The fresh smell of coffee and baked goods overpowered the senses pleasantly as Saoirse lazed about on a dark mocha colored sofa, sketching intensely with her used graphite sticks.

Though not her profession, she found sketching in a cozy atmosphere to be relaxing, and quite useful. You'd be surprised at how often sketching is involved with the studying of witchcraft, like potions and herbology.

Could use improvement, since I'm far from perfected - she mused, staring at the slightly off perspective since she was mostly free-hand sketching from memory.

The skies were darkened by the moody storm clouds as it poured, giving that nice fresh rain smell that the brunette enjoyed as a comfort. She always enjoyed the wild weather from the rainy skies to the beautiful snow falls, or the loud rumbles from the thunder and the lightning that made her feel protected.

Some would find it nerve-wracking. To her, it was the nature of the world - the beauty of life.

Small feet in white knitted stockings tucked invisibly beneath her, she looked adorable and odd all the same in her over-sized grey sweater with sleeves rolled up and the large lavender blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders, bringing out her similarly colored eyes. Her long wavy ash brown hair pulled messily at the top of her head in a tangled bun, lose hairs here and there. Bangs a little long reaching the top of her eye-lids, reminding her that she needed a trim, or maybe grow them out.

The stress of her classes and exams, including her responsibilities to the Academy and her own coven, often left her mind occupied and greatly distracted from her own health and well-being. She tended to get like that - too busy to remember even the basics, such as a meal or two she'd missed cause she was too wrapped up in studying, or practicing for a new spell.

And the amount of coffee she inhales every morning. Fortunately, she had her coven mates to remind her - whom worry at how much she has on her plate - only to force her to relinquish half of her responsibilities so she actually can get some much needed rest.

Everyone has their vices - hers is just forgetfulness and over-working herself.

To each their own, she thought.

And so, here snuggled up, Saoirse was a captive in her own dorm-like manor, sipping warm freshly brewed coffee and munching on a very delicious cinnamon coffee cake - she loved coffee - in the central 'chill' room as Rafi put it. It was set up as an entertainment room - tele and all. Often, she'd see her coven playing games from their own wide selections of gaming consoles, or enjoying every Saturday movie nights snuggled up with each other and junking out with various unhealthy foods.

This place was a dream dorm for the young human, honestly.

At least, that's one way Bella put it, agreeing with Raffi and Nikki, whom have the most understanding of the mortal world.

Shifting in her place, the witch began to allow her mind to wander. It was a pleasant morning with her toasty warm familiar, Rhys, whom was curled snuggly at her side, purring loud and strong. Occasionally, she'd pause to give the fluffy long-haired familiar scratches behind his pointed ears, petting and cooing at him. He was like a mini vibrating furnace that ate up all of the love and attention - cranky when he received neither for too long, like the typical affectionate cat. Her fault, honestly, for spoiling him. His thick, long black and grey fur need much grooming - honestly, a lot.

Lips pursed, the petite woman leaned back to look at her drawing with a squint, eyeing the sketch as she rotated it this way and that way.

For a week now, she's experienced having these odd dreams - not actual visions where you see the events playing out in different potential futures. No, she gets the strange ones which required you to decipher and dig deep to unravel their meanings.

Completely frustrating, Saoirse growled internally.

Sometimes, however, she could get a face or location, and so drawing them out helped her for researching. Glimpses, really.

Due to a mild ache in her drawing hand, Saoirse set her sketchbook down from doing sketch after sketch of trying to remember and place it on paper to help her mind work it through. With her "witch's brew" coffee mug in hand, a gift from Bella, the witch sinks back snugly with a deep tired sigh, sipping with contentment as she breathes in the fresh brew heat.

Wha' happened to me just relaxin' an' not overthinkin'?I'm like a damn sucker fer punishment.

For the past month, she kept seeing snippets of the same things, places mostly. The La Push beach, curiously - she'd visited the place plenty whenever she stayed with the Swan's and played with the La Push local kids, mainly the twin daughters of Billy Black who were about her age. Then there's some field, or meadow. The old ballet studio which Bella used to go to as a child with her mother, Renee. Just to name a few.

