Written in Blood

six - did i fuck up, or fuck it up?

That Tuesday, Farrah made her way down a stone path after hanging out with Wesley, her mind wandering. Wow, I'm really part of the court now, she told herself, amazed at how she came to such a rash decision. It wasn't all for her, though, but she knew Ivy wouldn't really see it that way. Farrah passed a few students, they all looked to her with some sort of curiosity and envy. One of them even bowed. This wasn't a feeling Farrah was familiar with. She wasn't sure she liked it in the slightest. As she headed toward the library to enjoy the stacks, an arm slung around her shoulders. Francis smiled his usual goofy smile, eyes bright as can be. Gabriel joined her on her right. They wasted no time in getting to the point.

"So you've joined the court, officially, it seems," Gabriel led, a slight smile sitting smug on his lips. His tousled hair fell into his face. Farrah offered a hair tie, which he gratefully accepted. She didn't respond to his prying, instead, keeping her eyes on the horizon.

"Does this mean you can't sit with us anymore?" Francis queried, sounding a little hurt. She leaned her head against him for a moment as reassurance.

"Of course not. Honestly, if you spoke with Dmitri, you'd be surprised to hear that he doesn't hate you. But I can't tell you the rest on his behalf. But, regardless, nothing, including Dmitri, is standing in my way from hanging out with you lot," she told them, hoping to ease their minds. Francis merely scoffed at her words. She had a feeling that wouldn't fix the issue.

"Yeah right. Try telling that to Dosia, or have you forgotten?" His words bit into her; his accusation hidden underneath them. She stopped in her tracks, turning to face them.

"I have not forgotten, and I'm not just doing this for me. It's also for Ivy. She needs the protection; and if you two would get over your testosterone, you should go talk to Dmitri to sort things out yourselves. I'm not going to play a part in your dick measuring contest, so don't you dare try to accuse me of jack shit. I've already had enough of it from Ivy." Farrah turned her back, leaving them stunned as they watched her walk away, head held high.

As she reached the library and headed down the stairs to the more private underground study rooms, Farrah contemplated if she should actually study or practice hand magick. With her wand gone, she was left nearly defenseless. It mattered not how much magick she actually knew, without her wand she had no idea how to channel that energy into a physical manifestation. Am I allowed to smudge in the library? Farrah opened the door to an empty room, her name appearing on the name plaque outside the door as she entered. She set her things down on the table, the room slowly transforming in a way that benefitted her the most. Her books fluttered out of her bag, rosemary sticks she carried with her laid themselves on the table. The room seemed to adopt a bluish haze to it. Everything was neat and organized, the exact way Farrah had needed and wanted it to be.

Farrah grabbed her rosemary bundles and her book of Greek Gods, laid the book on the floor, and flipped to the page on Athena. She held the smudge bundle in her hands, realizing that she no longer had a wand to light it. Fuck. She would have to do this the hard way. Farrah sat on her knees, holding the rosemary between her palms. With all her might, she attempted to channel the energy to the sage, hoping to light it.

Nothing happened. Farrah took a breath, holding it in one hand and attempting the wand movements with her other hand. Nothing happened, again. She sighed heavily.

For nearly ten minutes, Farrah attempted different ways to get it to light. All she wanted was to properly pray to Athena. When another attempt failed, Farrah lost her patience. She threw the smudge stick down, yelling at it with exasperation as she got to her feet.

"Why won't you light?! I just want to pray!" she yelled at the stick.

Without even a second after her question, the entire stick of rosemary caught fire, violently too. She yelped, stomping the fire out in a frenzy. Surprisingly, the smudge stick was fine, not burnt, not falling apart. The exact way she had started. Farrah took a deep breath, got to her knees once more, and held the bundle in her left hand. With a surge of confidence and surety, Farrah snapped her fingers. A small flame burned on her pointer finger, and she brought the bundle to it. With ease, it lit, and her smudging began.