Post by MORDRED HAEMON on Oct 6, 2011 15:35:11 GMT -8
4 Oktober, 2011
Dienstag
[/i]Dienstag
[/size]Ever since I was young I have been encouraged to seek for and work towards an ultimate goal of my own choosing. Whether that goal was for a greater good or a lesser gargantuan evil I don't think was even taken into account: my mother, the speaker, had always been an optimist, refusing to see the bad side of anything, and sometimes - especially as I continue to age - I find myself wondering more and more whether she genuinely believes it or whether it's some form of self-imposed ignorance on her behalf. Part of me wants to believe it is - the part of every child that idolizes his or her mother - but at the same time I know that, were I to find that it was the latter, I would think less of her for it.
Terrible of me, I know, but I cannot help it. I believe a part of me - a small part - would come to hate her if I knew, the shining mental shrine my childish shelf had built crumbling a little more under the weight of disappointment.
My father knows the answer, whatever it may be, but he knows me better than he likes to let on and will not tell me, not that he's particularly chatty anyway. Most of our conversations tend to consist of one-sided comments (on my part) with the occasional nod from him as if to reassure me he's listening, more reflex than not as I know better than anyone that he always listens. He listens even better than myself, I have come to suspect.
And no one tries to listen harder than I.
I suppose it's more of an instinct for both of us, though, to listen and observe before acting on whatever impulses we have have, the only real difference being my father's distinct lack of magic. The fact that he can know as much as he does without it impresses me, with no need to voice this to him; he already knows.
I don't think he saw the bookstore coming, though, and I'll admit here that it was even a surprise to myself; more of an impulse buy than anything else, one of the rare instances I have done so. It wasn't even so much the store itself that made me linger, but rather the subtle hum of magic I could feel from within, a hum which spoke of the knowledge I seek then and now.
A witch is naturally able to sense the spark of witchcraft in others of his or her kind. It's something I have known since childhood, one of my mother's very first, if I remember correctly. But there are ways of getting around it - there are always ways to break everything. When I found the answer it was relatively simple, and while I have since managed to perfect the technique I must admit that I have yet to find a true need for it. Vampires and werewolves cannot sense me, nor can humans or most hunters, and I cannot currently conceive of a reason why I would have to hide from other witches.
Of course, if it all comes down to war, this could very well change.
I guess we'll just have to see.
