An Unused Classroom, Brunnhold
He hadn’t needed to show her, all the same, she thought, defiant. He hadn’t needed to make her see it. Madeleine didn’t think she’d ever forget it. Did it hurt? It looked like it would hurt, all the time. Scabs didn’t, usually, did they? Madeleine tried to think; she had skinned her knees, of course, or her elbows. They just itched, didn’t they? Scabs?
And when – when it was happening?
Madeleine was still crying. She couldn’t think about it anymore. She couldn’t. Fionn agreed that he had been cruel; he apologized again. His face was bright red now, and the dim light only made it look worse. Madeleine sniffled, her nose running, her whole face wet with tears. She had said what she had to, then; she thought he would leave, now. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore; she didn’t want to know what else he might say.
But Fionn didn’t leave. Madeleine stared at him as he thanked her for not blaming him, frowning, her small face set. She sniffled again, loudly, tears still trickling slowly down her cheeks. It was his fault. Wasn’t it? Not being a passive, of course, he couldn’t help that, the poor thing, but – he must have done – done something. But Madeleie couldn’t think of anything which would be bad enough to deserve… she couldn’t think too much about it. Her stomach ached; she felt very sick, as she often did after she cried, a funny feeling like she’d swallowed too much snot. She sniffled again.
Fionn was talking about casting again. He wouldn’t let it go. Madeleine sniffled, and she looked down, guiltily, when Fionn said if it wasn’t a secret she wouldn’t be working alone in the dark. She rubbed at her eyes with her hand.
Fionn asked who’d believe him. It didn’t matter very much to her if he didn’t think he’d be believed; he couldn’t know, could he? And anyway he’d promised. Fionn didn’t have any handkerchiefs; there was snot on her face, and Madeleine stared at him. She glanced down at her notebook, but she couldn’t bring herself to rip a page free. The handkerchief he’d given her was in a miserable ball on the desk. She just stared at him when he said he’d offer her his shirt.
Madeleine took a deep breath, and sniffled as best as she could. She sighed, miserably, and wiped her face on her sleeve, making a face. It was terribly gross; she felt like a little child. She rubbed her face with her hand. There was blue shivering all through her field. Madeleine sighed, feeling it hovering in the air around her. She closed her eyes; she couldn’t have said how, exactly, but she – it drained away, although she still felt sad, somewhere in her chest. Madeleine wiped her eyes on her sleeve again.
He had promised already, Madeleine thought, miserably. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone anything,” Madeleine pointed out, looking across the dark classroom at the passive. She sighed, then. “It’s all right,” Madeleine mumbled. “Everyone breaks promises anyway.” She sniffled again. She had stopped crying, at least, but she felt gross and awful; her whole face hurt, and her stomach felt sick, and her chest hurt too.
“I will think about it,” Madeleine said, abruptly. She drew herself up, straightening; her chin lifted, her spine settling into alignment. She stared at Fionn, and there was a little frown on her face, but she was thinking, too, not only sad. “It isn’t that it’s a bad idea. I don’t want to brail, and I might if it – hurts,” Madeleine swallowed, hard, her throat tight. “I have – I have more practicing to do, and I…” she didn’t feel as tired, Madeleine realized, although there was still a funny ache inside her, somewhere she couldn’t quite place, like the way it had hurt when her field developed. She looked down at her feet, swallowing hard.
“Maybe I can find a spell circle,” Madeleine said, after a moment, peeking up at Fionn. She frowned. “Something to…” she bit her lip. “If I could keep the effects in a certain range,” Madeleine said, slowly. Abruptly, the little golly sat back down at her notebook; she flipped back, her eyes widening. She looked up at Fionn, then back down, and grabbed a pencil from her bag.
“If I – ” Madeleine drew a careful star in the upper right hand corner of the page she’d found, staring intently at the diagram in the middle of it. “I-I don’t know very much about spell circles, but – the interaction should – ” she turned the page back once, her eyes skittering over equations. Her face didn’t quite light up, but there was a distinct lightening, and she looked up at Fionn, wide-eyed, something like joy peeking through swollen puffy eyes and tear tracks.
“Maybe,” Madeleine said, abruptly. She closed her notebook, still sitting, trembling, her mind racing. “I promise to try.” She said, firmly, looking across the room at Fionn.