Yet, the subjects were always surrounding, or involving these few: Bella, Forks, and La Push.

Visions were a tricky thing. Especially in how to work with them - to change or to assist.

She was entirely new to the concept. Terrified, if she were honest with herself. It was something rare, yet not impossible to have among the pure-blooded - like herself. It's not something you'd expect in the early years of a young witch's life. It takes a lot out of you, zapping your energy, and giving massive migraines.

But these were natural ones, which usually start through dreams. Fortunately, it didn't do much harm, just taking away your body and mind's rest. It seemed the spirits were either desperate, or she was just an early bloomer.

As every young witch is told - nothing is given, only taught and earned through hard work.

In other words, she had to learn how to control and pull from them. Like learning to drive a car. Best way to think of it as of now.

Right now, she just wanted to enjoy being herself, just Saoirse. To learn the normal way, but of course, some higher power had to complicate her life.

Leaning over, she grabs her smartphone from her bag, and begins snapping clear pictures of her sketches so to keep it on a digital copy. At the rate these visions of nonsense come, she'll have a whole library of filled sketchbooks. There's hardly any room for that.

After capturing high quality snaps of each sketch, she sips at her coffee, offhandedly muttering in distaste at how cold it was now.

"I had no idea you could sketch this detailed."

Startled, the young witch jumped with a weak 'eep', spilling a bit of her coffee on herself.

"Thanks a lot, Bo." Saoirse groaned at the stain, and quickly made a small gesture to watch it fade away. Pleased, she glanced behind her to see her dearest friend, Bowden "Bo" Locklear, reach out and grab one of her sketchbooks to flip through, humming in thought at each sketch. "Would it kill ye to not sneak up on unsuspecting lasses, hm? Else I'll be given ye a damn bell." All she got was loud laugh, at her expense, of course.

His gorgeous long straight near black hair fell around his face, only to be tucked at one side behind the ear. From her perspective, Bo was an attractive male - tall, dark, and absolutely handsome. Like all men in his family. She couldn't help but compare certain traits. His hair is healthier than mine, and it's unfair!

Of course, what would you expect in a family of shapeshifters who grow taller, and incredibly fit and strong. Though, he wasn't actually one, the Native American did undergo some form of change - from his mother's side, including her powers. Hence, him being in a school for magic.

Saoirse let out an airy laugh. "Tis abou' all I can do. Painting and all tha' artsy stuff is Nikki's thing, ye? I only sketch when needed, and I've had a lot of practice lately."

The tall russet skinned man settled at the other side of the sofa, grinning at her. He gave Rhys a scratch as the feline familiar crawled onto his lap, earning a pout from his witch. "That's right, you're all about the baking and cooking. Just like your mom."

At the mention of her mother, her mood dipped slightly, a sense of sadness flickering once more deep within her spirit. "Ay, she was the best." Gone befor' her time.

"Sorry," Bo sighed, receiving a small smile in return. "I shouldn't have brought her up so casually, yet. Especially since it's only been a two months."

Shaking her head, the witch scooted over, snuggling up against the tall Native American. Head on his shoulder, she grabbed his hand and sat there in comfort, remembering the woman they admired. "It's alrigh', Bo-bear. We need to remember her as she was, and her life. Never forget her memory."

Humming, he gently laid his head on hers, rubbing her hand with his thumb. "You're right. She would've hated for us to continue to mope around like the world ended. I can just imagine her giving us an earful for being so depressing."

Shoulders shaking in laughter, Saoirse nodded in agreement before giving a mock-serious face. "What are ye two eejits moping around for! Snap out of it befor' I give ye something mope about!" Bo laughed at the on point impression of her own mother.

"She'd be rolling in her grave if we continued being 'eejits' and 'wee sissies'" Bo snorted. The woman was a spitfire - a soul unlike any other, truly.

