Let's Call It A Night ((Lucien Davis)) [PG-13]

Receptionist duty.  The phrase sounded foreign to Ivy...she knew it was a pretty typical punishment, but punishment was something she avoided pretty well.  Of course, the witch should have known her stunt in art class would warrant something like this.  She had been with the higher ups for hours...and it had mostly boiled down to stop fucking around with the immortal.  In so many words, of course.  It had happened that way, not that Ivy had really meant it to.  So how did the powers that be make the hellish even more hellish?  By putting the witch on receptionist duty with Lucien.  The sort of thing where she had to work with him.  It was completely infuriating, and there was definitely a good chance that Ivy would end up with more of this for giving the immortal more temporary heart issues.

Hopefully Ivy could get away with just ignoring Lucien.  When she'd gotten to the office, the witch had seen nothing much to take care of that night.  No new students or major issues, just the necessary presence in case the phone was to ring.  After much pleading, Blackest Night and Sunlight had allowed Ivy to take out a rare medieval Grimoire, and her plan was to spend the night reading and taking notes on that.  Hopefully she could be stand offish enough for Lucien to leave her be.

In all fairness, she deserved this punishment.

From what Ivy had heard, the art class had exploded in chaos after she had walked out.  What with Lucien going into cardiac arrest and all.  The supernatural beings weren't too worried about the immortal (or so they said), but the regular mortals in the class were thoroughly disturbed that they saw a storm cloud and lightning from nowhere before their classmate started having a heart attack.  Ivy knew she shouldn't have let things get so out of control.  She was so much better than that...if Lucien hadn't made that witch burning comment, the girl probably could have held herself together until the end of class.  But witch burning anything was a major trigger for the girl.  It was all part of being...well, a witch.  The damn immortal just had to push her that final bit.  Right now, Ivy was glad she lashed out and made Lucien suffer physically...even if it was just temporary.  And in some ways, the witch still felt rather smug about the whole thing.  Even if she couldn't actually kill the boy, she could make him suffer.  Maybe the worst part was that she hadn't stayed around long enough to see him suffer.

Going into her bag, Ivy carefully pulled out the ancient Grimoire, a notebook, and a pen.  Setting the book against the desk, the with pushed some hair behind her ear before opening up the notebook.  Blackest Night and Sunlight had only allowed her to borrow it because they knew how careful she was of the texts there...how reverent she was.  It was a means of keeping herself in check when Lucien got there.  Nothing, nothing could happen to this volume, which meant Ivy had to keep control.  But hopefully the immortal would see she was too engrossed in anything to begin with.  She'd answer the phones and click around on the computer or whatever had to be done, and then put her punishment behind her.

As Ivy began to read, her pen flew over the paper, jotting down notes without even looking at what she was writing.  This was a skill she had acquired partially through practice and partially through helpful spell work.  It was why she preferred unlined notebooks for this sort of thing...no going off the lines and trying to figure out where she went wrong.  It didn't matter, really...the witch's handwriting was pretty typical, and she figured she was the only one who could read it, anyway.  It was much safer that way at school.  Stopping her notes suddenly, Ivy wondered if she should put a cloaking charm on the book.  It would be a strange sight to come down the stairs and see.  Staring at the book thoughtfully for a moment, the witch ran her finger down the fragile binding.  A cloaking spell wouldn't be hard, but probably not the best idea.

The chance of anyone randomly wandering down here was slim, anyway.  It was just going to be her and Lucien, and Lucien knew perfectly well what Ivy was.  No cloaking spell, but making sure the immortal didn't mess with it was necessary.  As terrible as he could be, the boy was still a supernatural being who could appreciate something like this.  He wouldn't do anything that could risk it...at least, Ivy hoped so.  She'd have to make that clear...especially since it wasn't her book.  Where was Lucien, anyway?  A clock struck seven o'clock...it was any minute now...and gave Ivy another extra moment to coax herself to composure.

Deserved punishment or not, Ivy was trying to figure out a way to get out of this.  She would just slip away, but Lucien would probably say something.  Goddess knew he had every right to have a vendetta with her...it went both ways, really.  When the immortal entered the office, Ivy gave a quick glance up from her book, slightly relieved when he didn't say anything.  Maybe they could keep that going...it would probably be the most pleasant way to spend the night.  The witch was pretty sure she could go without talking to Lucien.  If they were forced to exist in the same space like this, they were probably on the same page for once.  Sitting at the desk, slowly losing her concentration on the Grimoire, Ivy tried to figure out how she had even come to be here in the first place.  She was too good to have this sort of thing coming to her...except when it came to Lucien, of course.  Forget reception duty like this, Ivy had barely managed a detention or two in her entire school career.

