The Witching Hour | ✎

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a/n: kicking it off! 

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🔮 — 🔮

You didn't have to be human to despise group projects.

Callisto Karr was convinced it was simply hardwired into every sane high school student's DNA at this point — the unshakeable dislike of having to cough up hours of spare time to finish a project at someone else's pace, when you could have completed it entirely by yourself in half the time.

Unfortunately, Professor Adahy — the modern manifestation of Alexandria's ancient, dusty scribes — did not share this view. Instead, he regarded it an absolutely spiffing way of kicking off senior year.

Maybe Callie wouldn't have disliked it as much if she had any friends whatsoever in this class. But alas, History with Adahy was the one class she shared with a grand total of zero of her fellow coven members. Instead, the class was shock-full of naive humans and angelic fools who were busy grooming themselves and gazing lustily into every mirrored surface.

Apparently, growing up believing you were a blessing resulted in huge egos. Callie would know, since those very egos made these group projects that much more teeth-grinding.

It was with this attitude that she breezed out of Adahy's classroom, intent on avoiding her new group members' chattering. If need be, she'd catch up with them on whatever group chat they were due to create and spam endlessly.

Steering her steps down a grand marble staircase, Callie adjusted the strap of her bag and wiggled a stray lock of blonde hair out of her ear cuff. There was a lingering chill in the air — the stone building incapable of retaining almost any warmth as summer slipped into fall. Happy she'd remembered to tug a black cardigan over her ratty shirt, Callie wrapped it harder around herself as she reached the bottom of the steps.

"How was Adahy's class?"

Callie's head barely turned, though she saw Neema kick off the wall she'd been leaning against and easily fall into step beside her.

"Terrible. He assigned us group projects."

It came out as a hiss. Neema glanced warily at Callie out of the corner of her prettily lined eye, noting the sullen mood.

"You could just let them do it on their own. Not like they'd know any better if you were to spell them."

Callie shrugged, "I thought about it, but I don't want to give Headmistress Stentz a reason to suspend me. She hasn't forgotten the library incident."

"Who could forget the library incident?" Neema shot back, the pair turning another corner.

"I wish I could." Came Callie's dry reply, face dropping.

Neema snickered, pushing back a wad of thick, healthy curls from her forehead. While Callie had wasted away in Stoneport over the summer, where the sun seemed intent to never, ever come, Neema had spent the summer with family in Egypt. As a result, she'd come back looking like a dark-skinned goddess, shining with the glow of a summer well spent.

It was no wonder she drew the attention of every student — human or not — they passed on their way to the dining hall.

"Don't worry about Adahy's group projects, though. They're always short." Neema continued, shooting a wink at a freshman who'd paused by his lockers, eyes following her, " — like, a week, tops."

Neema had taken the class their previous year, and Callie had already told her she would be squeezing her for exam information every chance she'd get.