Post by PeroxidePirate on Dec 23, 2012 1:25:23 GMT 10
To: Elsceetaria
Message: Happy holidays, lovely! I was delighted to be writing for you, and I hope you like the story.
Title: Freezes and Wheezes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1189
Prompt: 1. Lark/Rosethorn and 4. illness and/or madness, dealt with seriously
Summary: It takes longer than expected for Rosethorn to recover from the blue pox -- and her trip to the afterworld. But she and Lark are always there for each other.
“She is not herself.” Lark's voice was soft, her words given more weight by the subtlety of her tone.
“It’s been six months,” Briar grumbled. They were alone in Discipline’s kitchen, while the girls were at various lessons and Rosethorn, as usual, was in her room. “She can talk again, near as well as she could before, and the healers say she should be getting stronger.”
“So she is.”
“Then why is she so quiet? Tris dropped a pot in her work room yesterday and she didn’t even squeak — not even when it shattered and half the pieces went in the birdseed and we had to throw it all away. That’s not normal, Lark.”
“It’s not,” Lark agreed. “But not all wounds are of the body, boy. The soul often takes longer to heal.”
He opened his mouth to ask another question, but she stopped him. “Here, soup’s ready.” She ladeled some into a bowl. “Take it to her, will you, please?”
“Won’t she eat with the rest of us, at the table?”
Lark smiled sadly. “You can ask.”
Once she was alone, she lowered herself carefully onto the kitchen stool and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Answering — well, trying to answer — Briar’s questions gave her a headache.
Two hours later, once supper was finished and her charges were settled in the main room with their books and strict orders to behave, Lark walked the paths of Winding Circle to the First Dedicate’s quarters. She was shown inside by a bowing novice; she, in turn, bowed before Honored Moonstream.
“Sit down,” ordered Moonstream. “I can see this is going to take some time.”
“I don’t mean to-” Lark began, but Moonstream held up a hand.
“Stop. Don’t apologize, Dedicate.” She reached for a clay teapot on the low table, poured herbal tea into two mugs, and passed one to her companion. “You came here for a reason. Tell me.”
“It’s Rosethorn, your honor. For a time she seemed to be getting better, returning to herself. But these last few weeks, since the rains came...” She shook her head. “It’s like she’s stopped making any progress at all. She’s just... frozen. The children are worried, too. She stays in bed nearly all the time, but she’s not sleeping.”
“I’d wager she’s not the only one lying awake nights.”
Lark chuckled dryly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But I’m so exhausted by day’s end, as often as not I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.”
“You just worry all the hours you’re awake.”
“Well, yes.” This is why we’re discouraged from forming strong attachments, she thought. Her care — her love — for Rosethorn had become an obstacle to her duty to the temple. But there was no point in saying something they both knew already.
Moonstream sipped her tea, gaze a thousand miles away. Lark waited.
“The days are getting shorter,” the First Dedicate said at last. “I expect that won’t help.”
“I can’t do it,” Lark said, very softly. “The children, the temple, Rosethorn...” She shook her head, blinking back tears. “Forgive me. This wasn’t meant to be about me. I only wish to help Rosethorn.”
“I believe you need help, as well. I apologize for not realizing that sooner.”
“I didn’t ask.”
Moonstream smiled wisely. “We can both learn something from this experience, then. More tea?” She held up the pot.
Lark shook her head.
Moonstream refilled her own cup, then reached for a sheaf of paper. “I have some ideas. My dear, you are not alone. And neither is she.”
The residents of Discipline Cottage assembled in the front yard at daybreak, with the exception of Rosethorn, who was already ensconced in the carriage outside the gate. With them were Niko and Frostpine, bracketing the group of shivering, sleepy children. Lark faced the others, one hand on the gatepost.
“Briar, no climbing onto the roof if it’s raining, especially if there might be ice. Tris, you’re to sleep with the window closed when the wind is out of the north — I don’t care if it’s interesting, I won’t have you falling ill. Daja, Frostpine, don’t forget to come out of the forge now and then to eat, at least. Sandry, I’m sorry to interrupt your training just now; just practice weaving stripes and work on embroidery until I get back, and no magic unless Niko is here. And Niko-”
“I’ll write you every week,” he interrupted. “We’ll be fine. I promise.” Their eyes met for a long moment, and at last Lark nodded and looked away.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll see you — we’ll see you — in the spring.”