This was a big deal, though.  After the whole mess in art class and the fact that Dr. Hemmingway had to do a massive memory wipe, Ivy had caught on quick to the whispers amongst the supernatural crowd.  They hadn't forgotten, and the few in their art class had gotten rumors started quickly enough.  The witch burning comment, followed by the witch's complete lack of control.  As far as the girl knew, the rumors did start off as the truth...but quickly blown out of proportion, as rumors tended to do.  Ivy was trying really hard not to listen to what they were saying about her...and Lucien, too.  Despite her intense disliking of the immortal, he didn't deserve the ridiculous rumors either.  It was one of the few things that made Ivy feel sorry for him.  Sometimes it felt like the whisperings were worse amongst the supernatural crown...the witch remembered what it had been like at regular school, and she didn't remember it being as bad as it was here.  And there had been a lot of mean things said about the girl in regular schools.

But Ivy knew what she was...everyone knew what she was, just as all the supernatural students knew what she was.  And the same went for Lucien.  Although she'd never admit it, the girl often felt like he had it worse.  She had read about immortals...how rare they were, how hard it could get.  Though the witch had never met someone like herself, at least they were out there.  There were only a handful of immortals out in the world.  Lucien would be here, long after Ivy's bones had turned to dust.  It had to be such a lonely life.  In some ways, the girl wanted to be a friend.  Even just to reach out a little...tell the boy she was there.  It was a plan that would work if she didn't hate him so much.  And as much as she tried, the witch couldn't bring herself to just accept that she was nothing but a speck in the timeline of Lucien's forever.  Even if she was a friend or something...a speck.  The thought was relatively haunting, and enough to keep the girl away.  But only when she thought about it...because most of the time, Ivy was pretty much okay with hating the immortal.

Just as Ivy was starting to get back into her reading, her nose started spasming.  For Goddess's sake...had Lucien lit a cigarette right in the office?  Why did he make it so easy to hate him?  All thoughts of offering friendship flew out the window as the acrid smell burned her nose.  That was one of the worst smells ever...how could she make the boy put out the cigarette without talking to him?  Not that he would put it out if she asked anyway.  Hatred meant Ivy knew Lucien as she would a friend...it was just in a different sort of way.  Why give the immortal the satisfaction of her asking him to put the cigarette out?  No, this was something she had to battle a different way.

If Lucien could use his magic here, so could she.

Glancing over to get a good feel of where Lucien was, Ivy shut her eyes, imagining a bucket of water balanced precariously over the boy's head.  In her minds eye, she imagined pushing the bucket over, the water pouring over him and dousing out his cigarette.  The smell vanished, and Ivy settled back into her reading...she didn't even need to look at Lucien to feel rather satisfied with herself.  Hopefully the boy figured out that she wasn't going to be too friendly if he kept lighting up.  It was one of those "two can play at that game" things.  Elemental magic wasn't too draining for Ivy...she was pretty sure she could keep calling up water all night.

It was unbelievably great that Lucien was going along with Ivy's silence...a nice change from the way they usually worked. Hopefully they could go like this all night, doing their own thing and not bothering each other. That would definitely make the night fly by...then the witch could be done with reception duty and hopefully never end up there again. Which did mean no more electrocuting Lucien...storms may have been the girl's specialty, but she really needed more control over it all. The part that most worried Ivy was the possibility she could turn it on someone else if they got to her that bad...someone who would possibly die from the major electric shocks. Despite all the safety measures for creatures and not quite mortals, the girl was sure she'd get locked up for that one.

There was, however, a good possibility that that would never happen. No one had ever triggered Ivy the way Lucien did...as fiery and angry as she could get, the girl never got that angry with anyone else. Storms were only uncontrollable with the immortal...the girl had actually managed some degree of containing them when they bubbled up in other circumstances. Lucien was infuriating, and Ivy was just so sick of it all. It was a good thing she loved Masquerade so much, otherwise she'd leave for a safer place. Though, what place could possibly be safer for a developing witch?

But sometimes, Ivy did wonder if things could be different. The girl was sure Lucien could be cool at times...most others seemed to be okay with him. Well, he was definitely an asshole, but it definitely worked in his favor at times. After all, lots of people were naturally drawn to people with confidence, even if it was an asshole thing. Lots of girls were drawn to that sort of thing. It wasn't exactly a secret that the immortal was quite popular with the girls at Masquerade. And there were times when Ivy could understand it...Lucien was charming and charismatic. He had a very distinctive draw to him and...

Why had Lucien opened the window? It was too cold for an opened window!

