"Wow," the older woman breathed as they exited the family truck. Freya Deveraux slowly climbed out, taking in the lush scenery of what appeared to be the gardens to the left of the estate. It was something majestic; that much was evident and she had no doubt that the inside was just as beautiful. A small smile graced her delicate little face and her aunt continued to marvel at the place. "Didn't know we were sending you to a castle, Fefe." Freya giggled and swiped away at the tiniest particles of food that might have fallen out of her cousin's bag of chips onto her outfit.
"Yeah, I know," she responded lightly and pulled out her violin case and handbag. As her aunt went to retrieve her suitcase, Freya noticed more students pouring in and a jumble of nerves hit her without warning. The trunk was shut tightly a few moments later and she visibly flinched at the sound, heart palpitating irregularly. Oh God...I can't do this...I shouldn't be here -
Suddenly, her aunt's hand was on her shoulder and Freya gasped, feeling her handbag drop to the ground. Apparently, during her mini mental breakdown, she had levitated her handbag. Freya smiled tight-lippedly and picked it up. Her aunt smiled.
"You're gonna be fine, Short Stuff." It took a minute before Freya's hand stopped shaking long enough for her to actually grab onto the handle of her suitcase and actually keep up with the grip. She didn't meet her aunt's gaze at first, opting to either keep her gaze low or observe the way some parents even tensed up as their child tried to hug them. That last sight caused Freya to sigh and return her attention to her aunt, painting on a brave smile. The woman's smile was knowing. "I know...I know you haven't been the most comfortable using your powers and everything that happened with your mom...but...just call me. Whenever you want. You're not alone."
Freya refused to cry. She spent half of the night balled up and crying her little heart out until there was nothing left by dry heaves and sobs. She and her aunt had not always been close; even when she was younger, she favored simply being with her Dad. But this support - when she couldn't even have her mother's - was enough for her. She reached over and wrapped her arms around the woman's waist, melting into the comforting embrace. After a few short moments, they pulled away, her aunt gathered her face and kissed her forehead gently. Freya was smiling brightly then, eyes shining with the tears she refused to shed.
"Thanks, Auntie May. I, uh, better go." With a firmer grip on her things, Freya headed up the stairs and into the house, looking around the foyer. She heard talks of going to register, so she followed the masses that were heading in the direction she needed to go.
"Look, I'm not gonna hurt you or your kid, lady. Just messin' around," Warren tried to reason through clenched teeth, anger rumbling beneath the kind facade he had been trying to exude. The stupid old hag was still gaping at him in horror while the little girls' eyes were eager and hungry for more of the little show he put on.
"Stay away from us, you freak!" Warren flinched at that and closed his eyes, clenching his fist to keep from reacting the way this woman was provoking him to. The small pond behind him slowly began to ripple with his emotions and she gasped, pulling out her phones. "I'm calling the cops - "
A small cry escaped her lips as a bullet of water shot through her flimsy flip-phone - who in the hell carried those anymore? - and what was left of the device crashed to the ground. Still, the child seemed utterly fascinated and clapped her hands excitedly. Warren sighed and stood, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.
"Try calling 'em now," he growled, turning icy blue eyes in her direction and she took a step back. Luckily for him, no one else was around this secluded part of the park. He had stopped in the small town to grab a bite to eat and sleep somewhere, but now, it was apparent that he probably should leave in case she actually ran to find the police or something. He grabbed a hold of the duffel bag and the bookbag he owned, hopped onto the skateboard, and pushed off, speeding away down the street.
Fifteen minutes later, Warren was seated in a taxi, picking off invisible pieces of lint on his clothing, trying to squash down the nerves that were annoying him. Try as he might, however, the nervousness at being in a new place was suffocating and pulled the collar of his shirt, exhaling deeply. As much as he wanted to relax, he knew he wouldn't be able to - not until he was able to see this academy for himself.
"We're just a few more minutes away," the driver said and Warren nodded, having refused to remove his dark shades. When he felt the guy still eyeing him in the rear view mirror. Cursing under his breath, Warren fixed the man with a sharp glare.
"Got a problem?"