Years ago, the Evil Queen cast a curse that created Storybrooke, where she lived happily with her husband, Robin Hood, and her daughter, Angelina Hood.
Fast forward and you'll find Angelina in Neverland after the curse broke with the love of her li...
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Angelina's POV
"Focus Ang!"
I close my eyes and inhale slowly, focusing on my surroundings, just like Peter taught me. Over this past week Peter has been training me to control my magic. There, I said it. I have magic. I guess being the Evil Queen's daughter has some perks after all.
Peter told me that my magic is most prevalent upon my emotions and my senses. They fuel my powers. The more emotional and out of control I become, the more powerful my magic is. Making me completely and utterly dangerous around anyone who doesn't have magic. That is, only until I learn to control it. That's why Peter and I decided that it would be in everyone's best interest that I stay clear of the Lost Boys. Although Will remained perfectly unharmed, I cannot bare to think about what would happen if Peter didn't pull him out of harms way at the right time. So here I am, standing in the middle of the forest with Peter, practicing magic.
"Remember what I said, picture the magic flowing out of your hands."
I nod and relax my shoulders, focusing on my sense of touch and vision. My eyes are still closed, which allows my other senses to heighten. Focus. Focus Ang. I ignore my other senses, which is harder than it sounds. It reminds me of zoning out in school, one minute you're following every word that spills off of the teacher's tongue. And the next, you're a whole chapter behind in your guided reading because you were too busy gazing out the window. That's how I like to imagine tuning out the other three senses. I look out my metaphorical classroom window and find myself lost in the emptiness of my thoughts.
Focus. I ignore the sound of the wind rustling and whipping through the autumn leaves, the smell of the oak tree, the brush of grass dancing back and forth across my bare legs, almost trying to gain my attention. Trying to break my focus. I've found that touch is the most difficult sense for me to lose my focus over. The wind needs my attention too much it seems.
I've never seen my mother preform her magic, but I've always pictured it as a yellow light, until I saw my own magic sprawl out from my palms. So I'm using both to learn to control it. I picture the magic flowing through my body, past my shoulders. I imagine it as warm, like how the sun feels when it beats against your face the moment you step into it's rays. I picture my magic flowing past my elbows, down my wrists and into the buds of my fingertips. I feel it's heat. This is the hard part, when I need to rely on my senses again. I need to be able to feel and maybe even smell what I want to happen.
"Good!"
I open my eyes to see the a green hue surrounding my fingertips.
"Make a fire ball."
My eyes close again as I imagine the lights becoming warmer and warmer, as if I'm holding my hands above the fire pit back at camp.
