Writing Challenge #12DaysOfTurvy Day One: Weather

The characters are from Sentinals Banished, the 5th book in the Sentinal series- though these events are all made up for the #12DaysOfTurvywriting challenge and are out of sequence and do not exist in the book.

Chatacters:

Leyarille is Jerrol and Taelia’s daughter, born at the beginning of Book 4, Sentinals Across time. She is now 17, as is Jared, Alyssa and Jennery’s second son.

Marianille and Birlerion are Sentinals, and step-brother/Step-sister.

Niallerion is a sentinal and Marianille’s husband.

Dec1. Weather. #12DaysofTurvy

A cold draught swept into the room as Leyarille hurried through the door surrounded in flurries of snow. “It’s getting heavier,” she said as she shook the flakes out of her cloudy brown hair.

Jared peered over the back of his chair and scowled at her as he tugged the rug tighter around his shoulders. “Shut the door!” With a shiver, he sank deeper in his chair and stretched his long legs out before the crackling fire. “It’s a bit early for snow in Old Vespers, isn’t it?”

Marianille laughed from her seat opposite him where she was busy darning a shirt. “You get snow in Deepwater too. This is not so unusual.”

“But it doesn’t usually lay this early.”

“Don’t be such a baby and don’t hog the fire.” Leyarille complained as she shrugged out of her cloak and came to join them. She sat on the floor and toasted her numb fingers before the flames.

“Where’s Birlerion?” Jared asked, moving his legs out of her way.

“Settling Kino in the stables. He’s no more a fan of snow than you are.”

“Not surprised, seeing as Darian’s hail from Terolia. What I wouldn’t give for the deserts right now,” Jared said.

“You’d be complaining it’s too hot,” Leyarille replied.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Seeing as neither of you have ever been to the desert—” Marianille broke off as the door blew open and her brother, Birlerion, entered. He quickly shut it and surveyed the cosy scene before the fire.

Leaning against the door, he tugged off his gloves. His silver eyes, like Marianille’s and Leyarille’s gleamed in the lamplight, and his black hair glistened with melting snow. “Well, you all look snug,” he said as he unfastened his cloak. “You’d better make the most if it, because Niallerion is going to be freezing by the time he gets home from the Chapterhouse.”

Marianille tutted. “He spends far too much time in those underground chambers. I wish the scholars would stop finding them. I’d better get the soup on.”

“I’ll do it. You stay by the fire,” Birlerion said as he hung up his cloak and entered the kitchen. The sound of pots clanging made Marianille wince, but she stayed in her chair.

Leyarille stared at the fire. “It’ll be strange not going home to Stoneford for year end,” she said.

Marianille leaned forward and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll have fun here. You wait and see!”

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