“But it will all be perfect,” Callista assured her sister from where she was hovering near the window, looking out on the transformed gardens. She was conscious of not crowding Genia at what was sure to be a most stressful interlude, but all the same, yearned to give her – something that was not their grandmother’s matter-of-fact practicality. “You look a marvel, Genia.” More splendid still than she had at Hogwarts’ ball, and this time she would not be part of a constellation, not needing to compete for anyone’s admiration.
She resisted the urge to fix her sister’s hair herself, feeling sure the more she fussed, the more self-conscious she would make her. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Genia truly nervous before.
She resisted the urge to fix her sister’s hair herself, feeling sure the more she fussed, the more self-conscious she would make her. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Genia truly nervous before.
