Post by Griff on Aug 15, 2011 14:48:05 GMT 10
Title: House of Lilies
Rating: PG
Character: Briar
Summary: Briar's a thorn in a house of lilies.
For Wordy.
-
Briar finds it hard to believe he knows how to live with women. Growing up, there were girls on the streets, of course, but it wasn't boys and girls. It was kids. No one had enough to care about pretty baubles or books. There was food and no food and that was about it.
So, now, he surprises himself when he realizes he lives with girls. His sisters aren't much of a surprise, just something odd, but then there was Evvy, and Rosethorn and Lark. He'd never lived with boys; at least not successfully. Briar wasn't sure how it would work. Would it be the same? Would he have to carve out his own box for all his bathing things so that Sandry's ribbons wouldn't take over – or whatever things boys wear that sprawl across the house.
What about making noise? Would boys care as much as Tris?
Briar frowned, slipping through the marketplace, keeping an eye on each of the sellers. Some were the exhausted wives and daughters of tradesmen, selling their wares with solid confidence in their quality. Others were the flashy hawkers who brought their goods from across the country. And, intermingled with the crafters and workers and sellers were the cheaters. Briar always had an eye for them.
Briar wondered if he stood out like that, with the girls. Did they all belong, fit together with their different principles and approaches, with him playing puppet and faking along? He didn't think so. Maybe if he'd been different. If he'd been desperate for longer, if he hadn't gotten caught.
He zeroed in on a particularly nasty fellow, with a pair of thugs hanging around the back entrance to his tent. The sort of man who sold his pretty hair bobs for twice their price, then had his friend bring them back with invisible blood on the broaches.
Briar leaned back under a shady tree and let his magic ease across the market, coaxing the bright ferns to spore. The air was filled heavy with the dusty pollen and one of the men began to sneeze. He grinned.
While they were distracted, he wandered in, fingering the bright pieces. There was a pretty set of sticks Daja would enjoy, solid iron instead of a dainty silver. She could twist her hair up and away with a minimum of fuss, relying on her magic to keep it there. Copper curls could certainly do with a few clips to keep her magekit in place and the crystalline blue wrought petals matched her eyes. They were small and simple, but pretty all the same, and Briar knew Tris had an odd want to be utterly practical and a little unusual at the same time. Sandry, on the other hand, would find all sorts of uses for the gold gilded bone comb and it would be a nice change from all the ribbons.
The merchant was sleezing his way over to an older customer with obvious gold in his pocket when Briar coughed three times in succession and the wooden poles holding up the tent ceiling collapsed. Ducking out from the billowing disaster, Briar jammed his hands in his pockets and fiddled with his ill-gotten gains, leaving the angry yells of a frustrated crook behind him.
So, Briar realized, maybe he did only know how to live with girls, but that was alright. He didn't want to be anywhere else, anyway.
Rating: PG
Character: Briar
Summary: Briar's a thorn in a house of lilies.
For Wordy.
-
Briar finds it hard to believe he knows how to live with women. Growing up, there were girls on the streets, of course, but it wasn't boys and girls. It was kids. No one had enough to care about pretty baubles or books. There was food and no food and that was about it.
So, now, he surprises himself when he realizes he lives with girls. His sisters aren't much of a surprise, just something odd, but then there was Evvy, and Rosethorn and Lark. He'd never lived with boys; at least not successfully. Briar wasn't sure how it would work. Would it be the same? Would he have to carve out his own box for all his bathing things so that Sandry's ribbons wouldn't take over – or whatever things boys wear that sprawl across the house.
What about making noise? Would boys care as much as Tris?
Briar frowned, slipping through the marketplace, keeping an eye on each of the sellers. Some were the exhausted wives and daughters of tradesmen, selling their wares with solid confidence in their quality. Others were the flashy hawkers who brought their goods from across the country. And, intermingled with the crafters and workers and sellers were the cheaters. Briar always had an eye for them.
Briar wondered if he stood out like that, with the girls. Did they all belong, fit together with their different principles and approaches, with him playing puppet and faking along? He didn't think so. Maybe if he'd been different. If he'd been desperate for longer, if he hadn't gotten caught.
He zeroed in on a particularly nasty fellow, with a pair of thugs hanging around the back entrance to his tent. The sort of man who sold his pretty hair bobs for twice their price, then had his friend bring them back with invisible blood on the broaches.
Briar leaned back under a shady tree and let his magic ease across the market, coaxing the bright ferns to spore. The air was filled heavy with the dusty pollen and one of the men began to sneeze. He grinned.
While they were distracted, he wandered in, fingering the bright pieces. There was a pretty set of sticks Daja would enjoy, solid iron instead of a dainty silver. She could twist her hair up and away with a minimum of fuss, relying on her magic to keep it there. Copper curls could certainly do with a few clips to keep her magekit in place and the crystalline blue wrought petals matched her eyes. They were small and simple, but pretty all the same, and Briar knew Tris had an odd want to be utterly practical and a little unusual at the same time. Sandry, on the other hand, would find all sorts of uses for the gold gilded bone comb and it would be a nice change from all the ribbons.
The merchant was sleezing his way over to an older customer with obvious gold in his pocket when Briar coughed three times in succession and the wooden poles holding up the tent ceiling collapsed. Ducking out from the billowing disaster, Briar jammed his hands in his pockets and fiddled with his ill-gotten gains, leaving the angry yells of a frustrated crook behind him.
So, Briar realized, maybe he did only know how to live with girls, but that was alright. He didn't want to be anywhere else, anyway.