take a breath, take it deep

Sinthia, small and quiet and tidy for a ten-year-old, sat calmly with her back straight, waiting for the group of adults to come back and interrogate her further. She'd been in this room for several days straight now, asked over and over again what had happened, how she had come by the extraordinary abilties she possessed. They were all magical, certainly, as was she, but normally a ten-year-old did not exhibit such clear control over a difficult ability such as Legilimency.

Nor did normal ten-year-olds have quite the depth of expertise in war crimes as she did. But she'd answered all the questions she'd been able to, until someone had asked her what precisely had been done to her to try and force her magic to the surface, to manifest early. Then, quite suddenly, she'd clammed up, mute and still and tense.

"I want to go home," she murmured when at last someone came back in. "I don't want to talk anymore. I want to go home."