The Last of the Pure

Thirty

Okay, here it is. 

Hopefully it makes a little sense, I'm starting to piece things together. 

ENJOY! :)

-M

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“When you get into the room, make sure that your head is clear.”

“Try not to think of anyone specific.”

“Your gifts are more powerful now, so don’t go overboard when you try to activate.”

“Keep yourself calm and focus on what it is that helps you find your gifts.”

All of the advice I’d been given over the last week was floating through my head as I stared at myself in the mirror in front of me.

It was old, that was easy to see. The glass stood about eight feet tall and probably four foot wide with thick oak wrapped around as the frame. There was intricate carving in the dark, stained wood.

I stared at myself in the mirror, attempting to clear my head. My eyes were wide, my skin was light and clear. Aside from the scar winding up the side of my neck, my skin was absolutely flawless in a way I’d never seen it. Even the scar had softened up a bit, looking less jagged and pink.

I pulled the chain from beneath my dress, clutching onto the watch and feeling comforted with the only thing familiar in the room as I closed my eyes and searched for the currents that came so easily now.

Rather than grasping onto them, pausing time like I usually would, I let them pass around me.

I felt my heart threatening to rip through my chest and focused on calming the rhythm before opening my eyes.

I opened them slowly once I’d calmed down enough, trying to keep my head clear as the mirror and the boy staring so intently at me came into view.

My hand tightened around the watch I was clutching as my eyes scanned him.

He was dressed simply and in comparison to his tan trousers and white button down shirt, his hair flopping in his face longer than I’d ever seen it, stubble on his chin like he hadn’t shaved. I felt stupidly overdressed, then.

When my eyes traveled back to his face, I watched him carefully, wondering if he was seeing me, too.

It was then that I realized that I was crying, so sad for the boy I wasn’t seeing and so happy at the same time. I couldn’t help the smile on my face or the tears streaking down my cheeks as I looked for any sign that he could see me as well, but I didn’t care.

Then he stepped forward, coming closer to the mirror and I found myself doing the same. His eyes weren’t on me anymore, but staring down slightly averted from my face.

He was moving then, reaching for the top button of his shirt and pulling the first couple free before reaching beneath the collar and pulling out a long, gold chain. He pulled it out of his shirt, a watch plopping down on the fabric just below his chest and when he looked back at me, his eyebrow was cocked above his left eye in a questioning manner.

And then I was laughing, wiping my eyes as I did so and holding the chain a couple inches above the watch so he could see mine as well.

They were the same.

And he was smiling as I dropped the watch against my dress, wiping away all of the excess wetness on my face as his face softened and he looked at me with so much scrutiny that I stopped laughing and smiling to stare back at him.