Jagged Little Pill20 Jul 2012 23:14 | by Siobhan Knight IC Date: July 17, 2012 — Evening I feel like I'm living in a soap opera or one of those prime time teen dramas that airs on the CW. You know, the ones with the good looking well off kids and absentee or token parents, and their entire lives are scripted for drama? We've got it all, the good looking people, the wealthy families and our parents are pretty busy while we're all off doing our own things. We couldn't script the drama any harder if we tried. I want to say that I don't know what happened, but I do know what happened. I just don't know what to do about it. I don't know if I should do anything about it. I kind of want to forget that it happened. I don't want to think about how it felt to see how Jenna looked at me or to hear her tone of voice. I don't want to think about Quin acting like I was a threat. I don't want to think about how much Jenna might be hurting right now even if she's putting up a good front. I talked to Jenna and we hugged and I forgave her and she forgave me for ignoring her and being a bitch but … it's going to be a while before I forget that sickening, sinking belly feeling that I had when I chased her down the hall. I saw my whole world just falling apart and I felt helpless and powerless to do anything about it. Is it really such a surprise that Wolf Girl's laughter set me off? Everything was out of control, Jenna was out of my reach and no one needed that. I didn't need that. God, I didn't even care that she was hanging off of Quin except for the fact where a tiny little part of me knew what it would do to Jenna. When she laughed, though? I wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. There I was, half-naked and wet and I wanted to tell her to shut her fucking face or get the hell out and I still was nice. I still was able to just tell her that she wasn't helping or something. No foul language, nothing like that. Somehow that was wrong? Not wanting to be laughed at when I was already hurting and Jenna was hurting was wrong? She was right to laugh and I was wrong to tell her that she was being rude, and that made me the she devil? Quin wrapping his arms around her was a smack in the face to Jenna. It was insulting. It hurt. I'm a fucking witch sorcerer. If I'd wanted to hurt her, I could have with a few words or gestures. I could have suffocated her or given her a bloody nose or slammed them both into the wall if I wanted to. I just didn't want her laughing. Yeah, I guess I've got issues with that. I'm a dancer, I should have thicker skin, but I spent too many days being laughed at when I was ugly and twelve and too damn shy to do anything about it. Guess what? I have my triggers. Yay for finding them. Sorry if it offends your little girlfriend and your sensibilities, Mr. Anger Management Issues. Or did a good fuck take care of it? Yes, I'm pissy. And I'm bitchy. Better to do it here than to Quin's face because I like Quin. I really want to think that there's some explanation. That his wolf instincts and hormones got away from him but … there's no excuse for rubbing Jenna's nose in it like that. None. He knew Jenna was coming over. He knew she would be there when he got home. If I didn't know better I'd think the wolf bitch was a witch who did something to him. Except then I have to remember that guys are dicks and they think with their dicks and sometimes their dicks make them do stupid things. I just thought Quin was better than that. Maybe using your dick wakes it up and then it takes over. I know what Harper would tell me. He'd tell me that I'm not being fair. That I don't know that Quin slept with Wolf Girl. I don't, but I talked to Jenna and she has her instincts and the things that she senses. And in hindsight? If he didn't fuck her? He came damn close or plans to do it. I don't even hang off of Harper like that. We don't have that vibe. People say that you can't tell if someone is screwing or not, but you can. There's a vibe. A way they move and interact. It's like flashing neon signs that say 'We're fucking like bunnies, ye-ah baby' flashing over their heads. I know. I've seen it. I saw it with Jesse and Mia, Jesse and Tabitha, Jesse and Rona and yeah, I could go on but it makes me want to shrivel Jesse's dick up to pinky size and I'm pretty sure that Regina would tell me those are thoughts I shouldn't be entertaining. I refused to see it or to admit what I was seeing, but it was there. I was stupid. Moving on before I really do shrivel Jesse's dick up. The worse part is? Even the laughter aside? Right now, I really do want to punch someone. For Jenna's sake. Because she's innocent and she's trusting and she's sweet and naive and there's a whole lot of reasons she hasn't done a lot of dating. For the first time she opened up and was willing to give it a shot, and all she wanted was a chance to get to know Quin and Chance better because she didn't know if she wanted to get serious. Quin even told me that he hadn't written her off. I guess he has now. I should go to the gym. Hit the treadmill or the rowing machine. Writing is supposed to make me feel better, but it's just making my shoulders tense and make me think bad thoughts. The kindest of which are giving Quin and Wolf Girl magical genital itching. The worst of which is making him impotent and her frigid. Or just making them repulsive to one another on touch. There's a spell for substance abuse. I bet it works on people. I should stop now. I'm scaring myself. Rambling Witchly Weekly Recap, Part the First11 Jul 2012 15:01 | by Siobhan Knight Harper spent the night. No, not like that. We were texting each other last night while he was hanging out with a few old friends from high school, and even though I knew we were going to see other tonight, I kind of teased that he should drop by and rescue me from hanging with Chris and his new girlfriend. (Yes, my little brother has a girlfriend. An honest to goodness girlfriend, and not just someone he took on one movie date and got bored with.) I was surprised, but a good kind of surprised, when he actually showed up. It was right after dinner and Mom teased him that he could have shown up for dinner and not just dessert. It was kind of funny because it was the first time that Harper's been over since he officially asked me to be his girlfriend on July 4th, and I could tell Mom was trying really hard not to gush and squee all over us. Even Chris could tell because he kept giving me looks and making faces, and sending me texts on the sly. I mean, Mom is the picture of poise and grace most of the time, so she had to really be cracking at the seams if Chris could tell, too. (I