Backdated to Cy's sixth year

"Orchideous!" BANG!

The disgruntled girl rocketed back with an oomph, falling back onto the grass behind her and catching herself on her palms, dirty with streaks of soil from the field and sweat. She felt around on the ground for the wand she'd just dropped, sighing in relief when the piece of wood bumped her palm, and then allowed herself to fall back and sprawl out on the grass, letting out a noise of frustration.

After she'd essentially blown up the living room back at Aoi's flat, the older witch had apparated her to a part of the Scottish highlands, letting her practice her spellwork there instead of causing unintentional explosions back at home. The place itself had been quite peaceful - birds that sang songs she'd never heard before fluttered through the sky here, and the sound of cicadas made her think overwhelmingly of the nights back in Taiwan seven years ago. Perhaps when she was younger she would have felt bitterly about the reminder, but now she only regarded the sound as a familiar comfort.

The problem with a cloudless sky was, well, Cy wasn't exactly equipped to appreciate it. And now, a couple hours later, her skin felt like it was cracking apart under the intense light. It didn't help with the allergies, either - the pollen floating around here had made her sneeze more than once. The blindfold had come off a while ago to combat the heat. She had meandered through the fields, trying her best not to trip on something and die, looking for some kind of shade, but to no avail so far. She knew she could call for Aoi to pick her up at any time, but those two things were more of trivial annoyances than real issues - she'd rather keep practicing.

But even that seemed to be out of her luck. She'd been trying the same spell for ages now, and all that would come out of her wand was either smoke or an explosion. She was sure that she was pronouncing orchideous right, and moving her wand correctly - she'd checked with Aoi, after all, and Aoi had said that wasn't the problem, so what was?

At one point she'd managed to get a petal out of the end of her wand, which landed in her hand and made her very excited, but she hadn't been able to achieve anything more since. Her elbows and sides were probably bruised from how many times she'd been thrown on her butt now, and the masquerade of discipline that Aoi had taught her to value was rapidly falling apart in favor of frustration.

Maybe she just wasn't focused enough, good enough, to pursue a N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration. Maybe she should just drop out. Dejected as she felt, the girl picked herself up off the ground, pulling on her clothes a little to shake free bits of grass and wandering off aimlessly in the direction of... well, nothing, honestly. Just away from her latest failure.

She stopped walking after a while, hands tucked into her pockets, and took her wand out of her holster. She was getting tired, anyway, why not give it a last shot? Taking a deep breath, she raised her wand again.

"Orchideous!" CRASH.

This time, Cy skidded backwards, the force of the resulting explosion throwing her off her feet and shoving her back. She landed on... not grass, something rougher - was that gravel? The skin on her palms and the side of her legs tore, she felt the skin break, and she yelled at the sky in frustration. "For the love of [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted], why is there [redacted] gravel in a [redacted] field of [redacted] grass?!"

---

The cottage that Boniface stayed huddled out in all of these years meant two things: little to no visitors, and those that were visitors somehow always needed help. He was starting to feel like an oversized Hobbit, being dragged off onto mini-adventures. Those who had heard of the healer in the Highlands sought him out for various different reasons, and he was always happy to offer his services, though he never knew what to expect. More often than not, it was magic folk who desired his company, but there was the occasional muggle. For those who knew him, they would know that it was a practice of him to keep his door open to any and all, as he still felt that he belonged to both worlds.

But none of his visitors had such a foul mouth as this one.

Exiting his garden, moving to inspect the area in which the ruckus was coming from, Boniface was confronted with a rather confused young lady. It wasn't uncommon to have never seen his visitors before (albeit he did live alone in the middle of nowhere), but his natural instinct was always going to be wary of whoever came his way because it was just him. No reinforcements. No comfort of safety. Just him.

This particular guest, however, didn't look to be too dangerous. Not with the way that she was consistently failing at such a simple spell, anyway. Sure, maybe it was a bit pretentious of Boniface to seem to believe that the spell was simple, because he of all people knew that herbology wasn't for everyone. Nevertheless, this was a spell that was taught in the earlier years, perhaps around 3rd year, and this young lady certainly was not a 13-year-old. Truly, he didn't mean to chuckle, but it just escaped him.

"Having trouble, are ye?" He asked, still keeping his distance. Though her stature certainly didn't scream "adult", he didn't know who she was or how dangerous. With a mouth like that, though, one could only assume immaturity, which was a problem within itself. Should she lash out on him, especially with a lack of control over such a simple spell, the results could easily be detrimental. Everyone knows that you need to have a clear mind in order to work magic.

