Post by wordy on Aug 30, 2011 11:11:07 GMT 10
Title: See Me Change
Rating: G
Word Count: 821
Card: Summer
Bingo: Sun + Sweat + Outdoors + Trees + Somewhere New
Summary: Crane pays a visit. In the same series as Healing, In Bloom, and Delusion.
The sun prickled his back as he walked, but before long he had reached his destination. This time, there were no wild dogs or wilder girls to obstruct his way, only a small, painted gate that swung gently on its hinges when he pushed it open.
He saw Rosethorn’s influence in the gardens as he walked around the house, the tomato plants all standing strictly to attention, the grass shorn green and short. But there were other things, little things, that were clearly Rosethorn and yet decidedly not: a vine creeping its way up a trellis; a row of mismatched saplings freshly planted in the shade of the house.
The boy was weeding in the garden behind the house, though he was clearly a boy no more. His dark hair was cut close at the back and sides, the top flopping down over his forehead as he bent to fist another stray plant. Sweat made his thin shirt cling to his lean back, and Crane could feel his own mouth twist in distaste at the sight. Labour was a reality for any man—or mage—but sweat, he had decided long ago, was another matter entirely.
Briar straightened and wiped his face with his sleeve, squinting as he noticed Crane watching him. His face broke out into a wry smile. “Rosethorn’s not here. Unlucky.” He laughed, looking not at all perturbed by the heat. “Or maybe that should be ‘lucky’.”
Crane frowned and let his eyes travel over the garden in front of him. “I wasn’t looking for Rosethorn.”
“Oh?”
“I thought you were scheduled to meet with a soul-healer today.”
“I was,” said Briar. He bent to pluck another weed.
“And yet you are obviously not doing so.”
There was a crease in the boy’s brow as he straightened again, though it quickly gave way to a laugh. “Ah, I see. Rosie’s got you spying on me now, is that it? You’re well and truly under her thumb, Crane.”
He ignored that last comment. Despite his tone, Briar was obviously irritated. It occurred to Crane, suddenly, how strange it was that he had now known the young plant mage long enough to recognise such a thing.
He chose his words carefully. “Rosethorn is only concerned for your wellbeing. She herself has visited a soul-healer. After a traumatic experience such as the one you have had - ”
Briar snorted. “What do you know?”
“Soul-healers - ”
“There’s nothing wrong with my soul.”
Crane took in the stubborn set of his jaw, the darkness in the boy’s eyes. He took a few steps closer, careful not to trample any plants. He hesitated, then, unsure how to proceed. Teaching had always been a mystery to him, and now parenting even more so. He had never studied for a situation like this.
“If that’s all,” said Briar, “then you can go. I have a lot of work to do before Rosethorn gets back.”
The two of them stood there for a moment, neither willing to back down. Crane didn’t even know why he was there. He shouldn’t have felt any sort of obligation to help Rosethorn, and certainly not to help Briar, and yet he did.
Briar scowled and turned his back on him, obviously hoping that if he ignored the older mage then he would be forced to leave. Something in Crane bristled at this, and when the boy moved to resume his weeding, he found himself moving closer and grabbing him by the wrist, halting the movement. Briar’s eyes snapped to his, a world full of anger hanging there.
“I do not presume to try and understand your situation,” said Crane, his tone biting. “But behaving like a wilful child solves nothing. If you truly have no intention of seeing a soul-healer, and are happy to wallow in this anger and hurt, then so be it. But you will tell Rosethorn yourself. There will be no more of this, promising her one thing and doing another. At least have the decency to act like a man.”
Briar’s gaze flickered, then shifted away. Crane realised that he was still holding the boy’s wrist, and let go. He didn’t wish to witness the shame that he was obviously feeling. The walk back to the front of the house suddenly looked like a mile, but Crane straightened and turned for it. His job was done here, though that was no remedy for the bitterness that was suddenly rising inside him.
At the gate, he glanced back. The young plant mage had taken up his weeding again, his face unreadable even from this short distance. Crane sighed and raked a hand through his hair. But it was too late to correct any damage that he had done, and the shelter of his greenhouse was already calling him away from the unsympathetic sun.