asked Harper later what he picked up from her and he just said, "She's happy we're together," which I translated to mean that she has started prioritizing her list of caterers and banquet halls and bridal boutiques.) It was a little bit odd and double-datish, hanging out with Chris and Mandy (she's cute and vivacious! and perk-perk-perky! which is great in small doses, but I don't know how Chris handles in longer spurts). We got to escape because it came to a point where we couldn't agree on a movie to watch, and Harper and I left "the kids" to the television room and went to my room to watch something on Netflix. I could tell Harper was reluctant at first (probably because Dad was so 'you're going to defile my daughter' about it the last time we tried, but I told him that Mom and I talked and the rules stayed the same since high school days: so long as the door is open, it's cool. (I should have blogged about that convo, yeah, but now I'm too lazy. The short of it is, Mom knows that I'm adult, and knows that I'm not a virgin and haven't been since Jesse. She gets it, but she can't bend the rules for me, or she'd have to bend them for Chris and he's at that age where he's a walking hormone. I was really annoyed after Dad's behavior, and I still think he's living in a dream world where I'm still twelve and virginal, but at least I get why they don't want me and Harper fooling around at home. It's going to be frustrating, yeah, and expensive to rent a hotel room whenever we want some sexy fun time, but Mom kind of hinted that they're going to head up to the Hamptons a week early for some private time of their own - which, I really don't want to think about too hard - and that Chris and I would have the house to ourselves. Yeah, I never thought I would see the day my mother was giving me covert permission to fool around with my boyfriend in her absence.) Anyway, we found a horrible, terrible indie drama to watch and make fun of, but then we both fell asleep at some point. When I woke up to go to the bathroom (too much iced tea and vitamin water) it was two o' clock in the morning. That's not the funny part. The bedroom light was turned off, the television was turned off, and a light comforter had been thrown over both of us. I was so giddy that I actually woke Harper up, and was trying to explain it, but I think he picked it up from what I was thinking instead of what I was saying. See, Mom always does that when Jenna sleeps over - she'll peek in and if we've crashed out, she'll cover us up and tuck us in. Harper and I are both adults, but doing that and not shooing Harper out and sending him home was her stamp of approval on our relationship. After everything that happened beginning last week, it was just the sort of thing that I needed. Last week was good and bad (and weird.) Chance called me Sunday night and wanted to talk sorcerer magic. My little power surge at Amber Bardot's party got his attention, and he was talking to his Dad about it. Which really annoyed me, but also embarrassed me, but I'm totally over it now. I hindsight, it was sweet of Chance to do that. He barely knows me, and I haven't been making it easy on him because of the whole sorcerer thing. (I'm being nicer now, though. He's a nice guy, fun, and flirty, but innocent flirty and I like that. I had to talk to Harper about it after Jenna and Quin got the wrong vibe from our flirting, but Harper is cool with it so long as he knows it's only flirting. I've reassured him that I'm not interested in chance that way and I think that after what happened on the Fourth, he's pretty convinced. But I'm not there yet.) After talking to Chance, I agreed to meet him the next morning. He picked Central Park, down by the lake and the old stream, The Gill. I thought it was weird place to meet, but once he started showing me how to channel the extra energy toward the water - because it's my grounding element - I kind of got it. Especially since we both left Central Park soaked. I learned something though, and I felt in control and not like I was going to explode if I got upset or over excited. I think I might have even surprised him when I gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. (Strictly friendly). He's started calling me Siobhan (and sometimes Shiv) more often that Piper so I think we might be making progress there. That night, Jenna had her cooking lesson with Quin and Harper was busy, so when I got a call from one of the Julliard girls, Bethany, to go out, I went. While they went shopping, I decided that ice cream was calling my name and there was a cute sorcerer there. Yes, I went there. Using the word cute and sorcerer in the same sentence. It was a surreal thing. He knew what I was and he still offered to buy me ice cream. He also bought some for a beat cop. I was trying really hard to play nice, because I hadn't given Chance a fair shake so I was going to stop assuming all sorcerers are Totes Evil and at least be polite. I probably should have stuck with my original approach. He was a Reynard. Not just any Reynard. Not one of the cousins, but this is one of the "royal family" and son of the one the Big Names At RINC. Nicholas Reynard. Don't get me wrong, he was all kinds of nice and even said that the whole enmity between our kinds is outdated. I want to believe he's telling the truth and that he was just being friendly but he's a Reynard and I've been warned away from them more than sorcerers in general. I told Jenna about it, and she said that he could have been just messing with me. I didn't get that vibe from him, but I'm not an empath, but why would he mess with me? As far as he knew I was just some no-name witch. (Was. I did tell him my name. Eventually. But not until we were done talking and after he invited me to a purely platonic dinner and to visit Decades. I might have neglected to tell Jenna that part.) He gave me his card, but I'm not going to call him. Probably not. I mean, I'm not interested in him like that, but … what if he was sincere? What if he's like Chance and this is an opportunity to make contact with a Reynard who isn't evil? It's one of the things Chance and I talked about Friday morning when we met for our next "lesson." (Not that the Reynards are evil). Chance wants to help supes. He wants to see the walls come down between witches and sorcerers because he thinks we could do great things together if there wasn't so much enmity, and I think he's right. Or maybe he's just going to be a really good lawyer :) It's possible that Nicholas could think the same way? If Chance wants to change the world, he can't do it alone and he needs others who think like him. It could go