Post by Elsceetaria on Apr 17, 2013 5:20:09 GMT 10
Title: Don't Question the Sun
Rating:PG
Word Count: 1175
Pairing: Crane/Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Rosethorn sends notes home to Lark and Crane.
Note: Title and subtitles from Dar William's "Empire". Work count excludes subtitles.
Rosethorn could count the number of people she truly cared about on her hands. She had learned the hard way that respect was not the same as love. She would always respect many and love few. In fact, there were only three she loved unconditionally. Lark was the day to her night. She was the missing piece to her puzzle. The one she had never known was missing until it was found. Crane was the person she might have become if she had been born to privilege. They knew each other's thoughts more often than not. His sharp prickles didn't seem so sharp compared to her thorns. In fact, breaking off their pairing had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. Finally, Briar was her son. She had watched him grow into the man he was. He could be a cad, but there was no one else she would have with her side now. They had talked last night. The last trader caravan was leaving today, and they would not be on it. The two letters she had stayed up all night penning over and over would be, however.
Lark shook as she took the letter from the young trader who had knocked on the door at Discipline. Despite her fears, she thanked the boy and sent him on his way with a coin for his trouble. Rosethorn had always believed no news was good news. The presence of the letter itself was bad news. Reluctantly, she took it to the chair in her room, pulled a blanket she had woven with her love for her Rosie, and undid the seal noting Rosethorn's writing on the outside was just a little shakier than usual.
My dearest Lark,
I had hoped to bring these seeds home to you, so we could plant them together. This plant grows the finest gold silk I have ever seen. It is called maize. I found it when we were traveling in the south although it isn't actually native to there. I've never actually seen anyone spin with it. Most people use the husk as a whole. I believe you could create something magnificent with it, however. Everything you make is magnificent. I love you. I will love you forever.
Your Rosie
P.S. You should plant it along the outer wall of the garden. It will thrive there.
P.P.S. As much as I detest allowing him into my garden, Crane should be able to help you.
Lark held the small kernels that had been enclosed. On the surface, she couldn't imagine what could be so special to necessitate sending them like this. They looked like little teeth. Lark, however, knew Rosethorn and could read between the lines. These small seeds might be the last gift Rosethorn ever gave her. Lark had never needed anything from Rosethorn but her love, yet she had found herself gifted beyond measure with cut flowers, teas, and the best produce around. Knowing this, she felt it would be a crime to squander the gift. She would seek out Crane later, but for now, she would simply cry.
After the young trader left Discipline cottage, he took the next envelope out of his pack. Noting the addressee, he began the climb towards the greenhouse. He arrived and knocked on the door. A young woman in a white habit answered the door. She looked down at the boy, “Yes?”
“I have a letter for Dedicate Crane,” He responded.
“I'll take it.”
“I'm only supposed to give it to Dedicate Crane.”
“Well, if you insist upon that, he'll never get it. He thinks he is above the likes of you.”
“Here,” he said grudgingly handing the letter over to the novice. Snickering in his head, he remembered the note that had been left with this letter.
Several hours latter, Crane finally got to the correspondence. He had spent the day trying to coax some tomato seeds into flourishing. Rosethorn may have told the seeds to grow for him, but they didn't like him. Gorse had requested the fruits for a festival meal. It would have been an insult to his talent if he failed to fulfill the request. Thus, Crane was grumpy when he sat down and broke the seal on the letter and read.
Crane,
I hope this letter finds you much better than I am. Things here have gotten difficult. I hope we will make it home soon. Gods, I hope we make it home at all. I need you to take care of Lark. I sent her some seeds. You are to help her with them if and only if she asks. If I find out you were in my garden without her permission, I will hunt you down regardless of my form and make your life miserable. I really don't want to do that though. We've been through too much together.
Rosethorn
P.S. The trick to the tomatoes is joy.
Dirty fingerprints marred the white paper as it fell to the floor. Crane simply sat there in silence.
***
On Its Own Splintered Axis
Two days later, Lark walked to the Greenhouse to ask Crane for help. It was late, and he opened the door himself. She didn't even have to ask. One look said it all. She said, “You know.”
He nodded and simply folded her into his arms.
Lark kept running her fingers over the large maize seeds. For each kernel, she said a prayer to a different God for the safe return of Rosethorn and Briar along with the young mage Briar had taken on. Crane was coming soon, and she would need to give up her talisman. She sat down in the middle of the sleeping garden and continued to pray. Sometime latter, she percieved a shadow standing over her.
Crane reached down and helped her up. He asked, “Alright?”
Lark wasn't what he meant with the question, so she responded the only way she could, “Let's do this.”
Crane carefully showed Lark how to plant the maize. They removed the cloth along the outer wall then carefully tilled the Earth. Lark repeated her prayers as she placed each seed into the ground then another as they covered them. They watered the seeds together as the sun set just below the wall.
After work, Lark invited Crane to share her evening meal. The table had felt just that much emptier since she had received Rosethorn's letter.
Crane came by every few days on the grounds that he needed to check on his maize. It was simply coincidence if he always had a flower or some fruit to bring then had time to stay for a meal. The maize grew strong if slowly. They were prparing to harvest when Rosethorn's next letters arrived. They had made it out and would be coming home. As she counted the ears of maize, Lark thanked each of the Gods.
In his greenhouse the next day, Crane noticed that his tomato plants appeared better than he had ever seen.
