Post by Carbon Kiwi on Apr 24, 2011 8:28:38 GMT 10
Title: Two Heads Not Better Than One
Rating: G
Word Count: 258
Pairing: Lark / Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2B
Warnings:
Summary: Briar fled, leaving Rosethorn’s cackle behind.
Notes: Briar series (1/2).
Briar watched his teacher for a moment as she worked over a set of labelled jars and bags of dried plant-stuffs. The woman was working intently. But, apparently, not too intently.
“Boy, I’ll grow a second head if you don’t stop staring.” She turned and flashed him a wicked green. “And aren’t I pleasant enough with just the one?”
He gawped at the idea of a two-headed Rosethorn—the bark of one was bad enough—and gulped. “I have a question.”
“And are you going to ask it?” Rosethorn sprinkled dry leaves into one of the jars without looking. “They go rotten when you don’t, you know—poison you.”
His question erupted with incredible speed. “Can-I-go-to-Summersea-with-Gorse-because-he-invited-me-and-said-he’ll-teach-me-about-the-plants-in-Emelanese-and-Yanjing-food?” Rosethorn cackled as he drew an impressive breath.
At last she answered, “That depends.”
He steeled himself for rejection. “On what?”
“On what Lark says.” Rosethorn raised a brow. “I’d have no time to myself if I concerned myself with your whereabouts whenever you’re not due in lesson time with me, boy. Lark cares.”
“You just like being mean and putting it all on her,” he argued, and immediately regretted it—what if she told Lark to say no, now, or just said no herself?
She looked him up and down, brown eyes unreadable. At last her face split into a grin. “Lark can take it. Can you?” Rosethorn held up a jar to him, as if to entice him. “Because I can feel that second head growing in, and she’ll be ready to gnaw boy-bones.”
Briar fled, leaving Rosethorn’s cackle behind.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: G
Word Count: 258
Pairing: Lark / Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2B
Warnings:
Summary: Briar fled, leaving Rosethorn’s cackle behind.
Notes: Briar series (1/2).
Briar watched his teacher for a moment as she worked over a set of labelled jars and bags of dried plant-stuffs. The woman was working intently. But, apparently, not too intently.
“Boy, I’ll grow a second head if you don’t stop staring.” She turned and flashed him a wicked green. “And aren’t I pleasant enough with just the one?”
He gawped at the idea of a two-headed Rosethorn—the bark of one was bad enough—and gulped. “I have a question.”
“And are you going to ask it?” Rosethorn sprinkled dry leaves into one of the jars without looking. “They go rotten when you don’t, you know—poison you.”
His question erupted with incredible speed. “Can-I-go-to-Summersea-with-Gorse-because-he-invited-me-and-said-he’ll-teach-me-about-the-plants-in-Emelanese-and-Yanjing-food?” Rosethorn cackled as he drew an impressive breath.
At last she answered, “That depends.”
He steeled himself for rejection. “On what?”
“On what Lark says.” Rosethorn raised a brow. “I’d have no time to myself if I concerned myself with your whereabouts whenever you’re not due in lesson time with me, boy. Lark cares.”
“You just like being mean and putting it all on her,” he argued, and immediately regretted it—what if she told Lark to say no, now, or just said no herself?
She looked him up and down, brown eyes unreadable. At last her face split into a grin. “Lark can take it. Can you?” Rosethorn held up a jar to him, as if to entice him. “Because I can feel that second head growing in, and she’ll be ready to gnaw boy-bones.”
Briar fled, leaving Rosethorn’s cackle behind.
QC by: journeycat