Room 302 [afternoon]
Celia had spoken of her gifts in both her classes today! And no one had admonished her, or tried to argue, or told her she could do better, or even demanded a demonstration. She'd just been allowed to explain what she could do, as though she were telling someone how she styled her hair in the morning.
It was so much better than she'd ever thought it would be, here. There was no way that her father had known where he was truly sending her, since she hadn't practiced once since her arrival.
Though -- now that she was feeling as free with her magic as she was, perhaps it was time for that to change. Celia had come back to the room she shared with Alana, and her mostly-unpacked trunk was beginning to wear on her. She had become skilled at packing and unpacking, but here she had been wary of witnesses who weren't her father. And besides, if this was to be a more permanent home, she'd like to take her time with it.
Standing in the center of the room (and studiously ignoring Alana's side -- it wasn't hers to touch, physically or no), Celia concentrated on the lock on her trunk for a moment before it snapped open, easily, and an assortment of dresses and stockings and books floated up out of it. She left most of it hanging in the air for the moment as she flicked her fingers towards the closet to open it, and began arranging her clothes the way she wished.
It was so nice to do this leisurely, without someone barking at her about practice.
[open door and open post! warning for some discussion of suicide in the comments.]
It was so much better than she'd ever thought it would be, here. There was no way that her father had known where he was truly sending her, since she hadn't practiced once since her arrival.
Though -- now that she was feeling as free with her magic as she was, perhaps it was time for that to change. Celia had come back to the room she shared with Alana, and her mostly-unpacked trunk was beginning to wear on her. She had become skilled at packing and unpacking, but here she had been wary of witnesses who weren't her father. And besides, if this was to be a more permanent home, she'd like to take her time with it.
Standing in the center of the room (and studiously ignoring Alana's side -- it wasn't hers to touch, physically or no), Celia concentrated on the lock on her trunk for a moment before it snapped open, easily, and an assortment of dresses and stockings and books floated up out of it. She left most of it hanging in the air for the moment as she flicked her fingers towards the closet to open it, and began arranging her clothes the way she wished.
It was so nice to do this leisurely, without someone barking at her about practice.
[open door and open post! warning for some discussion of suicide in the comments.]