Normally something like this would be mildly annoying but not really a problem. A few winding vines would have happily helped him gather it all and push it away. Though, then again, Rosethorn might consider that sloppy and lazy work. Better to get a shovel before he started hearing threats to hang him by his heels over the well.
He knew now, of course, that the threat was a bluff. She waters her plants from that well, after all, she'd never risk contaminating it.
With a small half smile, thinking about his grumpy gruff prickly favorite teacher, Briar found a busted locker door that he pried off and used as a scoop.
He even whistled a jaunty tune as he started to work.
By the time he'd ben at it an hour however, the smile and the whistling were gone and he was into some good old griping.
"Sandry would have had this mess trussed up in a blink, not to mention what Tris would do to this mess, but me? No me I have to shovel it all, and why not give the dirty work to the dirty street kid. Ugh. Just goes to show, not for nothin aint nothin ever changes."
And Rosethorn would have his hide for lipping back into street slang. He was tempted to slide into some real bad slang in Trader Talk, just to imagine her outrage. It would be worth it, just to have her here. Or to be back with her and his student, Evi. Or better yet, back in Discipline Cottage with her and Lark and his mates. Wait till the kids heard about this place.
Out of habit he reached mentally for the girls. But there was nothing. Had been nothing for a few months, so that was depressing but not new. Not being able to hear his Shakkan however... that still disturbed and bothered him. He couldn't hear his miniature tree that he'd nicked. He couldn't hear any of the plants here.
Briar paused in his work to lean against a wall staring at his hands. The vin and leaf tattoos he done for himself with vegetable dyes to hide his prison tattoos where what he had intended them to be. Flat decorative images of vines and leaves. "You'd think I'd be happy. Comes of livin with a noble, I finally get what I wanted and it aint good enough for spit."
He never would have guessed he'd miss the way the tattoos usually swam under his skin, moving around, freaking people out.
Shaking his head, the dark haired fourteen year old gave up on the slush. He'd only been here a day or so and spent most of it up on the roof. Well, he'd done his fair share of the mess moving. Time to explore, see if he couldn't figure out what those vines were. Maybe getting his hands on them would awaken some of his magic again, help him figure out what was wrong.
He hoped it wasn't that one of the girls had a need so bad that they drew all his magic up like slurping from a straw. Anything that could shake one of his mates that bad after the past two years he didn't even want to think about. Ugh.
He needed distraction.
"Just gotta get my hands on those vines," he muttered, shoving those same hands in his pockets as he headed out. "That'll distract me like anythin...."
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Briar Moss | The Circle of Magic books
Date: 15 Feb 2025 08:34 (UTC)Normally something like this would be mildly annoying but not really a problem. A few winding vines would have happily helped him gather it all and push it away. Though, then again, Rosethorn might consider that sloppy and lazy work. Better to get a shovel before he started hearing threats to hang him by his heels over the well.
He knew now, of course, that the threat was a bluff. She waters her plants from that well, after all, she'd never risk contaminating it.
With a small half smile, thinking about his grumpy gruff prickly favorite teacher, Briar found a busted locker door that he pried off and used as a scoop.
He even whistled a jaunty tune as he started to work.
By the time he'd ben at it an hour however, the smile and the whistling were gone and he was into some good old griping.
"Sandry would have had this mess trussed up in a blink, not to mention what Tris would do to this mess, but me? No me I have to shovel it all, and why not give the dirty work to the dirty street kid. Ugh. Just goes to show, not for nothin aint nothin ever changes."
And Rosethorn would have his hide for lipping back into street slang. He was tempted to slide into some real bad slang in Trader Talk, just to imagine her outrage. It would be worth it, just to have her here. Or to be back with her and his student, Evi. Or better yet, back in Discipline Cottage with her and Lark and his mates. Wait till the kids heard about this place.
Out of habit he reached mentally for the girls. But there was nothing. Had been nothing for a few months, so that was depressing but not new. Not being able to hear his Shakkan however... that still disturbed and bothered him. He couldn't hear his miniature tree that he'd nicked. He couldn't hear any of the plants here.
Briar paused in his work to lean against a wall staring at his hands. The vin and leaf tattoos he done for himself with vegetable dyes to hide his prison tattoos where what he had intended them to be. Flat decorative images of vines and leaves. "You'd think I'd be happy. Comes of livin with a noble, I finally get what I wanted and it aint good enough for spit."
He never would have guessed he'd miss the way the tattoos usually swam under his skin, moving around, freaking people out.
Shaking his head, the dark haired fourteen year old gave up on the slush. He'd only been here a day or so and spent most of it up on the roof. Well, he'd done his fair share of the mess moving. Time to explore, see if he couldn't figure out what those vines were. Maybe getting his hands on them would awaken some of his magic again, help him figure out what was wrong.
He hoped it wasn't that one of the girls had a need so bad that they drew all his magic up like slurping from a straw. Anything that could shake one of his mates that bad after the past two years he didn't even want to think about. Ugh.
He needed distraction.
"Just gotta get my hands on those vines," he muttered, shoving those same hands in his pockets as he headed out. "That'll distract me like anythin...."