A World Enchanted

Content to be back in the room -- the cabins were fun, but a little chaotic for Tara's tastes -- she spent much of her day contentedly placing her possessions just so, in the way she hadn't taken the time to at the start of summer. Once she was done, the room felt much more like home, with crystals arrayed along the windowsill to catch the light, spellbooks in order of usefulness on her bookshelf, a potted philodendron on her desk, and a framed portrait of Tara as a baby with her mother and grandmother on the nightstand. The only thing the room lacked, she thought idly, was a kitten -- and that was something she'd have to ask Fiona about.

That done, she put Tori Amos on the stereo and settled at the desk and started on a note home. Fandom was almost impossible to explain, which was why she was writing it down; she knew that if she tried to call home, she'd stammer too much to get the words out even if she caught her mother when no one else was around.

The faintest whisper of a chill passed over her; it almost felt as if the island's psychic hum of background energy had ... flickered. Like something was going wrong, or could go wrong.

Or it was a draft, and Tara was imagining things. It wasn't enough to be certain either way. Frowning, she decided it didn't matter and returned to the note.