@auntiezelda
She had tried so hard to hone in on her magic, to keep her emotions at bay, and yet she couldn’t, nearly burning up a classroom with the shear anger when she couldn’t figure out a translation of latin. She had never failed at this language in her entire life, the idea of regressing being another broken cog in her ability to remain controlled. Even after a small fire her magic had cause was put out, her anger only turned into shame, reignited the flames once more in a larger display that required evacuation. It was no surprise when she was told that she could no longer be taught at the academy, for the safety of herself and the remaining students.
She was pale as the sheets on her bed as she began to pack, not sure what exactly she should be bringing. She had never been to New Orleans after all, and for what she understood, it was far from the mild climate of Greendale. Still, she folded her cardigans and peter pan collar shirts neatly into the suitcase, her intense grey eyes dripping with tears. All she could think about was being a failure to her family, and a disgrace to the memory of her cousin, who’s status stood in the entrance hall.
She did not look up at the sound of footsteps, assuming it to be whoever was in charge of escorting her to Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, nor did she quicken the pace of her packing. If they wanted her gone so badly, the could help her. In a way, her speed was a sign of protest, desperately wanting to go home and not to be sent away to be forgotten. But wasn’t she already forgotten about? Having barely seen her family for more than a few passing glances or an afternoon out for lunch? Yes...she supposed her cousin, even in death, had managed to overshadow her. Emilia was not mad at such, having always looked up to girl as a younger sibling would idolize and older sibling, and she deserved all the memorialization for the sacrifice she had given, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.
