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Wild Roses fic prompt 099 "Writer's Choice - Symbols"
Title: curiousity, insatiable
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Joshua, Hazel
Prompt: 099 'writer's choice' - Symbols
Word Count: 277
Rating: all ages; warning for baby!Hazel
Notes: Early in the first war; she's less than six.* By all appearances they're somewhere in the outskirts of the Trickwood, or on someone's estate that's secure enough that she can run a bit wild. His other appearance so far was here.
Randomly, this was sparked by contemplating permanent symbols, in the context of this culture, which resulted in the first line of this piece echoing in my head. >.>
"Name me this," she demanded, holding up a section of tree branch, leaves still attached.
"Where'd you get that?" he asked first, kneeling down to her height and holding out his hand open palmed. She surrendered it reluctantly, small fingers sweat-glued to the wilting leaves, but gave it without being asked again.
"One of the 'wolves was tying glass bits to the piece it came from. And wouldn't tell me why--" she scowled up at him, affronted all over again "--and wouldn't tell me what it is!"
"It's a willow, sister-mine," he said, turning it end for end lengthwise across his hand. "And you know better than to pick things because you don't know what they are, oui?"
"Oui." She stuck her clean hand in the pocket of the slightly outgrown trousers she was wearing, flexing the fingers of the green-stained hand. "But the 'wolf wasn't wearing anything over skin to touch it."
"The wolf also knows what they can and cannot do--and they won't lick their fingers without thinking."
She bared her teeth at him, small white baby teeth flashing before she visibly got a grip on her temper and pulled her lips back over them. "I won't do that. --What's a willow?"
'Sabaey, through and through,' he thought, not laughing out loud. "How much detail do you want?"
"As much as you have," she replied instantly, dropping into an attentive cross-legged pose on the floor, chin propped on hands propped on thighs.
He did chuckle, this time, but dropped down to match her, setting the branch down on his leg near the knee to point out leaf and bark to her.
*: He died, when she was six. He'd taught her to read, before then, and to write.
Yes, this is where she first encountered the tree that eventually became one of her signature symbols.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Joshua, Hazel
Prompt: 099 'writer's choice' - Symbols
Word Count: 277
Rating: all ages; warning for baby!Hazel
Notes: Early in the first war; she's less than six.* By all appearances they're somewhere in the outskirts of the Trickwood, or on someone's estate that's secure enough that she can run a bit wild. His other appearance so far was here.
Randomly, this was sparked by contemplating permanent symbols, in the context of this culture, which resulted in the first line of this piece echoing in my head. >.>
"Name me this," she demanded, holding up a section of tree branch, leaves still attached.
"Where'd you get that?" he asked first, kneeling down to her height and holding out his hand open palmed. She surrendered it reluctantly, small fingers sweat-glued to the wilting leaves, but gave it without being asked again.
"One of the 'wolves was tying glass bits to the piece it came from. And wouldn't tell me why--" she scowled up at him, affronted all over again "--and wouldn't tell me what it is!"
"It's a willow, sister-mine," he said, turning it end for end lengthwise across his hand. "And you know better than to pick things because you don't know what they are, oui?"
"Oui." She stuck her clean hand in the pocket of the slightly outgrown trousers she was wearing, flexing the fingers of the green-stained hand. "But the 'wolf wasn't wearing anything over skin to touch it."
"The wolf also knows what they can and cannot do--and they won't lick their fingers without thinking."
She bared her teeth at him, small white baby teeth flashing before she visibly got a grip on her temper and pulled her lips back over them. "I won't do that. --What's a willow?"
'Sabaey, through and through,' he thought, not laughing out loud. "How much detail do you want?"
"As much as you have," she replied instantly, dropping into an attentive cross-legged pose on the floor, chin propped on hands propped on thighs.
He did chuckle, this time, but dropped down to match her, setting the branch down on his leg near the knee to point out leaf and bark to her.
*: He died, when she was six. He'd taught her to read, before then, and to write.
Yes, this is where she first encountered the tree that eventually became one of her signature symbols.
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This was going to be a post about how there is not squee, because that would be undignified, but that approaches ridiculous: there is DEFINITELY squee. XD
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