Tell Me A New Lie.

The white hair witch inhaled deeply with concern. The question was a loaded gun. There needed to be a level of trust in order to teach Sable her magic. The admittance to murder, the initial arrest and why, and then having handed Sable her wand only for there to be a negative reaction to it had her hesitant. So much had gone wrong already. Would the risk be worth it in the end.

But Syndra understood the desire to learn. They both could benefit from one another. If she could teach Sable how to channel her own magic, then perhaps Syndra could learn how not to rely so heavily on her wand.

“If it’s even possible to do so,” there was an uncertainty in her voice as she finally responded. She took her earring from the air and set it down on the stand next to the bed. “Please don’t be offended for my hesitance to say yes. We both had a rocky start and we don’t fully trust one another.”

Syndra leaned forward to take her hands in her own, “But I want to trust you. I think you could teach me about your own ways. We could learn from one another.” She added with a small smile, “And magic shouldn’t hurt to do it. I hated seeing the blood and you be so ill today. If there is one thing I can do for you, is I want to rectify that.”

The blood had been gorish. It had been a difficult and confusing thing to witness when Sable and her son had been in action. Magic should have never leave a witch or wizard so physically devastated. And for Syndra to see Sable, a beautiful and magnificent creature, be so quickly knocked down was hard. This needed to be fixed.

“If I teach you, you have to teach me. But we have to agree to not use what we learn against anyone else,” she said firmly, giving her hands a tight squeeze. “Promise me. But also, what do you want to eat now? Because I am famished and you must be too.”

Sable knew there would be a give and take. She could not ask to harness that kind of magical energy without being asked about her own. Syndra had every right to bargain like she was. In her eyes, only a few hours ago, Sable was a criminal. Flippant to the laws that apparently existed for the magical and non-magical. She looked down at the hands squeezing her own, which were slightly warm from the use of the motion. The woman had beautiful hands.

“Bien,” she said quietly, her head bobbing in a nod. Her hands squeezed Syndra’s back, tentatively at first. She studied them, her elegant fingers, her manicured nails. The witch swallowed, allowing her gaze to lift up to the others at least. “It’s a deal. But you cannot tell my family I am teaching you anything Montgomery.”

Despite the fact she was the matriarch and could do whatever the hell she wanted, her children and mother might see Syndra as the enemy, and their mother as someone fraternizing with said enemy. They would need to be eased into it, and Sable was too tired to think of how on earth she could do that.

The mention of food had her perking up, and she gave a lopsided, embarrassed smile when her stomach seemed to growl in response.

She may not have been sure of anything else but this, Syndra had no doubts. To put herself and these people at risk would be stupid on her part. It all stemmed from understanding how MACUSA would approach these magical, sentient beings. Syndra couldn’t allow that to happen. They weren’t for study and neither should they be forced under the umbrella that her people were pushed under.

“I do want to. While you are in my house, you are my guest. I’ll ensure you’ll be taken care of to the fullest,” she released her hands and stood with a tired sigh.

There was a lot on her plate now, but it excited her some to come across Sable. It was something different from the mundane every day life. This gave her something to look forward to. And she certainly hoped Sable would be patient with her.

starters  /  prompts taken from various characters starring in the game   fire emblem : three houses .  feel free to change pronouns  /  tenses as necessary .

“  feel free to say hi whenever you like  ”

“  don’t hold back for my sake  ”

“  you think I’m so clumsy that I need someone to watch over me ?  ”

“  you act like you’re full of regret  ,  but I know you don’t really mean it  ”

“  you actually look more handsome to me with honesty on your face  ”

“  don’t be ashamed of crying  ”

“  could you keep quiet for a bit ?  ”

“  you’re actually kind of amazing  ”

“  do you mean to imply you have no intention of acting a bit more respectably ?  ”

“  stop acting so nonchalant about getting hurt or killed  ”

“  naive and uptight is no way to live your life  ”

“  you’d better watch that temper  ”

“  i am absolutely disinterested in spending any time with you  ”

“  your lack of self-awareness is deeply troubling  ”

“  I’ll just be straightforward about taking advantage of you  ”

“  when will you tire of challenging me in pointless competitions ?  ”

“  you expect me to believe that ?  ”

“  i’ve had enough of your foolish antics  ”

“  i wish you would not sneak up on me like that  ”

“  before you reprimand me  ,  take a moment to consider your own failings  ”

“  it is like hearing a snake sing an aria  ”

“  am I hearing a deathbed confession ?  ”

“  i never have any idea what you’re talking about  ”

“  don’t walk away when i’m talking to you  ”

“  you’ll be the death of me for sure  ”

“  i do not intend to die  ”

“  i can’t believe you put yourself at risk for my benefit  ”

“  i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile  ”

“  i do not desire your gratitude  ”

“  you’re surprisingly strong for how slender you appear  ”

“  perhaps i was flustered needlessly  ”

“  i had forgotten how charmingly ethereal you can be  ”

“  you’re going a little overboard  ”

“  you have shaken me to my very core  ”

“  so this is what death is like  ”

“  if you get sick of me  ,  i’m sorry ahead of time  ”

“  i’m embarrassed just thinking about it  ”

“  you’re like a little brother to me  ”

“  spending the rest of my life with you doesn’t sound so bad  ”

“  if our roles were reversed  ,  I don’t think I’d be able to forgive you  ”

“  you actually hate me  ,  right ?  ”

“  you haven’t stabbed me yet  ”

“  i want to be more like you  ”

“  i actually envy the size of your heart  ”

“  i don’t think you can solve all your problems by throwing a few punches  ”

“  there aren’t a lot of people like you in the world  ”

