{ the night before the disappearance }
litttttle freak by harry
‧˚₊•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The night had a charming hush to it. The full moon spilled silver across the rooftops and Aurora, bathed in its glow, was lost in the reverie of preparation. Her dorm room was already half transformed into something ethereal with candles, tall and short, lining the shelves and windowsills. Each one was chosen for its scent, its energy - sandalwood and jasmine to invoke clarity, bergamot and vanilla for warmth, a deep, spiced rose that she always kept for gatherings like this. All those aromas were mingling with the steam from the porcelain teapot at the center of her small table. A privilege Aurora had was basically having her own bigger room, twice as big as any other room because this was her life. This was where she lived her whole life.
Tonight was special. Tonight, she had invited her friends for a tea gathering… no, more than that. A tea dinner, a communion of laughter and candlelight, of whispered fortunes and the kind of magic that only existed in moments like these. Aurora moved through the space like an artist tending to her masterpiece… And this did feel like a masterpiece, her own tea party with her closest friends. If you were in a room with her right now you could only hear a delicate clink of china as she arranged mismatched cups, each one chosen for the person who would drink from it. Fine silver spoons rested atop embroidered napkins. A small plate of sugared lavender biscuits sat beside a bowl of ripe berries. She had spent the afternoon crafting new herbal infusions, combining petals and roots in hopes of her quests enjoying some new creations.
This was her magic - not spells you learn in class but this. The careful ritual of warmth, of setting a space, of welcoming people into an atmosphere spun of light and scent and taste. A knock at the door. Then another. Aurora smoothed the fabric of her soft knit sweater, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before she opened the door, revealing the familiar faces of her friends. They filed in, drawn toward the glow, toward the warmth. They drank, they spoke of classes, of strange occurrences in the Ninth House, of dreams, of love affairs and crushes. And then, as the evening deepened, Aurora reached for the tea cup of her friend, “Now, let’s see what the leaves have to say”
“Let’s see your first-” Aurora looked up from her teacup, her fingers still wrapped around the porcelain. Her gaze flickered to the girl across from her, a sly smile playing at her lips.“It’s not as fun that way.” Aurora protested lightly, cradling the cup closer to her. “No, no, pass it over.” Fingers reached for the cup before she could object again. A few others at the table leaned in, eager to hear what the leaves would reveal. Aurora sighed, something about it made her uneasy. She had no trouble reading for others but when it came to herself… well, it always felt more personal. And lately, personal had been dangerous.
The cup tilted in careful hands, and for a moment, no one spoke. “Hmm…” Her friend dragged the sound out, eyes narrowing. “Oh.” “Oh?” Aurora repeated, trying to sound amused rather than on edge. “There’s something here… someone, actually.” The girl turned the cup slightly, analyzing the dark remnants. “Someone unexpected. Someone stepping into your life soon… or maybe they already have.”
“A new suitor,” another voice teased, and a few giggles rippled through the circle. Aurora forced a smile, willing herself to relax. “Do go on,” she said, feigning nonchalance, though she already felt the prickle of a thought she had been trying to push away for days. She hadn’t spoken about it. Hadn’t let herself dwell too long on this feeling. “The leaves say that… it’s complicated?” Her friend continued, pulling another chuckle from the group. “Oh, Aurora always has a complicated love life,” someone mused. “It is true,” Aurora lifted her chin, playing along. “I can see-” “Oh give me that, you suck at this,” Aurora chucked grabbing her cup back, causing the group to laugh at her obvious nerves. Aurora said nothing else, letting the others take the conversation elsewhere, letting their voices fade into the candlelit space. But her mind stayed on that one thought, the one she hadn’t dared to name yet.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