So here's the second part of Weavers. Sorry it took me so long to put it out, but I had a bad case of writer's block. I hope this part gets as good as reviews as the last one did, but I'm prepared for the worst here. Sorry if it's two slow,. It'll speed up eventually^^ Enjoy :3
I stroked Katie’s sleeping head, listening to the gentle music of her beating heart. She’d gotten tired after lunch but refused to take a nap, insisting that she didn’t want to waste the time we had together. As a result, I’d feigned drowsiness as well, tricking her into lying down with me until she’d finally fallen unconscious. When I was sure she was sound asleep, I untangled her form from me and got off her bed. I crept out of the room, careful not to trip over the multitude of toys that littered her floor, and shut the door quietly behind me.
I made my way down the hall and towards the main staircase, pausing when I reached it so that I could take in the sight of the entrance hall below. It’d been so long since I’d last been here; almost a year had passed since I’d last laid eyes on my home. My eyes memorized the sparkling walls and glittering lights, drinking up their beauty like a parched man does water. I let a contended sigh escape through my lips as I admired the pristine carvings etched into the walls, more detailed and real than any painting I’d ever seen; the floral-like pattern wove its way across the hall, spiraling in and out of itself as it formed a complex maze that could keep the mind busy for hours.
What should I do now? I wondered idly. I walked slowly down the stairs, tracing my hand across the smooth, stone banister. Katie would be asleep for awhile, so I had time to myself, though I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I’d already finished unpacking the few things I’d brought with me, and my Aunt Minaline had informed me that my parents weren’t home at the moment. I’d have to wait until they returned to learn the reason of my being recalled home. In the meanwhile, I supposed that I could practice my training. It wouldn’t do any good for me to neglect my exercises and return to school out of shape. I winced at what the teachers would say if I did.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I headed straight through the front doors and outside, tying my shoulder-length hair back as I walked out into the plush grass. My bangs were too short to be bound however, and the brown strands kept falling in front of my eyes, irritating me as I tried in vain to flick them behind my ears.
I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing as I let my muscles automatically fall into the beginning position of one of my favorite exercise sets. It wasn’t one of the toughest I had ever done, but it was vigorous enough that it worked my muscles thoroughly and would leave me gasping for breath if done right.
I took in a deep breath and held it, savoring the rich, summer tastes as they flowed to my lungs. The cool breeze blew against my face, caressing my cheeks as it sent my bangs dancing. The sound of the trees rustling in the wind surrounded me and a lone bird sang somewhere in the distance. I was calm, physically aware of everything around me without the help of my magic.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and began.
At first, I started off slow. I thrust out my held up palms in careful, deliberate moves, feeling my tendons stretch beneath my skin. I turned, keeping my eyes closed, and continued to slice at the air, gradually gaining speed with each move. I swirled and ducked, using as many of my muscles as I could, and began to add kicks into the set. Back and forth I moved, feeling the grass under my bare-feet bend as I danced across it. Sweat beaded on my brow and my heart beat furiously to keep pace with my actions. My lungs sucked in gasp after gasp of air, never satisfied. Blood pounded in my ears.
And then I began to slow again. I gently lowered my hectic speed, steadily bringing my heart rate down, though my lungs continued to greedily suck in breath after breath. My weary body trembled as I finally came to a halt, panting heavily and dripping sweat. I opened my eyes and smiled, proud of myself.
The sound of clapping filled the air, startling me. I swirled around to face the house and saw my Aunt Minaline watching me from the porch. Her full lips were turned up slightly and her dark, earthy eyes sparkled as she looked at me. I grinned and walked over to join her.
“Very well done, Emily,” she said as I approached her, “I can see you’ve been working hard these past several months.”
“Thank you, Aunt Mina. The approval of you and my parents means a lot to me.” I replied honestly. Mina always had that effect on me. Though she could be just as strict and severe as my mother, her sister, she carried an air of serenity and calmness around her that would instantly soothe me. I never felt any qualms about opening up to my aunt.
