» 11/6/2022 - stefan x mate oc x damon poly « (THE WONDERLING SERIES: book 1)
Arwen Steele was pretty much someone who didn't really understand the vampire diaries TV show but watched it anyway, she knew the names and where they were, but Arwen was...
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TO BE HONEST, Arwen hunched over on the floor, cross-legged, trying to make a pen float, was the last thing she expected to do this morning. More less than being woken up at the brink of dawn by Sheila Bennett, a supposed fictional character in another goddamn universe, in the freezing cold morning and being told she needed to practice "the force" – no, just kidding, she wanted Arwen to practice some magical witchy-voodoo stuff, just without the witchy part. Arwen was a wonderling not a witch.
Sheila told Arwen that she should be feeling at least something like a wash of cold or hot air, or even goosebumps crawling over Arwen's skin. The feelings that Arwen was experiencing, however, were the all-too familiar sensation of hunger and boredom.
When Arwen had come home last night from the Grill, Sheila had not been awake and both girls had quietly snuck back into their rooms not wanting to wake her. For the past few days of Arwen being here, Sheila had been talking about her practicing her wonderling magic, and now it was finally doing instead of speaking of it that attracted Sheila Bennett.
"Fuckin' hell," Arwen growled, giving up finally when the pen still didn't budge. Her Australian accent was thick when she said this, and Sheila rolled her eyes from where she sat on her armchair.
"Language, Arwen," Sheila scolded, taking a sip of her rose tea.
Arwen mocked her when she wasn't looking and stretched her arms. "It's not working!" she whined, tipping her head back and staring at the ceiling.
Her back was starting to hurt from sitting in this same position for the past four hours. Bonnie Bennett and her car were long gone to the high school, Sheila telling her granddaughter that she was going to show Arwen around Mystic Falls a bit more. It seemed to convince Bonnie, and Arwen had no idea how that half-ass excuse could convince anyone, but it worked, nonetheless.
"As you have said," Sheila replied bluntly. "You are just not ready."
"You could have said that to me at least three hours ago when I had begun sweating," Arwen said with a cringe. "Now I stink and feel icky."
Arwen wore her trademark red jumper today along with some random blue track-pants she had thrown on. Arwen surprisingly had always been good with style, but she always dressed comfortably. She didn't care what other people thought about her clothes. If she wanted to wear goddamn trackies outside on a sunny day she fucking will. Though, Arwen needed to brush her birds nest hair after she showers, she smelled like sweat and defeat. Opposite of Sheila's herbal essence.
Looking back down to the pen, Arwen closed her eyes and sighed. She had been on her arse for four hours straight trying to lift this pen in the air like she was Magneto. But every time she tried, nothing happened. It seemed that Sheila had finally, finally seemed to accept that it wasn't Arwen's time or whatever.