a long way if Reynard really did …but yeah, I didn't even mention Reynard to Chance. I didn't do anything wrong. It was ice cream and a short conversation, but after Jenna's reaction (and Harper telling me the same thing and to stay away from him), I'm not sure I should bring it up again. The morning is getting away from me and I have to get a move on. I'll play catch up more later. Bruised, Vain and Confused28 Jun 2012 14:26 | by Siobhan Knight Jenna and Harper are going to kill me. Not literally, obviously and not because of the car accident. Not even because I kept it from them until Chance badgered it out of me. They both know that if it had been something horrible, I wouldn’t have kept quiet. If I’d been badly hurt, I would have let them know from the ER. If I’d needed them, I would have called or had someone call. Josephina Patel, one of the nurses at the hospital who’s also a witch, even offered to get Jenna for me, knowing that being left around for observations and CT-Scans wasn’t going to be fun or remotely entertaining. I really didn’t want them to worry. I didn’t lie when I said I only walked away with bruises and bumps, but that’s only because I healed some of the scrapes and abrasions while waiting for the ambulance. Mr. Clancy, the driver wasn’t too badly hurt either, and I took care of a few of the deeper gashes on his face and neck. I probably could have done more, for both of us, but I’m not sure the strength of my healing and didn’t want to hurt him while trying to help him. So I was my own guinea pig. I focused on trying to figure out the worst of my injuries aside from what I could see, and healing those. Considering that I’d hit my head when that idiot came out of nowhere and t-boned us, it probably wasn’t a good idea. I totally passed out in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Of course, the EMTs immediately thought ‘concussion’ or ‘internal bleeding’ or ‘sub cranial hematoma’ and any other horrible things that can happen when a person smashes their head against a window in a car accident. I think Dad knew but hospital policy wouldn’t let him near me to examine me once one of the EMTs gave my name, and it sort of snowballed from there. I was too tired to argue or even try to make up an excuse. Dad says that it’s a good thing because my excuses when it comes to magic are usually pretty lame. I really planned on going to work today, or at least getting out and meeting Quin for lunch. I run my fingers over the five little stitches along my temple and the one on my chin. Only three stitches there, but still. Yes, I’m vain and I loathe the idea of scars, even though Josephina told me she can take care of it if I come back in a day or two. Officially on record, the plastic surgeon who sewed me up is good enough to not leave a scar, but Josephina says she’ll make sure of it. There are some perks to being in The Coven, I guess. The bruising around my right eye looks like someone hit me, or I walked into something. It’s not as bad as it was, but Mom wouldn’t heal it, saying that in some cases natural healing is just fine. Dad agreed and Chris told me I could be on a poster for a battered women’s shelter. Yeah, he knows how to lift my ego and make me feel better. It’s not even that big of a deal because I can always glamour myself into not looking like a punching bag. I can’t hide the bruising on my ribcage, or the big ugly one on my hip, but no one is going to see those. I want to say that it looks worse than it is, what with the looking like a bear beat me with a barbell but I’m not so sure. I’ve got bruised ribs and a deep muscle contusion on the hip. I feel it when I walk and lifting my arms isn’t too much fun. I must not be hiding it as well I thought because even if he’s teasing me, Chris did bring me some of Mom’s special tea. I really want to do the whole ‘business as usual’ thing but Dad is hovering. He’s on call (he’s always on call) but as long as he doesn’t have to be at the hospital, he’s hanging around at home. He’s in his office, on phone calls and checking patient files but I know he’s paying attention. He’s even asked if Jenna and Harper are coming over today. He knows that Jenna will mother hen me and keep me out of trouble. I feel bad because if I can’t escape from Dad’s watchful eye, then I’m going to have reschedule on Quin again. I really don’t want to do it because I hate pulling the pity and sympathy card. That’s part of the reason I didn’t tell Jenna and Harper. Sure, I like getting attention. For my dancing. For my brains. Yes, sometimes for looking smoking hot and awesome. Not because some idiot was texting and driving and didn’t notice a red light or the big car crossing the intersection. I don’t even know why I told Chance. It’s not like he’s a good friend and I wasn’t looking for sympathy. I think I just wanted him to leave me alone and if I told him the truth, he’d feel stupid for bothering me and go away. Except he didn’t. I’d say he was faking that he felt bad if it wasn’t for the damn get well bouquet and chocolates that arrived this morning. I mean, I swear I said I wasn’t hurt, and I don’t know if it’s his idea of a joke or if he sincerely just wanted to do something nice for me. I mean, really. This is what he sent.
Jenna keeps insisting that he likes me, and I’m starting to think she might be onto something. Gawd, I don’t want Chance to like me, not like that. I’m willing to give him a chance (no pun intended) and be his friend, but I don’t want to date him … and I don’t want him wanting to date me. Yes, he’s cute. (Ok, between us, he is hot.) But he’s not my type. And Jenna likes him, so why can’t he like Jenna? There’s an idea. Maybe he likes the chase. Maybe if I start being nice to him, he’ll lose interest and look elsewhere? I feel the urge to point giant flags and neon signs at Jenna. She does deserve to meet a nice guy and be happy. To get that dating experience, even if it doesn’t turn into the romance of her life. Although maybe pointing Chance in her direction isn’t the best tactic for that. I kinda think he’s more playboy than boyfriend. (Which then, could be sorta insulting if he does like me…) Quintin would be much more suited to Jenna. Of course, it goes without saying that I kinda have developed a soft spot for him. I don’t know what it is, but once I got past the whole crush thing and accepted the status quo (Yeah, okay working things out with Harper helped with all of that), we just kind of seemed to click. I like talking to him, and he seems to like talking to me. I’ve honestly never had a guy friend before outside of Harper. Guys always never seem to see the person and just want to