to pass the time at the kitchen table. Around and around went the spindle, the same one she'd purchased 8 years ago at the Summersea market. She also pulled their thread circle out from the pouch around her neck, the same pouch that held her still blazing light crystal. She held it in her hand, fingering each knot and feeling the shock and tremor of each person as she touched them. The thread was old-looking, worn from age, yet it was still as whole as if had been years ago when it had first been formed in a loop.
Tris, upstairs, read her book, and then continued to read it over and over again until she fell asleep.
---
The foursome sat on the roof of the cottage, watching the sky turn black later that day. The sun was just setting, but the mask of clouds, slightly tinted red, hid the glorious sunset. Tris especially was fond of watching the heavens. There was hardly anything she liked to do more than gaze as clouds formed and grew and then split into many. The sky today was spotted with rain clouds, which threatened to soak them at any moment in a cool kiss of rain. Tris could hardly wait.
Sandry was working at braiding her hair. She was trying to make two braids on each side like pigtails. It was a hairstyle she had worn often as a child but less as a near-adult, for it made her look many years younger - too young for her taste. However, she loved the convenience of being able to keep it out of her face when she was working at anything. Smiling brilliantly, she worked at her task.
Briar had recently purchased new shoes. His old one had been leather thong sandals, which had been comfortable but trashy in appearance. At Rosethorn's command to "buy something decent" for his feet, Briar had bought a pair of nearly identical shoes, but they were stiffer and they made his poor feet ache with small sores. Now, as the teenagers lazed about on the roof, Briar slipped the new shoes off his feet and held them in his hands, twisting them this way and that in an attempt to break them in. His arms rippled as he bent the stubborn sole back and forth, loosening the leather. His work was tedious, but it would be worth it when he was finished.
Daja was snoozing. After staying up late the previous night and waking early that morning, she was worn thin. She slept away on the roof, dreaming about constructing doors for the umpteenth time. It was a tiring vision. And, yet, despite her sleepiness, her body itself wasn't tired at all. In fact, she'd never felt so awake. Her lips still burned where Kirel had kissed her; her hands desired the feel of his cool, pale skin underneath them. Sandry was watching her, sneaking secretive glances at the lazy girl. She could see that Daja had a weird magic boiling inside her, something passionate. Somehow, Sandry could guess who Daja was thinking of.
A terse voice from inside the house called to the four on the roof. Briar looked up slowly from the shoe, as if he feared what wrath might soon fall upon him; Daja grumbled and sat up as groggily as a hibernating bear would, eyelids fluttering. Sandry, her bright eyes shining, stopped braiding but held the braid in its place in mid-braid; Tris rolled over and called back to the voice, "We're on the roof."
Rosethorn yelled up the stairwell, "I figured you were hiding. I'm reminding you that it's dinnertime, meaning that Daja has to come down to help Lark cook and Sandry has to set the table and afterwards wash dishes." Daja groaned simultaneously with Sandry, and the latter quickly finished her hair and secured it with a red ribbon. Daja and Sandry raced down the stairs to the kitchen, leaving Tris and Briar alone.
After watching the girls leave, Briar continued his work, leaving Tris to watch the swirling heavens above her. She glanced
at him. He looked adorable, brows knit together as he concentrated intently on his shoe. She then turned her attention back to the sky, observing the misty green-gray fade into night.
Only a few minutes passed before Briar slipped on his shoes again. "Much better. They aren't as hard anymore," he said. He scooted over next to Tris and lay next to her, saying, "I'll watch clouds with you, for old times' sake." Tris turned to her left to where he lay, and she smiled faintly at him. He grinned back, white teeth shining against his bronze skin. Tris thought Briar's smile to be a nice one, gleaming and seeming to light up the scene in a silver-green sheen. Was it her, or had he always glowed like that?
They both stared at the sky for long moments, their gazes lost in the heavens. "It's getting dark," Briar remarked. "Maybe we should go in so we don't get rained on." He was right; stormy clouds the color of a raging, bitter sea streaked against the backdrop of the skies.
