Post by samantha on Mar 28, 2009 12:03:52 GMT 10
Seasonal Daze.
Summary: Aly and Neal had nothing but a friendship, but how beautiful (and endlessly amusing) that friendship was. Over three seasons their friendship blossoms, wilters and blooms.
Words: 1, 247
Rating: PG
Autumn
Aly lazed under the shade of a weeping tree. In one hand she held a book, mostly composed by her own father, and in the other a fan. She slowly waved it back and forth, creating a cool breeze. She wore a light dress and her hair was tied in a loose bun, surrounding her were leaves of yellow, orange and brown.
As Aly turned the page she heard the slight rustle of leaves followed by the snapping of twigs.
"You're getting good Nealan," Aly called out, her eyes never leaving the page.
"But not enough to sneak up on the helpless Alianne of Pirates Swoop?" Neal asked as he strode forward. He knocked a branch out of the way and sat beside her.
"Shouldn't Ma be teaching you to chop up Scanrans? Or curing their petty colds?"
"Shouldn't you be betrothed and on the verge of managing your husband's estates?"
Aly's lips curved upwards into a smile. She turned her neck to face him and let the book close. "What fun would there be in that?"
"So we'll agree that what we should be doing is irrelevant?"
"Agreed." Aly paused and extended out her arms, stretching. "She gave you the afternoon off, then?"
Neal nodded. "My first in a long time." He soon began to grin wickedly. "…so when will you be betrothed and on the verge of managing estates?"
"No time soon," she said lightly. "Is there a reason for your inquiry?"
"Oh no reason," he said. "I just know of someone I should like to see lawfully bound to you for the rest of his life. Pretty young man; muscular and blonde."
"Sounds as if you fancy him yourself." Aly raised one of her delicate brows.
Neal looked disgusted, and for once, it was not for the reason Aly thought. He coughed. "As I was saying, I wouldn't mind seeing this lad being tortured by your wicked mind for the remainder of his life."
"And who would he be?" Aly asked, mildly interested.
"A fellow by the name of Joren."
"Of Stone Mountain?"
"Affirmative." He nodded with a pleased smile.
Aly rested one hand on her hip and lightly hit Neal with the other. "You, Nealan of Queenscove, are not even remotely funny."
She walked off, dusting the fallen leaves from her dress as she did so.
Winter
It seemed that Aly was never without a partner at a dance and tonight was no exception, Neal noted. She seemed to flit from this boy to that without a care in the world. Not that it was any of his concern.
In her royal blue gown Aly was easy enough to spot on the dance floor; but it was the spark in her eye, the mischievous glint, that drew people in. Or more specifically, that drew in the young men. One of which, she was now dancing with.
She made a sharp turn to the left, just as the dance required her and her skirt fluttered in the air. At his seat, Neal watched her moving gracefully. He didn't, however, notice the gaze of his father on him. "Nealan, do go fetch me a flower from the garden," he requested. "A daffodil, I think."
Neal eyed his father suspiciously. "Why?"
He lent over so only Neal could hear. "Because your mother feels ill and it will brighten her mood."
With irritation displayed plain as day, he stood and left for a courtyard.
"You silly fool of a man," Neal's mother told Baird when her son was out of ear shot. "I don't need flowers."
"But Neal needs some fresh air."
The said air was frosty outside and many of the trees were bare. Neal plucked the first flower he laid eyes upon. A familiar giggle, however, stopped Neal in his tracks. Aly, whose left arm was closely entwined with her dance partner's right, appeared at the door frame. She had noticed his presence, the grin she flashed in Neal's direction was proof enough, yet she still allowed the lad to lead her closer to the rose bush Neal was now positioned behind. Despite all appearance, Neal convinced himself that he was not hiding.
"Miss Alianne, not even the moon can twinkle as brightly as your eyes," the lad told her. Aly whispered something in reply and this continued for some time.
"Excuse me a moment." Neal was no accomplished lip reader, but he understood what Aly had just said.
The lad looked taken aback; it wasn't the response he had expected. Neal made a point to be gazing at another direction when Aly found him. "Not even the moon can twinkle as brightly as your eyes? Were he any kind of a poet he would have made reference to the stars, because they, and not the moon, twinkle brightly." Aly did not respond and for the first time, Neal turned to look at Aly.