“  sorry I’ve been so oblivious to your needs  ”

“  sometimes you just can’t afford to wait around for someone else to notice ”

“  yesterday’s enemy is today’s ally  ”

“  you have to abandon old feuds  ”

“  learn to protect yourself before trying to protect me  ”

“  i always trust that you’ve got my back  ”

“  if only people could be more like flowers  ”

“  if you promise not to resort to violence  ,  I’ll do whatever you want  ”

“  i can’t stand the sight of me either  ”

“  i would be even more impressed if you hadn’t been screaming the whole time  ”

“  i did what was necessary to get you to comply  ”

“  you have so much power in you  ,  just waiting to be unleashed  ”

Syndra’s brows shot up but all she could do was shake her head. Six hundred? Was there vampire blood mixed into their lineage? A philosopher’s stone she needed to be aware of? She had so many questions but the witch was not going to press too hard for answers.

“Right. Head of Auror is the title but just between you and me, call me Syndra, and don’t think brutality when it comes to my Aurors. We’re better equipped to deal with the general public than the no-maj,” she crossed her legs at the ankles and sat back with her hands folding over her stomach. It had been a surprisingly exhausting day. Not bad, but more eventful than any normal day consisted of.

“Yeah, a wand,” she smiled a little. “It’s no fault of your own. It’s temperamental even on a good day. But it’s not just a weapon. It’s so much more than that. I would be rendered a useless human being without it. I don’t have much magical talent without my wand.”

Akinning it to a gun wasn’t wrong, but Syndra hoped to show her it wasn’t a weapon. It was a tool, an extension of herself. Without her wand, she wouldn’t be able to do her job, she couldn’t stop someone from harming themselves or another. She couldn’t do magic and Syndra felt helpless without it.

Sable just shut up and listened at this point. There was so much in the world that she didn’t now. Her kids were always showing her new technological advancements, trying to get her to use ‘smart’ phones as they called them, showing her all the new shows on the TV which had nothing but naked people and awful swear words in them. She was old, and she knew it, and she felt it every single day.

Now, with Syndra telling her even more things she didn’t know, she felt it best to just take it. It was a fact, and something she couldn’t change. She’d learned that the hard way a long time ago when the ‘internet’ had been invented.

“I see,” she said quietly. So, their kind needed a conduit of sorts for their magic. They needed a piece of something magical within a piece of wood from a revered tree to perform it? Well, even with it, it was thrilling to behold.

“I can’t do what you do, Syndra,” she told her. “I can’t turn things into other things. All I can do is –“

She lifted her hand and gave a gentle flick of her finger, and the earring that hung from the woman’s lobe gently swayed like a breeze had blown it. “And the sort of thing you saw quand tu m'as appréhendé. You know, the throwin’ of the cars.”

Sable rested her hands in her lap, like a soldier might rest his gun, and fixed a squint on Syndra.

But Syndra understood the desire to learn. They both could benefit from one another. If she could teach Sable how to channel her own magic, then perhaps Syndra could learn how not to rely so heavily on her wand.

“If it’s even possible to do so,” there was an uncertainty in her voice as she finally responded. She took her earring from the air and set it down on the stand next to the bed. “Please don’t be offended for my hesitance to say yes. We both had a rocky start and we don’t fully trust one another.”

Syndra leaned forward to take her hands in her own, “But I want to trust you. I think you could teach me about your own ways. We could learn from one another.” She added with a small smile, “And magic shouldn’t hurt to do it. I hated seeing the blood and you be so ill today. If there is one thing I can do for you, is I want to rectify that.”

The blood had been gorish. It had been a difficult and confusing thing to witness when Sable and her son had been in action. Magic should have never leave a witch or wizard so physically devastated. And for Syndra to see Sable, a beautiful and magnificent creature, be so quickly knocked down was hard. This needed to be fixed.

“No offense, Sable, but you didn’t come across as nice or old. You certainly do not look your age. I’m fuckin’ jealous, too,” she admitted with a chortle of laughter. “I’m sixty-three and I look it no matter what I try.”

The momentary astonishment was wiped away with Sable’s admittance to her intentions. It wasn’t unheard of. Lots of old witching families held such high value over their possessions that they resorted to extreme measures. But these days, Syndra and other Aurors were called in to avoid inprisonment.

“I’m glad we showed up. You don’t need to be in prison. It’s not pleasant.”

The worst thing about a magical, American prison was the inhumane treatment. There was no privacy at all, even showers and bathrooms were open. The cells were devoid of daylight and magically silenced so no one could hear outside of them. If an inmate was sick or dying, there was little help if they were even able to get it. It was one of Syndra’s priorities if she could ever get high enough in MACUSA.

“MACUSA stands for Magical Congress of the United States of America. It’s our governing body for wizarding folk,” she explained with a wry smile. “It has a lot of flaws. I’m what we call an Auror which is like the no-maj police. Somewhat like that. I’m the Head of the Department for America.”

It wasn’t bragging. Syndra wasn’t trying to impress her, but rather to just share it. She wasn’t Head of the Aurors for anything other than to try and make MACUSA better. She wanted to make reformed changes to make it a better system. And now, she was glad she could do something to conceal Sable’s family and others like hers.

The witch could not resist the wry smile that crossed her face when Syndra told her that she did not come across as nice or old. With the way her kind aged, she was technically still in her prime. Could have ten more babies if she wanted – which chilled her to the bone when she thought too hard about it. The other witch’s comment had her grinning, and she averted her eyes for a brief moment to show, at least, some semblance of humility.

“Well, thank you, cher, but it is simply our species. Some of us can live to be six-hundred, but our powers will be pretty useless by that time.”

