Flash-- Brigit's Flame Entry-- Week One
Title: Flash
Summary: Beginnings aren't always what you hope for.
Rated: PG-13ish
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Cue
They were summoned without explanation to a large grey house in a quiet neighborhood. Sitting in the parlor, the six strangers made idle, nervous conversation while dutifully avoiding the curious manner of their invitations.
Maera was the second to introduce herself after the sunny blonde, Gemma, who simply stated her name, age, and occupation. As it turned out, she was a twenty-year-old teacher's helper at a preschool, though Maera knew that was far from all she was.
After Gemma sat back down, the others glanced about in that uneasy way people always do when trying to avoid public speaking of any kind.
Maera took this to be her cue, gathered her courage, and stood up. "My name is Maera. I'm twenty-one years old, and I get... flashes. I guess you could call them visions, only the word 'visions' seems to imply a sort of mystical importance, and so far my life hasn't been particularly mystical or important. They're just like a photograph, without sound or feelings attached, and it's up to me to figure out what they mean."
She paused, and accepted the stunned silence in the wake of her speech. Nobody said this would be easy. After taking a deep breath, she continued on. "I'm telling you this because I know that I can trust you. When I read the letter that told me to come here, I had a flash. I saw all of us in a circle, casting a spell." She turned to Gemma. "You were the leading the ritual, so I'm assuming you're a practicing witch."
The girl's deep blue eyes were wide, but not frightened as she nodded. "I've been practicing for three years. I don't-- if you could figure out all that, can you tell us what we're all doing here?"
Maera shrugged. "That's not my part in this. But the one who can should be arriving soon."
The young man with the guarded grey eyes spoke up, "And you would know that how?"
She tucked her feet underneath her as she reclaimed her spot on the couch. "I saw us all together. We're missing one person."
Into the pause that followed stepped the slim brunette who'd arrived with Gemma. "My name is Leslie," she said quietly. "I've been a practicing witch for seven years and sometimes I can move things with my mind."
Leslie looked to her left, to the armchair that held the man with the grey eyes. He noticed her attention, and glanced around the room before offering up grudgingly, "My name is Kellan." Still sitting, he closed his eyes against the group's expectant gazes before adding, "I'm not big on sharing."
The diminutive redhead smiled as she stood up, and she quite literally lit up the room. "I'm Jordan. I- um, I can control the weather."
The boy next to her chuckled as she sat back down. "Ah, so you're the one to blame for the storm I hit on my way up. I'm Ben. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here."
"Hold that thought." Maera popped off the couch as the sound of a motorcycle approached suddenly. The others stayed seated, raising eyebrows at each other while she walked to the front door.
She arrived just after the first knock, and swung the door open. When her eyes met the green ones on the other side of the door, she had a flash that left her speechless. She didn't even realize her jaw had dropped until he grinned. "Hello. I'm Gabriel."
Pushing the image out of her mind, she smiled back. "Gabriel... the messenger. It fits." She stepped back to let him in. "I'm Maera."
"It's nice to meet you," he said over his shoulder as he headed inside. Maera shut the door behind him, still rocked by the flash.
In the last few years, she'd gotten flashes fairly regularly. They were usually mundane, and often incredibly random. She'd seen everything from a tree that had fallen a few miles ahead on the road she was driving down, to a ceramic cow that would be a great graduation present for a distant cousin. But in four years, she'd never had a flash like that.
She made her way back to the couch, and let the repeat round of introductions breeze past her. With her eyes closed, she reflected on the flash that needed no interpretation.
Yep, there she was, and there was Gabriel-- that guy she'd just let in the front door-- kissing her quite possessively on the mouth.
And damn it, she was kissing him back.
Summary: Beginnings aren't always what you hope for.
Rated: PG-13ish
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Cue
They were summoned without explanation to a large grey house in a quiet neighborhood. Sitting in the parlor, the six strangers made idle, nervous conversation while dutifully avoiding the curious manner of their invitations.
Maera was the second to introduce herself after the sunny blonde, Gemma, who simply stated her name, age, and occupation. As it turned out, she was a twenty-year-old teacher's helper at a preschool, though Maera knew that was far from all she was.
After Gemma sat back down, the others glanced about in that uneasy way people always do when trying to avoid public speaking of any kind.
Maera took this to be her cue, gathered her courage, and stood up. "My name is Maera. I'm twenty-one years old, and I get... flashes. I guess you could call them visions, only the word 'visions' seems to imply a sort of mystical importance, and so far my life hasn't been particularly mystical or important. They're just like a photograph, without sound or feelings attached, and it's up to me to figure out what they mean."
She paused, and accepted the stunned silence in the wake of her speech. Nobody said this would be easy. After taking a deep breath, she continued on. "I'm telling you this because I know that I can trust you. When I read the letter that told me to come here, I had a flash. I saw all of us in a circle, casting a spell." She turned to Gemma. "You were the leading the ritual, so I'm assuming you're a practicing witch."
The girl's deep blue eyes were wide, but not frightened as she nodded. "I've been practicing for three years. I don't-- if you could figure out all that, can you tell us what we're all doing here?"
Maera shrugged. "That's not my part in this. But the one who can should be arriving soon."
The young man with the guarded grey eyes spoke up, "And you would know that how?"
She tucked her feet underneath her as she reclaimed her spot on the couch. "I saw us all together. We're missing one person."
Into the pause that followed stepped the slim brunette who'd arrived with Gemma. "My name is Leslie," she said quietly. "I've been a practicing witch for seven years and sometimes I can move things with my mind."
Leslie looked to her left, to the armchair that held the man with the grey eyes. He noticed her attention, and glanced around the room before offering up grudgingly, "My name is Kellan." Still sitting, he closed his eyes against the group's expectant gazes before adding, "I'm not big on sharing."
The diminutive redhead smiled as she stood up, and she quite literally lit up the room. "I'm Jordan. I- um, I can control the weather."
The boy next to her chuckled as she sat back down. "Ah, so you're the one to blame for the storm I hit on my way up. I'm Ben. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here."
"Hold that thought." Maera popped off the couch as the sound of a motorcycle approached suddenly. The others stayed seated, raising eyebrows at each other while she walked to the front door.
She arrived just after the first knock, and swung the door open. When her eyes met the green ones on the other side of the door, she had a flash that left her speechless. She didn't even realize her jaw had dropped until he grinned. "Hello. I'm Gabriel."
Pushing the image out of her mind, she smiled back. "Gabriel... the messenger. It fits." She stepped back to let him in. "I'm Maera."
"It's nice to meet you," he said over his shoulder as he headed inside. Maera shut the door behind him, still rocked by the flash.
In the last few years, she'd gotten flashes fairly regularly. They were usually mundane, and often incredibly random. She'd seen everything from a tree that had fallen a few miles ahead on the road she was driving down, to a ceramic cow that would be a great graduation present for a distant cousin. But in four years, she'd never had a flash like that.
She made her way back to the couch, and let the repeat round of introductions breeze past her. With her eyes closed, she reflected on the flash that needed no interpretation.
Yep, there she was, and there was Gabriel-- that guy she'd just let in the front door-- kissing her quite possessively on the mouth.
And damn it, she was kissing him back.