The gardens of Winding Circle were filled with dedicates in coloured habits, novices in white hems trimmed by a hue of what temple they wanted to be initiated into and common folk of Summersea, all joined to celebrate the Summer Solstice. Hollow glass globes, spelled to hold light during the night hours, lit themselves just beyond the Hub as the last of the day's light faded away.
The celebrations only extended so far amongst the Dedicates. From afar, anyone could see two young Initiates arguing by an old tree in the middle of the garden. The people nearby refrained from even approaching the two, for the fear of being snapped at by either--or both--of them.
"Rosethorn, you know better than that," Crane muttered crossly, watching the angry, short woman with shoulder length, wavy hair pour herself a cup full of juice.
"Excuse me?" A female novice walked between the two Dedicates.
"Pretentious prat." Rosethorn turned around, ready to empty the sticky-sweet contents of her cup over Crane's insufferable head.
It ended up, however, over the novice. A tall one, with green hems.
Her puzzled expression settled on Rosethorn. Both women stood, completely immobile, gaping. The novice raised her hand gently and ran it over the wet surface of her habit, smoothing out the sticky fabric with her dark brown hand. Slowly Rosethorn averted her gaze, turning towards the gangly man behind.
Crane's smile slowly widened. He covered his mouth with a hand as a faint snort escaped.
"What's so funny?" Rosethorn snapped, glaring at Crane--infuriated by his rude behaviour and arrogant manner.'
"You are."
Rosethorn spun briskly on her heel, grabbed the Novice by the hand, and strode away-- leaving the smug, lanky man on his own. She led the confused woman towards a small cottage in silence, fuming over Crane's last words.
Neither of them uttered a word, although the uncomfortable silence cultivated on itself and made it their situation even more awkward. As the cottage drew closer, Rosethorn let go of the other woman's hand and slowed her pace to stroll.
"I've had enough!" The taller woman pulled to halt as she said this, but there was no anger in her voice.
Rosethorn stopped, as well, and took a look over her wet companion. The Novice's height did not dominate, but added grace and elegance to her. The curls framing her face gave her a very cat-like appearance, as her dark almond shaped eyes looked questioningly at the somewhat guilty younger woman.
"I'm… sorry about your habit" Rosethorn whispered, at last and almost inaudibly, looking ruefully at her hands. The hems of her sleeves were creased with every nervous tug she had made. She hoped the other woman would shout at her, express her fury, irritation or whatever she felt. Anger was so much easier to understand than passiveness. "I shouldn't have let him get to me so badly."
"That's true enough, but it's alright; we can't do anything about it now," the other woman replied softly, smoothing over the fabric of her habit again.
"What's your name?" Rosethorn looked up at her, feeling relieved.
"Lark."
"Well Lark, we better get you changed. I'm sure it's very unpleasant wearing something wet and sticky." She said, ineptly.
Lark chuckled at those words, and followed her inside the cottage.
***
Sandry, Tris, Daja and Briar sat, quietly stunned by the little story Lark had just told them.
"Now off to bed all of you."
The children groaned, but did as they were told.
"I'm surprised you didn't tell them the rest." Rosethorn was grinning, wickedly.
"I'll tell them when they're older" Lark whispered, leaning close to her. "So, what caused you to pour the drink all over me?" she asked, her lips brushing against the tip of the other Rosethorn's ear.
"He just drives me insane sometimes." The woman tilted her head slightly to the right.
"Oh?" Lark inched towards Rosethorn and picked up a strand of chestnut hair. "I understand. She gave Rosethorn a nod.
Slowly Lark's hand ran through the hair, soft and wavy as it tangled through her fingers. It slid out of her grasp and her hand slowly drooped to capture Rosethorn's chin, gently tugging it upwards. A finger moved upwards, leisurely tracing the contour of the other woman's lips, pausing for a brief moment at the dip there, then withdrawing.
Rosethorn's lip trembled as she felt the other woman's gentle caresses. She closed her eyes, and slowly drew a shaky breath. Her heart raced. Lark's soft breathing tickled her cheek while her stomach was doing cartwheels.
The green habit rustled as Lark moved slightly forward until her nose brushed lightly against her cheek.
"Please," she whispered, almost to herself. "They aren't asleep yet." Nervously, she pulled away. Just as Lark's lips captured hers ever so lightly for a moment.
"I'm sorry," the older woman whispered. "I'd better go to bed then too." Lark made a hasty exit.
Rosethorn sat on the couch, perplexed, thoughts still remaining on those lips lingering against her own for a fraction of a second.
Smiling she got up and followed Lark.