[Wild Roses] out in the wood
Title: river islands
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Arianhrod, Takashi
Prompt: 11A "madness"
Word Count: 426
Notes: this is much abbreviated; covering at least a month and probably closer to four in less than five hundred words will do that to one. Follows return to oz.
She'd been right--the yelling had started. Two brush fires, big enough that her little brother and Hernén combined couldn't choke them to death, and a small war that'd gotten bigger after both of Brighid's sons were already fighting it.
Ulysse couldn't technically get involved in the miniature war, though he was up all night nearly every night giving advice to riverboat captains who were involved.
But he could accompany the Sun Queen's daughter in his capacity as her brother. Especially if she was walking down to end a war.
Arianhrod sighed, shrugged into the persona, and kept the lightning strikes to marshes and river islands.
Several of Hernén's two-legged wolves drove themselves lightly crazy every few days, prowling around on four feet and growling back and forth to one another about foxes. Whenever she heard them start, she started keeping an eye out for redheads, for a familiar smile or a familiar bitterness to the air.
She startled badly the first time she had no warning, nearly touched off another small war by the way she moved in response to spotting the fox in the back ranks of someone else's guards, grinning like he had a secret she'd never guess.
That time she knew enough to spot the characteristic spells, start tearing them down with tiny finger flicks, nothing dramatic, as she negotiated an alliance, if not yet an allegiance. The gossip from the wolves and the humans as the camps mingled was that life opposing had been far weirder. Powder going missing often enough to cause fights, bowstrings frayed, far too much of one spice in the food and far too little of others and never, never enough salt to go around.
She refused to contemplate the idea that the fox was helping, in some backhanded fashion. It was a hope most likely false--she'd cut off his tail, after all, not kissed him hello--and one she should not start to bet on.
She nearly hit him with lightning, the evening an escort raised his head from the easy slouch against a tree and turned into the redheaded fox in the process.
She stopped, fist half raised, as he gave her a smile she would have described as shy on anyone but him, and asked "Will you go walking with me?"
I--what? She stared at him, speechless, for several beats too long, because he smiled, utterly delighted, kissed his hand and said he'd see her at moonrise in three day's time.
If he was deliberately trying to keep her so off-balanced that she wouldn't think of dropping something heavy on him before he got away--again--she had to admit it was working.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Arianhrod, Takashi
Prompt: 11A "madness"
Word Count: 426
Notes: this is much abbreviated; covering at least a month and probably closer to four in less than five hundred words will do that to one. Follows return to oz.
She'd been right--the yelling had started. Two brush fires, big enough that her little brother and Hernén combined couldn't choke them to death, and a small war that'd gotten bigger after both of Brighid's sons were already fighting it.
Ulysse couldn't technically get involved in the miniature war, though he was up all night nearly every night giving advice to riverboat captains who were involved.
But he could accompany the Sun Queen's daughter in his capacity as her brother. Especially if she was walking down to end a war.
Arianhrod sighed, shrugged into the persona, and kept the lightning strikes to marshes and river islands.
Several of Hernén's two-legged wolves drove themselves lightly crazy every few days, prowling around on four feet and growling back and forth to one another about foxes. Whenever she heard them start, she started keeping an eye out for redheads, for a familiar smile or a familiar bitterness to the air.
She startled badly the first time she had no warning, nearly touched off another small war by the way she moved in response to spotting the fox in the back ranks of someone else's guards, grinning like he had a secret she'd never guess.
That time she knew enough to spot the characteristic spells, start tearing them down with tiny finger flicks, nothing dramatic, as she negotiated an alliance, if not yet an allegiance. The gossip from the wolves and the humans as the camps mingled was that life opposing had been far weirder. Powder going missing often enough to cause fights, bowstrings frayed, far too much of one spice in the food and far too little of others and never, never enough salt to go around.
She refused to contemplate the idea that the fox was helping, in some backhanded fashion. It was a hope most likely false--she'd cut off his tail, after all, not kissed him hello--and one she should not start to bet on.
She nearly hit him with lightning, the evening an escort raised his head from the easy slouch against a tree and turned into the redheaded fox in the process.
She stopped, fist half raised, as he gave her a smile she would have described as shy on anyone but him, and asked "Will you go walking with me?"
I--what? She stared at him, speechless, for several beats too long, because he smiled, utterly delighted, kissed his hand and said he'd see her at moonrise in three day's time.
If he was deliberately trying to keep her so off-balanced that she wouldn't think of dropping something heavy on him before he got away--again--she had to admit it was working.