Morgana
Notes \\ Words 1011 \\ Tag
One more time.
Deep breath. Focus. Release.
Mor closed her eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time. She relaxed her body and let the magic hum back to life, spreading warmth throughout deep inside. She echoed the mantra she had been following for the past two hours: Deep breath, focus, release. Deep breath, focus, release…
Turning her hands palm facing up, she prepared herself, again, for the magic to flow from her fingertips. She set her focus on what she wanted to do, released a breath, and conjured her magic. Time and time again the strenuous efforts only resulted in failure and frustration. Yet it did nothing to dissuade her from the path but strengthened the stubbornness she was certain to have been born with. Or that is what Uriel likes to say when she is particularly adamant in listening. Mor wasn’t ignorant, though; she knew her stubbornness tended to have its own stubbornness, set in stone like a boulder stuck in the dirt.
Granted, maybe trying to conjure a tidal wave in her and Uriel’s temporary home wasn’t an entirely wise idea. At this point, even the smallest wave rolling from her readied hands would be enough to satisfy her.
Her magic, it would seem, reflected Mor herself particularly strongly today, as it rather stubbornly refused to give her the results that she has been trying to achieve for the past two hours. Her fingers dimly glowed blue, sparks of water bursting from her fingertips, and then a wall of water formed. Though small, it was strong; an impenetrable force as it grew larger and rose, bit by bit. Excitement seared in Mor’s chest. Yes! This is precisely what she has been training for, what she has been trying to do for what has felt like weeks. It may have been weeks.
Then, her hands started to shake. The summoning of this wave required a decent amount of strength and focus. While powerful in her own way as a water mage, she had yet to master defensive abilities. She was still fresh in that area, something she has tried fervently to work on, and while there definitely has been improvement, it was taking an awfully long and rather difficult time for her to grasp.
Mor’s fingers cramped and that was the last of it. Her hands collapsed at her side, and the pathetic barely able to see waves dissipated.
Shit.
Mor growled in frustration. Her hands unconsciously curled into fists, but what was she going to hit? The spell book in front of her? As she stared down at the big leather-bound book, it looked back at her in all its taunting victory, she considered perhaps, yes, she would punch the book. It may not do anything to help her magic, but it would at least make her feel better.
“Fuck you,” she spat, and slammed it shut.
Serendipitously, Uriel, her loving partner, chose that moment to return from his shopping and opened the door, shopping bag in hand. He witnessed the last moment of her magic fading, the slamming of the book, and the bursting expletive.
“I’d ask if you’re okay, but you’re clearly not,” he said, closing the door behind him and putting the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. He crossed the room silently after that, before wrapping her hips in an embrace to bring her closer from behind. “Talk,”he asked with only one word, pressing his face against the side of her neck.
Mor's eyes slipped closed, this time not in concentration but to revel in Uriel's comforting embrace. His warmth spread over her, chasing away the grip threatening to turn her blood cold and leave her in the dark wind of frustration. She released another breath; quiet, content. A moment passed enjoying his presence. The warmth he provided, the feel of his broad chest against her back, his tender voice in her ear. How he always calmed by simply being here was beyond her understanding. A part of her wanted to begrudge him for it. She wanted to stay frustrated at her magic and for her lack of capability of performing what seems like even the simplest spell. She wanted to scold herself and practice harder, convinced she can achieve better results if she does it one more time.
How many times has she said that already?
But Uriel, warm and supportive and embracing Uriel, melted away those feelings like the caress of the wind.
“I can’t perform this spell correctly,” Mor admitted quietly. “Or…at all, really. It’s easy, far too simple even for a novice, but I can’t get it right.”
She looked down at her hands. The sight of them only reminded her of the multiple failures she has endured the past hours, and she glared at them.
“If I can try one more time…”
“Perhaps a new approach is needed,” he offered, planting a kiss on the skin that his lips were already brushing against. “You may just be coming at this from the wrong angle. We know you are magically gifted, that is true. But perhaps this stress is not the place you need right now. I volunteer to help, of course. We can find the way together, my love.”
Mor chewed on her lip in thought as she considered his words. As a stubborn and independent woman, accepting help wasn’t exactly one of her finer strengths. When it came to magic, however, she believed the assistance, no matter much it went against her nature to ask for help, was more than worth it as long as it would protect the innocent.
“Alright,”she said quietly, nodding. Then, she released a heavy breath.
“Alright,”she repeated louder. “We’ll find the way together.”
“Good.” Uriel smiled in her neck before placing a tender kiss against her skin. Pulling back, he slowly turned her around and flashed her a cheeky grin before settling his hands on the small of her back – and began removing her top. “As for now…I do believe a distraction is in order, my love,”he purred.
