(no subject)
{I'm here because...}
I can hardly contain my excitement about therapy. Honestly, I feel like I'm going to burst but that may have something to do with stealing nearly all of the bacon and porridge so Cecily and Elizabeth were left with nothing but the dregs, which is something even iron bellied Brigid won't eat.
Ann was trying so hard not to laugh that she was crying and she wouldn't even help, so Fee and I just ate every bit of it. Now of course is my comeuppance for being so spiteful and I feel like I can't sit in an armed chair for fear of getting stuck between the arms. That would be an awful sort of embrace and one I'm truly not ready for.
I've only ever been in Mrs Nightwing's office alone before once and I'll admit that I wasn't supposed to be there, but it's not as if I could just ask. She is not God, I shall not receive.
It's lucky that her parlor chair is straight back with no arms. I don't feel closed in or like I'm about to burst, but my palms are sweating and the back of my neck feels like a weight is pressing down on my spine. Leaning forward relieves it for a moment but when I straighten up again it's still there, settling across my shoulder like a mantle of iron. It feels like I'm being pushed under and I breath slowly and evenly, wishing instead for a vision because I know I'm just afraid of talking about my family.
How am I to dance around the fact that my mother died, not of cholera, but by her own hand to protect herself from the creature of the Winterlands. The Winterlands that no one believes exist because they're part of the Realms, the magical place only those part of the Order and the Rakshana know of. The Realms my mother found when she was at school here at Spence, before she nearly died in the fire that claimed the founder of our school -- Eugenia Spence -- and supposedly claimed her and her friend. Oh, but that was before she changed her name to Virginia from Mary Dowd and married my father and moved to India.
Yes, how will I explain that away?
I wipe my palms on the fabric of my skirt again, the constant motion leaving it wrinkled and damp and stiff against my fingers. I want to run so badly, but I cannot. If I'm to be a proper lady, and not let on to Mrs Nightwing that I'm in fact not proper at all, I've to endure the hour.
My thoughts leave Mother and trip and fall towards Father, as always. I will refuse to speak of Father's addiction and I straighten my back as if to physically steel myself in this will. Father is a good man who lost his wife, he cannot be blamed for his ailments.
I wonder if telling myself that enough times will make it true.
Nor will I speak of Tom, for his entrance into the Rakshana still sets me to trembling and I cannot bear what may happen to him. I cannot have Tom's blood on my hands. I tell myself this repeatedly, I will find a way to keep Tom from being hurt. As horrible as he is, he's my brother and I will protect him. Perhaps that is what Kartik feels of Amar though the thought doesn't have much time to blossom as there's a clink on the window.
My head pops up from where I've been staring at my clasped hands and I look to the window.
"Kartik!" Quick as you may I've left the chair and my fingers close around the window ledge. "What are you doing here?" He's never been this close to the school during daylight and never on this side, always on the side where the ivy twines up the lattice work right to my window.
His smile is a bit rogue and a bit silly. "Use the magic, Gemma, you must come quickly."
I don't think I've heard him correctly. Use the magic? Since when has he been so keen on using the magic? He used to think it was meant to be locked away where no one could reach it. He used to believe in the Rakshana though, I remind myself, and now he does not. He's different. Lost.
I close my eyes and open my palms focusing all my energy on one single thought. Stop.
Kartik makes a surprised sort of breath and I open my eyes to see him peering curiously at a hummingbird in midair, stilled above a flower. He looks up at me with the same sort of awe and I smile, feeling the blush and rush of the magic creep into my cheeks. It's been so long. He motions for me to follow and I find myself staring.
He means for me to climb through the window. In broad daylight. When I don't move he puts his hands on my waist and tugs, as if to say come on, we don't have all day. But we do of course, thanks to the Realms. I climb over the ledge and he steadies me before stepping back and taking my hand. "Come Gemma, I have something to show you."
I don't know what could be so important as to disrupt my day but it must be so I follow willingly. He takes me deep into the forest, past the lake and the Gypsy camp and stops when he comes to the other side, just as the forest opens up into the country again.
"Close your eyes," he tells me and I do so, feeling his fingertips softly across my eyelids, making sure I won't peak. He leads me forward a few steps and I nearly trip, catching his arm for support while his hands never waver from my face. When we stop, he steps close to me and I can feel his chest against my back, feel the beating of his heart and smell the smoky woody scent that reminds me so much of him.
He pulls his hands away from my eyes and tilts my head towards the sky. "Open your eyes, Gemma."
Slowly, I open them, squinting against the bright blue sky until what he'd meant to show me coalesces in front of me. Twin rainbows, snaking across each side of the sky until they meet in the middle, entwining in each other like a lover's embrace.
"Oh," is all I can manage and he laughs softly, the sound like rough velvet against my ear.
"More beautiful than the Eastern Star," he whispers in my ear, his hands moving to rest on my shoulders. I lean back slightly, all propriety lost in the moment.
"It so fleeting."
He nods and I can feel his hair against my skin. "Such is its beauty."