She fell silent to listen. Magical Congress, eh? The government. Sable Montgomery had never thought kindly of the government, given it was the decisive factor in many things that rubbed her the wrong way. Drafts were one of them. Though she found war utterly fascinating, she didn’t particularly care for the fact that she’d lost her daddy and two husbands to it. Jean Claude had volunteered one too many times for comfort, but at least her boy was still in one piece.

Physically, at least.

“Je vois,” she muttered, “You are like the Chief of Police, but instead of a gun, you carry a wand, did you call it?”

“Right. Head of Auror is the title but just between you and me, call me Syndra, and don’t think brutality when it comes to my Aurors. We’re better equipped to deal with the general public than the no-maj,” she crossed her legs at the ankles and sat back with her hands folding over her stomach. It had been a surprisingly exhausting day. Not bad, but more eventful than any normal day consisted of.

“Yeah, a wand,” she smiled a little. “It’s no fault of your own. It’s temperamental even on a good day. But it’s not just a weapon. It’s so much more than that. I would be rendered a useless human being without it. I don’t have much magical talent without my wand.”

“Wait. What?”

The 1800s? Syndra stared blankly at Sable with her mouth slightly agape. Witches and wizards did age slow but not so much as Sable was making her age out to be.

And an impressive marriage history to boot. Syndra couldn’t deny the beauty of the witch sitting on her bed. The flaming locks, stark blue eyes that glimmered so, the body of perfect health and sweet curves that would have so many men falling to their knees.

She made Syndra jealous for simply aging like a goddess.

“Okay, back the wagon up. You’re how old?” Syndra sat forward with her arms resting on her knees, “I’m not going to stop apologising. I didn’t want to hurt you. I wanted to get you and your son as far away from that building as possible as quick as possible.” She chewed at her lower lip and glanced at her with squinted eyes, “The American Indian Wars? Really? That’s…that’s so long ago. And you don’t use wands. You’re entire family has stayed offline and undetected from MACUSA for ages. And you bleed whenever you use your magic.”

Sable rose her brows at Syndra. Did this kind of witch not age like her kind of witch? Well, that might be one advantage. She straightened her back a little, squaring her shoulders slightly. “I’m one hundred and seventy-six years old,” she said, watching for the woman’s reaction. “I had Jean Claude when I was seventeen – he’s one hundred and fifty-nine. You saw him.”

As the other witch began to work out her timeline, she found herself smiling crookedly. “Oui. My daddy died in the War for Southern Indep—the Civil War. We usually don’t go around non-magical folk and display our powers, but it was important, you hear. I had to get our book back. Were it to land in the hands of the Benoit family, all our secrets would be revealed – how our magic works. They could do what we do, and if we are to keep balance among us, then that sort of thing cannot happen.”

She gave a firm shake of her red head. “Not by any means. So we went after him. Woulda killed him if y’all hadn’t shown up.”

The witch smiled ruefully. “Sorry to admit it. I’m not the nice old woman I appear to be. It is like an act of high treason to rob another coven of their sacred texts and whatever objects they might possess.”

A beat.

The momentary astonishment was wiped away with Sable’s admittance to her intentions. It wasn’t unheard of. Lots of old witching families held such high value over their possessions that they resorted to extreme measures. But these days, Syndra and other Aurors were called in to avoid inprisonment.

“I’m glad we showed up. You don’t need to be in prison. It’s not pleasant.”

The worst thing about a magical, American prison was the inhumane treatment. There was no privacy at all, even showers and bathrooms were open. The cells were devoid of daylight and magically silenced so no one could hear outside of them. If an inmate was sick or dying, there was little help if they were even able to get it. It was one of Syndra’s priorities if she could ever get high enough in MACUSA.

“MACUSA stands for Magical Congress of the United States of America. It’s our governing body for wizarding folk,” she explained with a wry smile. “It has a lot of flaws. I’m what we call an Auror which is like the no-maj police. Somewhat like that. I’m the Head of the Department for America.”

Internally, Syndra was picturing all the bad things that could happen if Sable told anyone at all. She would lose every bit of her life. Tossed into prison without a second question. What she had done went against everything she had ever been taught. Don’t get attached. Don’t involve emotions.

Don’t fucking kidnap somebody!

“It’s far from fine, Mrs. Montgomery. What I’ve done today by bringing you here and tying you up, that was inhuman,” she forced the words out of her mouth quickly, her feet picking up pace again.

Even though she was listening to Sable, her heart was beating furiously in her chest. She couldn’t see herself ever causing anyone true harm, muchless exposing a whole group of people who had gone for so long undiscovered. She would be damned for life if she was the start of another genocide or forced enslavement to ‘civil’ society.

“My mother still runs around naked in the swamps,” she spoke truthfully, no matter how comical it sounded. Syndra found herself slumping into her previously occupied chair with a loud huff.

“Call me Syndra. Mrs. Grimshaw is my mother,” thin fingers twisted the end of her long sleeve. She couldn’t even meet Sable’s gaze. She couldn’t look at the woman she had personally tormented in an unknown fashion. She hadn’t meant to, but it didn’t change the fact that she had.

“I’m truly sorry for all of this. I can explain, though. I brought you here because I don’t want them to find out about you. It’s why I let your son go. I don’t want the paperwork to reflect on the pair of you,” she licked her lips and let out a soft sigh before continuing. “I thought by bringing you here, we could talk in a safe place without worry of intrusion. I don’t want to risk exposing you any further than what I have. It was never my intentions to hurt you or cause you to harm yourself.”