Rating: G
Word Count: 821
Card: Summer
Bingo: Sun + Sweat + Outdoors + Trees + Somewhere New
Summary: Crane pays a visit. In the same series as Healing, In Bloom, and Delusion.
The sun prickled his back as he walked, but before long he had reached his destination. This time, there were no wild dogs or wilder girls to obstruct his way, only a small, painted gate that swung gently on its hinges when he pushed it open.
He saw Rosethorn’s influence in the gardens as he walked around the house, the tomato plants all standing strictly to attention, the grass shorn green and short. But there were other things, little things, that were clearly Rosethorn and yet decidedly not: a vine creeping its way up a trellis; a row of mismatched saplings freshly planted in the shade of the house.
The boy was weeding in the garden behind the house, though he was clearly a boy no more. His dark hair was cut close at the back and sides, the top flopping down over his forehead as he bent to fist another stray plant. Sweat made his thin shirt cling to his lean back, and Crane could feel his own mouth twist in distaste at the sight. Labour was a reality for any man—or mage—but sweat, he had decided long ago, was another matter entirely.
Briar straightened and wiped his face with his sleeve, squinting as he noticed Crane watching him. His face broke out into a wry smile. “Rosethorn’s not here. Unlucky.” He laughed, looking not at all perturbed by the heat. “Or maybe that should be ‘lucky’.”
Crane frowned and let his eyes travel over the garden in front of him. “I wasn’t looking for Rosethorn.”
“Oh?”
“I thought you were scheduled to meet with a soul-healer today.”
“I was,” said Briar. He bent to pluck another weed.
“And yet you are obviously not doing so.”
There was a crease in the boy’s brow as he straightened again, though it quickly gave way to a laugh. “Ah, I see. Rosie’s got you spying on me now, is that it? You’re well and truly under her thumb, Crane.”
He ignored that last comment. Despite his tone, Briar was obviously irritated. It occurred to Crane, suddenly, how strange it was that he had now known the young plant mage long enough to recognise such a thing.
He chose his words carefully. “Rosethorn is only concerned for your wellbeing. She herself has visited a soul-healer. After a traumatic experience such as the one you have had - ”
Briar snorted. “What do you know?”
“Soul-healers - ”
“There’s nothing wrong with my soul.”
Crane took in the stubborn set of his jaw, the darkness in the boy’s eyes. He took a few steps closer, careful not to trample any plants. He hesitated, then, unsure how to proceed. Teaching had always been a mystery to him, and now parenting even more so. He had never studied for a situation like this.
“If that’s all,” said Briar, “then you can go. I have a lot of work to do before Rosethorn gets back.”
The two of them stood there for a moment, neither willing to back down. Crane didn’t even know why he was there. He shouldn’t have felt any sort of obligation to help Rosethorn, and certainly not to help Briar, and yet he did.
Briar scowled and turned his back on him, obviously hoping that if he ignored the older mage then he would be forced to leave. Something in Crane bristled at this, and when the boy moved to resume his weeding, he found himself moving closer and grabbing him by the wrist, halting the movement. Briar’s eyes snapped to his, a world full of anger hanging there.
“I do not presume to try and understand your situation,” said Crane, his tone biting. “But behaving like a wilful child solves nothing. If you truly have no intention of seeing a soul-healer, and are happy to wallow in this anger and hurt, then so be it. But you will tell Rosethorn yourself. There will be no more of this, promising her one thing and doing another. At least have the decency to act like a man.”
Briar’s gaze flickered, then shifted away. Crane realised that he was still holding the boy’s wrist, and let go. He didn’t wish to witness the shame that he was obviously feeling. The walk back to the front of the house suddenly looked like a mile, but Crane straightened and turned for it. His job was done here, though that was no remedy for the bitterness that was suddenly rising inside him.
At the gate, he glanced back. The young plant mage had taken up his weeding again, his face unreadable even from this short distance. Crane sighed and raked a hand through his hair. But it was too late to correct any damage that he had done, and the shelter of his greenhouse was already calling him away from the unsympathetic sun.