This is just a little moment in the lives of the four that fills one of the gaps between Briar's Book and The Circle Opens. It occurred to me while i was building the RP, so I decided to share it.

In Discipline Cottage, as evening started to creep in at the edges of the temple-city of Winding Circle, four young mages sat together, working in companionable silence. The tallest of the four, a solid girl with dark skin and thin black braids, bore down with the muscles of her strong arms on the engraving tools in her hands as she etched a complicated design in a smooth sheet of bright brass. The metal that clung to her left hand shone even brighter, but did not seem to hamper the girl's smooth movements.

On the other side of the simple wooden table, at the end closer to the door so that they would not crowd one another, a boy sat picking through a pile of dried leaves. His black curls bounced untidily on his head above a thin-bladed nose in a golden brown face, his lip tucked between his teeth in concentration as he sorted the mess of assorted herbs into their proper containers.

Sitting straight-backed in a chair pushed next to the open window to catch the best of the light a girl with sun-streaked brown hair twitched a flashing needle through soft cloth, stitching with light efficiency. Despite her button nose and mulish chin, something about the girl reeked of noble bearing, perhaps her primly set shoulders that refused to let her slouch over her needlework.

Tucked next to the smoldering hearth, a plump red-haired girl sat reading from an old book, glasses perched securely on her long nose. Breezes that did not seem to reach anyone else in the room brushed across the girl, fluttering her sensible skirts and very short hair. The redhead dragged her fingers idly through her close-cropped locks, gathering the sparks of crackling lightning that sprouted in her curls.

Sandry abruptly looked up from her stitching to fix her eyes on the lightning-kissed girl. "I'll bet you could do that on purpose," she said. The redhead's pale brows raised over her spectacles, silently questioning.

Before Tris could speak, Briar chimed in: "What, make lightning?" he asked scornfully. "She already does that a-purpose. And by accident, and when she's cross, and when she's just breathing—although I pretty much already said that, talking about when she was cross," he added, with a wink at Tris, who sniffed. Grinning, the boy continued, "If I had a copper bik for every spark of lightning Tris'd sprouted, I'd be richer'n you, Duchess."

Sandry smiled, ignoring her foster-brother's teasing, her blue eyes still fixed on Tris. "No," she said patiently, "I mean keep lightning. And maybe other things, too," she added in a softer voice, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

"I already keep lightning in my hair," Tris said tiredly. "I can't get rid of it, even with the stuff cropped to nubbins shorter than his curls," she said, pointing at Briar with her chin.

Sandry nodded, still patient. She tied off the end of her thread to keep her work from unraveling, then laid the pile of fabric neatly in her lap. Only when the cloth was smooth did she look up again, her blue eyes fixing on Tris with an intensity that the young noble's gaze rarely carried. "So don't get rid of it," she said calmly. "Tie it down and tame it."

Tris blinked. She looked at the sparks on her fingers, then back at Sandry. She blinked again. "Tame it," she said flatly.

"You tame lightning all the time." That was Daja, joining the discussion for the first time. The young smith-mage leaned forward, bracing her elbows on either side of her metalwork. "You tame it, and toss it around like it's a toy, and you sneak up to the roof or the wall when it's stormy and you play with it."

Tris sniffed again, unable to refute the Trader's claims, but not deigning to agree either. Daja grinned and laid her tools aside. She nudged her work forward a few inches so that she could fold her arms in front of her, settling in for the ensuing discussion and the show that was sure to accompany it. Anything with Tris was a big production, and with the other two helping, Daja knew things were likely to get as interesting as street theater.

"And what's she supposed to do once she's got it tamed?" Briar asked, needling his sisters. "Teach it to do tricks? Put it on a leash and take it to market, maybe do a show for the Bag-trade, earn some coppers? It's not like lightning just sits around and waits for folk to decide they have a use for it, it always wants to strike sparks off something. It don't behave when it ain't being minded, not even for Coppercurls here."

