(no subject)
Strawberry #13. Smoke
Timeframe : fall-winter 1255
Rating : G to PG-ish
Farran swept through the common room, the heavy thud of boots that followed in her wake quickening to match her pace.
“Stop treating me as if I’m a liability,” said Lyssa.
“I will when you stop being one,” she answered without bothering to turn, as it would only encourage the girl to keep whining.
Determined not to take a hint, Lyssa kept at her heels as she crossed into the dining room. “Look, I know you’re all older than me and you’ve all been here longer. I know I’m just Ski’s little sister, but that doesn’t make me a kid. Even Rune-”
That brought Farran around. All but colliding with her, Lyssa jerked to a halt. “Oh, so that’s what this is about.” She sighed and shook her head. “What? He’s not getting the picture?” Her gaze dipped to Lyssa’s neckline and the the cleavage she seemed always to have on display. “Haven’t waved these in his face enough?”
Lyssa’s brows knit. “This isn’t about Rune.”
With another shake of her head, she turned away. “I’m not the one who brought him up, dear.”
“This is about you telling me to get out of your way.”
“Something I should not have to tell you, if you only had the sense-”
There was a sharp bang as the table shook under the sudden force of Lyssa’s palms. “It’s not your right to judge!” Farran wrinkled her nose at the sudden odor of something burning. “I’ve more than earned my place on that battlefield and I’m not about to let you-” The smell wasn’t coming from the kitchen. It was most definitely behind her. She spun to find Lyssa still scowling at her, while tendrils of smoke rose from between fingers planted on the tabletop. “What?”
“Holy Mother!” She lunged for her hand. Lyssa’s eyes fell to the table and her jaw dropped as she staggered back towards the wall. Farran caught her wrist as she tried to thrust her arms behind her own back. Lyssa strained against her, but she held her fast. She looked from the completely unmarked and unremarkable hand that continued to threaten to squirm from her grasp to the pair of handprints seared into the surface of the table, the varnish still bubbling along one of the palms, and back again.
Ski’s voice preceded her entrance. “What is the meaning of-” Their leader’s gaze followed Farran’s to the blackened prints, and her voice dropped as her eyes grew wide. “…this?”
“Nothing,” Lyssa said, finally pulling free of Farran’s hold.
“Nothing my ass,” said Farran. “She burned the table with her hands.”
Ski looked to her sister, who backed against the wall, her arms folded across her chest, hands slowly working their way up to her shoulders. “Lyssa,” said Ski.
Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding settling on the scorch marks or on anyone’s face, as Ski was joined by Ilya and Tess, and Rune poked his head through the kitchen doorway. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Really. I mean, it’s been a long time since it‘s happened-”
“This has happened before?” Lyssa’s head jerked up to lock eyes with Ski.
“A few times,” she said. “Usually I can control it. I mean, I can make it not happen. But sometimes it just…” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at Farran.
Ski crossed the room to the table. She ran a finger over the marks. “This is magic, Lyssa.”
“I know,” said Lyssa. “I mean, I figured.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ski asked.
“Right,” she said. “I’m going to tell people I have this tendancy to set things on fire, let them know I’m a freak.”
The room was silent for a long moment, then the distant crack of a slamming door brought everyone’s attention to the fact that the kitchen was now vacant.
Timeframe : fall-winter 1255
Rating : G to PG-ish
Farran swept through the common room, the heavy thud of boots that followed in her wake quickening to match her pace.
“Stop treating me as if I’m a liability,” said Lyssa.
“I will when you stop being one,” she answered without bothering to turn, as it would only encourage the girl to keep whining.
Determined not to take a hint, Lyssa kept at her heels as she crossed into the dining room. “Look, I know you’re all older than me and you’ve all been here longer. I know I’m just Ski’s little sister, but that doesn’t make me a kid. Even Rune-”
That brought Farran around. All but colliding with her, Lyssa jerked to a halt. “Oh, so that’s what this is about.” She sighed and shook her head. “What? He’s not getting the picture?” Her gaze dipped to Lyssa’s neckline and the the cleavage she seemed always to have on display. “Haven’t waved these in his face enough?”
Lyssa’s brows knit. “This isn’t about Rune.”
With another shake of her head, she turned away. “I’m not the one who brought him up, dear.”
“This is about you telling me to get out of your way.”
“Something I should not have to tell you, if you only had the sense-”
There was a sharp bang as the table shook under the sudden force of Lyssa’s palms. “It’s not your right to judge!” Farran wrinkled her nose at the sudden odor of something burning. “I’ve more than earned my place on that battlefield and I’m not about to let you-” The smell wasn’t coming from the kitchen. It was most definitely behind her. She spun to find Lyssa still scowling at her, while tendrils of smoke rose from between fingers planted on the tabletop. “What?”
“Holy Mother!” She lunged for her hand. Lyssa’s eyes fell to the table and her jaw dropped as she staggered back towards the wall. Farran caught her wrist as she tried to thrust her arms behind her own back. Lyssa strained against her, but she held her fast. She looked from the completely unmarked and unremarkable hand that continued to threaten to squirm from her grasp to the pair of handprints seared into the surface of the table, the varnish still bubbling along one of the palms, and back again.
Ski’s voice preceded her entrance. “What is the meaning of-” Their leader’s gaze followed Farran’s to the blackened prints, and her voice dropped as her eyes grew wide. “…this?”
“Nothing,” Lyssa said, finally pulling free of Farran’s hold.
“Nothing my ass,” said Farran. “She burned the table with her hands.”
Ski looked to her sister, who backed against the wall, her arms folded across her chest, hands slowly working their way up to her shoulders. “Lyssa,” said Ski.
Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding settling on the scorch marks or on anyone’s face, as Ski was joined by Ilya and Tess, and Rune poked his head through the kitchen doorway. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Really. I mean, it’s been a long time since it‘s happened-”
“This has happened before?” Lyssa’s head jerked up to lock eyes with Ski.
“A few times,” she said. “Usually I can control it. I mean, I can make it not happen. But sometimes it just…” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at Farran.
Ski crossed the room to the table. She ran a finger over the marks. “This is magic, Lyssa.”
“I know,” said Lyssa. “I mean, I figured.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ski asked.
“Right,” she said. “I’m going to tell people I have this tendancy to set things on fire, let them know I’m a freak.”
The room was silent for a long moment, then the distant crack of a slamming door brought everyone’s attention to the fact that the kitchen was now vacant.