"Nonsense," said Tris, glancing to her left. "The rain hasn't come yet. And even when it does, it's peaceful to be in, listening to the sound of it and smelling the fresh-earth scent." She sat up in anticipation, restless for the storm. She could almost feel the lightning dancing in her blood, that electric shiver racing around her body in a flash. "Are you afraid of a little rain?" she teased, sitting up.
Briar leaned up on his elbows. "Of course not," Briar said. "Why do you ask, weather-witch? Do you have some plan to drown me in a tidal flood?"
"I would never, Briar. Smothering you with a pillow would be much easier," Tris said.
"You wouldn't dare. How could you smother a face like this?" he asked, leaning in close to her. Was that a smirk she saw turning up at the corners of his lips? Something told her that he was very definitely flirting with her. He was certainly very close.
"How could you take a pillow and smother these eyes and this smile?" With that, he flashed a charming, impish grin at her. Tris couldn't help but to blush and smile at him and at the irony of it all; it did not help her situation for him to point out all of his own beautiful traits.
"Oh, I couldn't, Briar," Tris replied, surrendering to laughter.
"Good," Briar said. He was still quite near to her, with those green eyes that he had mentioned staring into hers. Contented, Briar leaned back again. "This roof isn't as comfortable as it used to be. It sags like a mattress," he remarked.
"That's why we need to re-thatch it," Tris said. "Or maybe it's just because you're three feet taller and weigh more." The winds teased at her curls and kerchief.
"I did not grow three feet… one foot, at most," Briar responded, his eyes dragging on the skyline. "Maybe it's just that my shoulders are sore from leaning over Rosethorn's little workshop table. I should have brought a cushion."
He could lean on you, something inside of her remarked.
Don't let him, a different part of her cried out.
But, for once, Tris decided to push all those small voices away and lock them in the deepest corner of her mind. After all, they were only voices, and they could not force her to do a single thing without her consent.
He heard her shift, and he turned an eye towards her. She was crawling towards you. "I haven't come to smother you, I promise," she said casually. "C'mon. Lift your head. You can rest it on my lap."
"Oh… really, I'll be fine," Briar protested, making to sit up to prove his well-being.
"I won't tell anyone you've gone soft. Just relax, would you?" Tris said. She slid herself underneath him a bit, letting his head fall against her stomach. He found himself to immediately be much warmer now from her body heat. Yet, something was stiff. There was no release here. Their bodies still were far enough apart to be awkward, as if each feared catching some unnamed disease from the other. She didn't know where her hands ought to go.
She leaned over a bit. "I'm not quite a cushion, but hopefully you're comfortable." A hiss similar to a shiver sizzled down his neck where her breath touched him. The situation was getting more and more interesting as it moseyed along.
"I am," Briar said in more of a gasp than a phrase.
Tris paused, not sure what she ought to do now. She feared that if she so much as moved, Briar might jump up and bolt down the stairs and not look at her all through dinner. The thought wasn't appealing. But yet, something inside her, some ancient intuition, told her that it was alright.
She took her arms and ran them over Briar's stomach, the pads of her fingers sensing carefully built muscles and sinew underneath his clothes. When she touched him, she could feel him inhale sharply, his chest rising quickly and abruptly at the sensation. When her palms too contacted his shirt and the layers beneath, Briar felt something stir within him, some sort of awakening. Why did that touch feel so alive? Why did he feel like his bones had all melted to butter under his skin? She then pulled him up and back to lean against her more and press his weight onto her.
The feel of her body on his back was sensual and beautiful; he suddenly fell in love with the sweet embrace. Briar smiled and closed his eyes and leaned his head on her shoulder, his face to the impending storm. She could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed; his breath smelled like something was blooming. He liked sitting on Tris's lap and aimed to tell her so.
The strange gut feeling he felt was almost the same feeling he'd felt when he's stepped back into Discipline a few weeks ago for the first time in years, except that the feeling was fuller, like the emotion had a life of its own. Briar felt much warmer now, not only on the outside but on the inside as well. He made a contented sighing noise.