Sable quieted, listening as the witch explained herself. She wasn’t out to study her, hold her captive, or out her family. The redhead felt a huge weight lift off of her shoulders at the admission alone, not really thinking twice about whether or not she should trust her.

“Syndra,” she repeated her name, “then call me Sable. Mrs. Montgomery is my mother. My first husband, Jean Claude and my daughter Marietta’s daddy, died in the American Indian Wars roundabouts 1880 or so. Second one in the Great War, left me with my summer child I named Ninette, third died of some kinda drug overdose in the sixties and left me with my youngest boy, Monet… then I just stopped marryin’ ‘em altogether.”

The witch gave a slow sigh.

“Anyway… stop apologizin’, cherie, please, you’re beginnin’ to make me feel like I overreacted.”

She pocketed her handkerchief and glanced up at Syndra. The witch was certainly unique looking. Tall and tattooed, with that vibrant, white-blond hair. There was an intensity about her that both terrified and intrigued Sable. She was powerful. Impressively so.

“I never met someone of your kind before.”

The 1800s? Syndra stared blankly at Sable with her mouth slightly agape. Witches and wizards did age slow but not so much as Sable was making her age out to be.

And an impressive marriage history to boot. Syndra couldn’t deny the beauty of the witch sitting on her bed. The flaming locks, stark blue eyes that glimmered so, the body of perfect health and sweet curves that would have so many men falling to their knees.

She made Syndra jealous for simply aging like a goddess.

When the tears came, Syndra knew she had crossed a line. The line between all creatures that should have never been crossed. Sable was still human and Syndra had taken her and locked her up. This was kidnapping. This was wrong.

The witch released the binds, her own tears starting to form as she threw her arms around the other woman. She hugged her close, whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There wasn’t enough apologies in the world she could have given that would make it right. Maybe even holding her was wrong. Maybe it was making it that much worse. Had she lost her damn mind? What was she thinking?

Oh, that’s right. She hadn’t. All she thought was to protect Sable from MACUSA without realising she was no better for it. Her actions were heinous. She endangered herself and the flaming redhaired witch.

Syndra let her go and quickly got from the bed, both hands in her hair. She tugged at the strands as she paced the floor. Her stomach was filled with twists and knots. She wished she could restart this day and do it differently.

Her hands slipped over her face as she paused her pacing. Syndra inhaled deeply and looked to the witch with remorseful eyes, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Montgomery. I shouldn’t have…I should have released you at the office. I was just…I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking properly.”

Oh, God.

A hug was just what she needed.

Didn’t matter that it was from a woman she felt was trying to cut her open and study her – when Syndra apologized, when she could hear the tears in her voice, she relaxed even further. The witch gripped her right back, up until the white-haired woman tore away from her and began to pace the floor.

Frowning, Sable reached into her jacket pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, watching Syndra go back and forth. She was no longer bound, so she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, one hand moving to grip the front of the floral blouse she wore.

“It’s… fine,” she said. “It’s fine.” This time, with more conviction.  

Sable did not know what on earth was going on, but her captor was apologizing – and that meant that maybe she wasn’t going to be kept here, wasn’t going to be studied like an animal. The witch lowered her gaze, her eyes taking a faraway look as she began to speak.

“My great-great-great… oh, I don’t know how many greats grandfather warned me of your kind when I was a petite fille,” she began, “magic folk who took over, established schools and governing bodies. That y’all had a different kind of blood in you that made your magic tick. You used sticks to perform it – didn’t drain you at all.”

The witch frowned as she angled her attention back up to Syndra.

“That your kind descended from my kind,” she added. “Somewhere, back when we was all still runnin’ around naked in the prairies and marshlands and swamps.”

Sable dabbed her eyes once more. “Please don’t tell your people about us, Mrs. Grimshaw. We been doin’ a good job so far of keepin’ our heads under. I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know if you just don’t tell ‘em about us. It’s all my fault what happened today – if you gotta arrest someone, you can arrest me, but don’t go after my family.”

Don’t fucking kidnap somebody!

“It’s far from fine, Mrs. Montgomery. What I’ve done today by bringing you here and tying you up, that was inhuman,” she forced the words out of her mouth quickly, her feet picking up pace again.

Even though she was listening to Sable, her heart was beating furiously in her chest. She couldn’t see herself ever causing anyone true harm, muchless exposing a whole group of people who had gone for so long undiscovered. She would be damned for life if she was the start of another genocide or forced enslavement to ‘civil’ society.

“My mother still runs around naked in the swamps,” she spoke truthfully, no matter how comical it sounded. Syndra found herself slumping into her previously occupied chair with a loud huff.

“Call me Syndra. Mrs. Grimshaw is my mother,” thin fingers twisted the end of her long sleeve. She couldn’t even meet Sable’s gaze. She couldn’t look at the woman she had personally tormented in an unknown fashion. She hadn’t meant to, but it didn’t change the fact that she had.

That certainly woke Syndra up from a snooze. She jolted awake, instantly catching her wand before it fell to the floor. Her heart hitched with quicker breath as she stared at Sable.

She really was a wild creature. There was no denying it now. A woman but oh, so much more. There was a wildness to her that had the white haired witch pushing her chair back across the hardwood floor, hands gripping the arms firmly. She had never seen someone react so harshly to being bound.

It made her glad she had bound her to the bed, too. There was no telling what would have happened if Sable had been let loose on her.

“Sable Montgomery,” she put on a brave face as she stood. A tentative step was taken forward, both hands held up, wand tucked in her belt, and her voice level, but firm. “Sable, stop. Calm yourself. I will let you go once you calm down. But you need to relax. You won’t get anywhere by being upset. I’m not going to hurt you. I did this for my protection.”

