Last night I endured another face zapping, and the results this time were far better than the week before. It still hurt, but it was manageable and I didn’t start crying like a baby due to two or three other things going on at the same time. It was a far, far better experience last night–if having electricity shot into your face can ever be considered “better”.
Of course this means I was in a touch of pain by the time I arrived home, and this meant my mind wasn’t on my writing. That doesn’t mean I didn’t write, but a little over five hundred words was all I managed. I did that with a flaming face, so I guess I can cut myself some slack.
As far as the scene: I’ve established that Annie can fly–and as I explained, that means without a broom, so she can kind of zip through the sky like a Bulgarian supergirl–and Kerry is a Mimic, which Jessica will explain to him in a later scene. We’ve already seen that Kerry’s really good at copying certain things from other people, so you get the idea.
The day is almost over, and I indicate a date for these happenings, finally rooting everything in place.
(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)
Annie and Kerry made their way through the Pentagram Garden, taking their time as they walked up from Founder’s Gate. It was dark and clear, and the lights of the Great Hall and the Pentagram were extinguished to allow the stars in the pitch black to shine down, if only for a little while: the full moon was rising, and would be drowning out the stars in another thirty minutes.
This first Saturday back, 1 September, had been a long day for the couple. Early breakfast, then Gift testing. After that was lunch and a trip down to the Flight School so Annie could check out an Espinoza 3500 to use for the school year and Kerry could get his new locker assignment for Advanced Flying. He decided he’d wait until tomorrow to check out the Class 2 brooms: Vicky told him there wasn’t any hurry, that she’d have three available for running on the Green Line.
They spent the rest of the afternoon flying to various points around the grounds: up to the Witch House and the Observatory, back to Perquat’s Grove for a sit and a chat, then down to the spot where Kerry had hid during the Day of the Dead the year before, the small clearing where she’d asked Kerry if he wanted to be a good sorceress and a Guardian—if he’d be her Dark Witch—and where he’d said yes. After a summer’s wait, after months apart, after she presented him with a long, loving kiss, she asked him the same questions, and after her kissed her as long and loving as she had, his answers remained the same.
Annie’s doing a little of her own re-programming here. After the near-disaster that emanated from this local in the woods–his Day of the Dead hidey-hole–she’s working to turn something negative into a positive. Is she washing out the decision that nearly killed him to make it something positive for them both? Magic 8 Ball says, “Could be.”
From their it’s a lot of quiet, movie-montage walking . . .
Then it was dinner and hike out to Sunset Tower to enjoy the coming of night before taking a walk north along the Outer Wall. They didn’t speak much, just held hands and examined the scenery on both sides of the wall. Once they reached the North Wall, they remounted their brooms and flew back to the Pentagram, touching down just outside Founders Gate.
Throughout most of their A Level they spent little time wandering the gardens outside the Great Hall. Annie remembered the last time they’d strolled through here: after the Samhain dance, the first time she’s call him moyata polovinka, and his first experience with real déjà vu. She wasn’t interested in a replay of that even—Annie had more on here mind . . .
She gently tugged on Kerry’s arm. “See what’s ahead?”
There was plenty ahead that Kerry saw, but Annie’s question was more than rhetorical. “The Pentagram Wall; our tower; the walkway . . .” He turned and eyed her hard. “Oh, yeah: our bench.”
She playfully tapped his chest. “Silly. You knew I meant that.”
“You’re not exactly subtle, Sweetie.” He led her towards the covered walkway. “Wanna sit?”
She chuckled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They walked towards the seat just inside the covered walkway that they considered “theirs”. So much had happened between them on this bench—their goodbyes before leaving school at the end of the year and right before Yule were two of the saddest—
But there were a few others that had brought them great happiness.
We sort of know what happiness came forth on that bench, but what’s going to happen now? I do know that something important will happen here in a few minutes–well, “few” is a relative term when they’re waiting for the writer to get off her butt and write that moment.
I should get to that about the time I’m returning from the store tonight . . .