Jaenelle Angelline (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
birthrightblack) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2014-12-21 03:47 pm
birthrightblack) wrote in all_inclusive2014-12-21 03:47 pm
Entry tags:
winsol
Winsol is always celebrated on the darkest days of the year and there's no darker day than that of the Winter Solstice - this day is shorter than any other and the night is long and cold. Winsol is a celebration of Blood and magic and all of the powers of Witch. It seems strange to be in a place that doesn't celebrate it exactly as Jaenelle is used to.
Oh, there is a holiday. There's a holiday called Christmas and the decorations are oddly similar to Winsol ones. There's the exchanging of presents and the trimming of trees and drinking of good spirits and sharing of good food. It's not her Winsol, no, but Jaenelle is pleased enough to celebrate the holiday of this new place in her life. Just because something has a different name doesn't mean it's inherently different; she'd learned that for herself when dealing with Kaeleer.
So today, she's out in the gardens hoping to practice a little magic. She'd always tried to decorate the Winsol trees with magic back at the Keep and SaDiablo Hall and she's...for lack of a better term...terrible. Every time she thinks she's got the right balance, the right little delicate turn of magic, everything simply explodes.
Explosions are common in her life.
She's just about got a set of fairy lights twinkling on one of the hedges when a sound breaks her concentration and the whole thing poofs up in a flame and black smoke. "Stay back!" she shouts, casting a shield over it so the fire can smother out. She'll have to heal the hedges, too, but first she needs to do damage control.
"You'd think I would be better at this, after all these years, but I'm not."
Oh, there is a holiday. There's a holiday called Christmas and the decorations are oddly similar to Winsol ones. There's the exchanging of presents and the trimming of trees and drinking of good spirits and sharing of good food. It's not her Winsol, no, but Jaenelle is pleased enough to celebrate the holiday of this new place in her life. Just because something has a different name doesn't mean it's inherently different; she'd learned that for herself when dealing with Kaeleer.
So today, she's out in the gardens hoping to practice a little magic. She'd always tried to decorate the Winsol trees with magic back at the Keep and SaDiablo Hall and she's...for lack of a better term...terrible. Every time she thinks she's got the right balance, the right little delicate turn of magic, everything simply explodes.
Explosions are common in her life.
She's just about got a set of fairy lights twinkling on one of the hedges when a sound breaks her concentration and the whole thing poofs up in a flame and black smoke. "Stay back!" she shouts, casting a shield over it so the fire can smother out. She'll have to heal the hedges, too, but first she needs to do damage control.
"You'd think I would be better at this, after all these years, but I'm not."
no subject
The idea of having someone to guide her again, even if it wasn't the High Lord or Lucivar, was more than Jaenelle was able to resist. "You already saved the hedges from my attempt at magic, so, you've done more than most have in just a short little while."
no subject
But he couldn't deny it: he was bored. His conviction in his calling had never faded, but here he lacked any practical way to use it. The mutant cause was locked firmly away from him (which, if Carter was to be believed, was for everyone's benefit, including his own) and he was wasting away, all his power reduced to the quotidian utility of opening doors and picking up silverware— but he was meant for more. He knew about power, knew how it felt to wrestle with control, and if he had anything to offer anyone in this pretty minefield of a hotel, maybe it was this.
"Room 23," Erik said, "or leave me a message at the front desk. I check them every day." He looked at the hedge with its cloud of shimmering lights, then back at Jaenelle, his expression reflecting none of his inner turmoil or the unfamiliar swell of hope buried beneath his whirling thoughts. "Keep practicing," he said, nodding at the hedge once more before turning and heading back the way he'd come.