Upstairs in her room, Luinien hummed as she brushed her hair. Watching carefully in the mirror, she carefully extricated each piece of hay that glowed golden in the warm lamplight. She giggled at the recollection of the morning’s fracas in the hayloft. I sure owe him one!
Finally, fully de-hayed, her hair shimmered bluely in a smooth black stream down her back. ‘Too bad I can’t leave it down,’ Luinien told her reflection. ‘But it is far too hot for dancing!’ She braided it into two braids, her fingers nimble with years of practice, and wound them about her head. The heavy tresses encircled her head like a snake of jet.
When Tarondo knocked and walked in, he found his sister surveying herself critically in the glass. In her simple gown, of a deep blue that seemed to have trapped the luminescence of the twilight sky, she was in truth the Blue Maiden of her name.
‘Come on,’ he said gently. ‘We must not be late.’ He gave her his arm and escorted her down the stairs into the common room.
[ January 16, 2003: Message edited by: Nuranar ]
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I admit it is better fun to punt than be punted, and that a desire to have all the fun is nine-tenths of the law of chivalry.
Lord Peter Wimsey
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