Patience

“Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow – that is patience.”

Victoria = not patient.
Victoria = trying to meditate on the above quote.
Victoria = banging head against desk.
Victoria = tired.

*

I don’t have anything non-spoilery, so here’s an excerpt from a fairy tale I worked on over the summer.

“Don’t whine, Raisa. It doesn’t become a princess.” Alaecer paused and turned to look at her. “And another thing that doesn’t become a princess is traveling the forest alone.” He put on his best big-brother-scowl. “Father’ll be angry.”
“You do it all the time. And besides,” She flicked her hair defensively, revealing a small bow and quiver. “I’m a better shot than you.”
Alaecer let it slide as the kingdom came into sight through the trees. The sun had descended and was now resting wearily against the Lux family castle, high on the hill.
“I wonder if they’ve noticed our absence,” sighed Alaecer, as Raisa disappeared from the path. She wandered to a looming oak.
“Trees are the biggest gossips,” she laughed, resting her ear against the bark of the large trunk, “especially the leaves. They chatter on, collecting secrets from the wind. Soon even the roots know the happenings of the clouds.” Alaecer felt the smile he kept only for Raisa spread across his face. He’d miss her terribly. He would have to bring her back something lovely from his travels. Wherever they may take him. Raisa sighed and returned to him.
“The oak heard the King mention your name, but didn’t hear much else.” She glanced up at the canopies. “They don’t concern themselves terribly with small talk, I suppose.”
“We best get back, to be safe.” Alaecer helped her up onto the horse and the two made their way back through the kingdom walls as the sun dipped behind the castle.

The great halls of the Castle in Lore featured pillars cut from the tourmaline stone of the rockbeds that trace their way like frozen streams through the landscape. The pillars were carved to look like towering trees, roots tapering directly into the granite floor, and enchanted so that their branches swayed with the breeze that pervaded the kingdom, inside and out. Birds carved from rose rock and blue carthane chirped and fluttered on their stone branches. The natural and made intertwined, vines and leaves of wood and fiber lead into those of stone and glass, the seams all but disappearing.
Alaecer took the stairs in pairs and strode briskly through the great halls. The gentle wind tugged at his sleeves, and he hastened into the throne room, bowing before he even affirmed his parents’ presence.

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