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The Magic Box [Tuesday]

Celia had been in a good mood. She'd had an absolutely wonderful weekend, and while she hadn't been literally walking on air since Friday night, the thought had crossed her mind a time or two. And there had been polar bear cub playtime, to boot -- she really couldn't have asked for a better series of days.

And then this morning she'd picked up her mail, and found a letter postmarked from Paris waiting for her, bearing her father's untidy scrawl.

She'd waited until she was at work before she'd opened the letter. It was filled to the brim with Hector's usual lies about how fantastic things were -- she'd lived that life long enough to read between the lines, and correctly interpret his stories of champagne and furs as his spending more time than he probably ought to in Montmartre.

But it was his last paragraph that stopped her in her tracks, with more instantaneous terror than usual.

As always, I hope that you've kept up your studies. I don't need to remind you that your opponent could appear at any time, and you need to be ready to prove yourself. I will be in touch again once I'm back in the country -- perhaps the time has come for me to see for myself how well your tutelage has paid off at this school, and if I am dissatisfied with the results, you know what will happen.

The letter ended there, with no 'Papa' or 'Father' or even a 'Hector' in closing. Celia's eyes retraced the thinly-veiled threat a few more times. She felt her skin heat and her stomach churn, the hair at the back of her neck prickling as her frustration and fear and anger grew.

She heard the sound of glass shattering, and shut her eyes. A few more crashes, and Celia was under control again, though it looked as though she'd be spending her day piecing vials and vases back together. She threw the letter on the counter, forcibly pushing all thought of her father from her mind, and set to work mending what she had broken -- ironically enough, an exercise he'd probably have her engage in if he was still monitoring her training.

[open, OCD-free but angst-ridden, omg.]

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After class, Ichabod had headed into town looking for the shop where Celia had told him she was working. No letters from home had darkened his thoughts, and the events on Friday was still on his mind, making him alter between a warm happiness and a somewhat worried feeling about the future. As he opened the door to the shop and saw Celia, he couldn't hold back a smile.

"I hope I am not interrupting?"

Celia paused, hand still extended over one of the jars she'd broken, and blushed a little -- partially just because she was happy to see him, and partially because she'd been caught fixing something that she'd broken.

"Not at all," she said with a quick smile, the jar reforming easily and floating back up to the shelf where it was. "Or at least, you're a very welcome interruption. I was just tidying up."

For a moment he watched the jar reassemble in the air. He had seen examples of her powers before, but that didn't mean it didn't amaze him.

Then he closed the door behind him and walked over to the counter. "How are you today?" The closeness from Friday night was still such a new thing, and Ichabod wasn't used to it yet.

"Better than I was," Celia told him with a warm smile, though she cast a slightly-nervous glance at the letter she'd left on the counter. "I just had a letter from my father and it threw my whole day off." She rolled her eyes, trying to make light of it as she wandered over towards him. Another vase reassembled itself behind her, the glass clicking into place as she waved her fingers towards it vaguely. "How are you?"

Edited 2014-06-10 17:37 (UTC)

He was curious about what the letter had said, but there was time to ask more about it later. If Celia wanted cheering up, Ichabod was happy to help with that, if he could. He shot a glance at the vase behind her, as if concerned that it would fall to the floor again, then met her gaze and reached for her hand.

"I am quite well, thank you."

"Nothing too crazy happened to you since Friday night?" Celia asked lightly, teasing. "You didn't find more emotion-controlling gems on your person or turn into an animal or anything?"

It was easier, for the moment, to take his hand and smile and flirt and forget why she had been cleaning up broken glass in the first place. At least for the moment.

[running into a meeting but I should be back soon!]

"No gems, no transformations," Ichabod assured her with a laugh. "What would I do if found myself waking up as an animal of some kind? I only had to pay an exorbitant sum of money for a bottle of plain water."

He was able to say that without a hint of the annoyance he had felt on Saturday, but that might be because of the company. Hesitating at first, he then leaned close to give her a quick kiss.

[no worries!]

Celia smiled into the kiss, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "One of my good friends is a bear cub for the foreseeable future," she told him, shrugging a shoulder slightly. "It's apparently a very common problem here. If you turned into something, though, I would make sure you were well cared-for and definitely not record your antics for posterity."

Definitely not. At all.

Edited 2014-06-10 18:38 (UTC)

He stopped for a moment. "Wait, there are machines to record... things on? Like the moving images with sound? I mean 'movies'? How can a man ever recover his reputation if every disgraceful moment can be recorded?"

"These are my questions," Celia agreed with a serious nod. "I had a friend who was recording our bear-cub friend and he was trying to convince me I need a phone for such a reason. Apparently recording devices are everywhere. Everyone you know with a cell phone? They also have a camera that can record that way."

Celia was a little paranoid about this, honestly.

"And where can one get one of these 'cell phones'?" Because clearly it was better to be prepared if others could use these against you, Ichabod felt. "And can you use them for anything else?"