Tris chuckled. "Glad I could help," she said in the barest of whispers. Her lips were so close to his face that the temptation to kiss him was overwhelming. His slightly parted lips were tantalizingly addictive, sweet pink rose petals that exhaled her breath of life.
They sat like that for a few more minutes, Briar nearly sleeping on Tris's lap and Tris holding him tightly. Tris was exhilarated that Briar had not only refrained from running from her after her request, but that he had actually consented and was now totally relaxed in her grasp. He felt to her like a weak kitten, needing to be tended to. Tris smiled. There were a hundred things rolling through her heart and mind, but the most prominent was currently that she ought to do this to Briar more often. All of her burned in a way that was all passion and no pain; life itself swam through her very veins.
Briar was half-dreaming. Tris was in his dream, and she was humming to herself. It was a sweet, haunting melody. Was it the same song she had hummed in the attic? Then he realized she actually was humming, right by his ear. He never had heard her sing, but he enjoyed the sound of her voice, rich and sweet.
But his dream did not stop there. Dream-Tris was then taking his hands in hers, looking at them and fingering the briar-scars. Her fingers lightly flitted over deep dents and ridges, tracing the lines that represented his past, present, and future. Then he figured out that she really was doing just that.
Dream-Tris stopped humming and said in a low voice, "You're beautiful, Briar Moss." Well, at least he thought that the speaker was Dream-Tris. She sounded so real.
"Dinner!" cried a voice in the middle of his dream. Rosethorn entered his dream, carrying a delicious-smelling pan of bread. Then he realized there was the scent of bread in his nose, and that Rosethorn was screaming at him from downstairs. Briar opened his eyes.
Tris immediately dropped his hands, blushing. She hoped he hadn't noticed. She would not like an angry and embarrassed Briar to ask her for an explanation, for the one she hadn't wouldn't have been a very suitable one. She'd been thinking about how strong his hands looked, but how they felt so gentle. She actually had wanted to touch them to her face, but she had feared such a movement might have woken him.
Briar turned and blinked at Tris. "We should go," he informed her. It was a stupid thing to say due to its obviousness. Tris, however, nodded and took her arms away from him. Now they felt cold without his warmth. When he stood from her lap, she felt even colder, like that life in her body had frozen.
Briar began to make his way to the stairs, but midway he paused and turned to her. "Thanks," he said with his face lit by a gorgeous smile. Then he was gone down the stairs.
Tris stood and began to follow in his tracks. She suddenly hated the concept of dinner and interrupting people and how people called loudly up stairways. She shuddered, now suddenly freezing. As she descended to the kitchen, she could hear the rain start to fall in a soft trickle outside.
Dinner was quiet. Sandry blabbed passionately about the great feeling of being home again, while Daja half-dozed as she ate, muttering curt responses to Sandry's questions. Tris and Briar stole glances of each other across the table.
---
The nightly meal was halfway through when Tris's sensitive ears picked up a strange noise coming from upstairs. "Something's dripping," she commented before setting down her fork. Her voice was calm. "And it's something in the house, not the rain." Indeed, the rain had started to pour down outside in great liquid sheets, soaking through dried dirt and into plant roots; Briar could feel their joy at the precipitation.
"What's dripping?" asked Sandry, putting her drink down. Niko, who had for once been able to make it to the table, glanced curiously at Tris. The redheaded young woman strained to listen.
"I don't know what is dripping, but I know where it's dripping. The sound is coming from upstairs, and it sounds like it's not happening in one place... it sounds like it's happening in at least six or seven places," she said in an intelligent manner.
"The roof must be leaking!" grumbled Rosethorn. "I knew that we ought to have re-thatched it sooner. Well, we'll have to get started on it tomorrow, then." She stood up. "If you'd excuse us, I'm going to take the boy and Daja upstairs with some pails to catch the drips." She stood and tugged on the sleeve of her former student, glaring at him in a manner that would not take "no" for an answer. Briar gulped his juice and nearly dropped his glass on the table before heading up the stairs behind Rosethorn and Daja.
