practice [★] suis-moi

[aine.]

[align=center]— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —

Practice makes perfect.  In theory at least.  A worthy-to-test theory.  Given her parents teachings that no one was perfect however, Aine felt more inclined to believe practice made better.  And better was... Well it was better, and she wanted to be good and better at the things she could do.

Which led her to the marketplace in the morning.  As she finished her daily checking of her garden, the petite vixen tracked down a piece of red chalk from the various art supplies in her treehouse.  Hopefully her father wouldn't mind.  Probably not.  He liked art.

In this case, she was only using the chalk to mark up a long red line.  Not art, per say.  A barrier.  For practice.  Though the thought to color more with the chalk occurred to her, she tried to keep her head in the game.  No distractions this time.  Unless she saw a butterfly of course...

The fae trotted a few fox-lengths away from her line.  Truthfully, any further and the line would have grown terribly blurry.  She had learned early on, everything got really fuzzy for her faster than it seemed to for others.  Or maybe they just didn't show it.  Well.  Aine didn't let it bother her very much.  No one had ever voiced it as a potential concern.  She just had to adjust for it.

From her fairly far-but-not-really-that-far standing, the child steadied her stance.  Balance.  With intense focus, she stared at the line and pushed her paws into the ground.  A solid connection.  Grounding.  After a careful breath, the ground broke apart a few mouse-lengths from the line.  A small shattering of rocks and pebbles.

"Oh."  Well.  That wasn't particularly impressive or accurate at all.  And while she tried not to be terribly bummed out, she had honestly thought she might get it on the first go.  She had moved the ground plenty of times before, hadn't she?  In more... Alarming situations, but... Well, she'd just try one or two more times.

Aine squared her shoulders this time and practically glared at her red line.  Hyper-focused this time.  Focusing on the feeling of the ground beneath her paws, she tried again, rupturing the dirt another mouse-length away from the goal.

While she enjoyed the concept of practice makes better... She was already beginning to feel tired and bored.  Terribly impatient, she plopped her rump down, scratching little patterns into the dirt with her paws.  Maybe she could try and find someone to play with instead...

— I'll come back when you call me —