He carefully inched closer. "As for the gravel, it's because this is my cottage." How had she not seen it? It was a building after all, anyone with eyes could have seen it. "It's rather large, I'm surprised ye missed it." He continued, furrowing his eyebrows. "De ye need any help?" Of course she did, he could see that, but he figured he'd offer rather than assume. Most people didn't like asking outright, anyway.

Moments after her... less than dignified outburst, she went rigid on the spot as she heard another person's voice call out in answer. In an instant, she'd rolled onto her feet, wand pointed in the direction of the voice, ready to send a patronus for Aoi, wary - after all, why would someone random and absolutely harmless also be wandering around through the Scottish highlands?

"Protego," she muttered just in case, and felt the shield spring into place. Hopefully, if whoever this person was didn't have bad intentions, he wouldn't take offense. The satisfaction of casting a successful spell after failing so often settled her frustration, pacifying her enough to let her listen calmly.

Gravel stuck to her scraped skin, itchy and annoying, but she didn't move to brush it off. She narrowed her eyes as the unidentified person kept talking, explaining that it was his cottage that she'd fell next to. A flush crept up her neck as she realized that this meant she hadn't been alone in failing, failing, and failing over and over again a spell she should've mastered years ago. Her first instinct was to snap at him for making fun of her, which was what she would've done maybe a couple grades ago, at least until she realized that he had done no such thing. After all, she didn't have her blindfold on - the large square of folded silk had been tucked neatly into her holster, removed in favor of letting herself cool off in the summer heat. He had no way of knowing.

Instead, she waved her free hand in front of her face, keeping the shield up cautiously with her wand hand. "Blind," she stated bluntly. "Can't see." In case he didn't know what that meant, her tone implied sarcastically. She reached into her holster for the slip of fabric, shaking it out. "Usually have this on, but it's summer, and it's hot."

At his offer of help, she tilted her head, considering. Well, she could feel the rawness of the skin that had been raked open on the gravel, and the day couldn't really get that much worse, so why not? She was overly ready to send a patronus messenger to her sister if she needed to, anyway, not to mention fully capable of protecting herself.

Lowering her wand, Cy dismissed the Shield Charm, but stayed in place - not like she really knew which way to walk. "Blind, not defenseless," she warned, holding her wand between her palm and her pinky so she had her other fingers free to reach back and lift her hair up. Her other hand came up to tie the scarf around her head again - people tended to think the slightly-off gaze was unnerving, which was dumb, because it wasn't her fault to make people feel comfortable, but it'd been a habit too deeply ingrained and too insignificant for her to bother trying to lose. "Got a name?"

---

Pursing his lips, Boniface broke out into a soft scowl, now no longer bothered for niceties, knowing that she couldn't see him. "I know what it means to be blind. And I never said you were defenseless, either. However, ye seem, at the least, reckless, running around the Highlands unsupervised, practicing spells, and letting strange men talk to ye." Boniface was well aware that when one sense was down, the others heightened, so she could probably do a certain amount of damage if she felt like it, but realistically, Boniface also knew that there were more ways for things to hurt her, and she would be, to a certain degree, defenseless. Not entirely, but to an extent. It was naive of anyone to think otherwise. "Besides, how do I know ye aren't trying to hurt me? This is private property, after all, and ye didn't even know that."

It was at this moment that Boniface realized why he didn't teach teenagers. They were insufferable. Incredibly immature, lack of know-how, and seemed to believe that consequences weren't a thing. Whoever let this child run around out here as well was just as stupid.

"Boniface MacTavish." He finally responded, pacing a bit. "Do ye know where ye are? How did ye get here, and why are ye alone?" Respectfully, he had every right to question her, seeing as though this was his property. Perhaps, had she not given him so much sass in the first place, he would have considered being more patient with her. That mouth would get her into trouble one day, and she was lucky that he was a good person.

Dunardy was not far, he was technically still living in Dunardy territory, just more "off the grid". He didn't wish to live in a town, and while he had considered finally moving to Venice after all these years, he remained in his cozy cottage out of pure nostalgia. This was a home that was built for a family, back when there were intentions of starting a family. Back when Rosalind was alive. The walls were once empty, ready for pictures to be framed, for racks for the children's brooms to be set up; there were tables big enough for summer reading and studying, and an unmatchable garden where Boniface would have taught his children the trade that his family passed on to him. These days, there were so many dried herbs hanging from his ceiling that he oftentimes couldn't stand up straight in most areas, and the walls were ridden with posted scrolls that were guides to medicine. The table consisted of nothing but books and the necessary materials for his craft. The home was lonely. Hollow. Silent. It could not even truly be called home; it was a stone building that stood away from society. The walls were overgrown with vines and the garden fostered plants from all over, but nothing fulfilled his desire.