"An overwhelming amount of things -- to call people like a telephone, to read, to store a calendar...." She shook her head, frowning. "I don't think I'll get one. I'd probably break it. Easier just to break anyone's who might record me."

She was quite good at that, as the glass-reassembly might indicate.

That truly sounded overwhelming, but Ichabod was still tempted. "If i get one, will you promise me not to break it?" He asked, giving Celia a not quite serious look.

"I will do my best," Celia said, smiling a little. "As long as you don't surprise me." She shrugged, a little self-conscious. "A hazard of spending time with me is that bad news -- or exceptionally good news -- sometimes results in broken things, if I'm taken off guard. It's a magic thing. I'm very good at repairs, though."

He quickly turned more serious. "I am sorry, Celia, I didn't mean to try to force you into a promise you can't make. And certainly not for something as unimportant as that." He paused. "Although I am glad I didn't surprise you too badly in the observatory." This last part was added lightly, and he hoped she wouldn't feel offended by the remark.

She grinned, shaking her head and blushing slightly. "No, thankfully I was able to...anticipate you," she said carefully. "I've never had to put a telescope back together. It might've been interesting. Usually it's teacups or lamps or vases." She gestured vaguely at the jar she'd been repairing when he came in. "That sort of thing. Telescopes -- and cell phones, for that matter -- might make for a more complicated repair."

He grinned back, reaching out for her hand again. It was beginning to feel like a natural thing to do, while at the same time making he heart jump slightly. "It would perhaps have alarmed the staff there," he said, then added, less playfully: "The vase there, was it because of the letter?"

Celia wound her fingers through his, smiling down at their hands before answering. "Yes. But it was just a momentary lapse. I'm really usually much better at controlling it. It's been a long time since I've shattered anything."

She was a little embarrassed still, yes. And trying to hedge a little, since she also didn't want to really tell him about her father and spoil things, even though she'd promised she would.

"But it's fine now."

Ichabod wasn't sure whether to ask more or to wait until Celia volunteered to tell him more. Finally he said: "To control one's emotions - if that is what it means - is never easy if your character is to feel strongly about what matters."

He could struggle with that himself occasionally, although he never had to face the consequences Celia did.

Celia frowned thoughtfully. "No, it's hard," she agreed. "I worry that if I express too much control, I won't be myself, so I try not to...overdo it. But that means I have to deal with the consequences of shattered glass when my father says he wants to check on me."

Which wasn't what had really upset her, but she knew Ichabod could at least relate well to why that would be distressing.

"All talents come at a price, perhaps? Not that that is a comforting thought." He added: "It might not matter, but I promise I will never complain about broken glass."

"Yet another reason that I like you," Celia decided, going onto her toes to kiss him.

She really hadn't known how much she needed to hear that until he'd said it. It was reassuring, to not have to worry.

Glad that his words had made a difference to her, Ichabod smiled, then kissed her back, letting an arm slip around her waist. He then said, teasingly: "There are more reasons?"

"I can come up with a list, if you like," Celia told him with a playful smile. "Being all right with the side effects of my powers would really be quite low on that list, if you'll believe it, though it's very appreciated."

Edited 2014-06-10 22:30 (UTC)

"Really?", Ichabod said teasingly, then added, as he wasn't necessarily fishing for compliments: "I think that bodes well for future explorations of museums and other things."

"Yes, that was my first thought -- curators across the Eastern seaboard will rejoice at the increased traffic to their museums, and it shall all be credited to my affection for you," Celia teased.

Growing tired of being on her toes to kiss him, as she was significantly shorter, and feeling at ease with her magic here, Celia gently lifted up off the ground and hovered the half-foot or so she needed to kiss him again.

See? Floating wasn't all bad.

Floating was wonderful, but he didn't need to do it. Ichabod stifled a laugh and returned the kiss, then had to release her and take a step back. It was the first time he had seen anyone floating in air, after all.

"There should be a dance particularly made for floating," he said.

"There probably is, in some world where more people can do it," Celia said thoughtfully, rising up another six inches or so, just to show off, before dropping neatly to the ground again. "I can't go much higher than that or I lose my balance, unfortunately." Plus people might see up her skirt, but she wasn't going to mention that. "Not a particularly useful skill, though it comes in handy from time to time."

As demonstrated.

"Do you dance? They have parties here, occasionally, though the modern styles of dance that I've seen leave much to be desired."

Edited 2014-06-11 15:42 (UTC)

"I wouldn't say I am a very accomplished dancer, but I can manage the fashionable dances well enough." That came with the upbringing he had had, after all. "I have no idea how they compare to contemporary dances, or what the music here is like. What about yourself?" He reached out for her hands.

"I can fake my way through a waltz when the occasion calls for it," Celia replied, which came with the upbringing she had had. She easily let him take her hands, though she made a bit of a face. "Contemporary dances are...distasteful. Vulgar. The music isn't always awful, but while some people remember their manners on the dance floor, others see dancing as an opportunity to attempt much in public that should be done in private."