get into my pants. It’s nice to talk to someone and know that they’re not plotting how to get me out of my clothes. Yeah, I’m sure of that with Quin. He’s sweet and protective and the sort of guy that you wonder why he’s single. Except I think it’s more him than lack of interest from the female population. I think he’s confused and hesitant with relationships and getting close to people because of what he is and what happened to him. No, I’m not suddenly empathic and telepathic. It’s in the things he says and doesn’t say, and how he reacts. I don’t know, if I lost my whole family and was a werewolf, I might be hesitant too. When you get close to people, they hurt you (Jesse, the ass). Or you hurt them (that’s what Jenna was worried about). But if you don’t get close then you miss out. It’s a catch-22. Speaking of Jesse, at least this gives me an excuse to put off Jesse for a few more days. I know I shouldn’t meet with him. I shouldn’t want to meet with him. But dammit, I want to confront him. I have the right to make him look me in the eyes and tell me why he used me and cheated on me. I want him to know that I’m not stupid and I won’t be toyed with again. Bruised and battered isn’t a good look for getting that point across, though. I kinda suspect that if Dad even feels a tingle of magic, he’ll be all over me to see what I’m up to. I’m going to take a nap. I’m more tired than I thought. Jenna will be over this afternoon and I know she’s going to fuss at me. But then there will be movies and distraction. No worries about stupid boys or anything like that. And ibuprofen. Prescription strength. Witchy Ramblings28 Jun 2012 00:14 | by Siobhan Knight
Tuesday is my day off. Not really. I don’t get a day off. That sounds bad. My mother isn’t a slave driver and I love my work. I get to do what I love, which is dance. I get to teach what I love, which is dance. It could only be more perfect if I got to practice magic while dancing. Or got to teach magic. I am off today just because I needed the rest. I didn’t sleep well on Sunday night. Truth? I woke up after Mom and Chris went to bed and pulled out one of Dad’s old grimoires. Basic sorcerer stuff but not so basic that I knew any of it. Dad’s been very “need to know” about sorcerer magic and there’s a lot he seems to think I don’t need to know. Yeah, I should talk to him about it, and I will. Just not yet, not until I’ve had a chance to work at this stuff a bit more. It was of those times when I wish I had my own place. I felt like a little kid or some sneaking teenager when I’m doing it that way, but I don’t want the inevitable argument. Everyone wants me to be a witch. The perfect little Coven witch. Flawless. Except I think they forget that I’m part sorcerer too sometimes. Or remember it when it suits. To bed very late, very little sleep and it made from a sleepy, cranky Shiv at the studio on Monday and Mom sent me home to nap before the Gala and gave me today off. Good thing she did send me home, else I would have gotten cranky with Dad there instead of waiting to do it at home behind closed doors. Sorcerers. He knows them. He’s (sort of) friends with one. Golf buddies or whatever. And it’s Chance’s father. Here I am trying to keep the Cowboy Sorcerer at arm’s length and be wary and cautious like Dad has always stressed and he’s clapping Mr. Harper on the back and joking with him and practically trying to pair me off with Malfoy. What the fuck? was my first thought. How does Dad keep something like that a secret? Yeah, he’s talked about “Rhett.” So what. We’ve never met Rhett before and didn’t know he was a sorcerer friend. Chris and I didn’t even know Dad had sorcerer contacts. He’s supposed to be totally blacklisted, but I guess that only counts for “official” Dynasty stuff. Mr. Harper kind of struck me as unconventional, which I guess explains why Chance wanted to help us in the Undercity instead of leaving us to screw up. Of course, Dad still wants me to be careful. He double stressed it after the Gala. He pointed out (again) that he was an exception and so were Mr. Harper and Malfoy. (Can I pause here and say the weirdness factor of Harper being Malfoy’s last name?) Oh, and Mr. Blackwell. Okay, seriously world, where did all the good looking older men come from? Brooke’s date (and Jenna’s boss)? Total hawtness. Even without that Irish accent. With that accent, though, I’d drop my panties for him in a heartbeat. Vulgar, but true. If I was Jenna I wouldn’t ever be able to get a damned thing done if he was hanging around. Mr. Blackwell? British accent, blue eyes, all formal. He can park his shoes under my bed anytime. Could if he wasn’t too old for me and didn’t have a gorgeous girlfriend. I think she was his girlfriend. She was gorgeous anyway. I hope I never have to go to the man for help. I’ll be too busy drooling to remember what I needed help with. Did I mention that I was at the Gala with Harper? As his date? Like officially unofficially his date. No one knew we were there together, because you know, we were there together but … it was nice. I thought it might be weird after our conversation on Saturday. I mean, we’re totally not dating. But we’re also not not dating. Yeah, it sounds better in my head, too, but here we are. We’re taking it slow and not having a fling, but also not getting too serious. Nope, I don’t have a clue what we’re actually doing, but it’s Harper. The boy man that I’ve been in love with since I was fourteen and he likes me. All this time that I’ve been fretting and worrying (and getting screwed over by the likes of Jesse and no, I’m not talking about that right now) and he’s returned my affection. (Oh, and he can read minds now. Which is both cool, has me worried about him and I’m sure will be a whole lot of embarrassing before summer is over. Let’s face it, where Harper Donovan is concerned, my thoughts don’t always run to the chaste and pure.) So today, catching up on sleep and relaxing. Tomorrow, taking over the world. Making Magic15 Jun 2012 17:23 | by Siobhan Knight "Mom, can you help me with something?" I walk in the family room and immediately think that I shouldn't have. My parents are cuddled up together on the couch, watching television. Mom is curled into Dad, practically in his lap, his large hand resting on her hip and he's dipping his head to nuzzle her hair. It's a very sweet scene, and unlike when I was younger, it makes me smile to see it. It's amazing to me that after all these years, they're still so much in love. The witch and the sorcerer. Mom lifts her head, and gives me a faint smile. "With what, Flutterbee?" Then she spots the wood storage crate in my hands. Her eyes widen