(no subject)
Milk & Honey #10. Passing Notes
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1255
Word Count : 363
Milk & Honey is for Ski. I don't really expect to finish this month (I have this insanely writing heavy class load this semester) but that won't stop me from starting.
Ski turned the little square of paper slowly over between her fingers, staring blankly at the bold swirls of ink that lined both sides of it.
“Lonna Wyram,” she said, as if it were an answer to a question, but no one had said a word in minutes.
Ilya’s knitting needles clacked together in a rhythmic flow, unperturbed by Ski’s outburst. Farran settled deeper into her chair, a book open just in front of her nose. And Ski just continued to stare at the card.
Rune walked in from the kitchen, still wringing his hands in a towel. He glanced around the room, came to Ski, stopped and cocked his head. “Ski?”
“Lonna…Wyram,” she repeated, tapping the card with a finger.
Ilya dropped her yarn and needles into a heap in her lap with a huff. “Well, what has she done?” she said.
Rune angled an arm over the back of Ski’s chair until his hand hung alongside hers. “Give it here,” he said, waving his fingers at the card.
“Apparently,” Ski said, passing the card to him, “she has seen fit to solve all of my problems.”
Rune lifted the card, read it over, and burst into laughter. “This is…real?” he asked Ski, who just nodded stiffly.
“Is anyone going to tell us what it says?” Ilya demanded. Farran yawned and turned another page in her book.
“It’s a wedding invitation,” said Rune. In a few strides, he was across the sitting room, dropping the card into Ilya’s lap.
Ilya hurriedly scooped the card out of her knitting, read it, and turned to Ski, her mouth falling open. “But, but this is…”
“Terrel,” said Ski, in the same hollow voice as before.
“But, but how?” Her eyes darted between the paper and Ski, but Ski was exchanging looks with Rune now, who’d gone back to rather forcefully drying his hands.
Farran sniffed. “Think about it, dear,” she said to Ilya. “I suspect we’ll be seeing birth announcements before we are thanked for the wedding gifts.”
Ilya turned her open-mouthed stare on Farran, and Farran shrugged. “This is Terrel we are talking about.”
“Yes,” said Ski, “I expect you are right.”
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1255
Word Count : 363
Milk & Honey is for Ski. I don't really expect to finish this month (I have this insanely writing heavy class load this semester) but that won't stop me from starting.
Ski turned the little square of paper slowly over between her fingers, staring blankly at the bold swirls of ink that lined both sides of it.
“Lonna Wyram,” she said, as if it were an answer to a question, but no one had said a word in minutes.
Ilya’s knitting needles clacked together in a rhythmic flow, unperturbed by Ski’s outburst. Farran settled deeper into her chair, a book open just in front of her nose. And Ski just continued to stare at the card.
Rune walked in from the kitchen, still wringing his hands in a towel. He glanced around the room, came to Ski, stopped and cocked his head. “Ski?”
“Lonna…Wyram,” she repeated, tapping the card with a finger.
Ilya dropped her yarn and needles into a heap in her lap with a huff. “Well, what has she done?” she said.
Rune angled an arm over the back of Ski’s chair until his hand hung alongside hers. “Give it here,” he said, waving his fingers at the card.
“Apparently,” Ski said, passing the card to him, “she has seen fit to solve all of my problems.”
Rune lifted the card, read it over, and burst into laughter. “This is…real?” he asked Ski, who just nodded stiffly.
“Is anyone going to tell us what it says?” Ilya demanded. Farran yawned and turned another page in her book.
“It’s a wedding invitation,” said Rune. In a few strides, he was across the sitting room, dropping the card into Ilya’s lap.
Ilya hurriedly scooped the card out of her knitting, read it, and turned to Ski, her mouth falling open. “But, but this is…”
“Terrel,” said Ski, in the same hollow voice as before.
“But, but how?” Her eyes darted between the paper and Ski, but Ski was exchanging looks with Rune now, who’d gone back to rather forcefully drying his hands.
Farran sniffed. “Think about it, dear,” she said to Ilya. “I suspect we’ll be seeing birth announcements before we are thanked for the wedding gifts.”
Ilya turned her open-mouthed stare on Farran, and Farran shrugged. “This is Terrel we are talking about.”
“Yes,” said Ski, “I expect you are right.”