He hadn't expected her brows to be furrowed or jaw slightly clenched. "Why didn't you say hello?" she demanded.
"Hello oh rose of beauty," he said with a mocking bow.
"Nealan, I'm serious. For all the time you spent watching me in there," she jerked her nose towards the ball room, "you couldn't even acknowledge me."
"I'm sorry," he said sarcastically, "but you looked busy."
"I wasn't so busy that you couldn't have approached me and you know that." Aly turned and left, moving towards the confused lad waiting for her at the door way.
A few moments later Neal re-emerged in the ball room, muttering something quite incoherent, although it did sound something to the effect of, 'Get your own damn daffodils.' He fell into his chair, where he remained in a gloomy state for the remainder of the night.
Spring
The flowers were now in full bloom and Aly wandered through them. Subconsciously she picked at flowers as she went, plucking at petals and scattering them on the ground. Had she not been deep in thought, the clear trail Aly had made would have irritated her.
At first the thud of the hooves were so soft that they could easily have been confused for something else, but then The Swoop's gates opened and in rode Alanna the Lioness.
"Welcome back," Aly said as she strode towards her mother.
Alanna dismounted. Her Squire took leave to do the same. As Alanna stiffly stretched out, a hostler led Darkmoon to the stables. Aly placed a light kiss on her mother's cheek, ignoring the young man to her left.
"It is good to see you home."
"It's good to be home," Alanna confessed. She ruffled Aly's hair before moving towards The Swoop's entrance, muttering about washing a weeks' work of dirt out of her hair and skin.
Turning to her left, Aly bowed most formally in acknowledgment. "Nealan."
His expression quickly turned to one of annoyance. "You're not still upset about that are you?"
Aly stared him in the eye, refusing to answer.
"Aly?" he sighed exasperatedly.
With a somewhat mocking look, Aly turned. She began to walk towards the stables and under the archway leading to the courtyard.
"Is there not a better time to renew a friendship than in the blossoming months of spring?" Neal called after her.
Aly paused. "Maybe you can say now what you did not in the winter."
Neal visibly rolled his eyes. "Hello, Aly."
Aly grinned, turning to face her friend. She stepped out of the shadows cast by the sun. "Simple isn't it?"
Summary: Aly and Neal had nothing but a friendship, but how beautiful (and endlessly amusing) that friendship was. Over three seasons their friendship blossoms, wilters and blooms.
Words: 1, 247
Rating: PG
Autumn
Aly lazed under the shade of a weeping tree. In one hand she held a book, mostly composed by her own father, and in the other a fan. She slowly waved it back and forth, creating a cool breeze. She wore a light dress and her hair was tied in a loose bun, surrounding her were leaves of yellow, orange and brown.
As Aly turned the page she heard the slight rustle of leaves followed by the snapping of twigs.
"You're getting good Nealan," Aly called out, her eyes never leaving the page.
"But not enough to sneak up on the helpless Alianne of Pirates Swoop?" Neal asked as he strode forward. He knocked a branch out of the way and sat beside her.
"Shouldn't Ma be teaching you to chop up Scanrans? Or curing their petty colds?"
"Shouldn't you be betrothed and on the verge of managing your husband's estates?"
Aly's lips curved upwards into a smile. She turned her neck to face him and let the book close. "What fun would there be in that?"
"So we'll agree that what we should be doing is irrelevant?"
"Agreed." Aly paused and extended out her arms, stretching. "She gave you the afternoon off, then?"
Neal nodded. "My first in a long time." He soon began to grin wickedly. "…so when will you be betrothed and on the verge of managing estates?"
"No time soon," she said lightly. "Is there a reason for your inquiry?"
"Oh no reason," he said. "I just know of someone I should like to see lawfully bound to you for the rest of his life. Pretty young man; muscular and blonde."
"Sounds as if you fancy him yourself." Aly raised one of her delicate brows.
Neal looked disgusted, and for once, it was not for the reason Aly thought. He coughed. "As I was saying, I wouldn't mind seeing this lad being tortured by your wicked mind for the remainder of his life."
"And who would he be?" Aly asked, mildly interested.
"A fellow by the name of Joren."
"Of Stone Mountain?"
"Affirmative." He nodded with a pleased smile.
Aly rested one hand on her hip and lightly hit Neal with the other. "You, Nealan of Queenscove, are not even remotely funny."