Lark expected herself to sit beside Rosethorn’s nest, awake and watchful, throughout their travels. Instead she found herself slumping, dozing, and eventually falling asleep as Winding Circle disappeared behind them. When she awoke near to midday, Rosethorn was watching her.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Where are we going?” Rosethorn asked. “I know you told me...”
“Zedanon. Three days’ ride to the south, on the Pebbled Sea.”
“Where flowers grow even in winter. That’s right.”
They were silent for a little, until Lark was beginning to doze once more, and then Rosethorn spoke again. “Zedanon, where the finest mind-healer Duke Vedris could find spends her winters.” She sat up. “I don’t need to run away, you know,” she said harshly. “And you certainly don’t need to leave Winding Circle on my behalf. And the mind-healers at the temple are just fine for the likes of me.”
Lark inhaled sharply, then held her breath for a count of seven before exhaling slowly and sitting up. “You think I’m leaving Winding Circle because of you?” she asked calmly.
“Aren’t you? You said you don’t want to interrupt Sandry’s training-”
“But I couldn’t keep going,” Lark countered. “I couldn’t, love. Maybe you don’t care how long it takes for your soul to be whole again, but I need you to be the Rosethorn I fell in love with.”
Rosethorn scowled at her lap. “I’ve been so stupid-”
“I’ve been stupid. You nearly died — would have, if that fool boy hadn’t dragged you back-”
“Now you sound like me.”
“- and I’m the one who needs to get away?”
Their eyes met, and held, and then Rosethorn reached a hand up to cup Lark’s cheek. “So that’s why you dragged me from my bed at the crack of dawn — so you could get away?”
“You’re a gardener,” Lark protested. “You should be used to getting up at dawn.” But she covered Rosethorn’s hand with her own and closed her eyes.
“I’m glad you still wanted us to be together,” Rosethorn said. “You could have left me. Maybe you should have-”
Lark’s eyes snapped open. “I wouldn’t, and you know it.” She leaned her forhead against Rosethorn’s. “You didn’t leave me, the year my wheezes got so bad I couldn’t climb stairs.”
“That’s different.”
“No it’s not.”
“Lark,” Rosethorn breathed.
“This healer is going to help you all she can. She’ll help me, too. We’ll be together. And when we’re ready, we’ll go home.” She pressed a gentle kiss to Rosethorn’s lips. “I promise.”
Message: Happy holidays, lovely! I was delighted to be writing for you, and I hope you like the story.
Title: Freezes and Wheezes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1189
Prompt: 1. Lark/Rosethorn and 4. illness and/or madness, dealt with seriously
Summary: It takes longer than expected for Rosethorn to recover from the blue pox -- and her trip to the afterworld. But she and Lark are always there for each other.
“She is not herself.” Lark's voice was soft, her words given more weight by the subtlety of her tone.
“It’s been six months,” Briar grumbled. They were alone in Discipline’s kitchen, while the girls were at various lessons and Rosethorn, as usual, was in her room. “She can talk again, near as well as she could before, and the healers say she should be getting stronger.”
“So she is.”
“Then why is she so quiet? Tris dropped a pot in her work room yesterday and she didn’t even squeak — not even when it shattered and half the pieces went in the birdseed and we had to throw it all away. That’s not normal, Lark.”
“It’s not,” Lark agreed. “But not all wounds are of the body, boy. The soul often takes longer to heal.”
He opened his mouth to ask another question, but she stopped him. “Here, soup’s ready.” She ladeled some into a bowl. “Take it to her, will you, please?”
“Won’t she eat with the rest of us, at the table?”
Lark smiled sadly. “You can ask.”
Once she was alone, she lowered herself carefully onto the kitchen stool and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Answering — well, trying to answer — Briar’s questions gave her a headache.
Two hours later, once supper was finished and her charges were settled in the main room with their books and strict orders to behave, Lark walked the paths of Winding Circle to the First Dedicate’s quarters. She was shown inside by a bowing novice; she, in turn, bowed before Honored Moonstream.
“Sit down,” ordered Moonstream. “I can see this is going to take some time.”
“I don’t mean to-” Lark began, but Moonstream held up a hand.
“Stop. Don’t apologize, Dedicate.” She reached for a clay teapot on the low table, poured herbal tea into two mugs, and passed one to her companion. “You came here for a reason. Tell me.”
“It’s Rosethorn, your honor. For a time she seemed to be getting better, returning to herself. But these last few weeks, since the rains came...” She shook her head. “It’s like she’s stopped making any progress at all. She’s just... frozen. The children are worried, too. She stays in bed nearly all the time, but she’s not sleeping.”
