[Wild Roses] Mages
Title: flowers
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Ian
Prompt: 01A "once upon a time"
Word Count: 523
Notes: Yeah. That Ian.
Prompted by a poll response. Loops in with good luck symbols.
"I don't want to go!" the little girl was crying, struggling against the hands of her elders.
They froze, though she didn't, when the mage came over, crouching down to her level, his hands laid on his knees in an easy, careless pose.
"Sweetheart, you can't stay here," he said gently, "there aren't enough spells in all the world to keep you safe."
"I just planted flowers by the house," she told him, sullen. "They'll die if I dig them up."
"I'm sorry."
Over their heads her aunt and great-uncle exchanged a mildly disbelieving glance. Strange enough that one of the mages would come to move them, stranger still the mage that mage, and strangest of all he actually seemed sorry.
"I don't want to go," she repeated, "I like it here. It's home."
The mage raised his hands, and the adults flinched, but he only set his chin in them, head canted slightly to one side. "What do you like about this house?"
"I--" she bit her lip. "I like the way the hill holds the house. My cousins find birds' nests that are shaped like that. I like the dirt, the way things grow in it. I--it's home. Don't you have one?"
"Not the way you do," the mage sounded oddly sad. "But I think I know a place that has a dip, the way this one does. The dirt's black, not brown, though. Would that be alright?"
Over their heads the adults exchanged another glance, this one nearly gape-jawed. Farmers dreamed of black-earth fields. Her great-uncle squeezed her shoulder, and she muttered an "I suppose."
"Would you like to see it, first?"
"Yes, please."
Some time later, as her family scrambled to get things together in order to finish moving, she found the mage again, sitting on the stoop of the house that had been her grandmother's, once.
"I'm Holly," she said, by way of 'hello'.
"I'm Ian," he replied, smiling.
She blinked. "That Ian?"
" . . I suppose yes, that Ian," he was laughing.
"You're tricky . . ?" she trailed off, uncertain of the phrasing.
He nodded, then knelt down again and sketched with his fingers in the dark earth. "Can you remember these, Holly?"
"I think so--" she sketched a slightly shaky version underneath his, pressing deep with her fingers to get the size right.
"Good work," he grinned at her, and had her sketch them again. "That first one, with the bow? It's a protection symbol--carve it or paint it on the things you want to keep safe. Now this other one? It's to call me. If you can't think of anything else to do, and you or yours need help, carve that one, and think of what you need help with."
She eyed him dubiously. "And you'll hear me."
He pressed his empty palms together, then laid them open like a book opening, with a tied packet of something in his palms. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and took the packet, pulled the strings to open it, then gaped down at the seeds.
"They're hollyhocks," Ian said, "like your name."
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Ian
Prompt: 01A "once upon a time"
Word Count: 523
Notes: Yeah. That Ian.
Prompted by a poll response. Loops in with good luck symbols.
"I don't want to go!" the little girl was crying, struggling against the hands of her elders.
They froze, though she didn't, when the mage came over, crouching down to her level, his hands laid on his knees in an easy, careless pose.
"Sweetheart, you can't stay here," he said gently, "there aren't enough spells in all the world to keep you safe."
"I just planted flowers by the house," she told him, sullen. "They'll die if I dig them up."
"I'm sorry."
Over their heads her aunt and great-uncle exchanged a mildly disbelieving glance. Strange enough that one of the mages would come to move them, stranger still the mage that mage, and strangest of all he actually seemed sorry.
"I don't want to go," she repeated, "I like it here. It's home."
The mage raised his hands, and the adults flinched, but he only set his chin in them, head canted slightly to one side. "What do you like about this house?"
"I--" she bit her lip. "I like the way the hill holds the house. My cousins find birds' nests that are shaped like that. I like the dirt, the way things grow in it. I--it's home. Don't you have one?"
"Not the way you do," the mage sounded oddly sad. "But I think I know a place that has a dip, the way this one does. The dirt's black, not brown, though. Would that be alright?"
Over their heads the adults exchanged another glance, this one nearly gape-jawed. Farmers dreamed of black-earth fields. Her great-uncle squeezed her shoulder, and she muttered an "I suppose."
"Would you like to see it, first?"
"Yes, please."
Some time later, as her family scrambled to get things together in order to finish moving, she found the mage again, sitting on the stoop of the house that had been her grandmother's, once.
"I'm Holly," she said, by way of 'hello'.
"I'm Ian," he replied, smiling.
She blinked. "That Ian?"
" . . I suppose yes, that Ian," he was laughing.
"You're tricky . . ?" she trailed off, uncertain of the phrasing.
He nodded, then knelt down again and sketched with his fingers in the dark earth. "Can you remember these, Holly?"
"I think so--" she sketched a slightly shaky version underneath his, pressing deep with her fingers to get the size right.
"Good work," he grinned at her, and had her sketch them again. "That first one, with the bow? It's a protection symbol--carve it or paint it on the things you want to keep safe. Now this other one? It's to call me. If you can't think of anything else to do, and you or yours need help, carve that one, and think of what you need help with."
She eyed him dubiously. "And you'll hear me."
He pressed his empty palms together, then laid them open like a book opening, with a tied packet of something in his palms. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and took the packet, pulled the strings to open it, then gaped down at the seeds.
"They're hollyhocks," Ian said, "like your name."