Post by Alliecat on Jul 8, 2010 15:04:24 GMT 10
Title: Gone? Not Quite
Rating: PG (mentions of character death)
Legnth: 516 words
Summary: Rosethorn will never be gone- or at least not to Briar or her plants.
:::
The bells tolled at the hour, booming across all of Winding Circle. The noise reached deep into Briar Moss, jangling him to his very core. The bells, while the same as they had always been throughout Briar’s education, seemed to sound lower. These bells were not signaling the approach of midday or lessons. These bells marked the arrival of the hour for Rosethorn’s funeral.
Briar attempted to rise from his knees, but Rosethorn’s garden called him back. A tear slid down his cheek, dripping into the vines that eagerly twined upwards towards him. “That’s it,” he encouraged quietly, a smile flicking across his face. “Help your friends. They need the water more than I do. Rosethorn would-” His voiced cracked and Briar hid his face in his palms, shaking slightly. As desperate gasps emanated from his chest, all of Rosethorn’s plants grew about him, forming a cage. Briar sensed the change, and the smile returned.
“Thank you,” he said as clearly as he could manage. “I guess it’s just us now.” He allowed a small green tendril to curl around his finger, reveling in the glorious touch of the plants. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face as the clouds parted and sent a small beam to the ground.
In that moment Briar understood that Rosethorn would never be gone. Rosethorn was not in the box the dedicates were preparing for cremation. She was here, among friends, and Briar was with her. She had supported and protected plants throughout her lifetime, as the plants were doing for her now, as the plants were doing for Briar.
Voices sounded in low tones outside the gate, but Briar was too absorbed to notice. “Does he even know what time it is? We’re going to miss the ceremony!” Tris huffed.
“Shhh,” Sandry whispered, “Look at him.”
“I know he’s surrounded by magic,” Tris retorted, “Anyone within miles could see that blaze. I don’t understand why that matters. We’re still going to be late.“
“No,” Sandry corrected, “Reach through your connection. He doesn’t need to go to a funeral.”
After sliding down the threads that had been mended just a year ago, Daja and Sandry gasped. “We should leave him,” Daja suggested, “Prying is for kaqs.”
Briar, having sensed the contact, created a door and spaces for his sister in the cage of plants. The girls paused at the gate, shooting Briar questioning looks. He gestured more plainly with his hands and the plants replicated the motion, rippling towards the girls. They entered slowly, feeling as if they were treading on sacred grounds.
As Daja, Sandry and Tris sat, Briar whispered into their minds, You should be here too; she was your mother as well. The foster siblings shared a smile before falling into meditation.
Standing on the doorstep of Discipline, Lark felt her sadness become tinted with pleasure. Having shared so much with Rosethorn throughout her life, Lark knew her in a way no one else ever could. Through her own special connection, Lark understood that a final lesson is exactly what Rosie would have wanted.
Rating: PG (mentions of character death)
Legnth: 516 words
Summary: Rosethorn will never be gone- or at least not to Briar or her plants.
:::
The bells tolled at the hour, booming across all of Winding Circle. The noise reached deep into Briar Moss, jangling him to his very core. The bells, while the same as they had always been throughout Briar’s education, seemed to sound lower. These bells were not signaling the approach of midday or lessons. These bells marked the arrival of the hour for Rosethorn’s funeral.
Briar attempted to rise from his knees, but Rosethorn’s garden called him back. A tear slid down his cheek, dripping into the vines that eagerly twined upwards towards him. “That’s it,” he encouraged quietly, a smile flicking across his face. “Help your friends. They need the water more than I do. Rosethorn would-” His voiced cracked and Briar hid his face in his palms, shaking slightly. As desperate gasps emanated from his chest, all of Rosethorn’s plants grew about him, forming a cage. Briar sensed the change, and the smile returned.
“Thank you,” he said as clearly as he could manage. “I guess it’s just us now.” He allowed a small green tendril to curl around his finger, reveling in the glorious touch of the plants. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face as the clouds parted and sent a small beam to the ground.
In that moment Briar understood that Rosethorn would never be gone. Rosethorn was not in the box the dedicates were preparing for cremation. She was here, among friends, and Briar was with her. She had supported and protected plants throughout her lifetime, as the plants were doing for her now, as the plants were doing for Briar.
Voices sounded in low tones outside the gate, but Briar was too absorbed to notice. “Does he even know what time it is? We’re going to miss the ceremony!” Tris huffed.
“Shhh,” Sandry whispered, “Look at him.”
“I know he’s surrounded by magic,” Tris retorted, “Anyone within miles could see that blaze. I don’t understand why that matters. We’re still going to be late.“
“No,” Sandry corrected, “Reach through your connection. He doesn’t need to go to a funeral.”
After sliding down the threads that had been mended just a year ago, Daja and Sandry gasped. “We should leave him,” Daja suggested, “Prying is for kaqs.”
Briar, having sensed the contact, created a door and spaces for his sister in the cage of plants. The girls paused at the gate, shooting Briar questioning looks. He gestured more plainly with his hands and the plants replicated the motion, rippling towards the girls. They entered slowly, feeling as if they were treading on sacred grounds.
As Daja, Sandry and Tris sat, Briar whispered into their minds, You should be here too; she was your mother as well. The foster siblings shared a smile before falling into meditation.
Standing on the doorstep of Discipline, Lark felt her sadness become tinted with pleasure. Having shared so much with Rosethorn throughout her life, Lark knew her in a way no one else ever could. Through her own special connection, Lark understood that a final lesson is exactly what Rosie would have wanted.
How could you?