Deep breath. Focus. Release.
Mor closed her eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time. She relaxed her body and let the magic hum back to life, spreading warmth throughout deep inside. She echoed the mantra she had been following for the past two hours: Deep breath, focus, release. Deep breath, focus, release…
Turning her hands palm facing up, she prepared herself, again, for the magic to flow from her fingertips. She set her focus on what she wanted to do, released a breath, and conjured her magic. Time and time again the strenuous efforts only resulted in failure and frustration. Yet it did nothing to dissuade her from the path but strengthened the stubbornness she was certain to have been born with. Or that is what Uriel likes to say when she is particularly adamant in listening. Mor wasn’t ignorant, though; she knew her stubbornness tended to have its own stubbornness, set in stone like a boulder stuck in the dirt.
Granted, maybe trying to conjure a tidal wave in her and Uriel’s temporary home wasn’t an entirely wise idea. At this point, even the smallest wave rolling from her readied hands would be enough to satisfy her.
Her magic, it would seem, reflected Mor herself particularly strongly today, as it rather stubbornly refused to give her the results that she has been trying to achieve for the past two hours. Her fingers dimly glowed blue, sparks of water bursting from her fingertips, and then a wall of water formed. Though small, it was strong; an impenetrable force as it grew larger and rose, bit by bit. Excitement seared in Mor’s chest. Yes! This is precisely what she has been training for, what she has been trying to do for what has felt like weeks. It may have been weeks.
Then, her hands started to shake. The summoning of this wave required a decent amount of strength and focus. While powerful in her own way as a water mage, she had yet to master defensive abilities. She was still fresh in that area, something she has tried fervently to work on, and while there definitely has been improvement, it was taking an awfully long and rather difficult time for her to grasp.
Mor’s fingers cramped and that was the last of it. Her hands collapsed at her side, and the pathetic barely able to see waves dissipated.
Shit.
Mor growled in frustration. Her hands unconsciously curled into fists, but what was she going to hit? The spell book in front of her? As she stared down at the big leather-bound book, it looked back at her in all its taunting victory, she considered perhaps, yes, she would punch the book. It may not do anything to help her magic, but it would at least make her feel better.
“Fuck you,” she spat, and slammed it shut.
Serendipitously, Uriel, her loving partner, chose that moment to return from his shopping and opened the door, shopping bag in hand. He witnessed the last moment of her magic fading, the slamming of the book, and the bursting expletive.
“I’d ask if you’re okay, but you’re clearly not,” he said, closing the door behind him and putting the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. He crossed the room silently after that, before wrapping her hips in an embrace to bring her closer from behind. “Talk,”he asked with only one word, pressing his face against the side of her neck.
Mor's eyes slipped closed, this time not in concentration but to revel in Uriel's comforting embrace. His warmth spread over her, chasing away the grip threatening to turn her blood cold and leave her in the dark wind of frustration. She released another breath; quiet, content. A moment passed enjoying his presence. The warmth he provided, the feel of his broad chest against her back, his tender voice in her ear. How he always calmed by simply being here was beyond her understanding. A part of her wanted to begrudge him for it. She wanted to stay frustrated at her magic and for her lack of capability of performing what seems like even the simplest spell. She wanted to scold herself and practice harder, convinced she can achieve better results if she does it one more time.
How many times has she said that already?
But Uriel, warm and supportive and embracing Uriel, melted away those feelings like the caress of the wind.
“I can’t perform this spell correctly,” Mor admitted quietly. “Or…at all, really. It’s easy, far too simple even for a novice, but I can’t get it right.”
She looked down at her hands. The sight of them only reminded her of the multiple failures she has endured the past hours, and she glared at them.
“If I can try one more time…”
“Perhaps a new approach is needed,” he offered, planting a kiss on the skin that his lips were already brushing against. “You may just be coming at this from the wrong angle. We know you are magically gifted, that is true. But perhaps this stress is not the place you need right now. I volunteer to help, of course. We can find the way together, my love.”
Mor chewed on her lip in thought as she considered his words. As a stubborn and independent woman, accepting help wasn’t exactly one of her finer strengths. When it came to magic, however, she believed the assistance, no matter much it went against her nature to ask for help, was more than worth it as long as it would protect the innocent.
“Alright,”she said quietly, nodding. Then, she released a heavy breath.
“Alright,”she repeated louder. “We’ll find the way together.”
“Good.” Uriel smiled in her neck before placing a tender kiss against her skin. Pulling back, he slowly turned her around and flashed her a cheeky grin before settling his hands on the small of her back – and began removing her top. “As for now…I do believe a distraction is in order, my love,”he purred.
TEMPLATE BY ANGIEBAE