She was trying to be delicate.

"The waltz isn't considered quite respectable in my time," he said. Men and women were pressing their bodies against each other, after all. "Unless you are from Germany. Which makes me think I will be even less at ease with the styles of this era."

Celia didn't want to mention that she wasn't considered quite respectable, in either of their times. "You can sit with me off to the side, then, should they have a dance," she replied easily. "I've only been to the one, for Saint Valentine's Day, though there was a very grand ball of some sort for the older students earlier this spring."

Eleanor had told her a little bit about prom, and Celia was torn between jealousy that she'd been too young to go (and had had no older gentleman offer to take her), and excitement that it'd be her turn this year. Assuming she was allowed to stay through spring, of course.

There was a considerable difference between Celia and the waltz, Ichabod felt. "I will be happy to attempt a waltz with you," Ichabod boldly offered. He had held Celia in an equally close embrace, after all, albeit not in public. "But I am afraid I will step on you feet. Unless you float."

"I might. You're quite tall, you know." Or she was just short. Or both. "Even if you do manage to tread upon my delicate little toes, I doubt there'll be any permanent damage," Celia said with a bright smile. "Yet another magical perk -- I can heal myself very easily. Though I'm limited when to comes to the injuries of others, so perhaps I should indeed float in order to ensure I don't step on your feet."

"I'm not sure I would be needing healing of you did, but I thank you for the concern," Ichabod replied, giving her an amused look. "But I do feel we should give our fellow students an idea of how dancing should be done, floating or not."

"Do you really think they'd take heed and set aside their gyrations to dance like civilized people?"

If Celia sounded skeptical, well, she was.

"But if such an event is held any time soon, you may have the first dance," she added with a grin. Not that she expected anyone else to ask her, but it still delighted her to say it.

"Even if they don't we will have done our duty to civilization and tried," he quipped, then made a small bow. "And I would be honoured to accept an invitation to dance.

Celia dipped a neat curtsy, smiling as she did so. "I think it's a losing battle, but I'm willing to be a good example."

Even if sometimes she didn't especially want to be a good example to her more lascivious peers. Eleanor did make it sound fun.

"I am sure you would be an excellent example in any matter," he continued playfully, oblivious to whatever Celia might be thinking on the matter. "Not only in dancing but in matters of the intellect as well."

"Don't get carried away," Celia cautioned, equally playfully. "There's plenty here who'd argue with you on that. My curiosity outperforms my actual abilities at times."

She was still flattered, though.

"Besides, you're properly educated and going to Oxford. If anyone's an example in that area, it's you."

"Well," Ichabod said. "Let's say we are a good match." While it was spoken lightly, it was how he felt, but the playfulness made it easier to express.

Rinoa was really overdue in checking up on some of her employees, which was why she was popping her head in to check up on Celia.

"Any interesting shipments today?" she asked. "I still don't know what skink root is."

A second glance at the girl's face, and she frowned. "What's wrong?"

She hadn't noticed the shattered vials yet ~~assuming they're not fixed already NO MODDING~~

"Bad news from home," Celia said, frowning and rolling her eyes, trying to pretend it wasn't the very real problem that it was. "Um, I haven't seen any shipments yet, but it can't be stranger than the rabbits we got a few weeks ago, right?"

She would have found Elsa's doves to be much more normal.

"Never ask if things can get stranger," Rinoa said easily. "This island considers that to be a challenge."

For the rest ...

"How bad is the news?" she said, trying to keep her voice light. "Like, they've discontinued your favorite ice cream, bad news, or your aunt's really sick, bad news?"

"My father wants to check on my magical training, bad news," Celia told her, glancing over. "And I really desperately don't want him to."

That was succinct.

"Are you worried you're not making enough progress?" Rinoa asked, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "I can help you do a crash course if you want."

Or help her cheat, to pass whatever arbitrary test her father slapped together. Because Rinoa had a suspicion that the man himself was the real problem.

"It's trickier than that," Celia said, and held out her hand to show Rinoa her scar. "I'm bound to a challenge, magically branded and all, and at some point I shall have to face an opponent in a sort of...magic battle. Papa is very concerned with winning, whereas I've been trying to get out of the bloody thing for years."

Celia felt more comfortable swearing in front of Rinoa than her other guest today, and her frustration was at a tipping point.

Rinoa reached out to take Celia's hand, examining the scar from all angles.

"What happens if you win?" Rinoa asked, slowly. "And ... what happens if you lose?"

It wasn't her business, but that had never stopped her, ever, so she wasn't sure why it was making her hesitate now.

"... Joining wasn't your idea, was it?"

"I was five," Celia said, watching Rinoa examine her hand. "I didn't know what was happening when I was bound, just that it hurt."

As for the other questions, Celia shrugged. "If I lose, I have no idea what happens. We've never discussed it. But I have to win. At any cost. That much has been made very, very clear."

She was just so tired of it all.

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The Magic Box [Tuesday]

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