#c3 dw

There were often days in which the magic did not feel like a given, like just another ordinary part of one’s day, used as a tool to fill the toothbrush with paste or shut the blinders with less effort. Some days, the true wonderment at the very fact that any of that was possible — that there was power that oozed from Camille’s being and surrounded her in this shielded away universe  — was reminded to her with a gravity that took her aback. This had been one of those days. Standing at the presence of a fascinating humanoid creature with fire for hair and feet that pointed backwards  — a curupira, as D.W. had explained to the group  — and after carrying out dialogue with the creature through means of hums and gestures only, the infininty of this universe screamed its evidence to Camille. She felt as though drunk by the feeling, enamorated by it. As their time with the creature came to an end, she shifted closer to it little by little amongst the other students, in hopes of getting a closer look at it, realize something new and exciting she hadn’t grasped before. When she’d come close enough, she’d also come near D.W., who was finishing up the makeshift dialogue and final words about him. 

“Blimey, D.W.” she uttered at the girl, eyes still fixed upon the creature, as the other students began disbanding, “you really outdid yourself this time.”