A Treasure Hunt, of a sort
Aisling sat at one of the work tables in Sasha's workshop. With the door shut, she knew it was unlikely anyone would happen upon her, and counted on the discretion of those who could find her to leave her undisturbed. There were no windows or drafts to provide distraction.
She had cleared the table and wiped it clean before laying out her materials. The table was draped with a white cloth, a large square of white silk spread over that in the center of the table. The white silk was bordered with silver and red embroidery, and the corners each featured a lion passant reguardant argent. At either end of the table, she set and lit a pair of candles: one green and scented with mint, the other purple and scented with lavender.
On the center of the white silk, she placed a black concave mirror, a wide circle polished to a perfect shine. She'd carefully etched the edges with an endless Celtic knot. In her hands, she held an hourglass, which she'd used to measure her progress on the etching. Carefully prying open the timepiece, she poured a handful of the sand into her palm and then set the rest aside. Her eyes closed, she concentrated on the sand, on the mirror, on the spell she wished to cast. Her heart spoke her desire to the Dreaming, and she tossed the sand into the air over the table.
As the sand settled, Aisling felt the power flowing through her, washing over the mirror until it glowed with life. There was a moment of silence, and then a breath of air blew out the candles and carried the sand away.
Aisling stood still for a moment, watching the light in the mirror fade, and then carefully wrapped it in the silk and then put everything away. She tried not to hurry, but there was a definite spring to her step when she went in search of Sasha.
She had cleared the table and wiped it clean before laying out her materials. The table was draped with a white cloth, a large square of white silk spread over that in the center of the table. The white silk was bordered with silver and red embroidery, and the corners each featured a lion passant reguardant argent. At either end of the table, she set and lit a pair of candles: one green and scented with mint, the other purple and scented with lavender.
On the center of the white silk, she placed a black concave mirror, a wide circle polished to a perfect shine. She'd carefully etched the edges with an endless Celtic knot. In her hands, she held an hourglass, which she'd used to measure her progress on the etching. Carefully prying open the timepiece, she poured a handful of the sand into her palm and then set the rest aside. Her eyes closed, she concentrated on the sand, on the mirror, on the spell she wished to cast. Her heart spoke her desire to the Dreaming, and she tossed the sand into the air over the table.
As the sand settled, Aisling felt the power flowing through her, washing over the mirror until it glowed with life. There was a moment of silence, and then a breath of air blew out the candles and carried the sand away.
Aisling stood still for a moment, watching the light in the mirror fade, and then carefully wrapped it in the silk and then put everything away. She tried not to hurry, but there was a definite spring to her step when she went in search of Sasha.