I can hardly contain my excitement about therapy. Honestly, I feel like I'm going to burst but that may have something to do with stealing nearly all of the bacon and porridge so Cecily and Elizabeth were left with nothing but the dregs, which is something even iron bellied Brigid won't eat.
Ann was trying so hard not to laugh that she was crying and she wouldn't even help, so Fee and I just ate every bit of it. Now of course is my comeuppance for being so spiteful and I feel like I can't sit in an armed chair for fear of getting stuck between the arms. That would be an awful sort of embrace and one I'm truly not ready for.
I've only ever been in Mrs Nightwing's office alone before once and I'll admit that I wasn't supposed to be there, but it's not as if I could just ask. She is not God, I shall not receive.
It's lucky that her parlor chair is straight back with no arms. I don't feel closed in or like I'm about to burst, but my palms are sweating and the back of my neck feels like a weight is pressing down on my spine. Leaning forward relieves it for a moment but when I straighten up again it's still there, settling across my shoulder like a mantle of iron. It feels like I'm being pushed under and I breath slowly and evenly, wishing instead for a vision because I know I'm just afraid of talking about my family.
How am I to dance around the fact that my mother died, not of cholera, but by her own hand to protect herself from the creature of the Winterlands. The Winterlands that no one believes exist because they're part of the Realms, the magical place only those part of the Order and the Rakshana know of. The Realms my mother found when she was at school here at Spence, before she nearly died in the fire that claimed the founder of our school -- Eugenia Spence -- and supposedly claimed her and her friend. Oh, but that was before she changed her name to Virginia from Mary Dowd and married my father and moved to India.
Yes, how will I explain that away?
I wipe my palms on the fabric of my skirt again, the constant motion leaving it wrinkled and damp and stiff against my fingers. I want to run so badly, but I cannot. If I'm to be a proper lady, and not let on to Mrs Nightwing that I'm in fact not proper at all, I've to endure the hour.
My thoughts leave Mother and trip and fall towards Father, as always. I will refuse to speak of Father's addiction and I straighten my back as if to physically steel myself in this will. Father is a good man who lost his wife, he cannot be blamed for his ailments.
I wonder if telling myself that enough times will make it true.
Nor will I speak of Tom, for his entrance into the Rakshana still sets me to trembling and I cannot bear what may happen to him. I cannot have Tom's blood on my hands. I tell myself this repeatedly, I will find a way to keep Tom from being hurt. As horrible as he is, he's my brother and I will protect him. Perhaps that is what Kartik feels of Amar though the thought doesn't have much time to blossom as there's a clink on the window.
My head pops up from where I've been staring at my clasped hands and I look to the window.
"Kartik!" Quick as you may I've left the chair and my fingers close around the window ledge. "What are you doing here?" He's never been this close to the school during daylight and never on this side, always on the side where the ivy twines up the lattice work right to my window.
His smile is a bit rogue and a bit silly. "Use the magic, Gemma, you must come quickly."
I don't think I've heard him correctly. Use the magic? Since when has he been so keen on using the magic? He used to think it was meant to be locked away where no one could reach it. He used to believe in the Rakshana though, I remind myself, and now he does not. He's different. Lost.
I close my eyes and open my palms focusing all my energy on one single thought. Stop.
Kartik makes a surprised sort of breath and I open my eyes to see him peering curiously at a hummingbird in midair, stilled above a flower. He looks up at me with the same sort of awe and I smile, feeling the blush and rush of the magic creep into my cheeks. It's been so long. He motions for me to follow and I find myself staring.
He means for me to climb through the window. In broad daylight. When I don't move he puts his hands on my waist and tugs, as if to say come on, we don't have all day. But we do of course, thanks to the Realms. I climb over the ledge and he steadies me before stepping back and taking my hand. "Come Gemma, I have something to show you."
I don't know what could be so important as to disrupt my day but it must be so I follow willingly. He takes me deep into the forest, past the lake and the Gypsy camp and stops when he comes to the other side, just as the forest opens up into the country again.
"Close your eyes," he tells me and I do so, feeling his fingertips softly across my eyelids, making sure I won't peak. He leads me forward a few steps and I nearly trip, catching his arm for support while his hands never waver from my face. When we stop, he steps close to me and I can feel his chest against my back, feel the beating of his heart and smell the smoky woody scent that reminds me so much of him.
He pulls his hands away from my eyes and tilts my head towards the sky. "Open your eyes, Gemma."
Slowly, I open them, squinting against the bright blue sky until what he'd meant to show me coalesces in front of me. Twin rainbows, snaking across each side of the sky until they meet in the middle, entwining in each other like a lover's embrace.
"Oh," is all I can manage and he laughs softly, the sound like rough velvet against my ear.
"More beautiful than the Eastern Star," he whispers in my ear, his hands moving to rest on my shoulders. I lean back slightly, all propriety lost in the moment.
"It so fleeting."
He nods and I can feel his hair against my skin. "Such is its beauty."