a bit and she sits up, dropping her feet to the floor. "Shivvie, what's all that for?" "A spell," I say it with a smile. Mom recognizes the crate. She should, it's one of hers. I've been going through my materials, and I'm not certain of the quality. If I'm going to do this for Quintin, I want it done right. The materials need to be top notch and I want guidance to make sure I'm not going to flub anything up. Practicing spells and making charms for myself is one thing, but I don't want to inflict a mistake on anyone else. "Must be some kind of spell," Dad teases, his blue eyes twinkling. He may be teasing, but the look he exchanges with Mom says all. They both know that these days, I only come for help when I'm seriously stumped or when it's really important. "I don't want to mess it up." I shift the crate. It has jars of herbs in it and while herbs aren't heavy, glass jars, no matter how small, add up to weight. "It's a charm actually. Or something like that." "Let's go in the kitchen," Mom stands up, and slides her feet into her slippers. I notice that her toes are newly polished and remember that today was her pedicure day. She may not be a stage performer, but our feet take a beating in those pointe shoes. Mom has a pedicure, completely with a deep tissue massage, every week. I lead, Mom follows and Dad brings up the rear. Before marrying Mom and leaving the Dynasty, Dad wasn't very well versed in healing and soothing magics. That's the domain of witches, and some witches are more attuned to it than others. Mom explained once that magic isn't just some wild force that we grab and beat into submission, but it flows all around us and has four different aspects corresponding with the elements. Witches are better at healing because it's earth based and water based, calling from the earth and giving back, and we are more attuned to those vibes. Except, you know, when your father is a sorcerer and you tap into fire. A lot more than an ordinary witch does. Anyway, Dad has always been more attuned to fire and air, although he's learned a bit of healing and consolation under Mom's instruction. He always says that he's already a pariah in the sorcerer community, so he might as well go all the way. (It's only half true. He's not part of that world, but he's always the one requested if a sorcerer ends up at St. Luke's.) "Some one got a head start." Mom's looking at the supplies that I brought down from my bedroom and assembled on the kitchen island and counters before going into her 'stash.' Dad sniffs a jar of lemon balm. "What exactly are we doing here, Shivvie?" We. Like it's a family thing. Sometimes it is. Dad likes to watch and learn, though sometimes I think he's just watching my progress to see how strongly I'm tuning into my sorcerer abilities. Christian hardly ever joins in unless he's forced. His interests are sports, video games, and food. I think it's a little irresponsible when we have the gifts that we do, but Dad insists Chris will start to get it as he gets older. "He knows the basics, Shivvie. He won't hurt himself or anyone else." "I have a friend who has some … anger management issues." I pull out a notebook, my pen and my grimoire. In the notebook, I flip to the page where I've started to record my ideas and thoughts about the charm. I'll transcribe it to the grimoire when I'm sure of it, but the only thing I write directly into the grimoire right away are my thoughts and observations. I want this to be a good source for future generations. I look over my list and nod my head. "I thought I'd make him a sachet with a focusing crystal inside. Maybe with some lemon balm, chamomile and avena." "What's the source of his anger?" Mom is in teaching mode. "Those are all good choices, but knowing what causes him to get angry will ultimately determine what herbs and in what quantities." I trace small circles in the notebook. That is something else that I've been considering as well, I'm just not certain I should bring it up to my parents. If I'm right and they know, they might just freak; however, if I'm right and I don't bring it up, the sachet might not do what it's supposed to do. "I'm not sure, exactly. I think part of it is just who he is. Childhood trauma." I grin cheekily, because I always accuse my parents of causing my childhood trauma, though I have hardly any real, scarring trauma. Mom is sniffing the oat seeds, and sprinkles some out on piece of parchment paper. She dabs a dot to her tongue. "What else?" I bite my lip, and notice that I've started to write the letters W - E - R - E in the corner of my notepad and quickly scribble them out. I spent some time trying to figure out Quintin's cryptic remarks about weirdness, and normal, and the anger being part of who he is, and it confused the hell out of me to be honest. He's not a sorcerer, not by any stretch of the imagination. It's doubtful that he's a male witch, because those are rare and if he's got that much anger inside of him, he'd be worse than I am sometimes and all over the place with outbursts. Google is your friend. I spent over an hour just researching on Quintin. Old articles online, old newspaper archives at the local library, footage and news reports brought over to You Tube. I was young and didn't pay much attention when it happened, but there are things there that can be ignored if you don't know what you're looking for. Like the fact that he was attacked by a 'rabid wolf' and doesn't have a mark on him. Well that I've seen. Admittedly, he's covered up, except for those arms, when I've seen him. I looked up animal attacks and animal maulings too, though. No part of the body is left unscathed. He should have scars on his arms, or his face, or his neck. There should be reports of skin grafts but there's nothing once his uncle claimed him, and there weren't families clamoring to adopt the poor boy. I don't want to read too much into it, and there's no good way to ask, "Hey, Quintin, are you a werewolf?" It does change things in so far as the charm. "Ithinkhemightbeawerewolf." I loose the words in one quick, long breath. I can hear a pin drop. My parents exchange one of those patented, 'Well, that changes this discussion,' looks and I sigh. Hooking a breakfast bar stool with my ankle, I drag it over and sit atop of it. Waiting for the lecture to start. I'm almost twenty-one, but it's their house, their rules and I figured out a long time ago that I'll probably still get the lectures when I'm fifty. "That's going to require a different approach," Mom says. Right at the same time Dad asks, "Exactly who is this friend and how well do you know him?" "That's why I mentioned it. Is there anything