“I know.” she said lightly. “And speaking of your parents, they’re here. They arrived in the middle of your set and, seeing how focused you were, asked me to inform you of it when you were done.” As she spoke, a tight knot of worry began to form in my stomach. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it would have been if Mina wasn’t here, but it was strong enough to make my loose muscles tense up with nervousness.
“They’re home?” I asked. I was relieved that my voice didn’t squeak like I’d thought it would.
“Yes. They’re waiting for you in the downstairs study. And I suggest that you hurry up and bathe before you go see them. You smell.” Mina continued, sniffing me slightly.
“Yes, Ma’am.” With a slight bow in her direction, I rushed back into the house. I took the stairs two at a time and then headed down the right hallway. I sped past Katie’s room, wondering if she was still asleep, and then went on into my own room. I quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes from my dresser as I went towards my bathing room. I showered as fast and thoroughly as I could, then dried off and changed. I combed out my hair as I went back into my room, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to say a quick spell and make it dry out faster. My parents—always people who preferred neat and orderly—wouldn’t like me facing them with wet hair, so I decided it was. I said a short, simple one and then, checking my reflection in the mirror on my vanity table, set off for back downstairs.
I paused when I reached the study’s door, nervously straightening out my clothes. I was wearing an elegant, golden dress that was a favorite of my mother’s. She said that the color complimented my tan skin and I was hoping that the choice would please her. I quietly cleared my throat and knocked on the door. The action was more out of courtesy than actual necessity; my parents would have sensed my presence as soon as I’d arrived.
“Come in.” my father’s deep, smooth voice called.
I opened the door and walked in, closing it behind me as I instantly took in the study. It was a fairly average room in size, done, like the rest of the house, in white hues. The east wall was shelved with books, reaching up to the ceiling, and the west one was made completely of a thick, clear glass, offering a beautiful view of the setting sun. Directly opposite of the door was my parent’s desks; neat stacks of papers and reports were stacked on them and a glossy, white laptop laid on each. The visible pieces of wall were covered in the same designs as the entrance halls’.
My parents themselves were situated in various spots. My mother sat at her desk, her comfy chair angled towards me, while my father stood near the bookshelves, an old tome held in his hand. Despite my nervousness, I felt my heart swell at the sight of my parents. I eagerly examined them both, pleased that they looked exactly the same as I remembered them.
My mother’s gorgeous, honey blond hair waved down her back, framing her slim form. Her large, amber eyes looked at me closely as she scrutinized my own appearance, holding just the right amount of warmth expected for looking at her eldest daughter. As usual, she looked amazing in the sleek, ivory pantsuit she wore. The black turtleneck she had on underneath her jacket contrasted flawlessly with the rest of her outfit.
As for my father, he too looked the image of middle age perfection. Like my mother, he wore a white suit, only his shirt was a shadowy blue that was the exact same shade of his eyes. His dark hair was still thick and neatly trimmed and his face held the same distant look of detached concern that I remembered.
“Welcome home, darling.” My mother said, her soft, clear voice sending a wave of emotion through me as I curtsied to them both. She stood up and opened her arms, smiling at me. I moved into her embrace and hugged her back as I took in her scent: it was a strange mix of her expensive, enticing perfume and a cold anesthetic smell that always seemed to linger around her.
“Thank you. It’s wonderful to be back again.” I said as she released me. She sat back down in her chair, crossing her legs elegantly. I turned to my father, who gave me small smile as he nodded.
Then, with a glance at mother, he said briskly, “Well, no reason to delay it. I assume that you know there’s a reason for us summoning you back home?”
“Yes, sir.” I answered. The ball in my stomach swelled as anxiety gripped my waist, holding me tightly in its grasp.
“You’re seventeen, Emily. You’ve proven yourself as a responsible, hardworking adult. Your mother and I have been pleased by the reports from your tutors, and we’ve decided you’re ready for the next level,” my father stared into my eyes, drowning me in his dark blue gaze as he sized me up.
“It’s time you completed your first assassination.”
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