storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2011-06-01 12:02 am
storypaint) wrote2011-06-01 12:02 am
Entry tags:
[Emelan] where they understand you (Sandry gen)
Title: where they understand you
Fandom: Emelan
Length: 387 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: Circle of Magic series, Sandry(/any), warp and weft
Pairing: Sandry & Briar gen
Other: Set sometime post Will of the Empress.
Excerpt: Sandry is making a rug for the entranceway of Daja's house. She weaves the fibers, humming, knowing that Daja could buy a dozen rugs, each more beautiful than the last, but that doesn't matter. What matters is leaving a part of herself there, with Daja and Tris and Briar.
Sandry is making a rug for the entranceway of Daja's house. She weaves the fibers, humming, knowing that Daja could buy a dozen rugs, each more beautiful than the last, but that doesn't matter. What matters is leaving a part of herself there, with Daja and Tris and Briar, whoever is there at the moment. She has to stay with her uncle and make sure he takes care of himself. She cannot be there. But she'll be there in the rugs and the curtains and the clothing that she makes, protecting and keeping them, weaving them together again. The thread is strong, and she whispers blessings into it, so that a thief who dared will trip on the folds, and a friend will find a touch of warmth. To Daja, stepping on this rug will feel like coming home, and that's all that Sandry wants.
Your clacking noises are keeping me awake, Briar mumbles sleepily into her mind, and she smiles. His tone holds affection, and she knows that the first night he spent away from all of them, the silence grew to fill the entire sky, and he hated it, then, being alone. He grew into liking it, but they are beyond that now: bound, broken, and bound again, stronger. He's just telling her good night.
I'll make the one for your room next, she tells him, her fingers unhesitating on the needles.
'S not what I meant!, he declares quickly, and she laughs a little. She knows that he doesn't keep them around for what they can give him. She just likes to tease once in a while.
I know. Now, sleep, she says gently, and she does set her needles down for the moment. It grows late, and Briar isn't the only one who needs to get some sleep. Daja is already in dreamland, a heavy sleep from an honest day's work, and Sandry thinks that Tris is reading, but she's concentrating so hard that Sandry knows an interruption would be an irritation. She lets the idea go, getting up from her chair and stretching, carefully putting her work away for tomorrow.
It has been a productive day. Nothing particularly special, but life is full of quiet moments like these, and Sandry intends to treasure them. She takes the candle with her when she goes.
Fandom: Emelan
Length: 387 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: Circle of Magic series, Sandry(/any), warp and weft
Pairing: Sandry & Briar gen
Other: Set sometime post Will of the Empress.
Excerpt: Sandry is making a rug for the entranceway of Daja's house. She weaves the fibers, humming, knowing that Daja could buy a dozen rugs, each more beautiful than the last, but that doesn't matter. What matters is leaving a part of herself there, with Daja and Tris and Briar.
Sandry is making a rug for the entranceway of Daja's house. She weaves the fibers, humming, knowing that Daja could buy a dozen rugs, each more beautiful than the last, but that doesn't matter. What matters is leaving a part of herself there, with Daja and Tris and Briar, whoever is there at the moment. She has to stay with her uncle and make sure he takes care of himself. She cannot be there. But she'll be there in the rugs and the curtains and the clothing that she makes, protecting and keeping them, weaving them together again. The thread is strong, and she whispers blessings into it, so that a thief who dared will trip on the folds, and a friend will find a touch of warmth. To Daja, stepping on this rug will feel like coming home, and that's all that Sandry wants.
Your clacking noises are keeping me awake, Briar mumbles sleepily into her mind, and she smiles. His tone holds affection, and she knows that the first night he spent away from all of them, the silence grew to fill the entire sky, and he hated it, then, being alone. He grew into liking it, but they are beyond that now: bound, broken, and bound again, stronger. He's just telling her good night.
I'll make the one for your room next, she tells him, her fingers unhesitating on the needles.
'S not what I meant!, he declares quickly, and she laughs a little. She knows that he doesn't keep them around for what they can give him. She just likes to tease once in a while.
I know. Now, sleep, she says gently, and she does set her needles down for the moment. It grows late, and Briar isn't the only one who needs to get some sleep. Daja is already in dreamland, a heavy sleep from an honest day's work, and Sandry thinks that Tris is reading, but she's concentrating so hard that Sandry knows an interruption would be an irritation. She lets the idea go, getting up from her chair and stretching, carefully putting her work away for tomorrow.
It has been a productive day. Nothing particularly special, but life is full of quiet moments like these, and Sandry intends to treasure them. She takes the candle with her when she goes.