[And despite that...] I'm trying to help
I'm afraid, in the midst of the age of darkness; so that although we found it easy to be brilliant, we were always confused about being good.
--Salman Rushdie
"You've really done wonders here, Ms. Rosenberg."
Willow furrowed her brow and looked back at the few girls in the room. Sela stood behind her, lips pursed yet with an air of grace. Kali, the brunette, sat with her eyes intent on the pencil floating in mid-air. Willow had remembered the beginning stages of her witchdom and knew these girls needed to work on control.
D'eandrea sat back, braiding her hair, relaxed. The pencil before her balanced on the tip against the desk. It was just like a scene right out of The Craft and Willow felt a tinge of pride. Once the problem of the bunch, D'eandrea was quickly becoming the model student. Rhiannon, on the other hand, clutched the desk. Willow was worried it would topple over and bring her down with it.
"Please, call me Willow," she said, before weaving around the two girls to the third.
Rhiannon's blonde locks fell in wisps around her face. Were she not such a witchy hellion, Willow would have found her attractive. That, and the girl had just turned eighteen and Willow hadn't been the jailbait type. It had only been two nights since Willow had tried to finagle the girl out of her five finger discount.
"Rhiannon?" she asked, crouching down so that she was face to face with the younger Wiccan.
"M'gonna' get it," she said, quickly, not looking up at Willow. "M'gonna' get it." Willow tilted her head and sighed, studying the other girl. She thought the blond hated her, now it seemed like all she wanted to do was please the superior who had dropped in out of nowhere and who had straightened their coven-in-training out.
"I know you are." Willow was earnest, and paused - mostly for dramatic effect but also because she wanted to form her words correctly. Babbling would not help the situation. "Relaxation is a big part. A big, huge part. You're tense, Rhiannon. Like, really tense and as tense as you are that floating pencil - that spinning pencil is going to hurtle right into the-"
But, it was too late and Rhiannon's frustrations had gotten the better of her. D'eandrea had ducked, now half on the floor, her gaze fixed on the pencil rammed into the chair she had just been sitting in.
"Oops?" the former Miss Teen Arizona said, with a shrug.
"Rhiannon..." Willow stood up and walked over to D'eandrea who handed her the pencil before turning back and concentrating on her own exercise. Willow meandered her way back to the younger witch who was simply glaring at her. A bemused smile followed and Willow held the pencil out in front of her. "Stop the pencil from falling," she said, letting go.
The tip hit the desk and rolled down before Willow caught it, lifting it again. She repeated the process, repeated her statement, her order and wouldn't stop.
"Ms. Rosenberg, you're goin' too..."
"Stop. The pencil, Rhiannon," Willow kept saying intently. At one point, the blond simply closed her eyes and began to breathe. It was the first time that day Willow had seen the girl stop trying and just be. The pencil stopped, and neither Willow, nor Rhiannon heard it hit the desk. Opening her eyes, Rhiannon's breathing stopped, her eyes going wide.
Crouching down again, Willow leaned around and witnessed the pencil suspended in mid air.
"Breathe," she reminded her. Rhiannon did as she was told, the pencil beginning its own leisurely spiral. "Everything is connected. That chair, this reservation, your superior, that large oak outside that you girls smoke at. Everything. Don't think of the pencil as another entity. Think of it as an extension of you - of what you're feeling. Don't lift the pencil. Don't stop it." By now, she was addressing all three former delinquents. "Just -- connect with it."
Later in her quarters, Willow packed what little she had actually taken out of her suitcase. Her green flowy skirt sat on the bed beside her, ready to be worn the next day along with her peasant blouse. The knock interrupted her process but truth be told, Willow hadn't ever been about the process except when it had come to academics and over the years the process kind of dwindled away.
"Ms - Willow?" Sela called, her knuckles now resting on the door frame. "What you did in here, today. These past few weeks..."
"It was nothing. Just a usual day with Willow Rosenberg," she said, glancing back at the older witch. "They didn't know what power they possessed. They needed someone to remind them that actions have consequences and sometimes those consequences aren't worth the actions in the first place unless the aforementioned action actively assisted -- sometimes I really abuse the English language," she said with a smirk.
Sela chuckled.
"You are welcome here any time, Willow," she stated, stepping into the room. Willow smiled at that and set down a pair of jeans she had been folding into her suitcase.
"Just don't let me catch wind of any girls getting liquored up and stripping for the camera..." Sela almost said something until Willow interrupted. "Just - an inside, that was from my - they aren't - I made this...Covens Gone Wild -- joke. It was in poor taste."
