A/N: I'm gonna switch it up a bit. As Briar is not exactly thinking coherently at the moment, this chapter is going to be in Sandry's point of view, breaking my pattern. So read on my loyal, er, readers!
Disclaimer: If you haven't realized I don't own Circle of Magic yet, then you REALLY haven't been paying attention.
Chaos.
The main room, normally neat and orderly, had transformed into a living forest; vines weaving every which way and saplings stretching to the ceiling. Those customers who couldn't make it the door were hopelessly clawing off the flowers that persistently bloomed on them. Ben was struggling to free himself from a bush that seemed quite attached to him while Sam and Ollie tried, without much success, to help.
And on top of the one remaining table, laughing hysterically with a half empty mug of ale in his hand was Briar. A really drunk Briar.
For a moment, all Sandry could do was stand in the doorway gaping. Kellen had no such qualms. Brushing past Sandry, she ran over to where Ben continued his floral battle. Something tickled Sandry's hand. A small vine was reaching up to her, encircling her wrist. Gently she unwound it and followed after Kellen. A crying Ollie rushed to Sandry, jumping over a clump of weaving clover.
"What happened!" Sandry shouted over the din. Poor Ollie could only shake her head and mouth wordlessly, terrified of the plant's strange behavior and the obvious magic behind it. Sandry glanced over her shoulder at Briar, who was now dancing among the plants, amazingly nimble for one so intoxicated. "You got him drunk?" Sandry guessed, incredulous. Ollie managed to nod and found her voice.
"W-we wanted t'know who he was and why you were mad!" she cried. Sandry groaned in frustration.
"Alright, alright, I'll handle this!" And with that, she pushed Ollie back to Kellen and went to the center of the room.
Rubbing her temples, Sandry struggled to call back everything about her magic that she had tried to keep away. Like slipping into her own skin, Sandry felt her magic surround her. The connections to Tris, Daja, and Briar, once dull and gray, blazed in her mind.
Ignoring the fact that the fabric of her dress was alive and quivering, Sandry desperately sorted through the wild ball of magic inside of her. It was a hopeless tangle, one that would take weeks to organize, but that would come later.
For now she grasped a bit of that magic and sent into the vines around her. Threads. she thought, they're just like threads. Distantly feeling the sweat beading on her forehead, Sandry went to work commanding the vines. She couldn't do anything about their growth, she was no plant mage, but she could command their movement. For now, she set them to weaving among themselves on the floor, rather then among people. Slowly but surely, the vines began to, leaving astonished customers in their wake.
The other flowers soon joined in, actually making a pattern in the rapidly growing weave. Ben's bush let him go and started arranging itself into a border, as the ending vines stretched to attach to it. Soon all the plants were in on the project. Sandry felt herself growing tired, it was much harder commanding plants than cloth, and she was all out of shape with her magic. The old Sandry, awakened with her magic, was disgusted by how sloppy she was.
Sandry finished her project with a flourish and looked around. The plants now resembled a work on the loom, bright and cheery in the middle of the destroyed room. Ben, Kellen, Sam, and Ollie stood near it, alternating between staring at Sandry and the work beside them. Customers, some of them drunk themselves were clumped in the corners of the room, a couple still sporting flowers. They stared as well. The room was dead silent except for Briar who sat under the table, watching a flower grow and shrink at his will and giggling.
Exhausted, knowing that any attempt for things to go back to normal was ruined now, Sandry walked over to Briar and tugged him out from under the table, and staggering at his weight, half dragged him out of the room and up the stairs.
Uttering a few choice curse words that Briar had taught her years ago, Sandry felt her strength leave her as she and Briar toppled onto the bed. Sitting up, Sandry gazed at the man she had known so long, who she once knew so well. She had loved him. Sandry knew that now. And that thought made her heart ache in a way she had never felt before.
Rubbing her eyes tiredly she muttered, "Oh Briar, why did you drink?" He should have known better. They had all had their experiments with liquor. It took Sandry two solid years to be able to drink without her magic. If she hadn't been there tonight he could have seriously hurt someone.
"Had to." Briar's croak startled Sandry. She hadn't been expecting an answer. "Hurt too much." This was new. Curious, Sandry looked up at him. He was still lying beside her on the bed, staring blearily over her left shoulder.
"What hurt Briar?" she asked, wondering if he had some wound she failed to notice. Clumsily, Briar patted at his chest. Over his heart. What?
"She doesn't like me anymore," he mumbled. Sandry's heart felt icy. So he had… found someone else. The very thought made a lump in her throat and made the ache three times worse. "I love her and she hates me." Sandry didn't want to hear anymore. Stumbling, she got off the bed and walked to the door as Briar whispered "Bad, bad, bad, bad," over and over again. Just as her hand reached the door, he wailed, "My duchess doesn't love me!" Sandry froze. Duchess… that was what he always called her. But he couldn't possibly mean--. Sandry turned.
"What did you say?" Briar looked up at her, green eyes foggy but still just as she remembered.
"I yelled at her. Never meant to—but, so many men were tryin' to take her 'way! Scared, scared, so scared." He broke off muttering incoherently. Sandry felt desperate, Briar had to be talking about their argument. What was Kellen going to say earlier? Briar was jealous?
Creeping to the edge of the bed, Sandry looked down at him. The eyes that stared back were dull, hopeless.
"I let her go," he whispered. "I drove her away."
"Who? Who did you drive away?" Sandry couldn't breathe. Her world had closed in on this moment. Moments dragged on for an eternity.
"Sandry." Briar's voice broke on her name. A wave of emotion crashed onto Sandry, dragging her down to her knees. She slowly scooted away from the bed till her back was to a corner. Silently, Sandry listened as Briar muttered to himself for a while, then to his even breathing as he fell asleep. She didn't even notice as the tears rolled down her cheeks, years worth of pain and longing released. One knee brought to her chest, leaning against the wall, she stared at the legs dangling off the bed, till finally her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep.
A/N: Bring on the B/S! Still tryin out the longer chapter thing. I also hope I got the whole BRIAR IS DRUNK thing right, y'know, talking and all that. Lemme know what you think! (By the way, I actually have NO idea of how long I'm gonna drag this story out, so no worries. The 'one more chappie' was complete and total non-truth!)
