I'm a little late, but I'm still counting it...
Flavor of the Day - 9/4/08 - Immolate and Rocky Road #18. A Garden
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1255 early winter not long after smoke
“It just happens.”
Rune dragged his fingers across his brow as the toe of Lyssa’s boot burrowed into the dirt. “We both know that’s not true,” he said. “That night when we ran into each other in the hall. You lit the candle.”
Lyssa shrugged and pulled her foot from its shallow trench to begin a new one alongside it. “I can make a little spark,” she said. “Like a match. That’s all a candle really needs. And I’ve only done that a few times. I got lucky that night. Burning things is another matter.”
Rune eyed the branch that lay across her lap. “I imagine it feels the same either way.” She nudged the thing with one hand, bits of bark flaking off and landing on her skirt. “Give it another try?”
Still more of the brittle wood fell away as Lyssa lifted the branch, holding it at eye level. Her brows knit and her bottom lip curled between her teeth. Her fingers tightened their hold, and for a moment she was perfectly still. The first few times she’d done this, Rune found himself holding his breath, ready for the flames he was convinced were about to leap from the stick.
“Nothing,” she said, after a moment had passed and the branch was still intact. She tossed it down on the ground with a sigh.
Rune echoed her sigh, pulling his cloak more firmly around his shoulders as he looked over the brown and withered remains of his garden. “Maybe something else would be easier to burn?”
Lyssa left her seat on the log beside him, taking a step into the flowerbed. Her skirt hiked up around her knees as she stood and Rune gave his cloak another tug at even the thought of exposing so much skin when it was so cold. She tugged the dry stalk of a lily from the ground and turned it over in her hands with a thoughtful look before repeating the process of holding the thing at arm’s length between her eyes. With a shake of her head, she tossed it down next to the branch.
“Maybe you just need practice,” said Rune. Dark eyes narrowed as she turned to study him from over her shoulder. A chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. “Or maybe… maybe you need to forget the stick? Focus on the magic?”
“What magic?” she said. “There doesn’t seem to be any. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“There is, Lyss. If you can call on it sometimes, you should be able to call on it anytime. You just have to feel for it.”
“Easy for you to say.” She jabbed at the fallen branch with her foot.
“Took me a year.“ Rune rolled up his sleeve, goosebumps rising among the scars. “Remember?”
Lyssa frowned at the marks along his arm and gave the branch another kick. “I don’t feel it, though. Not at all.”
“Maybe you need to change the way you’re looking for-” Lyssa tensed. He didn’t need to see her face to imagine her expression, nor to know it was time to shut his mouth. She stooped, violently snatching the branch from its resting place, before turning to brandish it at him.
“Maybe,” she said, the thing leveled at his face. “What I need is for the lot of you to leave me alone about it.”
“Lyss-”
“I don’t need this pressure!” she said. “Do you know how hard it was just to get that spark?”
“Lyssa, I didn’t mean-”
“I was better off before you started helping-” There was a loud snap and Lyssa dropped the branch with a yelp as it erupted into flames.
“Maybe,” said Rune, as she gathered her wits enough to stomp the thing out before the whole garden caught fire. “What you need is for us to keep making you angry.” Lyssa glared at him as she ground the smoldering wood beneath her boot, and he was relieved that she lacked the skill to direct her powers his way.
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1255 early winter not long after smoke
“It just happens.”
Rune dragged his fingers across his brow as the toe of Lyssa’s boot burrowed into the dirt. “We both know that’s not true,” he said. “That night when we ran into each other in the hall. You lit the candle.”
Lyssa shrugged and pulled her foot from its shallow trench to begin a new one alongside it. “I can make a little spark,” she said. “Like a match. That’s all a candle really needs. And I’ve only done that a few times. I got lucky that night. Burning things is another matter.”
Rune eyed the branch that lay across her lap. “I imagine it feels the same either way.” She nudged the thing with one hand, bits of bark flaking off and landing on her skirt. “Give it another try?”
Still more of the brittle wood fell away as Lyssa lifted the branch, holding it at eye level. Her brows knit and her bottom lip curled between her teeth. Her fingers tightened their hold, and for a moment she was perfectly still. The first few times she’d done this, Rune found himself holding his breath, ready for the flames he was convinced were about to leap from the stick.
“Nothing,” she said, after a moment had passed and the branch was still intact. She tossed it down on the ground with a sigh.
Rune echoed her sigh, pulling his cloak more firmly around his shoulders as he looked over the brown and withered remains of his garden. “Maybe something else would be easier to burn?”
Lyssa left her seat on the log beside him, taking a step into the flowerbed. Her skirt hiked up around her knees as she stood and Rune gave his cloak another tug at even the thought of exposing so much skin when it was so cold. She tugged the dry stalk of a lily from the ground and turned it over in her hands with a thoughtful look before repeating the process of holding the thing at arm’s length between her eyes. With a shake of her head, she tossed it down next to the branch.
“Maybe you just need practice,” said Rune. Dark eyes narrowed as she turned to study him from over her shoulder. A chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. “Or maybe… maybe you need to forget the stick? Focus on the magic?”
“What magic?” she said. “There doesn’t seem to be any. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“There is, Lyss. If you can call on it sometimes, you should be able to call on it anytime. You just have to feel for it.”
“Easy for you to say.” She jabbed at the fallen branch with her foot.
“Took me a year.“ Rune rolled up his sleeve, goosebumps rising among the scars. “Remember?”
Lyssa frowned at the marks along his arm and gave the branch another kick. “I don’t feel it, though. Not at all.”
“Maybe you need to change the way you’re looking for-” Lyssa tensed. He didn’t need to see her face to imagine her expression, nor to know it was time to shut his mouth. She stooped, violently snatching the branch from its resting place, before turning to brandish it at him.
“Maybe,” she said, the thing leveled at his face. “What I need is for the lot of you to leave me alone about it.”
“Lyss-”
“I don’t need this pressure!” she said. “Do you know how hard it was just to get that spark?”
“Lyssa, I didn’t mean-”
“I was better off before you started helping-” There was a loud snap and Lyssa dropped the branch with a yelp as it erupted into flames.
“Maybe,” said Rune, as she gathered her wits enough to stomp the thing out before the whole garden caught fire. “What you need is for us to keep making you angry.” Lyssa glared at him as she ground the smoldering wood beneath her boot, and he was relieved that she lacked the skill to direct her powers his way.