Sela laughed again. Willow joined in, albeit a bit more hesitantly.
884 words.
--Salman Rushdie
"You've really done wonders here, Ms. Rosenberg."
Willow furrowed her brow and looked back at the few girls in the room. Sela stood behind her, lips pursed yet with an air of grace. Kali, the brunette, sat with her eyes intent on the pencil floating in mid-air. Willow had remembered the beginning stages of her witchdom and knew these girls needed to work on control.
D'eandrea sat back, braiding her hair, relaxed. The pencil before her balanced on the tip against the desk. It was just like a scene right out of The Craft and Willow felt a tinge of pride. Once the problem of the bunch, D'eandrea was quickly becoming the model student. Rhiannon, on the other hand, clutched the desk. Willow was worried it would topple over and bring her down with it.
"Please, call me Willow," she said, before weaving around the two girls to the third.
Rhiannon's blonde locks fell in wisps around her face. Were she not such a witchy hellion, Willow would have found her attractive. That, and the girl had just turned eighteen and Willow hadn't been the jailbait type. It had only been two nights since Willow had tried to finagle the girl out of her five finger discount.
"Rhiannon?" she asked, crouching down so that she was face to face with the younger Wiccan.
"M'gonna' get it," she said, quickly, not looking up at Willow. "M'gonna' get it." Willow tilted her head and sighed, studying the other girl. She thought the blond hated her, now it seemed like all she wanted to do was please the superior who had dropped in out of nowhere and who had straightened their coven-in-training out.
"I know you are." Willow was earnest, and paused - mostly for dramatic effect but also because she wanted to form her words correctly. Babbling would not help the situation. "Relaxation is a big part. A big, huge part. You're tense, Rhiannon. Like, really tense and as tense as you are that floating pencil - that spinning pencil is going to hurtle right into the-"
But, it was too late and Rhiannon's frustrations had gotten the better of her. D'eandrea had ducked, now half on the floor, her gaze fixed on the pencil rammed into the chair she had just been sitting in.
"Oops?" the former Miss Teen Arizona said, with a shrug.
"Rhiannon..." Willow stood up and walked over to D'eandrea who handed her the pencil before turning back and concentrating on her own exercise. Willow meandered her way back to the younger witch who was simply glaring at her. A bemused smile followed and Willow held the pencil out in front of her. "Stop the pencil from falling," she said, letting go.
The tip hit the desk and rolled down before Willow caught it, lifting it again. She repeated the process, repeated her statement, her order and wouldn't stop.
"Ms. Rosenberg, you're goin' too..."
"Stop. The pencil, Rhiannon," Willow kept saying intently. At one point, the blond simply closed her eyes and began to breathe. It was the first time that day Willow had seen the girl stop trying and just be. The pencil stopped, and neither Willow, nor Rhiannon heard it hit the desk. Opening her eyes, Rhiannon's breathing stopped, her eyes going wide.
Crouching down again, Willow leaned around and witnessed the pencil suspended in mid air.
"Breathe," she reminded her. Rhiannon did as she was told, the pencil beginning its own leisurely spiral. "Everything is connected. That chair, this reservation, your superior, that large oak outside that you girls smoke at. Everything. Don't think of the pencil as another entity. Think of it as an extension of you - of what you're feeling. Don't lift the pencil. Don't stop it." By now, she was addressing all three former delinquents. "Just -- connect with it."
Later in her quarters, Willow packed what little she had actually taken out of her suitcase. Her green flowy skirt sat on the bed beside her, ready to be worn the next day along with her peasant blouse. The knock interrupted her process but truth be told, Willow hadn't ever been about the process except when it had come to academics and over the years the process kind of dwindled away.
"Ms - Willow?" Sela called, her knuckles now resting on the door frame. "What you did in here, today. These past few weeks..."
"It was nothing. Just a usual day with Willow Rosenberg," she said, glancing back at the older witch. "They didn't know what power they possessed. They needed someone to remind them that actions have consequences and sometimes those consequences aren't worth the actions in the first place unless the aforementioned action actively assisted -- sometimes I really abuse the English language," she said with a smirk.
Sela chuckled.
"You are welcome here any time, Willow," she stated, stepping into the room. Willow smiled at that and set down a pair of jeans she had been folding into her suitcase.
"Just don't let me catch wind of any girls getting liquored up and stripping for the camera..." Sela almost said something until Willow interrupted. "Just - an inside, that was from my - they aren't - I made this...Covens Gone Wild -- joke. It was in poor taste."
Sela laughed again. Willow joined in, albeit a bit more hesitantly.
884 words.