[Wild Roses]
Title: into the role
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Arianhrod
Prompt: 27A "resonance"
Word Count: 381
Notes: follows trouble talking and steps.
Stepping from indoors onto sturdy slate paving stones was always a slight mental jar, even without the time jump from morning into late afternoon sunlight, and something bitter in the wind.
She smiled at the startled men in front of her, then tugged her hands forward, pulling her own entourage out of the empty air and into a formation not--quite--defensively ranged behind her.
One of the greeters grinned suddenly, revealing small healed scars on his face by the motion, and inclined his head to her. He slipped quickly back into the official mask as the eldest of the greeters stepped forward, extending his hands, and her own smile was slightly more than politeness as she laid her hands in his. Always good to note who'd seen action, and retained a sense of humour about it.
Her father's Hand--her Hand, for the moment, she reminded herself--stepped forward to her left side, nodding greetings to several of the men before leaning down to whisper "Picking a fight you didn't warn me about, m'lady?" in her ear.
She smiled, knew it looked smug but couldn't quite keep herself from doing it as she whispered back "Only showing off. Be thankful I'm not my little brother."
"Every day, lady, every day," he replied as he nodded to the footmen to come forward and help with the cases of her clothes.
She could have carried them all, handless, but there was a separate power in human hands. She could be gracious.
Everyone but her paused, apparently unaware, at the threshold of the inner gate of the keep, and she raised her head to examine the roofline. The bitter taste was stronger, the closer she got to the building, with a sense of building pressure behind her eyes.
'You won't catch me out so easily,' she thought, and pushed back at the pressure, raising tiny swirls of dust in the courtyard as she did. It collapsed abruptly, and she thought of burst soap bubbles as she walked inside.
The briefings hadn't mentioned the potential for other mages, or a deep love for vanilla scents, alone or mixed with rum.
She'd ask, when she got a moment with her Hand, or with the scarred up local. It was likely just a detail too common to be mentioned.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Arianhrod
Prompt: 27A "resonance"
Word Count: 381
Notes: follows trouble talking and steps.
Stepping from indoors onto sturdy slate paving stones was always a slight mental jar, even without the time jump from morning into late afternoon sunlight, and something bitter in the wind.
She smiled at the startled men in front of her, then tugged her hands forward, pulling her own entourage out of the empty air and into a formation not--quite--defensively ranged behind her.
One of the greeters grinned suddenly, revealing small healed scars on his face by the motion, and inclined his head to her. He slipped quickly back into the official mask as the eldest of the greeters stepped forward, extending his hands, and her own smile was slightly more than politeness as she laid her hands in his. Always good to note who'd seen action, and retained a sense of humour about it.
Her father's Hand--her Hand, for the moment, she reminded herself--stepped forward to her left side, nodding greetings to several of the men before leaning down to whisper "Picking a fight you didn't warn me about, m'lady?" in her ear.
She smiled, knew it looked smug but couldn't quite keep herself from doing it as she whispered back "Only showing off. Be thankful I'm not my little brother."
"Every day, lady, every day," he replied as he nodded to the footmen to come forward and help with the cases of her clothes.
She could have carried them all, handless, but there was a separate power in human hands. She could be gracious.
Everyone but her paused, apparently unaware, at the threshold of the inner gate of the keep, and she raised her head to examine the roofline. The bitter taste was stronger, the closer she got to the building, with a sense of building pressure behind her eyes.
'You won't catch me out so easily,' she thought, and pushed back at the pressure, raising tiny swirls of dust in the courtyard as she did. It collapsed abruptly, and she thought of burst soap bubbles as she walked inside.
The briefings hadn't mentioned the potential for other mages, or a deep love for vanilla scents, alone or mixed with rum.
She'd ask, when she got a moment with her Hand, or with the scarred up local. It was likely just a detail too common to be mentioned.