They had reached the hallway but were still unable to see or hear any noises. Sighing, Rosethorn called down the stairs, "Nothing's dripping!" Daja had meanwhile slipped into her room.
"Actually, Rosie, something is definitely dripping," Daja interrupted, calling down the hallway. "You'd best grab a few pails." Rosethorn and Briar stumbled into the storage area and rummaged through a few boxes before snatching out some roughly-made bowls and pails.
Carrying them under both arms, they entered Daja's bedroom. "And some rags, too, while you're at it," Daja added haphazardly.
Rosethorn jumped back and dropped all her buckets with a shrieking clatter. Voices murmured downstairs at the loud noise. Rosethorn's wide, angry eyes attacked the room viciously. Steady streams fell in four places from the ceiling, one of which was strategically over Daja's bed, blanketing it with water. Daja was hurriedly moving her treasured suraku out of the way of the drizzle. Large pools of water spanned the floor, while drops also were scattered across the surface.
"We need mops!" Rosethorn roared. A mad scramble sounded downstairs. Briar held back a snicker and shook his head, yanking a pail from the floor and putting it under the nearest hole in the ceiling. The pail tinkled as the water hit the inside.
Tris and Niko appeared at the door a moment later with towels. Tris went immediately for Daja's bed, pulling a bucket from the pile and holding it under the dripping. She began to strip off the bed sheets with Niko's assistance. Sandry's eyes went wide as she saw the scene.
"Gods!" she gasped, snatching up a bucket and setting it under another drizzling waterfall. "It's a mess in here!"
"Really?" Daja laughed mournfully, soaking up water from the floors. "I didn't notice." Her words surprised a chuckle out of the rest of them. Lark then entered the room and shook her head in disbelief before rushing for more towels.
"This bucket is getting full," Niko remarked, motioning to the pail he held over Daja's bed. "Briar, could you take over here? I'm going to dump the rest of these full buckets out the window." Briar nodded and put a new pail under the running water over the bed. Niko then removed his own and headed to the window. He set down the pail in his hand and pushed up on the window, hearing that familiar soothing rain sound.
Something outside sounded like it was dying. The noise was the wind, screaming as it whipped through houses and trees. A huge torrent of rain entered the room, covering Niko's rich black robes with water. He gasped and slammed the window shut quickly, his dark eyes feverish. Everything went silent as the older mage turned with sad eyes towards the others. He looked like a drowned rat with his streaky salt-and-pepper hair and dripping clothes. Multiple pairs of cautious eyes grazed over his figure, noting how he hardly looked like Niko at all.
Everyone submitted to roars of laughter. Niko chuckled himself, fingering the wealthy cloth of his robe with a grin on his face. Rosethorn's face was as red as the bud she was named for. Lark shook her head and dragged a bucket over to Niko. He proceeded to wring the water out of the sleeve. This caused them all to laugh even more.
"Come on, now," Lark said, taking Niko's bucket away. "We've surely got some spare robes in storage. Let's find some new ones for you to wear, and you can let these dry by the fireplace." Niko laughed and followed Lark to the storage area.
About five minutes had passed before the two of them came back into the room. Lark was now holding a new green robe for Niko. "I hate to tell you this, but we passed Tris's room and heard some water in there," she said. Groaning, Tris and Sandry rushed down the hall in a whirl of red and gold and burst in through the door.
"Only one," breathed Tris in a relieved sigh. She motioned to the single hole in the ceiling.
"I'll get a bucket," offered Sandry with a kind smile. Tris nodded to her friend and knelt to the floor, her rag in her hand. That familiar sensation of her least favorite chore came upon her. She began to soak up the water pooling over the floor, grumbling and soaking her dress at the knees.