Tris stuck her tongue out at her brother. "It behaves," she said tartly. "If it didn't, you'd get stung constantly. Maybe you should be stung more, anyway."

Briar just grinned.

Tris turned back to Sandry, her gray eyes narrow. "You don't sound like you're teasing, though," she observed. "So what kind of taming are you talking about?"

"Braids," said Sandry. Her cheeks colored under Tris's stare, and the noble hurried to explain: "Well, it's just that shearing your hair down close doesn't seem to solve the problem—not really. You still sprout lightning, sometimes, although of course not as badly as you used to. But it still happens, a little, so I was thinking—well, if the lightning likes to live in your hair, instead of trying to chase it away, why not keep it there on purpose?"

"And how do I do that, without ending up with a cloud of sparks for a crown?" Tris asked, her voice as sharp as her gaze. "With braids, you said. How?"

Sandry's hands fluttered, birdlike, as the noble gestured to her own hair as she spoke. "Grow your hair back out, and then braid the lightning into it," she said. "You have enough thread magic that you ought to be able to bind the lightning where you want it to stay, that way. You could—maybe—even store other things in there."

"Why would I want to do that?" Tris asked, her harsh tones softening with curiosity instead of accusation.

"Aren't you always bleating about how you never have the kind of weather around that you want, when you need it?" Briar pointed out.

Tris frowned. "It would be nice to have rain always ready at hand, rather than having to hope I can find a storm that doesn't have prior obligations when we need some wet," she admitted grudgingly.

Sandry beamed. "There you go, then," she said happily. "You just have to figure out what kind of braids and spells you need to keep the different types of weather you want under control, decide on the most effective ways to arrange your hair, and coax the lightning and rain and everything else into the braids. And grow your hair out again so that you have enough to actually plait," she added.

Tris's eyebrows arched. "Is that all," she said drily.

"As good as done, then," said Daja, her tone bland.

Tris snorted and shook her head. Sandry's smile never faltered.

"I like this plan," Briar announced. "It's not fair, Coppercurls over there being the only one of you girls I can't braid-tweak when you need it."

"Come over her and tug my braids," Daja said levelly. "I'll show you how much I crave attention like that."

"No thanks," said Briar, with an exaggerated shudder. "I'll stick to tugging Sandry's if it's all the same to you; she's too nice to get mad."

"You say that now," Sandry remarked softly, "but wait until your breeches fall down around your ankles the next time you start strutting in front of the new novices."

The others laughed at him. Even Briar had to grin, although his was wry and crooked. "I think I'll get all my clothes made outta cotton and hemp from here on," he said grimly. "Better yet, maybe I'll just start wearing plain leaves—no threads anywhere."

"That'll be a sight," Daja said drily. "I can't wait to see it."

Briar made a face as Sandry giggled.

"Cheer up. When I grow my hair out I'll let you pull my braids all you want," Tris told her brother sweetly. "Mind, I'm not sure how much you'll like grabbing a handful of raw lightning…" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "And I hate to think what would happen if you tugged on an earthquake…"

Briar stuck his tongue out at her. "Spoilsport," he griped.

Tris gave him her best innocent smile. "You know," she observed lightly, "it occurs to me that there will be a spate of time in which I have too much hair to stop lightning from growing, but not enough to braid. You'll help me brush it out at night, won't you Briar?" she asked. "Since you like playing with hair so much…"

Briar grimaced. "This mad scheme was Sandry's idea," he argued quickly. "If anyone's going to help you with your hair, it ought to be her. Besides, the only things I know how to braid are plant stems. And I can't do fancy buns and pinning or anything like that at all," he babbled. "And I don't even own ribbons. You definitely need Sandry for that Bag stuff, not me."

Sandry smirked at the boy. "Coward," she teased.

Briar nodded. "And glad of it," he said. "Especially when it comes to braiding hair."

The girls all laughed.