this world is a lie. there is magic here, she can taste it on her tongue, she can feel it in her bones. flames lightly lick at her palms in her solitude and it courses through her veins in their company. her creation, her little town in maine -- the magic there is different, she is stronger in it’s borders, but out here... the art is foreign. she hates it, as she hates them. the director, his lackey, his pets -- the avengers. she stands by their side only because it is what her son would want. her son, who would defend them as he does his blood. she wants to hear his praise given to her as easily as it is given to the good and just pathetic.
she hears his approach. if the heavy footfall didn’t tell her his identity than the magic that followed certainly did. she closes her eyes, inhaling it’s familiarity like it were the air she breathed. it is not her magic, but it will do. ❛ -- -- -- sparky, ❜ she greets with disdain in her voice as her eyes open.
STARTER CALL // @jordson