that can calm a werewolf?" I'm answering my mother's question while reserving a cool, annoyed look for my father. Mom laughs, and starts going through the crate of ingredients. "Of course there are things to calm werewolves. There are things to calm vampires, Sweet Pea, they just don't work very long and have to be really potent." I don't know a lot about the supernatural world, mostly what I've asked questions about. Mom and Dad told us that the things that go bump in the night are real, and be wary of it. I really didn't start getting a basic education until I officially joined The Coven, and most of that comes from Tethys. And while I like her, she's an odd bird, the only thing we have in common is being witches and I take everything she says with a huge grain of salt. More like a bottle. That means that when Mom throws things like that out so casually, I end up blinking and gaping at her for a moment. Before I can process a response or a question, she's already moved on. "We'll want to introduce some wolfsbane to the sachet. Silver shavings." "What?" I trust my Mom, I do, really. She's been doing this longer than I have and she's good at it. I don't know a lot (read: much) about werewolves, but I do know that wolfsbane and silver are Very Bad Things. "It's fine, Siobhan. You're not making this for a normal human boy, which would be difficult enough with all the hormones at your age." Mom pulls out a jar and opens it. She sniffs it and adds it to the work space. It's labelled 'aconite' in Mom's swirling handwriting. "He's not going to ingest it. You need to find something to reach the wolf too, though. Just to calm it, not to suppress it." Mom roots around in the crate and then looks up at me suddenly, surprise writ on her face. She holds up a jar of silver shavings. "Your subconscious must have already been ahead of you, on this one." The silver shavings go to the workspace as I blink at them. I honestly don't remember grabbing them from Mom's supplies, but there they are. "The lemon balm is a good one still, though I think we'll skip the chamomile and focus on the oat seeds and dandelion leaf," Mom continues. She looks up at me again, and motions for me to start writing, which I do immediately. "Why dandelion leaf?" "To clear toxins and remove unwanted emotions," I answer easily enough. I do pay attention, and for the things I can't remember, I have an ever growing list of herbs and their uses in my grimoire. "What if he wants the emotions?" Dad leans against the counter, watching us. "Some people are empowered by hanging onto negative emotions." "Don't be difficult, Robert," Mom chides. It's always amusing when she chides Dad because it's not something she does very often in front of us. "The spell is going to be a bit more complicated as it is. For now, we'll pretend that he doesn't." "If I'm wrong and he's not a werewolf, will it still work?" "It will, yes," Mom answers slowly, and I can see her thinking deeply. "We'll keep the chamomile too. It'll balance out the blend and carry the weight if the wolfsbane is too much. What do you think we should use for a crystal?" "Peridot, or maybe citrine." I've been puzzling over this piece. "Maybe two stones? Obsidian for grounding and then maybe citrine or peridot?" "Citrine and obsidian would work very well, but I don't have citrine. A properly spelled obsidian should be able to do the job of two, however." "Or it can have runic magic applied," Dad suggests. He holds up a hand before I can object. "You can do runic magic. You have sorcerer blood, Siobhan. I'll help you. If you want to try it." It goes like that for a while, Mom and Dad asking me questions about Quintin, but never really asking me for a name of my friend. They genuinely want to help, although it doesn't take me long to figure out that I'm doing all the heavy lifting, and we haven't even really tackled the actual spell work. We do walk throughs and Mom and Dad check and double check what I've added to the grimoire. It's after 1AM when I finally set up my casting circle and Mom and Dad leave me to my own devices. I know that they can't help me with the real casting, because it'll affect the spell. The power will come from my feelings, my desire to help Quintin and see him have even a little peace. I can't stop him from being a werewolf, and I can't take away his anger, that's not the point. Giving him breathing space so that he doesn't feel like a slave to that anger? That I can do. There's no doubt, no confusion, no hesitancy as I center myself and find that place of peace and calm. I'm connected to the magic, to the earth and everything else, and I channel that into the power of the spell. My intentions are pure, my energy is positive and I can feel the spell taking hold. It's not like television, though. There are no bright lights, no crescendos of strings and woodwinds. The earth doesn't shake. When it's done, I know it's done. I wrap the sachet, herbs and runic crystal sealed inside, in a silk cloth and carry it to my room. It'll keep in a small wood box, lined with silk and a bit of thistle until I deliver it to Quin. Then I crash, exhausted from both the magic and the late hour. I'm exhausted, but I'm proud and elated. I'm a witch. Little White Lies14 Jun 2012 18:42 | by Siobhan Knight Jenna would kill me if she knew about this. I know, I should have blocked his number or not answered the phone or just ignored his texts. All I had to do was hit delete and just been done with it. I'm being one of those stupid, simpering females and I know that I am. He hurt me once, but it doesn't mean that I'm going to let him hurt me again. It just started as innocent text. He said hi and I said hi back. No reason to be rude, when I've been the bigger person this whole time right? Now he wants to see me. Just to talk and clear the air. I've been staring at the message for an hour, and haven't answered him yet. Do I want to meet with him? Stupid question. Yes, I want to meet with him. I want to talk to him because he was the first guy (outside of Harper, and I'm not even going there) who meant something to me and the first relationship that lasted and mattered. Should I meet with him? Probably not, but it's been more than a year and maybe he's changed. Maybe he really just wants to clear the air. Maybe pigs will fly too, I know. I have a book in my bedroom. I snuck up to the attic the night before last night and got into Dad's old steam trunk. It has ll the stuff from Australia that he didn't get rid of, but doesn't use, and some stuff of Mom's too that she doesn't think we're ready for yet. Grimoires, pictures, a few items that I could feel have magic on them, but