She walked off, dusting the fallen leaves from her dress as she did so.
Winter
It seemed that Aly was never without a partner at a dance and tonight was no exception, Neal noted. She seemed to flit from this boy to that without a care in the world. Not that it was any of his concern.
In her royal blue gown Aly was easy enough to spot on the dance floor; but it was the spark in her eye, the mischievous glint, that drew people in. Or more specifically, that drew in the young men. One of which, she was now dancing with.
She made a sharp turn to the left, just as the dance required her and her skirt fluttered in the air. At his seat, Neal watched her moving gracefully. He didn't, however, notice the gaze of his father on him. "Nealan, do go fetch me a flower from the garden," he requested. "A daffodil, I think."
Neal eyed his father suspiciously. "Why?"
He lent over so only Neal could hear. "Because your mother feels ill and it will brighten her mood."
With irritation displayed plain as day, he stood and left for a courtyard.
"You silly fool of a man," Neal's mother told Baird when her son was out of ear shot. "I don't need flowers."
"But Neal needs some fresh air."
The said air was frosty outside and many of the trees were bare. Neal plucked the first flower he laid eyes upon. A familiar giggle, however, stopped Neal in his tracks. Aly, whose left arm was closely entwined with her dance partner's right, appeared at the door frame. She had noticed his presence, the grin she flashed in Neal's direction was proof enough, yet she still allowed the lad to lead her closer to the rose bush Neal was now positioned behind. Despite all appearance, Neal convinced himself that he was not hiding.
"Miss Alianne, not even the moon can twinkle as brightly as your eyes," the lad told her. Aly whispered something in reply and this continued for some time.
"Excuse me a moment." Neal was no accomplished lip reader, but he understood what Aly had just said.
The lad looked taken aback; it wasn't the response he had expected. Neal made a point to be gazing at another direction when Aly found him. "Not even the moon can twinkle as brightly as your eyes? Were he any kind of a poet he would have made reference to the stars, because they, and not the moon, twinkle brightly." Aly did not respond and for the first time, Neal turned to look at Aly.
He hadn't expected her brows to be furrowed or jaw slightly clenched. "Why didn't you say hello?" she demanded.
"Hello oh rose of beauty," he said with a mocking bow.
"Nealan, I'm serious. For all the time you spent watching me in there," she jerked her nose towards the ball room, "you couldn't even acknowledge me."
"I'm sorry," he said sarcastically, "but you looked busy."
"I wasn't so busy that you couldn't have approached me and you know that." Aly turned and left, moving towards the confused lad waiting for her at the door way.
A few moments later Neal re-emerged in the ball room, muttering something quite incoherent, although it did sound something to the effect of, 'Get your own damn daffodils.' He fell into his chair, where he remained in a gloomy state for the remainder of the night.
Spring
The flowers were now in full bloom and Aly wandered through them. Subconsciously she picked at flowers as she went, plucking at petals and scattering them on the ground. Had she not been deep in thought, the clear trail Aly had made would have irritated her.
At first the thud of the hooves were so soft that they could easily have been confused for something else, but then The Swoop's gates opened and in rode Alanna the Lioness.
"Welcome back," Aly said as she strode towards her mother.
Alanna dismounted. Her Squire took leave to do the same. As Alanna stiffly stretched out, a hostler led Darkmoon to the stables. Aly placed a light kiss on her mother's cheek, ignoring the young man to her left.
"It is good to see you home."
"It's good to be home," Alanna confessed. She ruffled Aly's hair before moving towards The Swoop's entrance, muttering about washing a weeks' work of dirt out of her hair and skin.
Turning to her left, Aly bowed most formally in acknowledgment. "Nealan."
His expression quickly turned to one of annoyance. "You're not still upset about that are you?"
Aly stared him in the eye, refusing to answer.
"Aly?" he sighed exasperatedly.
With a somewhat mocking look, Aly turned. She began to walk towards the stables and under the archway leading to the courtyard.
"Is there not a better time to renew a friendship than in the blossoming months of spring?" Neal called after her.
Aly paused. "Maybe you can say now what you did not in the winter."
Neal visibly rolled his eyes. "Hello, Aly."
Aly grinned, turning to face her friend. She stepped out of the shadows cast by the sun. "Simple isn't it?"