“I’d wager she’s not the only one lying awake nights.”
Lark chuckled dryly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But I’m so exhausted by day’s end, as often as not I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.”
“You just worry all the hours you’re awake.”
“Well, yes.” This is why we’re discouraged from forming strong attachments, she thought. Her care — her love — for Rosethorn had become an obstacle to her duty to the temple. But there was no point in saying something they both knew already.
Moonstream sipped her tea, gaze a thousand miles away. Lark waited.
“The days are getting shorter,” the First Dedicate said at last. “I expect that won’t help.”
“I can’t do it,” Lark said, very softly. “The children, the temple, Rosethorn...” She shook her head, blinking back tears. “Forgive me. This wasn’t meant to be about me. I only wish to help Rosethorn.”
“I believe you need help, as well. I apologize for not realizing that sooner.”
“I didn’t ask.”
Moonstream smiled wisely. “We can both learn something from this experience, then. More tea?” She held up the pot.
Lark shook her head.
Moonstream refilled her own cup, then reached for a sheaf of paper. “I have some ideas. My dear, you are not alone. And neither is she.”
The residents of Discipline Cottage assembled in the front yard at daybreak, with the exception of Rosethorn, who was already ensconced in the carriage outside the gate. With them were Niko and Frostpine, bracketing the group of shivering, sleepy children. Lark faced the others, one hand on the gatepost.
“Briar, no climbing onto the roof if it’s raining, especially if there might be ice. Tris, you’re to sleep with the window closed when the wind is out of the north — I don’t care if it’s interesting, I won’t have you falling ill. Daja, Frostpine, don’t forget to come out of the forge now and then to eat, at least. Sandry, I’m sorry to interrupt your training just now; just practice weaving stripes and work on embroidery until I get back, and no magic unless Niko is here. And Niko-”
“I’ll write you every week,” he interrupted. “We’ll be fine. I promise.” Their eyes met for a long moment, and at last Lark nodded and looked away.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll see you — we’ll see you — in the spring.”
Lark expected herself to sit beside Rosethorn’s nest, awake and watchful, throughout their travels. Instead she found herself slumping, dozing, and eventually falling asleep as Winding Circle disappeared behind them. When she awoke near to midday, Rosethorn was watching her.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Where are we going?” Rosethorn asked. “I know you told me...”
“Zedanon. Three days’ ride to the south, on the Pebbled Sea.”
“Where flowers grow even in winter. That’s right.”
They were silent for a little, until Lark was beginning to doze once more, and then Rosethorn spoke again. “Zedanon, where the finest mind-healer Duke Vedris could find spends her winters.” She sat up. “I don’t need to run away, you know,” she said harshly. “And you certainly don’t need to leave Winding Circle on my behalf. And the mind-healers at the temple are just fine for the likes of me.”
Lark inhaled sharply, then held her breath for a count of seven before exhaling slowly and sitting up. “You think I’m leaving Winding Circle because of you?” she asked calmly.
“Aren’t you? You said you don’t want to interrupt Sandry’s training-”
“But I couldn’t keep going,” Lark countered. “I couldn’t, love. Maybe you don’t care how long it takes for your soul to be whole again, but I need you to be the Rosethorn I fell in love with.”
Rosethorn scowled at her lap. “I’ve been so stupid-”
“I’ve been stupid. You nearly died — would have, if that fool boy hadn’t dragged you back-”
“Now you sound like me.”
“- and I’m the one who needs to get away?”
Their eyes met, and held, and then Rosethorn reached a hand up to cup Lark’s cheek. “So that’s why you dragged me from my bed at the crack of dawn — so you could get away?”
“You’re a gardener,” Lark protested. “You should be used to getting up at dawn.” But she covered Rosethorn’s hand with her own and closed her eyes.
“I’m glad you still wanted us to be together,” Rosethorn said. “You could have left me. Maybe you should have-”
Lark’s eyes snapped open. “I wouldn’t, and you know it.” She leaned her forhead against Rosethorn’s. “You didn’t leave me, the year my wheezes got so bad I couldn’t climb stairs.”
“That’s different.”
“No it’s not.”
“Lark,” Rosethorn breathed.
“This healer is going to help you all she can. She’ll help me, too. We’ll be together. And when we’re ready, we’ll go home.” She pressed a gentle kiss to Rosethorn’s lips. “I promise.”