[Wild Roses] Sun Queen
Title: morning post
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Phoebe and a Hand
Prompt: 79B "flight"
Word Count: 286
Notes: This particular Hand has appeared in unfair advantages, repairs and Leaves. Nature's way of laughing at you.
He found the Queen up on the roof of the Keep, catching paper birds with nets of sunlight.
"The Sandovals want to meet with you," he told her when she looked up at him, inquiringly.
She made a face. "How is my schedule?"
"Iarlaith said either meet with them later this morning or put them off for a week. I think he's still trying to figure out what they're after this time."
She chuckled, looking back out at the drift of birds for a moment before she hauled the edges of her net in, shook it briskly a few times. When she'd finished, the tumble of birds had turned into a thick stack of creased letters, marked at the edges and the folds with tiny golden arabesques that flared and faded in the light.
"Put them off for a week," she said, and he startled, then remembered what they'd been talking about. "I have correspondence to deal with."
"That's--" he pointed at the stack, and she grinned for a second.
"You thought mages sent letters by the water-post?"
"Frankly, majesty, I'm surprised they don't pop out of the air and demand your attention," he told her dryly, and she laughed.
"They used to, but then someone sent an ink case and it burst on someone else's desk. Once that story got around, we started revising our methods." She tied the stack of letters together with a spool of light, tucked the bundle under her arm. "Go on, Ian. I'm sure you have more to do with your day than watch me start arguments in letters."
He inclined his head, touched his heart with two fingertips in salute, took himself off.
He gloated the rest of the day, for reasons no-one else could determine.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Phoebe and a Hand
Prompt: 79B "flight"
Word Count: 286
Notes: This particular Hand has appeared in unfair advantages, repairs and Leaves. Nature's way of laughing at you.
He found the Queen up on the roof of the Keep, catching paper birds with nets of sunlight.
"The Sandovals want to meet with you," he told her when she looked up at him, inquiringly.
She made a face. "How is my schedule?"
"Iarlaith said either meet with them later this morning or put them off for a week. I think he's still trying to figure out what they're after this time."
She chuckled, looking back out at the drift of birds for a moment before she hauled the edges of her net in, shook it briskly a few times. When she'd finished, the tumble of birds had turned into a thick stack of creased letters, marked at the edges and the folds with tiny golden arabesques that flared and faded in the light.
"Put them off for a week," she said, and he startled, then remembered what they'd been talking about. "I have correspondence to deal with."
"That's--" he pointed at the stack, and she grinned for a second.
"You thought mages sent letters by the water-post?"
"Frankly, majesty, I'm surprised they don't pop out of the air and demand your attention," he told her dryly, and she laughed.
"They used to, but then someone sent an ink case and it burst on someone else's desk. Once that story got around, we started revising our methods." She tied the stack of letters together with a spool of light, tucked the bundle under her arm. "Go on, Ian. I'm sure you have more to do with your day than watch me start arguments in letters."
He inclined his head, touched his heart with two fingertips in salute, took himself off.
He gloated the rest of the day, for reasons no-one else could determine.