A lesson of patience

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╰───► ❛ Art Deco (Allure in Effect). ❜۵
₊⁺⋆ Date: November 12th, 2025| Number of words: 632| Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺

Obscuro

The afternoon light always had a peculiar way of entering the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, as if it dissolved into golden strands before touching the floor. At that moment, every particle seemed a silent witness to the unfolding disaster that was Stelle's attempt to conjure Blindfolding. The spell, so elemental in theory, so elegant when the professor demonstrated it, simple even for a distracted student, yet it resisted her as if her movements were a personal affront to magic itself.

The blackboard still displayed the perfect outline of the incantation's steps—a small flick of the wrist, a restrained twist, a firm intention. She had memorized every detail. She had read the description three, four, five times in less than an hour. She had watched others perform it with the slightest flicker of effort. But in her hands, the wand had other plans.

—Obscuro—. she whispered for the twentieth time, feeling the faint, unsteady vibration that heralded a misdirected spell. A dark, barely solid ribbon sprouted from the tip… and dissolved into smoke before it had even moved an inch. She sighed, letting her arm fall to her side.

Again. Another failed attempt.

Her condition should make it easier. That's what Stelle kept mulling over. Veelas, even those who were only half-Veela like her, had a natural affinity for magic, a glow that made it more docile, more alive in our hands. Or at least, that's what anyone who spoke of them said. As if having Veela blood was synonymous with innate grace, with automatic ease.

But the truth was more uncomfortable.

She had never practiced enough. She had trusted too much in that supposed innate ease. She had assumed that magic would come to her out of sheer willpower, by nature, by destiny. And now, faced with a simple bandaging spell, Stelle found herself fighting against her own gaps, her own imperfections.

How humiliating. She ran the back of my hand across my forehead; my skin was warm. She didn't know if it was from the sun or from the accumulated frustration that burned beneath her cheeks. Around her, the class moved in a muffled murmur of classmates packing up their things, some satisfied, others indifferent. She remained there, planted in the middle of her small universe of brilliant failures.

And yet… there was something else. A sensation that ran insistently along the back of her neck. Like a thread tugging at her. Like an invisible trail of attention directed toward her. Perhaps it was her mind playing a cruel joke on her because of the accumulated frustration. Perhaps it was the weight of her grandmother's words after the fascinating summer vacation they had spent together. She didn't know from where, or exactly who, but she felt it with the same clarity with which a flame recognizes the wind. A specific weight, like a gaze that settles right between her shoulder blades. It wasn't an aggressive discomfort, but a presence… insistent.

Curious.

And that only worsened her frustration.

—Obscuro—. she tried again, her fingers tense.

The wand crackled, cast a trembling loop that lasted less than a breath, and then… nothing. Nothing but her own stifled breath. Nothing but the golden light, which seemed to mock her. Nothing but that invisible gaze—she didn't know whose, or if it was even real—fixed on the awkward scene. She closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut.

It can't be that hard, she told herself. Not for me. Not with what I'm supposed to be able to do.

She opened her eyes, lifted her chin, and for the first time in the entire class, Stelle let her frustration mingle with pure determination. A spell that even the clumsiest person could master was going to beat her.

—One more time—. she murmured.

ABILITIES: Part-Veela
VISUAL: Here!
MENTIONS:@Edwin Westbridge