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What did the coven expect a girl in her twenties (still…just…currently twenty-nine, thanks) to be doing with this kind of power when residing in an uneventful, overpriced borough of the non-wicche world? Was she supposed to be creating earth-shattering magical fusion from her two-bedroom flat?
I mean. I'd start with getting myself a better flat.
She’d stopped herself from spilling the secret, even to her best friend, after remembering the sage witches’ warnings of non-wicche knowledge, of sharing the truth with non-powers. Bonnie, too, had sat her down with a cup of soothing velvety hot chocolate to talk about the dangers of their potentially world-shattering secret. Even with those who were closest to you—even Ariadne, Bonnie said—it was never a good idea. It was a sad fact of life that those who you would trust with your life were often the ones who could inflict the most damage when put to the test. Selflessly holding on to the
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I never can take books seriously when they go on about having to hide magic from people in the modern world. Like, Harry Potter, full secret society and written for children, ok, I can go with that. Witches living regularly alongside everyone else but still keeping the scary dark secret, though? Nah. Be serious, mate, all anyone's going to think is that you're weirdly into crystals.
“How about for the inflatable assault course of horror I just completed? Can I sue you for that?”
Awful lot of cheek for a character with crippling insecurity
“We never drink and conjure,” one witch said with vehement disapproval, as though her decision had just been made. “And magic is never to be a substitute for effort. It is not to be contorted into crooked short cuts for sheer laziness,” another outraged older witch cried.
Oh come on. As if none of you did a little switcheroo when you got A level results just a tiny bit lower than you'd have liked
“A potion of pure flame, pure fire, liquid ember and ash created while Savaric slept. Oblivious to the changes, he consumed it that very next day, pulling the stoppered bottle from his cloak pocket as his endarkenment and sage ceremony came to its conclusion. Unaware that Artorius had tampered with it in the night, ignorant of its guarantee of grim death. It killed him without warning in front of the whole coven.”
He threw a bunch of herbs into a pot. He couldn't have known what the end result would be. Kid was fifteen and newly magical.
Next time, please just knock rather than transferring unannounced into my workplace behind a locked door when I’m alone in the darkness.” “Well, when you say it like that, I feel like an idiot.”
I mean. If the shoe fits.
