Which Witch | Vespera

Saturday, January 21, 1921
8:00 PM
♫

She hated it up here. Always had.

As a rule, Rosalie steered clear of the Dark Tower. The energy here lay heavy and damp upon her skin, sending goosebumps prickling all over her body each time she climbed the steps. Recognizing that her ability to pick up on energies - whether dark, light or somewhere in between - was evolving, she preferred to avoid anything that set her teeth on edge. Some may have seen it as cowardice; Rosie only saw it as practicality.

Why absorb shadows, when she already carried more than her fair share?

Still, she had to practice. She hadn't told Cassian or Julia what she was up to, preferring to keep this area that she was studying to herself. It involved darker magic, pushing through barriers that frightened her, all in an effort to be better prepared for the future that she knew awaited her.

The girl sat in the middle of the stone floor, kept company by the chains and shackles that once bound convicted souls, now empty and silent. Candles halfway surrounded her in a semi-circle, and she hugged her knees to her chest, blue eyes flicking around the room, as thought waiting for something to pop out and chase her away.

Breathe. She had to breathe.

Rosalie closed her eyes, sucking in a slow breath as she let her shoulders relax, releasing the tension in her back and slowly curling her legs beneath her. Her hands fell flat at her sides, her palms resting firmly against the cold stone floor as she pushed every thought from her mind.

She waited. For an image. A feeling. A sound. Anything to focus on other than the cold that seeped into her skin.