an Artist's Muse, xavier thorpe

06

"How did you know?" 

Daisy was startled by the sudden presence standing over her, she was reading a book under the same tree as always still with little women in her hands. "What?"

"How did you know," Wednesday repeated. She kept staring at the blonde before her she couldn't fathom what had happened or how she knew. "The gargoyle."

"I saw it," she answered plainly, "I am sorcerer, Wednesday. A little bit like you."

Her eyes widened a little bit, she hoped to conceal it, she wasn't easily startled appealed or intrigued, she rarely felt anything at all. 

"You had a vision?"

"Sort of," Daisy was speaking in riddles, she didn't know why it just happened and she hated it herself. She sounded like her mother. And if there was one thing she didn't want, it was to be like her mother. "Look Wednesday, I blacked out after the vision I heard Xavier got to you fast enough so you should thank him."

"I did," she responded, "I need your help."

"I would love to help Wednesday but not right now, I have a killer headache and am reading before I meet up with a friend."

"Xavier?"

The blonde teenager turned around, she nailed to the ground and couldn't form the words, "No, he isn't my friend," she eventually croaked out. Pathetic. 

"No?"

"No."

Nothing wanting to converse anymore she picked herself up from the ground and stalked off. Who was she to initiate who her friends were? Was it that obvious she still longed to be his friend?

"What's you're pretty little head thinking about?"

"Stuff."

"Boy stuff," Veronica smirked, and seeing the annoyed glare she sent her way, she was right. "Just ignore him. But I guess that's hard after what happened today."

"Does everybody know?"

"Dude," Veronica looked at her surprised. "You're Daisy Fortuna, everybody hears everything when it comes to you, Bianca or Xavier. And apparently recently Wednesday was added  to the list."

"Well nothing happened. I had a vision, a headache, and I was sparring with him," she defended herself, as if she needed to, "He needed to help me because otherwise he would seem like a bad person."

"Or he just isn't a bad person and wanted to help an old friend."

"Well," she started. But her voice got stuck in her throat again. She was opening her mouth like a fish closing it as fast as opened it. "I'm not his friend."

"It's okay to feel that way you know?"

"What way?"

"Longing, desperation, love, you want things to go back like they used to be. You and him."

"I can't feel that way Vee," she whispered, "He broke me."

"And you healed, but it left a scar. It's okay to have those, alright? And it is also okay to move on from the accident of the scar and instead focus on the healing process. Maybe your process is to forgive him instead of reopening your scar and wounding him along with you."

"You're like my personal therapist."

"I do try."

"You're an empath Ronnie, it comes natural to you."

"Doesn't mean I don't have to try."

"You're right."

"I am always right."