And then Ivy felt her nose twitch, as if in warning. Lucien was lighting another cigarette. Window open or not, the smell of cigarette was strong. Maybe it was the wind or something, but it was an absolutely dreadful smell...again. Her nose twitching for a moment again, Ivy let out a very indelicate sneeze, which was more infuriating than embarrassing at this point. Rooting around the desk for some tissues, the witch pulled out a box from one of the drawers. She blew her nose loudly, wishing Lucien would just quit it with the cigarettes. It was awful, and it was really starting to piss Ivy off.

Trying to concentrate on her bucket filled with water over Lucien's head, Ivy was having a difficult time...the imaginary container was hard to focus on when she was seeing red. If she wasn't careful, the office would start flooding instead of the small amount of water needed to put out a cigarette. The bucket was wobbling back and forth, not staying still no matter how much Ivy commanded it to. Okay...maybe she would just have to try something different...thinking about all the water spells she knew, Ivy tried to figure out the best way to make water happen that didn't need containment as a start.

This was not the type of mood Ivy wanted to be in. She was starting to try and calm herself down...remembering that it was quite nice of Lucien to open the window. But it was too much...after everything the immortal had done, it was time for the witch to be the bad guy. It wasn't like some water was going to hurt the boy at all, anyway. Gathering the water energy in her palm, Ivy snapped her fingers, the water shooting out in a clear globe, exploding over Lucien's head like a water balloon. The second cigarette was extinguished (and probably ruined) like the first.

That was it. If that idiot continued on that path, Ivy would not hesitate to keep it up. The waterball, the girl's water alternative to a fireball, was a good spell. She didn't have to keep the bucket steady and she could draw as much or as little water as she wanted in her palm. Pushing her glasses up her nose, the witch returned to her Grimoire. If Lucien wanted it...this was war.

The longer Ivy sat in the front office, the more frustrated she got.  She had wanted so badly for an easy night...just sitting and ignoring Lucien and reading her Grimoire.  But Lucien's presence was like a spark for the witch...it made her more and more frazzled.  Even with that, she couldn't figure out the why.  Just that she wanted to make the immortal's life as tough as possible.  No one had ever rubbed the girl wrong the way Lucien did, and although Ivy was curious about her feelings towards the guy, she was afraid to delve in too deep.  She had a feeling that would just make things worse at the moment...maybe as she got better at controlling her powers she could try and figure it out.  At the moment, the witch figured the important thing was not cause anymore cardiac issues for Lucien, even if he did bounce back after a minute or two.  It couldn't be pleasant for him, and the ethical side of Ivy's conscious pointed out that her behaviors were very, very wrong.

Of course, this didn't do much to help the frustration.  Ivy could feel her hair starting to frizz with static, especially as Lucien spoke.  What was that for, anyway?  Petty vindictiveness?  The distraction from her Grimoire?  "You bring out the worst in me," the witch finally admitted.  What else was there really to say?  "I know you didn't...really do anything," as frustrating as it was to admit that she was just being a big baby, Ivy felt a bit better for it.  Hopefully, Ivy admitting she was being a baby (in so many words) would help.

And the two could just...do their thing.  "Cigarettes bother me.  They're gross, even with the window open.  And my aunt died of lung cancer," Ivy bit her lip.  Her aunt had really been the only family member the witch liked.  Sometimes the girl wondered if Aunt Lydia had been a witch as well.  It had to come from somewhere, right?  And Aunt Lydia was the only person Ivy remembered as not being a strict Catholic.  Thinking about her brought tears to the witch's eyes, which she tried to hide...though she had a feeling Lucien had seen.

As a stubborn, fierce witch, Ivy didn't like people seeing her normal human emotions.  Because she was better than those controlling her.  Instead, the girl kept up her shields, working hard to contain herself.  Even when her magic got the best of her, the witch preferred that to the basic emotions.  Staring at her Grimoire and trying to fight the tears, the girl realized how many emotions she had shared with Lucien in the past couple minutes.  Why the hell was it him who brought out the confessions?  No one was allowed in...no one was allowed to see the softer part of the girl...until Lucien caught her off guard tonight.

Ivy's hands curled into fists as she tried to get her control back.  The girl started taking some deep breaths...she concentrated on her breathing and the feeling of her nails pressing into her palms.  It was a physical feeling to keep her grounded in the physical world.  She knew what she had to do next...as much as she didn't want to do it, it was what was right.  Stubborn or not, Ivy had done something wrong.  "Petty vindictiveness," the girl mumbled to herself.

"I'm sorry," Ivy finally said, crossing her arms over her chest.  "I was wrong.  Let's just...well, I'll leave you alone.  Let's just get through tonight."