Pausing, he turned to face her, studying the girl before him. Likely a Hogwarts student, one who thought they were a hotshot for having a knack for a certain type of magic. Unlike his Gryffindor peers, Boniface had never been a proud man, and he had always been taught to be humble at face value. It was most important to take life in strides and to never take anything for granted. Perhaps she had her reasonings, possibly the blindness, but it didn't sit right with Boniface. No matter how talented you were, there would still be mountains to climb, and it was best not to be arrogant of that. Her frustration over not being able to produce a rather simple spell told him so much, but namely that she wasn't used to losing, and wasn't used to falling behind.

Boniface had fallen behind in many subjects. He was never the best at charms, though he tried his best, and runes proved time and time again to not be for him. He, however, found ways to utilize the gift that he did have in order to understand other aspects of magic; astronomy was important, because of harvesting, and herbology and potions went hand-in-hand. Care of Magical Creatures was important, too, because there were many plants that had effects on creatures. There were a lot of ways to relate herbology to other areas of magic, and that was how he made it through school.

"I'm a healer. 'Herbologist' is a broad term, but I focus on the healing aspect." He hoped, that in some way, this explanation would bring her solace, but then again, he was half expecting some sort of fit about how she could believe him. If all went sideways, he could always kick her off of his property.

Bristling at the condescension, the girl's hands squeezed the scarf that they were halfway through tying, reminding herself that she knew she was frustrated because of her repeated failure, and to keep it under control. Whoever this guy was probably didn't deserve to be yelled at by a teenager in a bad mood just because she couldn't figure this out. And, well, she was technically trespassing. With that thought she moved back a couple of steps until she could no longer feel crunchy gravel moving under her chelsea boots.

"I know you never said I was defenseless," she stated levelly, spinning her wand in her hand again, "but you're probably thinking it. Or, at least, there have been enough people in the past who were thinking it that I thought it was worth noting. I'm not unsupervised, either; I do have someone I can call for help if I need to."

At the question of whether she was trying to hurt him, she snorted. "Well, I mean, it's not like there's any way I can prove it to you, but you saw me. I literally can't do this - orchideous! - ow - and have been spending the past hour trying, do I really look like I came here to mess with you? I mean, I didn't even know you existed." She considered adding that if she couldn't cast this spell, was she really any harm, but admitted to herself that it would be a lie. After all, there were plenty of other spells she could do, most of them probably more practical than this one.

But this goddamn spell, well, it was just hard to visualize a flower. Or at least a bunch of flowers. Not like she hadn't seen one before, or even handled one, since she had in Herbology, but she just couldn't wrap her head around it. Flowers were just so diverse - one flower felt different from another, petals and leaves and size and height all multifarious. Cy usually relied on her idea of something to visualize it, imagine all the sounds and feelings and memories and textures she associated with the object, but flowers - there were just so damn many of them! How was she supposed to get a clear idea?

But she wasn't about to give up now. She'd thought about it a few seconds ago, yes, about dropping her N.E.W.T. class in Transfiguration, but that was a thought driven by her frustration, not a rational idea. She was no stranger to failing: second year and third year had been her slow descent and ascent out of the pit she'd fallen into, climbing with her fingernails jammed into the cracks of its walls, but she'd reached the crux somehow, after years of hard work. People called her precocious now, and she felt that it was a good indication of how easily people took first impressions to be the whole story. This, this one setback, was one spell. And she'd get ahold of it! Eventually. However long that meant.

"Cypresse Lian," she introduce herself cautiously - there really wasn't that much she was risking by giving out her name here. That name wasn't on any legal documents or records anyway. "I don't know exactly where I am, no. My sister dropped me here after I blew up the kitchen." Maybe a bit blunt, but definitely honest. It was Aoi had agreed to stay near, probably flying around somewhere in the distance, but a shower of sparks or a patronus would be enough to send her flying straight for her.

Her skin hurt, anyway. Itched a bit too. She resisted the urge to rub at her skinned arms, toeing the gravel in front of her instead, and nodded at his explanation. "What are you doing living up here? Are you some kinda anchorite?"

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