Saying that made her feel stupid. It wasn’t her tied up to a bed in some strange woman’s house. After already being apprehended once before that day. Syndra inhaled deeply and knelt down at the side of the bed. She took one of her hands which was so hot she released it, but bravery and her own ability to instil peace forced her to give it a try.

“Sable,” Syndra said gently, almost crooning to her like she would a child. “It’s okay. I promise. You are safe with me.”

It had been an utterly awful, taxing day. The Benoit member had taken the Montgomery book of secrets, she’d overworked her magic, she and Jean Claude had been arrested and detained in an institution by people who her own kind had warned her about, and then she’d woken up restrained to a bed in a strange house. Today was not Sable’s day.

As Syndra got closer, hands up to show she wasn’t armed, the redhead pushed herself back against the headboard further, as though hoping it would open like saloon doors and she’d fall through it back into her own home. Maybe back into her own bed, and she’d be waking up to all of this being one awful, long nightmare.

But that wasn’t what happened.

When Syndra gripped her fire-hot hands, she seemed to deflate. All of her piling magical energy went out of her like water down a drain. Tears multiplied, dripped off her eyelashes and down her face, but she still tried to hold herself together. She couldn’t cry in front of this woman – couldn’t show her how weak she was by comparison. Sable couldn’t make a chair into a chaise lounge – couldn’t flick a stick and knock someone on their ass – couldn’t make handcuffs from what looked to be electrical light.

Syndra’s kind of witch was terrifying to one like Sable, who was only good for a few things in the realm of magic. And looking at her, she could see that the magic she performed didn’t take any physical toll on her body. Not like Sable, who experienced migraines and bleeding.

She felt utterly helpless. Powerless.

The witch released the binds, her own tears starting to form as she threw her arms around the other woman. She hugged her close, whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There wasn’t enough apologies in the world she could have given that would make it right. Maybe even holding her was wrong. Maybe it was making it that much worse. Had she lost her damn mind? What was she thinking?

Oh, that’s right. She hadn’t. All she thought was to protect Sable from MACUSA without realising she was no better for it. Her actions were heinous. She endangered herself and the flaming redhaired witch.

Syndra let her go and quickly got from the bed, both hands in her hair. She tugged at the strands as she paced the floor. Her stomach was filled with twists and knots. She wished she could restart this day and do it differently.

Syndra didn’t even get the chance to process what the book contained before her office was in shambles.

She ducked to the floor, hands raised over her head before snatching her wand up. This was bad. The other witch had a negative reaction to holding the wand. What sorcery did she possess exactly? Something obviously rejected conduates for magic.

A wild magic.

Just like the woman in front of her.

Syndra had to resolve this matter quickly. She stopped her items from breaking with a quick whip of her wand through the air, all items returned to healed shelves and tables. Her next move she intended had her feeling sad. She had to secure Sable and calm her.

And get her the hell out of this office.

“I’m so sorry, Sable,” she said, standing to her full height and taking aim, “-again. Stupify.”

A quick clean up of her office and a long trip to her car, Syndra was able to get Sable out of the office and on the road to her home outside the city limits. It was nothing impressive, but an old farmhouse set deep into woods. The wards allowed for her passage through with ease, the magical signature was personalized to recognise hers alone. Any other would be rejected.

Which was only remembered once her car crossed the line and instantly shut off. Syndra had to react fast with sigils, deactivating the ward to allow a two minute passage up the long drive. Once inside the line, it would be fine.

Syndra laid Sable out on the bed in her guest room with an exhausted sigh. The risk of bringing her into her home was obvious. She knew she could possibly be injured. Sable was weak now, but if she grew stronger, Syndra knew it would be over. She could possibly die.

She waited for her to awaken on her own. Hands twisted anxiously in her lap over her wand. Eagle like eyes watched the redhead, watched her chest rise and fall with every breath. This witch was a curiousity Syndra needed to learn more about, but with extreme caution. She was alien to her, but of the most beautiful kind.

Before she had a chance to defend herself further, the wand was aimed at her and her vision filled with black.

She floated, somewhere neither earth nor heaven. There were sounds all around her but it was something like being underwater – everything had a muffled, echoic quality. She was dead weight, but in her mind she was weightless, her body recharging in the deep, coma-like slumber, the magic recoiling in her like a rattler poised to strike.

As she drifted closer to the surface of whatever nebulous fluid she found herself mentally suspended in, her eyes snapped open, the bedroom around her coming into focus little by little. Was she home? No… this wasn’t her ceiling.

The witch attempted to sit up, but found that she couldn’t. Immediately she panicked, squirming at least into a seating position so she could look across the room. Her bright blue gaze found Syndra and she bared her teeth at her like a feral animal, the next string of Cajun that came out of her long and furious enough to form a sort of dosser of profanity until she settled, seething, hands balled into fists.

“Lâchez-moi.”

She really was a wild creature. There was no denying it now. A woman but oh, so much more. There was a wildness to her that had the white haired witch pushing her chair back across the hardwood floor, hands gripping the arms firmly. She had never seen someone react so harshly to being bound.

It made her glad she had bound her to the bed, too. There was no telling what would have happened if Sable had been let loose on her.

“Sable Montgomery,” she put on a brave face as she stood. A tentative step was taken forward, both hands held up, wand tucked in her belt, and her voice level, but firm. “Sable, stop. Calm yourself. I will let you go once you calm down. But you need to relax. You won’t get anywhere by being upset. I’m not going to hurt you. I did this for my protection.”

