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Fiction: Class Time (396 words)

06 Nov

“No, no, no, you idiot.  Concentrate.  You’re never going to get it like that.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you make a class A teacher.  Calling people an idiot.  That’s the way to motivate a pupil.  Yes, I think it will revolutionize the education process.”

“Oh, stuff it.” Celia paced around Morrigan, who sat cross-legged on the floor.  “You are supposed to be this great prodigal child, but right now you are just an idiot.  Concentrate.”  Celia would never admit to Morrigan that she was, in fact, a prodigy at this point.  Morrigan sat there, practicing magic already. She was eighteen years and two days old, and she was already working on an extremely complicated spell.  True, she was struggling with this spell, but it was something that Celia herself hadn’t even managed to attempt until age thirty-seven.  Something that she didn’t master until near age forty-eight.  And while Morrigan wasn’t anywhere near mastering yet, she was attempting it and making actual progress.  Aged eighteen.  Eighteen years and two fucking days.  How insane is that.

“Celia. Can we please stop for the day? Or practice on something easier for a little while? I’m. Exhausted.” Even as she asked for the night off, she focused on the charm in front of her, still trying to prove she could do it.

That was one of the things that Celia really respected about Morrigan.  She maybe eighteen, she may have other things on her mind, more than willing to just run around like an idiot with the power that she already has, but she will work on what she’s told to work on until she’s given permission to do otherwise.  Celia couldn’t give up her gruff teacher status, so she sighed and grumbled and muttered and finally said, “Very well.  We can take the night off, but I fully expect you back here tomorrow morning, at seven sharp.  Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am.”  Morrigan pulled her dark hair over her shoulder and immediately started braiding it up, and then twisted the braid around to make a bun, and tied it into place with a thick red ribbon.  Then she bounced up, kissed Celia quickly on the check before running off.  Celia watched her run off, and smiled.  Morrigan was something.  What that something was, though, it was very hard to figure it out.

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Posted by on November 6, 2014 in Stories

 

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