Post by clairshadows on May 8, 2009 0:44:06 GMT 10
Title: Magic in the Weaving
Rating: G
Prompt: Switch
Category: Up to 250 words
Word count: 249
Summary: Rosethorn watched the cotton thread curl around her finger as friendly as a young bean plant.
Beta read by Opalgirl
Rosethorn watched the cotton thread curl around her finger as friendly as a young bean plant.
“Lark?”
There was a muffled noise from Lark’s workroom and Rosethorn stood, carefully untangling the previously inert placemat and pushed her way in.
“Lark…” Her room was… overgrown: Ivy, nettle and bean plants had threaded their way in through the light screens that protected the windows to curl around loom and Lark alike. There were even tuffs of grass sprouting through the floorboards.
Rosethorn stepped closer. “What did you do?”
Lark tried to turn away without looking up, but she was trapped by the climbing vines.
Gently Rosethorn ordered them away, then more firmly as they ignored her. Rosethorn reached for their roots intending to make her point and fell short. They weren’t even there to her magic.
“Lark,” Rosethorn’s tone was sharp with her fear and Lark looked up.
Her face was tear-stained.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t even think you’d notice.”
Notice what? Rosethorn wanted to say. Instead she pulled the loom gently towards her.
It was a tapestry of Rosethorn sitting in a living garden of bluebells and buttercups, pansies and tiny perfect roses, while Lark played with her hair.
“It was meant to be a surprise.”
Lark had borrowed Rosethorn’s magic and Rosethorn had let her, hadn’t in fact noticed. Rosethorn thought about the placemat and wondered if Lark even knew it had been reciprocal.
Rosethorn wiped away the tears and kissed her forgiveness into Lark’s cheek.
“It’s beautiful.”
Rating: G
Prompt: Switch
Category: Up to 250 words
Word count: 249
Summary: Rosethorn watched the cotton thread curl around her finger as friendly as a young bean plant.
Beta read by Opalgirl
Rosethorn watched the cotton thread curl around her finger as friendly as a young bean plant.
“Lark?”
There was a muffled noise from Lark’s workroom and Rosethorn stood, carefully untangling the previously inert placemat and pushed her way in.
“Lark…” Her room was… overgrown: Ivy, nettle and bean plants had threaded their way in through the light screens that protected the windows to curl around loom and Lark alike. There were even tuffs of grass sprouting through the floorboards.
Rosethorn stepped closer. “What did you do?”
Lark tried to turn away without looking up, but she was trapped by the climbing vines.
Gently Rosethorn ordered them away, then more firmly as they ignored her. Rosethorn reached for their roots intending to make her point and fell short. They weren’t even there to her magic.
“Lark,” Rosethorn’s tone was sharp with her fear and Lark looked up.
Her face was tear-stained.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t even think you’d notice.”
Notice what? Rosethorn wanted to say. Instead she pulled the loom gently towards her.
It was a tapestry of Rosethorn sitting in a living garden of bluebells and buttercups, pansies and tiny perfect roses, while Lark played with her hair.
“It was meant to be a surprise.”
Lark had borrowed Rosethorn’s magic and Rosethorn had let her, hadn’t in fact noticed. Rosethorn thought about the placemat and wondered if Lark even knew it had been reciprocal.
Rosethorn wiped away the tears and kissed her forgiveness into Lark’s cheek.
“It’s beautiful.”
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!