Saying that made her feel stupid. It wasn’t her tied up to a bed in some strange woman’s house. After already being apprehended once before that day. Syndra inhaled deeply and knelt down at the side of the bed. She took one of her hands which was so hot she released it, but bravery and her own ability to instil peace forced her to give it a try.

“Is it dark magic? What’s in the book, I mean. Should I be concerned if I return it to you?”

Family magic or not, Syndra couldn’t, in good conscious, let a book be returned if the pages held dark magic that was illegal. If it were used for any reason at all, in some form of harming others, she would never be able to live that down. The guilt would put her in the ground quicker than any summons from the President of MACUSA.

Syndra couldn’t resist the small laugh, “It’s called a wand. Not just a stick. It has magical properties to harness our abilities.” She withdrew her wand from her belt and held it tentatively to the other woman, “Each one is different from another. The wand chooses the witch or wizard. This is mine. It’s yew with a horned serpent scale core.”

She adored her wand. It was wore down from the years of use but it was every bit as powerful as the day she received hers. It’s wood was light in color, well polished, and slightly shimmery from the scale core. In bright light, the shimmer was irredescent and reflective in use. There was enough bend in the wood that even if stressed, the wand wouldn’t snap. Though, she didn’t ever intentionally test that theory out. She only knew that some of the best bows were made from yew wood.

“You’ve never done that before? Transfigure something into something else?” Syndra crossed her right leg over the other. “It’s almost a simply spell at this point in my life. I’d call it rudimentary magic. It’s something students learn fairly early in their time at Ilvermorny.”

If Syndra had to make the assumption, she was sure Sable had no idea what Ilvermorny was. This was all in good nature, though. Some people couldn’t attend the school for various reasons, but something told the Auror that Sable was just a little more ignorant of their world collectively. Just as she was ignorant of Sable and her family. They would both learn something new today.

“Non,” she replied. “It is mostly about tracking other magical species. Werewolves, shifters, familiars, ce genre de chose. A bit about summoning – but tous les démons ne sont pas mauvais. Not all demons are bad.”

Sable looked down at the offered ‘wand’, as Syndra had called it, her eyes narrowing at the explanation of the properties. The scale of a horned serpent could be placed within yew to wield magic? She reached her hand out, but the second her fingers enclosed around the handle, the wand went off with a loud BANG! and blew up a shelf behind Syndra’s desk. At the same time, Sable let out a yelp of pain when her forehead seared, and she dropped the thing like it was on fire.  

Trembling, the witch stared in horror at what used to be the shelf, a small trickle of blood making its way out of her nose again. She blinked and looked at Syndra like the woman could potentially use the murder stick to do the same thing to her, and she stood, abruptly, but the pain in her head was too much. She crashed again, this time fully into the blond woman, nearly into her lap.

She ducked to the floor, hands raised over her head before snatching her wand up. This was bad. The other witch had a negative reaction to holding the wand. What sorcery did she possess exactly? Something obviously rejected conduates for magic.

A wild magic.

Just like the woman in front of her.

Syndra had to resolve this matter quickly. She stopped her items from breaking with a quick whip of her wand through the air, all items returned to healed shelves and tables. Her next move she intended had her feeling sad. She had to secure Sable and calm her.

And get her the hell out of this office.

“I’m so sorry, Sable,” she said, standing to her full height and taking aim, “-again. Stupify.”

A quick clean up of her office and a long trip to her car, Syndra was able to get Sable out of the office and on the road to her home outside the city limits. It was nothing impressive, but an old farmhouse set deep into woods. The wards allowed for her passage through with ease, the magical signature was personalized to recognise hers alone. Any other would be rejected.

Which was only remembered once her car crossed the line and instantly shut off. Syndra had to react fast with sigils, deactivating the ward to allow a two minute passage up the long drive. Once inside the line, it would be fine.

Syndra laid Sable out on the bed in her guest room with an exhausted sigh. The risk of bringing her into her home was obvious. She knew she could possibly be injured. Sable was weak now, but if she grew stronger, Syndra knew it would be over. She could possibly die.

Her eyes followed the other’s and then returned to Sable with a shrug, “It’s not my property. I have no reason to withhold it from you. But you know I’ve got questions.”

Whatever that book was, it was of value. Syndra hadn’t even touched it to look through it. She worried there were spells that would keep her from doing so. She really wished it wasn’t on her desk, but so far, the damn thing hadn’t burst into flames or shocked the shit out of her.

But even still, Sable, her son, and this book brought on so many questions that she couldn’t even think of where to begin. By the accent, her family was an old one. It was so old school southern that Syndra hadn’t heard in years and when she had, it was from the folks down around the bayou. Her mother had always said there were people down there that didn’t associate with wizarding folk or no-majs. Said they kept to their covens and didn’t fair amongst others without there being some sort of incident.

Which now explained the stack of files of incident reports that never led to an explanation. Cases that never made any sense. The people involved were always classified as no-majs. Now Syndra understood why. There wasn’t a strong magical presence to the woman on the lounge chair. It wasn’t an easily readable signature like anyone else.

“First, I’m not able to speak French or Cajun or anything like that. I don’t mean any disrespect, though,” she opened her own bottle and withdrew a small bowl of clear powder from her breast pocket. She shook a little bit of the powder into the water, closed the bottle, and gently shook it. “What’s with the book? Should I be worried about it’s contents of it fell into the wrong hands?”

Sable shifted her eyes back to the book when Syndra asked about it. It wasn’t dangerous in the hands of a simple non-magical person, or ‘no-maj’ as the woman had called them. Uncreative, but it made her smirk inwardly. She nodded, as she might as well be honest with her. Syndra Grimshaw had the magical stick that had incarcerated her in the first place. She couldn’t mess with her, not here in her own territory.

