Therefore I did not write a thousand words, only around 800. So here are the 800ish from yesterday...
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Ivy squeezed his arm, and he looked down to meet her eyes.
“I can feel your sadness and frustration. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Elliot put his hand over hers. “It’s ok. I honestly barely
remember my mother. I was young when I went off to school, and I didn’t come
back very often once I was there. It did make me close with my brothers, and
the friends I made at school. When father sent for us, I told my friends the
truth about me. We kept in touch. They came to visit on holidays and such.”
Ivy squeezed Elliot’s arm again, her hand absent mindedly
tracing spirals. “When Scions turn 6, we’re sent to the Sisterhood to learn how
to use our powers, along with everything else a princess needs to know. I knew
Meredith before then, because her mother and mine were friends, but I met so
many wonderful, strong women. I made life long friends there, as well as grew
closer to my older sister. But we were only there every other month. The
Sisterhood wanted us to benefit from their training, but also have a strong connection
to the non Scions in our lives. I feel it helped me be able to see better the
points of view of others. I’m glad you had a similar experience.”
They walked on in silence for a moment. “Is there anything
else you want to know about me?”
Ivy gave him a wry smile. “Yes, but I’m willing to find them
out in their own due time.”
Elliot didn’t bother to hide his surprise, or how good her
statement made him feel. It was the insinuations in that statement, of a
friendship that would last beyond this one week, which raised his heart rate.
She was kind, compassionate, yet so strong and seemingly sure of herself. She
had a vulnerability to her that drew him, yet had a sharp tongue and wit when
the situation demanded it. Her hand felt right against his arm, like they had
walked like this for years, and that sensation didn’t frighten him.
Ivy looked up at him as they entered the Midway, to get to
the competition ring for the gauntlet. His face was calm, focused on his task,
but she could feel through their touch a torment of emotion regarding his inner
thoughts. She found him fascinating. He was strong of will, as well as
physically. She could easily feel the strength in the muscles of his arm,
hidden beneath his shirtsleeve. But he didn’t use his strength to impose power
over others, he cultivated power from within. She felt safe with him. She
wanted to lean her head against his chest and listen to his heart, feel his
arms around her. And the fact that she wanted that, when she hadn’t wanted that
ever before, not even from Jereth, did not frighten her at all.
The day passed quickly for all of them. Samuel’s horse
turned out to be a beautiful Grey Percheron stallion, easily 18 hands high. Though
he still had some difficulty with the tight turns of the course, he handled the
jumps beautifully, easily clearing even the highest jumps with plenty of room
to spare. Samuel made it into the top 25, earning him a spot in the semi
finals.
Ivy and Devon ’s craft
beverage judging was just before lunch. Though the judging of crafts is not
exciting to watch as sport competitions, the whole group of friends was
gathered behind the ropes, watching as the competitors served their beverages
to the judges. Some did it with props and flourish. Some of the tea presenters
made an entire ceremony out of it. Devon
poured his sour into cordial glasses and explained what it was in detail. The
judges asked a few questions, including why it wasn’t being judged with the
beer, made their tallies and moved on. Ivy seeped her tea as the judges approached.
She explained in a very quiet voice the type of tea and its medicinal
properties. The tea was done by end of her explanation; she poured the tea into
tiny cups and stood statue still while the judges sampled it. She answered a
few questions as well, and the judges moved on. When the judges were done, they
thanked the participants, and exited.
Elliot looked to Meredith as the competitors cleaned their
stations. “Wait, that’s it?”
She nodded. “That’s it. The judges confer in private, and
the ribbons are posted on the samples when the area is closed. They won’t know
how they did till tomorrow morning.”
Elliot’s eyes widened. “No wonder Ivy gets so nervous!”
Meredith scoffed. “If you think that’s bad, wait till tomorrow, for the textiles judging. We don’t even get to stand by our pieces or explain them or anything. They say that it helps protect from bias – each piece has to stand on its own merits, with nothing on them that will designate their creator except the level of talent or artistic style. The area is corded off, like this is, and the judges wander around and around, poking and prodding the pieces; they confer in the middle and then walk around again, pinning on the ribbons. Having to stand out here, watching, in silence, is just torture!”
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