Welcome to Gaia! ::

For rosemilk and ShortGreen.

*

It was with a great deal of primness - probably becoming of a wannabe teacher - that Burgundia rang the doorbell to Captain Rabik's household; magic helped, considering that Burgundia got tired picking up things, but the bell was eventually rung and she waited for it to be answered.

Marne had returned - for better or for worse - and for one thing, had met her student when Burgundia had not. When pressed on the matter, Marne had announced that Galatea was "sweet", with "wicked cool hair", only "a bit of a stiff, totally needs a vodka mixer" and "purple's a great colour". This, considering it was Marne - who had immediately gone off to check her tan - said very little; Dee had decided to make her judgements of Galatea on her own time, rather than follow her little sister's, whose main judging point for people was whether or not they'd seen the "gay cowboy movie".

Well. Galatea wanted to learn, so that was a good start already.

Burgundia nodded to who was obviously the Captain, Galatea's bond. "Thank you kindly," she said politely, entering the doorway, pulling her wrap closer to her shoulders. "If you could direct me to her, I'd be much obliged."

"Ms., if you wouldn't mind." Burgundia curtseyed graciously in return, alighting down on the edge of the table. She towered over the tiny juvenile; she was nearly as big as Silva, which was slightly incongruous with the pink ribbon tying back her pale hair. "It's surely pleasure to meet you, Miss Galatea. I do like your house."

No wonder Marne thought Galatea kindly a stiff; Burgundia approved of her immediately. She was dark-haired and quick, and obviously polite. "Would you care to take your lessons indoors? Of course, for some practicals we'll be needin' a wide-open space. Now - " She took away the piece of red cloth that acted as her shawl, folding it up briskly. "I don't have many rules, but I will be acting as your teacher; you can rightly refer to me as Burgundia, if you care to. I like quickness and promptness, and to avoid accidents, if I tell you to do something - especially when we're doing our magic - I'd be liking you to do it. Does that sound fair?"

"That would be mighty kind of you," Burgundia agreed, handing Galatea the fabric. "Though it's 'ma'am' to ladies and 'sir' to gentlemen, you may not have known that."

She was a very nice little thing, Burgundia had decided, very quiet and polite. If she had been gotten as her sister rather than Marne, things would be arrestingly different. "Why don't we surely sit down, and you can tell me what you know so far and what you'd like to know, and what point you're basically at."

Burgundia arranged herself with slow and pretty grace down on the handkerchief, her hands folded primly in her lap. "Well, now, that's surely not too bad for a beginner," she said. "You understand, Galatea, that who we are is magic. We were born in it, and it's far more natural to us than training for brawn. You can't tell how good you're getting at something if there's nobody there to tell you. What you'll need to learn is how to meditate properly, first thing; I use prayer to help me, but what's necessary is being able to concentrate. Emotion and passion only get you so far. Concentration is the thing."

She moved to rest down on her side, somehow managing to look prissy even flopped down. "The first step is to be able to tell where magic is, how you can use it. Otherwise you're surely blind. Can you detect when a feien comes into the room? You don't read them from their footfall, you understand, you read from 'em being alive. Their magic."

"Well, now." Burgundia's red-eyed gaze was surprisingly direct. "We'll start with that. I want you to close your eyes and take deep breaths; just clear your thoughts, and concentrate on that blackness. One. Two. Three. Steady, now."

"One. Two. Three." It was harder to school someone else on it; when she'd had a lifetime of asking God for grace, which calmed her. "Shut down your other senses. Listen to nothing. Just see that darkness, you understand? One. Two. Three." Quiet as a whisper, Burgundia stood, walking languidly over to the side of Galatea's house and touching the Lego bricks. "One. Two. Three."

When her breathing was even enough, she asked, "What do you see? Look for the flicker, Galatea. Feel it. Disconnect yourself to everything but the flicker, the magic... Now, what d'you see? Don't be afraid to be seeing nothing."