Will had been trying to work at his plans again when he sees the young woman spinning, its something so much of home that he smiles for a moment watching.
Before getting up and coming over, "Ne'er understood 'ow my mother can manage to spin, milady, but then she doesna understand 'ow I can fletch arrows so tis all fair."
His sword is at his belt and he looks his normal scruffy self though there are some new bruises and a bit of stiffness, sparring with John will do that.
"There's just so much to keep track of at once," Sandry says, frustrated.
Twirl the spindle, let it fall, feed the wool, steady the thread. Quite a lot for a novice spinner to keep up with--especially an eleven year old who just learned the basics a day ago.
She looks up at the man, regards him for a moment, then smiles. He may be scruffy, but he is dressed like she's used to people being dressed. It's somewhat comforting.
"Aye, I know, milady, most things like that just take practice, sure ye'll get it in time. 'rhaps ye should give yerself a break an 'ave some tea. Found tea 'elps most things an Lady Bar always knows wonderful ones."
He's quite prepared to kneel down and help pick up the bit of a mess on the floor since she reminds him of the young girls in Nottingham, but happier which does Will a lot of good to see.
Sandry probably wouldn't know what to say if he did ask. The idea that what she does with thread and the makings for it may be magic is one that is rather new to her. Many a time she had simply explained it away.
Even the glowing braid of silk thread she had once created, she had half convinced herself was a dream. She's never spoken about it openly to anyone but Lark.
Sandry finishes her literal wool-gathering, the fibers forming themselves obediently into a neat strip. She lays them and the spindle on the table and takes her seat.
"I'm Will Scarlett, tis a pleasure to meet ye, dinna think I've seen ye in 'ere 'fore."
With a smile, Will pours out the tea and grabs a date scone, its a comforting sort of magic to Will, makes him think of old stories of brownies and Wise Women.
"It's very nice to meet you too, Will Scarlett," Sandry replies politely.
She's set aside her noble's mourning for her plain, comfortable old summer dresses, but her speech and manners hint that she was raised to know how to behave properly.
When uncooperative wool isn't driving her to distraction.
"I've only come here a few times," she confides. "I just started finding the door after I moved to my new home. I don't know quite why it started appearing, but I hope it keeps up."
"I just walked into my bedroom recently and found it."
Sandry raises her tea cup.
"Where did you find it?"
She's always curious about new people, and enjoys meeting and getting to know them. Most likely a product of being brought up all over and moving about a great deal.
"Na sure, 'xactly, milady. Tis a place in stories that borders on our world an is full o'strange creatures who watch 'umans but dinna understand us properly. Sometimes they 'urt us in their quests for power an other times strange loves are found cross the borders. Tis said in Sherwood forest which girts round me 'ome in Nottingham, the borders are thinner."
Deep in Will's eyes a shine of that old and ancient forest wakes up for they tell stories of the men of Sherwood and he's as intertwined in those old stories as any man.
Sandry nods. There are similar stories in her own world, though as far as any scholar or mage can tell they are nothing more than stories.
She grins a bit mischievously. "Maybe they--the people who tell the stories--were talking about Milliways all along. They just didn't know what it was."
"I've know about the Green Man, though. Rosethorn--one of the dedicates in charge of the cottage where I live--is very fond of swearing by him. Which is fitting, I suppose. She's an Earth Temple dedicate, and she likes to garden."
Sandry is a chatty child by nature. And since only one of the three other children being housed in Discipline with her are interested in talking to her, it's something of a relief to have people in Milliways to talk to.
"He might not be the same Green Man, though. If our worlds are different.
Before getting up and coming over, "Ne'er understood 'ow my mother can manage to spin, milady, but then she doesna understand 'ow I can fletch arrows so tis all fair."
His sword is at his belt and he looks his normal scruffy self though there are some new bruises and a bit of stiffness, sparring with John will do that.
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Twirl the spindle, let it fall, feed the wool, steady the thread. Quite a lot for a novice spinner to keep up with--especially an eleven year old who just learned the basics a day ago.
She looks up at the man, regards him for a moment, then smiles. He may be scruffy, but he is dressed like she's used to people being dressed. It's somewhat comforting.
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He's quite prepared to kneel down and help pick up the bit of a mess on the floor since she reminds him of the young girls in Nottingham, but happier which does Will a lot of good to see.
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Even five year old children can spin with great skill once they master the technique. Sandry is just rather impatient to learn.
"Perhaps a rest would be best," she agrees, kneeling down herself to clean up the wool, her long muslin dress pooling on the floor.
"I had Bar's tea the first time I came here," she adds with a smile as she gathers up the fibers. "She does make very good tea."
She doesn't have to work very hard to pick up the wool. Most of it is wiggling into her hand of its own accord.
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He's found that with Molly at times, sometimes she shows off and other times, he has to pry information out of her,
"Then shall 'ave to get a pot, milady an aye she does."
A wait rat is hailed and a pot of tea and some scones are ordered too as Will sits down, letting Sandry finish picking up her wool.
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Even the glowing braid of silk thread she had once created, she had half convinced herself was a dream. She's never spoken about it openly to anyone but Lark.
Sandry finishes her literal wool-gathering, the fibers forming themselves obediently into a neat strip. She lays them and the spindle on the table and takes her seat.
"Thank you," she says, smiling over the tea pot.
"I'm Sandry," she adds.
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With a smile, Will pours out the tea and grabs a date scone, its a comforting sort of magic to Will, makes him think of old stories of brownies and Wise Women.
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She's set aside her noble's mourning for her plain, comfortable old summer dresses, but her speech and manners hint that she was raised to know how to behave properly.
When uncooperative wool isn't driving her to distraction.
"I've only come here a few times," she confides. "I just started finding the door after I moved to my new home. I don't know quite why it started appearing, but I hope it keeps up."
It's so very interesting.
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"Aye, does tend to surprise ye at first, milady. Ne'er known why it 'ppeared for me but I'm grateful it 'as."
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Sandry raises her tea cup.
"Where did you find it?"
She's always curious about new people, and enjoys meeting and getting to know them. Most likely a product of being brought up all over and moving about a great deal.
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He was also running from a man at arms, but no need to go into that with this young girl, who seems a bit of a lady.
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"Where's Faerie?" she asks, stumbling a bit over the strange word.
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Deep in Will's eyes a shine of that old and ancient forest wakes up for they tell stories of the men of Sherwood and he's as intertwined in those old stories as any man.
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She grins a bit mischievously. "Maybe they--the people who tell the stories--were talking about Milliways all along. They just didn't know what it was."
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"Aye, milady, 'rhaps they were though 'ave met two folks from those stories 'ere, the Green Man an Puck."
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"I've know about the Green Man, though. Rosethorn--one of the dedicates in charge of the cottage where I live--is very fond of swearing by him. Which is fitting, I suppose. She's an Earth Temple dedicate, and she likes to garden."
Sandry is a chatty child by nature. And since only one of the three other children being housed in Discipline with her are interested in talking to her, it's something of a relief to have people in Milliways to talk to.
"He might not be the same Green Man, though. If our worlds are different.
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