July 15th, 1891 — Urquart Home, Irvingly
Topaz was not often nervous around her father, but she was tonight. There were two reasons. The first was performance anxiety, which she had struggled with her entire life. After a fantastically delayed first sign of magic, she'd never been comfortable doing spellwork while others were watching her; she'd always felt as thought she were being judged or evaluated, even when she knew objectively that it wasn't true. The spell she was going to show her father tonight was one of her own invention, which she hadn't demonstrated to anyone before, and while she'd practiced it dozens of times leading up to this there was always a chance she'd clam up and her spell would fizzle. And it wasn't even finished, so even if it performed as intended, he might not be impressed.
The second reason was because of the nature of the spell. She wasn't sure how he would react, because this wasn't the sort of thing they'd talked about. It wasn't the sort of thing they'd had to talk about, because it was a foregone conclusion that it was all beyond her reach. Throughout the years Topaz had tried not to seem disappointed by the limitations of her new life, because she expected that her disappointment might hurt him in a way that wasn't fair — it wasn't as though he'd chosen this any more than she had, and he had done everything in his power to support her at every step of the way. There were some things, however, that were beyond the reach of even the Minister.
So she was nervous as she found him after dinner, when her siblings had all dispersed to their various evening activities, and it showed. "I wanted to show you something I've been working on," she announced, lightly chewing the inside of her bottom lip. After waiting for some sign of encouragement from her father, Topaz drew her wand and took a deep, steadying breath. The spell was an illusion: a pair of detailed characters made of silvery light, about six inches tall. She'd cast it well, despite her nerves, and the movements were graceful and true to life as they approached each other, bowed and curtseyed. They assumed a dance frame, and then it all fell apart. Their movements were too choppy, their steps were wrong. They separated for a second and when they rejoined the woman's hands were in the wrong place on her partner. Topaz's cheeks flushed and she waved her wand to vanish the pair, without waiting for a reaction from her father.
"They're supposed to waltz," she mumbled, her eyes on the nearest table. "I've been trying, but I can't make them any smoother." Because I don't know the steps, she added silently, raising her eyes to her father briefly to see if he understood her dilemma.
The second reason was because of the nature of the spell. She wasn't sure how he would react, because this wasn't the sort of thing they'd talked about. It wasn't the sort of thing they'd had to talk about, because it was a foregone conclusion that it was all beyond her reach. Throughout the years Topaz had tried not to seem disappointed by the limitations of her new life, because she expected that her disappointment might hurt him in a way that wasn't fair — it wasn't as though he'd chosen this any more than she had, and he had done everything in his power to support her at every step of the way. There were some things, however, that were beyond the reach of even the Minister.
So she was nervous as she found him after dinner, when her siblings had all dispersed to their various evening activities, and it showed. "I wanted to show you something I've been working on," she announced, lightly chewing the inside of her bottom lip. After waiting for some sign of encouragement from her father, Topaz drew her wand and took a deep, steadying breath. The spell was an illusion: a pair of detailed characters made of silvery light, about six inches tall. She'd cast it well, despite her nerves, and the movements were graceful and true to life as they approached each other, bowed and curtseyed. They assumed a dance frame, and then it all fell apart. Their movements were too choppy, their steps were wrong. They separated for a second and when they rejoined the woman's hands were in the wrong place on her partner. Topaz's cheeks flushed and she waved her wand to vanish the pair, without waiting for a reaction from her father.
"They're supposed to waltz," she mumbled, her eyes on the nearest table. "I've been trying, but I can't make them any smoother." Because I don't know the steps, she added silently, raising her eyes to her father briefly to see if he understood her dilemma.
pinned my hopes to the summit of someday
Magnolia