Baby Shark // Ilana

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[attr="class","title1"]Do do do doo

[attr="class","subtitle1"]AND OUR EYES GLEAMED MEAN

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So her mind hadn't been fully there, admittedly. She was exhausted from a night practicing with Queenie, and. . .

She was worried for Anya, worried for Bryce and Dion and she really couldn't tell herself it was concern for her pockets. Her parents had caught whatever it was, her siblings hadn't yet, she was sure Eden had, most of Levi and his family were having signs of the magic-wasting flu-thing. So far, it hadn't caught her, so she was still fine. Her mind was safe, as she'd always wanted it to be. She wasn't weary-- not more than usual, but her mind had been half-lost in calculating possibilities.

The girl had been weeping and truthfully, Ilana had followed stranger tells. She'd looked somewhat similar to other runners Ilana had met with, and with what was going on, a crying kid would be expected. It was the simplest type of trick, one that she'd say she never would have fallen for anyway, any other time, any other place. Unlucky coincidences, but that was all it took. The hand on her wrist was cold, and the child shorter, wandless and white, English-accented, but old-style. . .

Ilana let out a laugh, swung up her captive wrist to press her palm again the not-quite-child's forehead. Twelve or not, she at least ought to go easy on her. "Pretty girls know how to fight, little one." She still had her magic, still had herself-- her own greatest weapon. She had her knife, and that would be enough for most things. If the accent, if the gleam in her mouth wasn't off, there was still. . . she had her reinforced pencils, she thought.

[attr="class","tags1"]☆ @kidpire☆