“Of course there was some altercation,” Sonia muttered. She had left her shoes behind at the door. On a clean floor like this, a floor which was to be hers, she would not sully it with ashen tracks. She would have walked down it in socks, but her mother had decided to make her some substitute shoes. Being made out of wrapping vines and leaves, they felt only as comfortable as one could expect when stepping on leaves and vines. They were tight around the arches of her feet, and it embarrassed her how they stretched up her calves like childish fairy boots. They would not fall off, however, and at least anything that got on them could be splashed off immediately.

Philip, the conductor, walked ahead of them, occasionally looking at his pocket watch.

Lady Veridia spoke, “We will be departing at 12:30 on the dot, won’t we?”

He assured them that they would be punctual, and led them into the dining car.

Uncle Donal waited for them, sitting on his chair of which the seat was taller than Sonia. There were no other tables set up in the car except for theirs, and it seemed reasonably conspicuous. Sonia considered it might serve a double purpose, being both a central weight to keep the train balanced and a platform on which to put important people. Gaudy, heavy chandeliers fixed on poles at either side of the car corroborated the architects' consideration of its balance.

Donal's half of the table was proportional to his size, about 5 feet high, and giving his thighs plenty of room. Sitting down, he towered a mere 9 feet tall, and the largest chandelier in the room hung well over his head, draping adorable glass-light patterns on the table.

Climbing up stairs onto a platform, Sonia found her own chair. It was ordinately carved, with Iraic shapes. The details did not press into her back as she sat against them, and were so flat that they discouraged any hunching at all. The chair pressed the sides of her skirt. The armrests rose to meet her elbows so that she only had to let her arms down to her sides to take advantage of their support. She imitated the holding of a book. Yes... the rests were adequate for such a task. It was a shame that she would be socially engaged most of the time that she was using them.

Veridia’s chair was presented to her as a plain, fresh-cut stump. The pink wood, Sonia noted, of Prunus Avium. The considerations the craftsmen had made were as to the quality of the wood and the life it still had within. This showed itself in the wet, sticky, ringed surface of a freshly fallen tree, exhumed from the earth before it could properly die. It's roots had all been removed, but it had many knots and knobs ready for Lady Veridia to play with.

Ordinarily, even an Iraic person, a person blessed with the sacred powers of Vegetation, would have been unable to do much with it. They might be able to get a sprout to appear from the knob with a day's worth of their mana. They may even get it to curve itself up in a somewhat desirable shape before it died completely. The result, however, would be the creation of an odd twig. Anyone sensible would agree that commoners would be better off feeding daily mana to more useful crops, like Zea Mays, or Triticum Aestivum. Leave the arts to those who could afford to buy mana itself.

For Lady Veridia, who ate over 6 boxes of mana every single day just to keep her own clothes alive, it was respectable entertainment.

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Lady Veridia examined the fresh, pink wood fondly, tracing its rings with her fingers. “This will do,” she nodded to Philip, who stood at the edge of the table, "I do love cherry!”

Veridia opened a glowing wooden box on the table before them. The provision of mana by the gifter, (in this case, the Tarician Foundation,) facilitated the activity. It was polite to provide it even if the artist was as wealthy as Lady Veridia.

Upon her opening the box, light burst into the room in many colors. Candied mana wafers laid in rows, wrapped in little papers. Lady Veridia took one out. Purple, blue, green, gold, and red layers crunched.

“Delicious,” Lady Veridia expressed. “Where did The Foundation purchase these? They simply melt in ones mouth!” she licked her fingers. Sonia’s stomach growled. How long was it going to be before she was waited upon? And her mother just had to do some showing off, didn't she? It was going to take forever! All of 5 minutes, and no one would be allowed to bring her anything to eat until then!

Lady Veridia stretched out her fingers. The aura around her hands filled with a veneer of green mana, like a drop of glass, which flowed out through the air and seeped into a knot on the side of the stump. The knot began to glow, and from it came a sprout. Veridia took it in her hands, then, and began to stretch it as a floating strand. She pulled it in a horizontal spiral, starting from the inside of it out, to form a seat. The spiral ended at the outside, and she began to pull the strand down to the ground. The tie from the stump, which shrank as she worked, still supported the spiral. Bringing the wooden strand up, down, up, and down, she created a twisted cage for the base, which bent at the bottoms and rested flatly on the platform. The wood molded into the platform as if it had been putty. This ensured that the chair would sit stably.

Veridia finished the base, bringing the wood up again and began the back of the chair. She swayed the strand left and right, curved up and back around, to form the arms of the chair. Then wove it up, over, down, up, over, down. She formed arches up the whole back, until at the top she tapered the edge in so that you couldn't tell where it ended.

“Bravo!” Donal said, “What a splendid piece!”

Veridia bowed, “Thank you, brother,” she said. "And now, for the finale…” she sat in the chair, then, and the spiral seat bent down a bit under her weight before it hardened. Her arms leaned into the rests, moving them into the perfect shapes to caress her form.

Her mana spread out into the entire chair, then, a glossy green film covering the strands, and the wood thickened, bark forming. From natural notches in every part, there came little twigs, here and there. They pressed up against Lady Veridia, and then steered away, spreading outwards to frame her visage as they began to grow leaves.

The remainder of the tree stump creaked, and curved inward on itself until it was like a ball on a tail, now only a little larger than Veridia’s hand. Pulling under through the gaps in the base of the chair, it shrank up against the bottom of the seat. An inconspicuous knot. Pink and white blossoms, then, began to bud, push out, and open. Just as they unfurled their petals, Veridia clapped. The green light shattered from her hands like a Prince Rupert's drop, finishing the spell.

Lady Veridia now sat in a breathtaking chair of cherry wood, with an arch of blossoms over her head. The chandelier cast glassy shadows over her and she fanned herself. Waiting.

Uncle Donal pushed his chair back and stood for applause, and Sonia clapped from her seat. Philip, in the corner, did his best not to fall off of the platform, clapping and looking to his side intermittently. Lady Veridia smiled.

“Thank you, Thank you.” She nodded.

“You were marvelous dear sister!” Donal applauded, “How accomplished!” He looked to Sonia, “You are blessed!When I think of the education she must have brought you up in, why, I simply can’t imagine a better teacher. Truly, a talented Iraic.”

“Thank you Uncle,” Sonia nodded.

If only mother was like that. Sonia thought. If only she wasn’t so frivolous.