“Oui,” she answered, taking another bite and chewing slowly. “If another witch gets it, yes. Its older’n this building I’m sure. Holds my family history in its pages – and our magic.”

Why was she telling this to her?

“But you are a different kind of witch,” she said, giving the woman a distrustful look. “It is not your kind of magic. You use the stick for channeling your sorcellerie.”

She’d heard of this kind of magical people before, but her kind had always steered clear. They were a newer kind, perhaps the descendants of her kind of people – but much like non-magical scientists, they would more than likely be a little too eager to study their ancestors.

Family magic or not, Syndra couldn’t, in good conscious, let a book be returned if the pages held dark magic that was illegal. If it were used for any reason at all, in some form of harming others, she would never be able to live that down. The guilt would put her in the ground quicker than any summons from the President of MACUSA.

Syndra couldn’t resist the small laugh, “It’s called a wand. Not just a stick. It has magical properties to harness our abilities.” She withdrew her wand from her belt and held it tentatively to the other woman, “Each one is different from another. The wand chooses the witch or wizard. This is mine. It’s yew with a horned serpent scale core.”

She adored her wand. It was wore down from the years of use but it was every bit as powerful as the day she received hers. It’s wood was light in color, well polished, and slightly shimmery from the scale core. In bright light, the shimmer was irredescent and reflective in use. There was enough bend in the wood that even if stressed, the wand wouldn’t snap. Though, she didn’t ever intentionally test that theory out. She only knew that some of the best bows were made from yew wood.

“You’ve never done that before? Transfigure something into something else?” Syndra crossed her right leg over the other. “It’s almost a simply spell at this point in my life. I’d call it rudimentary magic. It’s something students learn fairly early in their time at Ilvermorny.”

It didn’t take long to learn their in-department healer had gone home for the day. Instantly, Syndra was on the verge of losing her temper with that boy. He was always late and then clocking out before allowed to do so. She had given him chance after chance and this was how he repaid her? With insubordinance?

The son was fine. A bit spunky about his mother’s whereabouts, but quite alert and fine. Syndra has him released with the promise that his mother would be returned to him safely. She sent him home, not needing another person in her office interrupting her assessment of Sable.

Syndra returned to her office with two bottles of water, a pack of peanut butter crackers, and a bar of milk chocolate. She set the items down and drew her chair over to the lounge to sit next to the woman.

“He’s fine. I sent him home,” she cracked open a bottle and held it to her, all traces of anger gone. She couldn’t think of that stupid healer. Syndra was trained to handle medical emergencies. She could see to Sable on her own.

“Drink. And then sit up if you can so you can eat something. I’m sure your sugar’s dropped. That happens when you overwork your magic,” she spoke from experience. A thin finger graced over a stray of red hair and brushed it back from the woman’s impossibly blue eyes. “How are you feeling? I would offer you a potion, but the cabinet is sealed off from me. I don’t have free access to medicines. Ain’t that some shit?”

She took the offered bottle of water, eyes on the other woman as she was assured that Jean Claude was fine. Syndra Grimshaw said he was released, but she would believe it when she saw him again. Given the fact that Syndra had mostly been the one throwing vehicles across the quiet street, it was no question that she was being detained longer than her son.

Tilting her head back, she took a long drink of the bottled water. It tasted a lot different than that of the faucet, a bit processed, but she downed it all the same. Dehydration was probably another contributing factor to her headache – the blood loss from her nose and ears had been considerable.

“C'est de la merde,” she murmured, closing her eyes to the soft touch of the other woman. Were she in proper sorts, she might have flung the other across the room in a bout of fury, but she honestly felt like she’d been hit by a train – and Syndra was being kind to her.

“I feel sick, but,” she took another sip of the water, “a bit better than before.”

Numbly, she set the bottle aside and reached for the crackers, working them open before taking one and biting the corner off. She looked past Syndra at her desk, where the spell book sat, then turned her gaze to the woman.

Whatever that book was, it was of value. Syndra hadn’t even touched it to look through it. She worried there were spells that would keep her from doing so. She really wished it wasn’t on her desk, but so far, the damn thing hadn’t burst into flames or shocked the shit out of her.

But even still, Sable, her son, and this book brought on so many questions that she couldn’t even think of where to begin. By the accent, her family was an old one. It was so old school southern that Syndra hadn’t heard in years and when she had, it was from the folks down around the bayou. Her mother had always said there were people down there that didn’t associate with wizarding folk or no-majs. Said they kept to their covens and didn’t fair amongst others without there being some sort of incident.

Which now explained the stack of files of incident reports that never led to an explanation. Cases that never made any sense. The people involved were always classified as no-majs. Now Syndra understood why. There wasn’t a strong magical presence to the woman on the lounge chair. It wasn’t an easily readable signature like anyone else.

The weakest trait Syndra had was allowing herself to feel something for the people she brought into custody. There was always a story, always a mistake that led them down the road to being apprehended. The stories that tore at her heart were the ones that had her questioning whether lock up was necessary.

She didn’t feel like Sable Montgomery was a harm to society intentionally. She thought of her as a child who needed guidance and teaching. Ignorance of the law wasn’t an excuse that worked for everyone, but to certainly did apply to the witch now laying down.

“I don’t allow alcohol in the building. You’ll have to wait for that,” she replied, eyes watching the redhead with curiosity but mainly concern. This shouldn’t happen to any witch. This bodily reaction had her questioning why it happened and how often. Surely it wasn’t good for the body.

Syndra brushed back her hair from her face, taking a moment to just breathe before the question was asked. It was a blessing to be the head in these moments.

