Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2011 15:21:54 GMT 10
Title: Eyes Unfocused
Rating: G
Word Count: 252
Card: Spring
Bingo: Learning + Music + Spring + Crush + Ribbon
Summary: Sandry tries and fails to concentrate.
The tune in her head rose and fell, lah-dee-da-da, as Sandry tried to keep her smile interested and eyes focused. This was important. One day she would be advisor to Uncle's heir and she needed to know why the taxes on perfume from Janaal were so high.
It was still difficult to settle into the lesson when three letters lay unopened in her private chambers, tied shut with green silk ribbons. Their weight told Sandry that they contained souvenirs; all she had been able to think was that no present could best the knowledge that a year after leaving, they were coming home.
She would have no more privacy, true, and all three would notice the flush on her cheeks when she thought of the new ambassador's son; and her siblings would hear the humming in her head, when she ought to be listening to Uncle's advisors. But the past year had been lonely without their voices just within reach: one long winter, punctuated by Pasco, Lark and Yazmin, that was ending.
"I hope you found that educational," Uncle told her as they exited, "because I know it was not enthralling."
"I learned a great deal today," Sandry said gravely, and she had to glance down to hide a smile. Her mind was already reaching forward for the ribbon around her letters, like a seed struggling through frozen ground into sunlight. Lah-dee-da-da. She wondered what news awaited her. She wondered if it mattered, when Daja, and then the others, were coming home.
Rating: G
Word Count: 252
Card: Spring
Bingo: Learning + Music + Spring + Crush + Ribbon
Summary: Sandry tries and fails to concentrate.
The tune in her head rose and fell, lah-dee-da-da, as Sandry tried to keep her smile interested and eyes focused. This was important. One day she would be advisor to Uncle's heir and she needed to know why the taxes on perfume from Janaal were so high.
It was still difficult to settle into the lesson when three letters lay unopened in her private chambers, tied shut with green silk ribbons. Their weight told Sandry that they contained souvenirs; all she had been able to think was that no present could best the knowledge that a year after leaving, they were coming home.
She would have no more privacy, true, and all three would notice the flush on her cheeks when she thought of the new ambassador's son; and her siblings would hear the humming in her head, when she ought to be listening to Uncle's advisors. But the past year had been lonely without their voices just within reach: one long winter, punctuated by Pasco, Lark and Yazmin, that was ending.
"I hope you found that educational," Uncle told her as they exited, "because I know it was not enthralling."
"I learned a great deal today," Sandry said gravely, and she had to glance down to hide a smile. Her mind was already reaching forward for the ribbon around her letters, like a seed struggling through frozen ground into sunlight. Lah-dee-da-da. She wondered what news awaited her. She wondered if it mattered, when Daja, and then the others, were coming home.
I love the way you've written her in this. 
