Lucy Reborn - 85 Bloom Ar

Lucy peers at the small bundles, they glowed with Primal energy, although it seeped away from them with every second. Red-faced, and tiny they lay peaceful in the Moses baskets. “It wasn’t easy to sneak in here to see you two, ya know” Lucy mutters, gently reaching out to stroke Emma’s cheek. I’m lucky I was home when Mommy went into labor with how Grandmother and Papa have been playing hot potato with me. Lucy tilts her head. Hot potato seemed off after all Papa and Grandmother kept snatching her from each other’s households, instead of trying to run her off. Lucy sighs. Grandmother was determined to train her magic so it wouldn’t run wild, while Papa wanted her living at home.

“Not that I blame Papa, he only gets to keep me until my Awakening. Rose only comes back to visit Jing Palace for every couple of weeks.” Lucy rolls her eyes. It was strange to her how Papa had zero say in Rose’s matters now that her magic was awakened.

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Sitting crossed-legged on the floor, Lucy gently lifts Brynn from the basket. “Speaking of magic” Lucy whispers, softly entering the babe’s inner palace. Following the Bloom art, Lucy gently drew in the Primal Energy that shrouded Brynn observing the Primal cloud seep into Brynn’s body. Lucy’s eyes stung, her thoughts drifting back to the days spent volunteering at the NICU. Guiding Primal Energy into fragile bodies, Aunt Thea guiding her in the Blooming Art, as Lucy’s skills perfected

Lucy inhales, the smell of babies is the same no matter what world it was. “I will be the best big sister for you” Lucy promises, putting Brynn back in her basket. Emma yawned as Lucy took her into her arms.

Soon enough, Emma absorbed every bit of the Primal Energy that had clung to her. Lucy snuck out of the nursery, knowing if she was caught Selena would drag her to copy Zilic letters again. Unreasonable demands. Who expects a toddler to learn to read and write two different scripts, and have neat penmanship. Runes have to be perfect for the best effect, my brain will explode and my hands wither with wrinkles and calluses if I have to be that exact with my Zilic penmanship as well.