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WHO: Vriska & You!
TONE: Light and airy. Think Three Musketeers Bar.
RATING: PG-PG-13
WHEN: Friday, May 25th after classes.
WHERE: Outside in the gardens.
WHAT: Vriska is practicing spells.
STYLE: Prose or action, I'll roll with whichever.

If there was one major roadblock Vriska was having at school right now, it was pronouncing spells and incantations correctly. It drove her up the proverbial wall when a spell she knew she could cast wouldn't work because of her vocal handicap. It made her want to feed her books to the lake creatures out of spite.

Yet here she was, out in the gardens after class and standing before what looked to be like a small pile of what could have been a small bouquet of flowers (presumably clipped from the flower bushes around her) burning. Vriska glowered down at it like it had insulted her mother, her wand in hand. The spot on the stone where the fire was taking place seemed a little blacker than normal. A logical conclusion would be this was not the first fire Vriska had set there today.

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When he actually made it outside, this was one of Tavros's favorite place to hang out. Mainly, he just hoped he might see a fairy flitting around the flowers. But mostly there were just bees and other insects. Never a fairy. But he could still be hopeful! He just didn't really get out there often enough to check regularly. Getting around inside of the castle was hard enough, but navigating the grounds could be even worse.

Fortunately- or maybe unfortunately, he'd decided to come out there that day.

Only to see smoke and fire. He'd picked up the pace and made it to the gardens faster than it could be thought possible for a boy in a wheelchair, and when he got there he was out of breath. When he saw Vriska and when she was doing, his eyes widened. "What are you, uh, doing? There could be, fairies hiding in those!"

Her glaring was cut off when Tavros exclaimed at her. She looks over at him and moves to stomp out the remaining flames with her shoe, maybe with a little more force than needed.

"No fairies here. Just stupid flowers that do not float."

Tavros lets out a relieved sigh. If there were no fairies hiding in the flowers, it was okay, right? It was a shame about the flowers though. "You were trying to, uh, make them float?" he asks after a few seconds, "How come?"

While he speaks she is scraping off the ash from the sole of her shoe with the stone. "I must practice spells." She stops and waves a little to her mouth. "I am not good at... speaking." Her accent dealt a heavy blow to her spell chanting and the consequences were obvious as the burning flowers on the ground.

He raises an eyebrow at her statement. "What is it that you mean, uh, when you say you aren't good at speaking?" he asks, "Because... Words seem to be, coming out just fine. I don't think anything is, um, broken... or anything."