"Gods!" gasped a male by the door. Whirling, Tris looked up at the great Raeldro Earthkin, who seemed like a mighty black shadow who had sprung a leak. His hair and his robes were wet; he had obviously been walking in the rain. "What happened in here?"
"We need to re-thatch the roof," said Tris quickly, turning back to her work. She cringed at the man, disliking him more and more. "Why are you here?" It was hard to squeeze even an ounce of kindness into her voice.
"Oh, just to visit," replied the man, looking with glisteningly joyous eyes around Tris's bedroom. To see Sandry, you mean, thought Tris angrily. She wiped at the floor with a vengeance.
Raeldro continued, "I knocked, but no one came to the door. I figured that you couldn't hear me because of the rain and such, so I let myself in. When I didn't see any of you downstairs, I came up here."
"I see," Tris murmured. She didn't like the idea of this near-stranger letting himself into her home, even if he was Sandry's sudden lover.
A happy voice giggled at the doorway. "Raeldro!" Sandry squeaked, her eyes sizzling with love. "What a pleasant surprise!" She set down her bucket and wrapped her arms around his neck, oblivious to Tris's presence. He was soaking her beautiful dress, but she didn't seem to mind at all. His hands slid around her hips and he brought his smiling lips onto her own immediately. Tris's heart was thundering at the awkwardness of the situation. She could hear them kissing, nearly smell that flowery love sensation blooming in their hearts. Sandry giggled as their lips broke apart.
"My love," whispered Raeldro in a soft, gentle voice that Tris could hardly hear, "how are you today?"
"Just fine, and you?" she said, laughing as he played kisses along her jaw line.
"Excellent," he hissed before kissing her soft lips again.
Tris grabbed the bucket that Sandry had dropped to the wooden floors. Sandry didn't even notice; Raeldro had pressed her against the doorway of Tris's room, her arms wound around Raeldro and into his wet, silken hair. Raeldro was sliding his hands all over her body, his palms not leaving a bit of her untouched.
Tris turned back to her chore, setting the bucket underneath the water stream. She could hear Sandry sighing and gasping as Raeldro touched her. Frankly, Tris didn't want to look. She had seen enough already, for one; secondly, she thought that she ought to try to be respectful. Of course, Tris thought that if they had wanted to make it a private moment, that would have been possible, but she still decided to leave them to their peace.
Breathlessly, Tris heard their lips break again. "Oh sweet Duchess," Raeldro groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. Her head tilted upwards, Sandry closed her eyes and breathed out the words: "I love you."
Tris jumped at hearing that.
She supposed that at that moment, the two young lovers realized that Tris was in the room with them. Sandry gasped a little and Raeldro stepped back from Sandry, taking his hands off of her. Unfortunately for him, his back collided with the doorframe behind him. "Ow," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. Sandry snickered playfully at him.
"Here's your..." Sandry began, bending to pick up the bucket. "Oh, you have it," she said, interrupting herself. She folded her hands in front of her, feeling strange. "Do you need anything in here, Tris?" the light-haired girl asked, her cheeks pinkish with shyness and embarrassment.
"Oh, no," replied Tris, turning back to Sandry. "You two can run along." She smiled at Sandry, understanding forced in her eyes.
Sandry grinned gratefully and then turned away, taking Raeldro's hand. Tris heard them advance to Daja's room and ask a similar question. There was a long, weird silence, and then Rosethorn shooed them along with that usual terse manner. The young lovers thundered past her room, down the stairs, and out the door, calling a farewell to Niko and Lark downstairs. As the door slammed,
Tris rose from her place and went to the window. Peering through the rain, she only saw rain falling diagonally and two forms seemingly running through the downfall. She supposed that Sandry and Raeldro were those forms.
Tris watched them for a minute or so, seeing them skip happily and giddily through the rain; though Tris could not hear them, she was certain that Sandry was giggling blissfully. They were running to the far horizon, crossing fresh grass and that familiar winding path. They stopped and the forms came together in some embrace; Tris couldn't tell who was who anymore. Tris smiled, amused, and adjusted her glasses.