I couldn't tell what kind. I felt like I was fifteen again and just learning my craft, and was scared that at any minute my parents would find me. But they didn't, so I took two of the grimoires back to my bedroom and stashed them in the back of the closet. After I looked through them. I didn't have a lot of time, but they looked interesting enough. There was a calming spell in one of them. Well, a clarity spell either. A bit higher up on the ladder than a calming spell, but I'm thinking it might be what I need. I'm going to study it, and cast it before we go out on Saturday. That's when I'll need clarity the most. I'm doubting myself and I hate it when I doubt myself. But … I can't read Quintin. One thing I'm usually good at is reading the interest signals, though it's hard to do without body language to go with it. When we met him I was convinced he liked Jenna; I'm still 80% convinced of it, but it's that extra 20% that's throwing me off. What's with that anyway? We've never crushed on the same guy before. I shouldn't even care. I've never cared before. So, clarity. I need to 'see clearly' as the spell says. At least then I'll know, right? If he likes Jenna, then fine, I'll deal. And if Harper is there, I'll know about him too. I've never done this before. Practiced magic without telling my parents, or Chris or even Jenna. This is something I need to do on my own. I'm also going to see Jesse. This same weekend when I cast the spell. I have no idea what I'll tell Mom or Dad … or Jen. Mom will get all excited because I'm "dating" again and Jen … Jen will kill me. I'll figure it out. I'll figure it all out somehow. Another Round of Emails14 Jun 2012 03:12 | by Siobhan Knight FROM: Siobhan Knight <ude.drailliuj|thginks#ude.drailliuj|thginks> I'm sorry I didn't call when I got home, and then was really weird on Twitter. You know how the studio offers up space to other dance instructors who rely on university space or other things over the summer, so there's usually some sort of ballroom dance or something going on? Well, mom's friend Faiza is giving beginning belly dance classes. Mrs. Middleton signed up. Jesse dropped her off. A Tiny Step Back12 Jun 2012 22:53 | by Siobhan Knight
I've been staring at the email to Jenna for the last ten minutes. I've written and re-written it, and the two lines that are left make it sound like I'm totally pissed off at her. Which I'm not. If I'm pissed off at anyone, it's with myself, because I'm such a colossal flake. I can't send this email. I just can't. I don't want Jenna to feel sorry for me, I can do that perfectly fine on my own. I think my mother infected me. Yes, PMS is contagious. Or maybe it's the moon cycle and something to do with our magic. Whatever it is, I delete the whole email and close the window. Maybe I'll be able to think of something to say later that doesn't make me sound like a whiny be-otch. The nice thing is, if Jenna doesn't hear from me for a few hours, she won't think anything of it. It's a lot easier to put a smiley face on in an email, too. The truth is, I do kind of like Quintin. I mean, I don't know him well enough to say that I like him definitively, but I am interested. It's screwed up because Jenna likes him, too and that has never happened before. I love Jenna like a sister, and I can't in good conscience ask her to back off even though she offered. I'd feel guilty as hell. Putting my laptop aside, I flop back on my bed and drag Brownie Bear, my three foot tall bear that I've since before I was crawling, onto my chest and hold him there. "What am I going to do, Brownie?" Harper might be coming too, now. Just when I'm trying to take Daddy's advice and move on. If Harper liked me, he'd have said something or made a move by now, instead of leaving me waiting in the wings. I need to move on. I mean, it's not like I'm waiting for him or anything. I dated Jesse for more than a year, and evidently I was just too intense for him. Whatever that means. I don't know why it's now that I'm focusing on Harper with the same obsession that I did back when I was fifteen and was totally awkward with braces and boobs too big for my body. I've been able to just put that crush aside for years, but now it's flaring up like it's brand new again. Maybe it's because I've spent a year watching girls get 'pinned' by fraternity brothers, or get engaged and start making plans for marriage once they're out of school. I'm not shopping for a husband, I'm really not. I mean, I want to dance a while and teach a while. I don't want to be married with three kids at twenty-six, that's really not my dream. But I don't want to be alone, either. Gawd, what's wrong with me? I'm only twenty. I'm not supposed to even be thinking about these sorts of things. Maybe there's a spell for this. Something to clear my head and get to me to focus or help me figure out what I really want. I know, silly to think that there's some kind of spell to just magic up a solution, but it's what I need right now. There are the old grimoires up in the attic that I'm not supposed to know about… Maybe after this weekend I'll have to do some reading and research. It's time I stretched my witchy wings anyway. One Step at a Time09 Jun 2012 14:34 | by Siobhan Knight ((NOTE: The actual IC date of this blog entry is 02 June 2012.)) I'm off again. As I end the deboulé by putting my foot down and nearly losing my balance, I swear. The year end recital is in a week, and I can't even keep time on a technique that I've taught ten year olds to do. I'm distracted. I'm off my game. I'm out of my head and I hate it. "You need to change the leg in between the beats. The tempo of the song changes after the bridge." The warm tones and familiar, affectionate voice make me simultaneously smile and flush with embarrassment. "Hey Daddy." I pick up the remote and shut off the music filling up my small in home dance studio. Just a ten by twelve area that's been dry-walled and separated off from the entertainment room, a gift from parents when I joined the company at ten. The floor is hardwood, there's a barre, a sound system and the requisite mirrors. Over the years there was debate about something larger, but it seemed too extravagant when I have mom's studio and school studios for easy access. "Flutterbee," Daddy grins at me, and the word still sounds sillier with the hints of the land down under in his accent than it did when I couldn't say 'butterfly' as a child. It's my nickname, it makes me smile and I know that's all he wanted anyway. "If I can see the problem in your dancing, then I know it's a glaring problem. And, when did my little girl start swearing like a sailor?" There's a