“Yeah, through that door there,” she motioned to the door to the right of her desk. “Do you need my help or will you be okay to stand? I don’t want to come back and find you passed out after falling over and cracking your head on something.”

That wasn’t a pleasant picture but it was a concern. Whatever the extent of these bodily reactions were, it had Syndra wary to even leave. And that’s when she realised, she was already attached and felt a responsibility for this woman. She would have to educate her and somehow protect her from MACUSA.

Dimming the lights, she opened her office door again, “I’ll be right back, Mrs. Montgomery. Please be careful.”

When directed to the toilet, she shook her head, but used Syndra’s shoulder to balance herself while she stood. The room spun, tilted on its axis, but she righted herself and slowly made her way into the bathroom.

Water running, Sable waited til it was tepid to lean over it and wash her face. It was work, getting the blood off of her nose and ears, but soon her normal face was peering back at her in the mirror. Sure, she looked tired, but she didn’t look like she’d just been exposed to something like radioactive sludge. Using a towel, she dried herself off, attempting to fluff the hair that had gotten wet in the whole process.

After cleaning up the sink by hand, Sable leaned over to just drink the water coming out of the faucet – several long, good gulps. She finished up, head still pounding, but feeling much less like a war-ragged soldier when she stepped back into Syndra Grimshaw’s office.

The chaise lounge was her dearest friend as she collapsed into it, her fingers raising to pinch the bridge of her nose. She didn’t dare use her powers in a big display now, for fear of ending up comatose on the floor in this strange building. It was terrifying – and somehow she felt exactly how an animal in captivity might. Lost. Wondering what on earth was going on.

When the door opened and the woman stepped back in, Sable shielded her eyes when she looked at her.

The son was fine. A bit spunky about his mother’s whereabouts, but quite alert and fine. Syndra has him released with the promise that his mother would be returned to him safely. She sent him home, not needing another person in her office interrupting her assessment of Sable.

Syndra returned to her office with two bottles of water, a pack of peanut butter crackers, and a bar of milk chocolate. She set the items down and drew her chair over to the lounge to sit next to the woman.

“He’s fine. I sent him home,” she cracked open a bottle and held it to her, all traces of anger gone. She couldn’t think of that stupid healer. Syndra was trained to handle medical emergencies. She could see to Sable on her own.

Syndra recognized over stressing of magic in a person easily. She was taught to see it in a person, to see the signs and react appropriately so things didn’t escalate. Unfortunately, her team of Aurors hadn’t been so keen and the situation had been exacerbated.

Now she had a sick mother who was not up to her full potential for dealing with any of this business. There was no way Syn could expect a clear and sober answer from Sable in this condition.

“Just so you’re aware,” she stated firmly, still holding the tissue to her nose, “if you try to do anything at all, you won’t escape this building. No apparating, no running, no bursting windows, or anything of the sort. This is my fortress, Sable Montgomery. The only way you leave here is with a not guilty verdict or in a body bag.” She paused, eyes unmoving from the other’s, “Your choice.”

The cuffs clicked open and fell off Sable’s wrists after being summoned to her. Syndra placed them back into their holster on her belt. She allowed Sable to take over holding the tissue whilst taking her own chair and transfiguring it into a chase lounge. Looping her arm around the woman’s back, she guided her over to it and laid her down on her side.

“I’m going to get ice and water. What do you need to help make you feel better? Pain reliever? Anti nausea?” Syndra took a moment to scrugify her hands clean. Some of Sable’s blood had made contact with her skin and it was simply good hygiene to not let it remain for long. That, and she was a bit of a germaphobe.

“I’ll also have our healer step in to check on your son as well. That way you can learn how he’s doing so you don’t worry so much.”

“Oui, oui, I hear you. No funny business.”

When the cuffs were released, she brought her hands around to her front to massage her wrists, shoulders rolling to relieve some of the tension that had built up in them. Syndra left her with the tissue and she held it there for a moment, gathering her bearings until she was brought up and lead over to chair that was suddenly not a chair but a chaise lounge. The witch stared at the other woman in awe, feeling like she had met someone wildly more powerful than herself.

“How did you do that?” she asked as she was laid down. The following questions had her squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. “Non, just dim the lights and get me a bloody mary.”

Sable reached up to stick a finger into her ear, wincing when it emerged with fresh blood. She wiped it quickly on the tissue she’d been given – which was already soaked through – and looked up at the other woman with a frown. A mere nod was given when the other said that she’d send someone to check Jean Claude.

She didn’t feel like Sable Montgomery was a harm to society intentionally. She thought of her as a child who needed guidance and teaching. Ignorance of the law wasn’t an excuse that worked for everyone, but to certainly did apply to the witch now laying down.

“I don’t allow alcohol in the building. You’ll have to wait for that,” she replied, eyes watching the redhead with curiosity but mainly concern. This shouldn’t happen to any witch. This bodily reaction had her questioning why it happened and how often. Surely it wasn’t good for the body.

Syndra brushed back her hair from her face, taking a moment to just breathe before the question was asked. It was a blessing to be the head in these moments.

“Yeah, through that door there,” she motioned to the door to the right of her desk. “Do you need my help or will you be okay to stand? I don’t want to come back and find you passed out after falling over and cracking your head on something.”

That wasn’t a pleasant picture but it was a concern. Whatever the extent of these bodily reactions were, it had Syndra wary to even leave. And that’s when she realised, she was already attached and felt a responsibility for this woman. She would have to educate her and somehow protect her from MACUSA.

I do not intentionally mean to drop threads randomly.

I do not intentionally mean to forget to reply.

I do not intentionally take forever to reply.

I do not intentionally favor other writers.