From where Petra was standing, she could see Malcolm quite clearly in the bright moonlight. What's he talking about? He's meeting someone? A breif flare of jealousy prickled inside her when he mentioned the word "love".
I need to get closer to this, she thought. Maybe he already has a crush on somebody else. Her heart sank at the thought. She was standing behind a thick patch of briars, but though he was visible, Malcom's words barely reached her.
Despite the circumstances, Petra gave a small, flitting smile. She'd come prepared. From the pocket of her jacket, she pulled out the thin, dark quill pen that served as her wand. She grasped its worn, wooden handle and made a few deft strokes in the air, the whisper of a spell filling the air around her. The metal nib gleamed and seemed to cut the air, as if re-writing the the scene around her.
In a few seconds, Petra's slim form melted into the shadows, her Sight Slip charm keeping her safe from any prying eyes.
Petra held her hand in front of her face, watching as her eyes became used to the transparent quality she'd taken on. She grinned widely, though there was an edge to her grin that betrayed her nerves.
Careful to make no noise whatsoever (she hadn't mastered manipulating noises yet), Petra took a few cautious steps toward Malcolm.
The sight of him made her heart fly in her chest, and nervousness flowed through her like electricity. I think this is the closest I've been to him....ever. Part of her felt foolish--who was he to manipulate her emotions like she could control sight? It's like I'm invisible even when I'm NOT invisible. This is stupid--I shouldn't be hanging on him like this, but I can't help it. I don't know what to do anymore--and what if he IS meeting a crush or something?? She gulped and threw the thought away. No, not this time. You can only be unlucky to a certain extent, right? Not this time, too...
That was when Malcolm's Manipulation on the tree went wrong, creating a gash in his hand. The tangy smell of blood filled the air, as Malcolm let out a grunt of discomfort. He'd said something after that, but Petra was deaf to his words, the bright splash of his hand filling her vision.
Petra had never been good with blood. She fought the lightheadedness, but she might as well have been fighting an earthquake. The usual confidince she knew she needed to maintain to keep up a spell began to slip away, replaced by shock and nausea.
Then it flickered out altogether, the Illusion she'd weaved to conceal her disappating, leaving her standing in the open. The confidence that had solidified in her chest melted into something slippery and ashamed and panicky, and she could feel it dripping down from her heart, filling her entirely and making her go bright red.
Oh, NO! No, no, no! Come back! Hide me! She gripped her quill, tried desperately to focus her energy again, but nothing happened, and it was too late. Her eyes widened in horror, and she covered her gasp with a palm.
The thought echoed at the back of her head mockingly--you can only be unlucky to a certain extent, right?
"Stories are the only thing worth dying for."