The wind blew past her, shaking the trees. She watched as the dry leaves fell down in a swirl. The crackling sound meeting her ears as she stepped over them. It was a cool Autumn eve, much colder than the ones her little town has known before, she ached to leave her town. A deep ache which spread through her bones, clutched her heart, strangled her throat. An ache she had long since learned to ignore.
Coiled together with that ache was her anger, so deep and brimming, ready to overflow, dart out like flames in a dancing arch, smoldering and burning the watchers, that is, if there were any watchers. It was only her.
Her, a little witch, a witch which carried too much power, too many emotions. Her fists clenched, nails digging deep into her skin as she let out a shuddering breath. Clear your mind, She had been taught, let it flow.
She scoffs, a load of bull, it was. She was tired. Tired of carrying the resentment, the anger, the anxiety, the fear, the magic. She was tired.
More than tired, she could feel herself crumbling, losing her grip over herself, her control faltering, too many times she had hunched over her desk forcing herself to take another breath of air, too many times she had to clutch her hands together, in hopes to make them stop trembling. Too many times she had forced herself to get out of bed when all she wanted to do was lay in and wait for her last breath. Too many times her flames had escaped her, striking the poor soul who dared to approach her.
She tugged her scarf upwards, the one knotted around her neck to cover her face, she sat down on the cold pavement and sighed. A leaf came tumbling down into her lap. She held it gently, afraid to crush it. She felt lost in that moment, just staring at the flaming leaf. Not literally, thank you very much, it wasn’t on fire, just shared the same orange tint. When a cough alerted her to a nearby presence.
Another witch, she caught her familiar scent, a soft citrus scent saddled with the touch of roses. She rolled her eyes, “You again.”
“Oh come on, why are you like this, we’ve been friends for so long!”
“Go away.”
“Are you still upset about setting my garden on fire?” She pouted. That damned pout. “I told you to get over it, I can grow them again.”
Lily was a nature witch, which, with the name and her scent was quite obvious (Because can’t you tell the writer has no sense of originality?). She tended to the fields and the gardens, her presence enough to brighten up the flowers, to flourish the fields, even the little leaf between her fingers began to perk up. She could begin to feel herself perk up.
Which was, totally uncool, because she was having a moment, and her moment was disrupted, because lily always brings with her a feeling of warmth and calm. Which she has been told on many instances, by too many people, is just for her. To the rest, she was wild, pulled too many pranks, had too many people waking up to find their belongings turned to buds and petals and flowers. A downright menace.
While she was inconveniencing others because of her lack of control, lily loved to be a pain in the ass for shits and giggles.
Maybe she deserved her burnt garden.
“You forgive me too easily.” She says,
Lily sighs, no doubt, tired of having this conversation, “Yes and you have forgiven me too many times too.”
Of wandering into her bed late at night, of decorating her room with flowers she was allergic too, of turning her into flowers she was allergic too. “Right, but they’re not the same.”
“Hmm, sure, but you never mean to do it and I do.” And then she smirks, because why wouldn’t she. Arya groans, (Arya, is her name, by the way, the writer has no concept of time and space, you see, but we roll with it)
“Oh, whatever.” And suddenly a weight is thrown over her, wavy hair covers her vision and suddenly she has a lap full of a nature witch, which. All in all is not a bad thing. “Don’t leave, at least not now? Wait for me to come too”
Arya sighs, She won’t leave her town, not now, she doesn’t want to leave Lily alone, She knows, that if she truly tries to leave, no one will stop her, not lily, no matter how much it will hurt her to watch her go. But one day, one day she will leave, she’ll take Lily too. They’ll figure something out. Probably. She hopes. For now, she only pulls her in closer and kisses the top of her head. “M here, we’ll figure everything out together. Right love?”
She feels her nod and a gentle nudge against her shoulder. They stay there, watching the rain grow heavy and heavy, the property line so close, but she knows she'll walk back home today. Maybe even tomorrow. Not until they have a solid plan to guide them.
(Image by here.)
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