Are wands even enough anymore?!

Problems Piling Up

The mirror had not been wrong. She was good at making poisons. The only problem was that she'd taken her last dose the night before she arrived in Twisted Wonderland, and the withdrawal symptoms would soon start to show. Viktoria made a mental note to go into the forest after classes and see what she could find. Perhaps with the help of an herbology book she could find poisons similar to the ones from her own world. It would be a pity if her poison immunity would decrease because she got careless.

That alone was risky, for if she were to mess up the dosage by just a gram, the result could be fatal.

A bigger problem, however, was that she reeked of dark magic. Normally, it would have gone away by that point, but not this time. It was rotting away at her insides, spilling out of her pores until the stench of corruption and menace formed an invisible veil around her, constricting her airway and slithering inside her like a serpent. A hungry... hungry serpent.

The effects were noticeable. She was being much more aggressive than normally, throwing punches as if she knew how to fight properly without magic.

No... the truth was that she had been degraded to a scared girl who barely knew how to function without her magical abilities. Yes, she had the most basic of training in combat. Her father made sure of that, but nothing more. Viktoria had no delusions of being able to hold herself against more than two opponents. She'd have to fix that, and soon.

Slipping out of her velvet dress, she sighed and dragged a chair over to the door, propping it against the handle. There was no way she was able to sleep soundly with a stranger near her, be it fray and small as Ann was. Slicing a throat in one's sleep required no previous training. She would know.

Viktoria let a sigh escape from her raw throat and went in front of the full length mirror, looking at herself as a stranger would to a scared little girl. She gently rolled up the sleeves on her arms, looking down at the burn scars on her arms as if needing confirmation she was still herself .

She used to hate those scars. For so... so long she hated them from the bottom of her heart. They sullied her skin, making her imperfect. No matter what spells, no matter what medicine she could take... Viktoria would never be perfect. She could never take the gloves off. Men didn't like scars on a lady.

They used to touch her only when they remained hidden under her gloves.

Lately she grew to cherish her scars, however. Perhaps, she told herself, if one day she had the courage to go outside without wearing them, then nobody would touch her ever again. Now that was a blissful thought to have.

When that muggle girl touched her without offering Viktoria the chance to brace herself first, back in the sorting room, she felt physical shocks lick up her vertebra.

She gently flexed her fingers, noticing the slight tremor of her hand as she did so.

Soon... it would start.

Her breaths would quicken, her skin would sweat and her heart would beat in her ears.

So many problems and so little time.

How can one breathe with no lungs?

How can one see without skin ? How can you taste, without first smelling???

Somebody's hands were around her throat. Someone else's' hands were in her hair.

Someone else's' fingers in her throat.

She's drowning.

She's drowning.

She's drowning