jolt when I look into his blue eyes. There always is. He's a sorcerer and that fierce recognition that flares between our two types of magic is a bit disconcerting. Mom says that it's an instinctive fight or flight reaction, but it's never felt like that to me. Maybe because I've been feeling it since I was a baby. For me it's just shocking, like walking across a plush carpet and touching something metal. There's some sort of gut reaction there, but I guess my mind overrode my body a long time ago and just recognizes him as 'Daddy.' It's not the same with other sorcerers. It's more primal and scary. The brain is a strange creature. "You weren't supposed to hear that," I accuse him. I walk back to the barre and lift my leg onto it, doing stretches. "You want to talk about it?" He's not talking about my dance issues or my foul language. I shrug. "I'm just a little off. I'll get over it." Because it's embarrassing enough that I'm stuck on a boy and can't focus because of it, without talking to my father about it. I know how stupid it is. I'm not fifteen anymore and I should have gotten him out of my system a long time ago, but I didn't. I'm twenty and I've had plenty of boyfriends and the thought of Harper Donovan still makes my head spin and my belly flop. I actually invited him to the recital, right there in front of Jenna. Yeah, I tried to pretend like it was just a casual mention or whatever, but they're a pair of empaths and I had to feel like some desperate seventh-grader to them both. The kicker? He got a phone call and never answered. He probably forgot that I said anything before he even got past greeting his friend on the telephone, and I haven't been able to stop kicking myself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. There was a perfectly good, cute guy when Jenna and I snuck into Purgatory. But I'm pretty sure he likes Jenna and Jenna likes him, and I'm jonesing on her brother again because he just had to come home for the summer. "When do you get over someone? Like really just over them?" I blurt out. "Beg pardon?" I already hate that I said anything. I'm blushing, I can see it as I look in the mirror behind the barre. I can see Daddy too so I look at my foot instead. "You had girlfriends before Mom, right? Did you get over them or is there still one that you're jonesing for?" "Jonesing for?" I don't have to look up to know that he's trying not to smile. I can hear it in his voice. "No, I don't have any old girlfriends that I'm still jonesing for." A quiet beat passes. I press my forehead to my knee, lift my leg from the barre and bring it straight up beside my head in a standing split. "Is this about Harper?" I teeter, eyes wide and grasp the barre to avoid completely losing my balance. "Why would you ask that?" "Because you're my daughter and I've watched you for years. Just because your mother and I never said anything doesn't mean that we don't know." My father waits until my gaze connects to his in the mirror and continues, "You've never wanted to talk about it, and we've never pushed it, Flutterbee. You've pursued your dancing, you've dated other boys. Your mother and I would have said something if we thought we should worry." Frowning at him, I bring my leg back down to the barre. I stretch and arm over my head and bend toward the barre. "You think you should worry now?" "I think you want to talk or you wouldn't have said anything." I'm quiet. He's patient. It's funny. I've seen my father paged out on emergencies, and I've been at the hospital visiting him when he's gone into crisis mode. He's quick and commanding, completely in control of the situation. You don't imagine that he'd be the sort of patient person that he is. Then again, when you hold someone's life in the balance, maybe patient is the only way to be. "I feel stupid." I stop stretching and bring my leg to the floor. "I invited him to the recital and felt like a complete loser. Like some groupie girl." "I don't think the MIT blokes get groupies." It's said with a soft, understanding smile. "Is he coming?" I shrug. "He didn't say." I heave a sigh and fold my arms across my chest. "I need to get over him, don't I? Just like … let it go." "You need to do what you need to do." Daddy places his hands on my shoulder and holds my gaze. "No one can dictate how you feel or what you feel. I'm not the big soul mate romantic like your mother, but I do believe that eventually, it's possible for us to find that right person. But you are young, and you are beautiful, and you are talented, and putting all your hopes on one boy for as long as you have … you need to keep your options open." "Get over him, you mean." "Keep doing what you've been doing, Shivvie. Dancing. Studying. Dating. Whatever is meant to happen, will happen. It may be with Harper, it may not. But at the end of the day, just make sure you're doing what's best for Siobhan." Daddy leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead and another to the top of my head. "You're not stupid. You're human, and you're a perfectly normal young woman. Plenty of men out there will … unfortunately … appreciate that." I can't help but laugh at the exasperated resignation in his voice. "You'd be happier if I just didn't date." "Could you?" Daddy grins brightly at me. "There are still places in the world that do arranged marriages." I know there are. Dynasties. Some smaller covens; some areas with Coven connections. I've heard about it, mostly in the joking sense. My father knows all about the Dynasty marriages. If he hadn't fallen for my Mom and fled to the other side of the world to get away from the Knightley Dynasty, he'd have ended up with The Perfect Dynasty Wife TM. "No," I wrinkle my nose and give him a hug. Nothing is resolved, but somehow I feel better knowing that I'm not crazy and a total loser. "You'd pair me off with some geeky wanna be a doctor type." "What's wrong with doctors?" Daddy pretends to be offended. "Speaking of wanna be doctor types -" I jump back a half foot as though shocked. I know where he's going now. "No!" Daddy has this habit of trying to fix me up with the sons of his colleagues. Most of whom are pre-med or medical students, no matter how much I tell him I'm not doctor's wife material. He's blind to my faults. "My colleague, Dr. Sweson's son Corey just finished his second year at Harvard Medical. He's into the arts." Daddy gives me an innocent grin, "Just think about it." He leaves me with that. Maybe I will think about it. It's not like I have any other prospects banging down my door right now. After the recital. One step at a time. |
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Tiny Dancer