Tris turned to go back to her work when she bumped into someone. Briar had been standing behind her; now she found herself awkwardly in his arms. "Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered softly, looking into his gleaming eyes. Somehow, she wasn't finding the will to move from the comfort of his hold. His lips were slightly parted in his surprise, and his crystal eyes blinked at Tris's own surprised expression. His hands had somehow found their way to her hips, while Tris's own hands were flat against Briar's strong chest.
"No, I'm sorry," he replied, not moving either as he gazed down at her. "I came in to see if you needed a hand, and I saw you out the window. I came to see what you were looking at…"
He cut off and laughed once. "...And we ended up like this."
Tris chuckled, too, but she noticed very well that neither of them were moving yet. "I was watching Raeldro and Sandry," she answered, smiling a little. "They look very happy together. I saw them; they were in here. They just flew at each other, unable to stop themselves. She...she loves him, I think." Something about meeting Briar's eyes as she spoke the word "love" made her tremble. Tris's eyelashes fluttered downwards.
Briar said softly, "I thought you didn't like him." His hands still rested on her hips, more comfortably now. His voice was very scarce, as if he feared she might blow away if he breathed on her.
"I don't," Tris said.
Briar smiled back at Tris. She was so close, right in his arms. She was so attainable right then; Briar realized that he could have just pressed his lips onto her own then and there. And, suddenly, he discovered that he just wanted to do so. Her stormy eyes were watching him, trying to read his secrets, trying to gaze at his soul through his pupils. She was silent, as if she expected something; her lips were barely touching as she drew in a breath.
Slowly, Tris slid her hands up to his shoulders. Briar's eyes jerked down in a quick motion to watch her palms make their graceful, beautiful path up his body. They linked behind his neck. She looked up at him, and his eyes met her own suddenly. Why is she doing this? he asked himself, not quite understanding.
Tris saw something in his eyes that lit her on fire. She could have sworn she saw that unnamed thing rooted in his eyes. In that green-gray iris, she wanted to identify Briar's thoughts, the exact words echoing in his mind. Her heart thundered in her chest. This was everything she had been dreaming of; this was that secret rose blooming in the sunniest corner of her soul, yet hidden. He was so near...
But Briar couldn't bring himself to kiss her. Fear, black and ugly, was struggling from hard soil in his mind. What if she hates me for it? a part of him protested. He had never felt so scared of Tris in his life, even when she'd threatened him in numerous ways. It was all that he wanted; but he could never face her.
He coughed and backed up a step. Tris released him unwillingly, her eyes questioning. "I... I think they might need some help in Daja's room, if you're alright here," he said in that husky voice. His hands slid away from her. Tris nodded, looking at her shoes. Briar blinked at her once and left in a hurry, suddenly feeling very awkward and confused.
He swore at himself. He reasoned, She might have been trying to be nice. Rosethorn glanced at him. Briar seemed nervous to her, like a high-strung horse.
Then why did it feel so right? another part of him argued. Didn't you like the way it felt to be in her arms? Didn't you tell yourself that you just wanted to kiss her? Have you ever felt this way, so strongly, about a girl before? This is everything you want. Damn you, Briar Moss. Are you going to let that pass you up?
He stood up, seemingly being spoken to by an unseen being. "I'll be back," he told the others before rushing out. They sent him a wary glance and shrugged, returning to their work.
Briar nearly skidded down the hallway, almost colliding with a dry Niko and a laughing Lark. He almost slammed into the door of Tris's room. He yanked the door open in a fury, about to pour out his soul to her. But he stopped, paralyzed by her.
Tris was leaned against the window, her face to the windowpane. She was crying; he could tell by the sniffling coming from her direction. Sadly, he advanced towards her. Tris's eyes diverted. Briar could see the reflection in the glass; she was looking right at him by way of the glass with teary, gray eyes. He backed up a step. She didn't look very happy, and she didn't look like she wanted company, either. He bit his lip and wordlessly stumbled back out of her room, closing the door considerately behind him.