Rating:PG
Word Count: 1175
Pairing: Crane/Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Rosethorn sends notes home to Lark and Crane.
Note: Title and subtitles from Dar William's "Empire". Work count excludes subtitles.
With More Fear to Conquer
Rosethorn could count the number of people she truly cared about on her hands. She had learned the hard way that respect was not the same as love. She would always respect many and love few. In fact, there were only three she loved unconditionally. Lark was the day to her night. She was the missing piece to her puzzle. The one she had never known was missing until it was found. Crane was the person she might have become if she had been born to privilege. They knew each other's thoughts more often than not. His sharp prickles didn't seem so sharp compared to her thorns. In fact, breaking off their pairing had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. Finally, Briar was her son. She had watched him grow into the man he was. He could be a cad, but there was no one else she would have with her side now. They had talked last night. The last trader caravan was leaving today, and they would not be on it. The two letters she had stayed up all night penning over and over would be, however.
***
More Gold Thread for Spinning
Lark shook as she took the letter from the young trader who had knocked on the door at Discipline. Despite her fears, she thanked the boy and sent him on his way with a coin for his trouble. Rosethorn had always believed no news was good news. The presence of the letter itself was bad news. Reluctantly, she took it to the chair in her room, pulled a blanket she had woven with her love for her Rosie, and undid the seal noting Rosethorn's writing on the outside was just a little shakier than usual.
My dearest Lark,
I had hoped to bring these seeds home to you, so we could plant them together. This plant grows the finest gold silk I have ever seen. It is called maize. I found it when we were traveling in the south although it isn't actually native to there. I've never actually seen anyone spin with it. Most people use the husk as a whole. I believe you could create something magnificent with it, however. Everything you make is magnificent. I love you. I will love you forever.
Your Rosie
P.S. You should plant it along the outer wall of the garden. It will thrive there.
P.P.S. As much as I detest allowing him into my garden, Crane should be able to help you.
Lark held the small kernels that had been enclosed. On the surface, she couldn't imagine what could be so special to necessitate sending them like this. They looked like little teeth. Lark, however, knew Rosethorn and could read between the lines. These small seeds might be the last gift Rosethorn ever gave her. Lark had never needed anything from Rosethorn but her love, yet she had found herself gifted beyond measure with cut flowers, teas, and the best produce around. Knowing this, she felt it would be a crime to squander the gift. She would seek out Crane later, but for now, she would simply cry.
***
Words are Just Words
Words are Just Words
After the young trader left Discipline cottage, he took the next envelope out of his pack. Noting the addressee, he began the climb towards the greenhouse. He arrived and knocked on the door. A young woman in a white habit answered the door. She looked down at the boy, “Yes?”
“I have a letter for Dedicate Crane,” He responded.
“I'll take it.”
“I'm only supposed to give it to Dedicate Crane.”
“Well, if you insist upon that, he'll never get it. He thinks he is above the likes of you.”
“Here,” he said grudgingly handing the letter over to the novice. Snickering in his head, he remembered the note that had been left with this letter.
Several hours latter, Crane finally got to the correspondence. He had spent the day trying to coax some tomato seeds into flourishing. Rosethorn may have told the seeds to grow for him, but they didn't like him. Gorse had requested the fruits for a festival meal. It would have been an insult to his talent if he failed to fulfill the request. Thus, Crane was grumpy when he sat down and broke the seal on the letter and read.
Crane,
I hope this letter finds you much better than I am. Things here have gotten difficult. I hope we will make it home soon. Gods, I hope we make it home at all. I need you to take care of Lark. I sent her some seeds. You are to help her with them if and only if she asks. If I find out you were in my garden without her permission, I will hunt you down regardless of my form and make your life miserable. I really don't want to do that though. We've been through too much together.
Rosethorn
P.S. The trick to the tomatoes is joy.
Dirty fingerprints marred the white paper as it fell to the floor. Crane simply sat there in silence.
***
On Its Own Splintered Axis
Two days later, Lark walked to the Greenhouse to ask Crane for help. It was late, and he opened the door himself. She didn't even have to ask. One look said it all. She said, “You know.”
He nodded and simply folded her into his arms.
***
The Seeds of its glory
The Seeds of its glory
Lark kept running her fingers over the large maize seeds. For each kernel, she said a prayer to a different God for the safe return of Rosethorn and Briar along with the young mage Briar had taken on. Crane was coming soon, and she would need to give up her talisman. She sat down in the middle of the sleeping garden and continued to pray. Sometime latter, she percieved a shadow standing over her.
Crane reached down and helped her up. He asked, “Alright?”
Lark wasn't what he meant with the question, so she responded the only way she could, “Let's do this.”
Crane carefully showed Lark how to plant the maize. They removed the cloth along the outer wall then carefully tilled the Earth. Lark repeated her prayers as she placed each seed into the ground then another as they covered them. They watered the seeds together as the sun set just below the wall.
After work, Lark invited Crane to share her evening meal. The table had felt just that much emptier since she had received Rosethorn's letter.
***
Don't Question the Sun
Don't Question the Sun
Crane came by every few days on the grounds that he needed to check on his maize. It was simply coincidence if he always had a flower or some fruit to bring then had time to stay for a meal. The maize grew strong if slowly. They were prparing to harvest when Rosethorn's next letters arrived. They had made it out and would be coming home. As she counted the ears of maize, Lark thanked each of the Gods.
In his greenhouse the next day, Crane noticed that his tomato plants appeared better than he had ever seen.