They continued to laugh at all the things Aileen Hartwood would say. The older witch, young in body due to their magic-blood, was a strong and willful woman. Blunt and fiery, and quite sassy too - like an Irishwoman as to be expected. Her presence was like a tempest storm: temperamental and fierce. That was her mother. Couldn't count the times she would get into trouble, earning her mother's frightening lectures.

She was protective, and loved greatly. She often acted like a mother to many, and made sure they knew she was there for any.

Saoirse was quite the troublemaker, much like her father - a prankster, too. And it took a woman like Aileen to keep her in check, the both of them. And she did, most of the time.

Mother was willful, and Saoirse free-spirited - both were stubborn.

After a while of past memories and the late Hartwood, they fell into a somber silence. Aileen will forever be missed, and never forgotten. No one could forget the fierce woman, whom made such an impact on hundreds, possibly thousands, over her long life span.

Her death was a shock - seeing as it wasn't easy to kill a powerful witch.

"So," mused the Native. "You going to tell me about these sketches? Or are you genuinely interested in the skill as a hobby?"

"No, there's a reason, but also, yes, it is also quite calmin', ye?" she softly spoke, eyeing the sketchbook as it sat on the table. "I've been dreaming of these - places. And Bella, oddly."

"Vision dreaming? How strange." long russet fingers rubbed gently along her paler, and smaller ones. "That's not something to occur until almost a century...you sure it's not something else?"

"Aye," she huffed. "It's been draining. Especially when I can't seem to get a full nights rest since they started late last month. And then, as of this week, I get some in the day."

"They're coming in strong, because you're ignoring them." he warned, worry evident in his dark eyes. "I'll look into this as well, it's dangerous be getting so many and so forcefully. Something isn't right about these. As if something, or someone, is trying to reach out."

Scoffing, the witch adjusted her posture to grab one of the other sketchbooks. "It's not intentional!" she earned a raised eyebrow. "And that's just creepy."

"Dont' give me tha' look, Bowden." she glared back with a pout. "I just don't want to make a big deal out of them until I can understand what is happening to me. I can't figure out what they mean, either. It's frustrating."

"Do you recognize any of them?" she gave him a blank stare. "Besides Bella, of course."

"Yes!" she huffed in frustration. "There's La Push, like the beach, Billy's house, and more I remember anyways. And then Bella's ballet from when she was just a wee lass, but the others? No fuckin' clue. Like random meadows, and unidentifiable scenes with blurry people. What's worse is they aren't in any specific order. Just jumbled."

"That's rough." he muttered in concern. "How about starting with contacting Bella. Have you?"

"I 'ave. Out of immediate concern, and just kind of kept checking in every other day. She probably thinks something's going on with me now. She's worried." she sighed, accepting Rhys now cuddling into her chest as she began to feel anxious.

"Maybe, wait it out and see." Bo carefully placed his arm over her head and pulled her into him, giving a gentle kiss at the top of her head. "No need to stress it out until you finish finals. Just continue to contacting Bella, get a feel for what's going on in her life for now."

"Ye," she leaned into his warmth, closing her eyes with a sigh. "I don't know. I wish it was clear what I'm supposed to do with all of this information."

"You may just be getting some sort of preliminary visions before the big ones? Nothing of import yet?" Bo rubbed the back on his head, thinking hard on these visions and their purposes. It's potentially dangerous for these visions to come at the pace they are on the mind of a young witch. "Like I said, I'll do some researching of my own, so don't stress too much, or fight them. Just let them come and ride them out."

Saoirse nodded with relief for the help, especailly that help coming from Bo. He always knew how to calm her and keep her sane. Without thinking, she threw the sketchbook on the table, accidentally knocked over her coffee mug. Shrieking, she rushes to grab towels to dry them all off. Thankfully I took pictures befor' my careless tossing!

"Saoirse-wait! Look!" Bo held his hand out, startling the small witch as she froze mid-action. Confused, she stares at the tall native male, following his gaze that watched in awe at the table.

Standing in shock, lavender eyes watched in awe of her own, as the dark browns of the liquid began to move, shaping and changing in color intensity as if a magic had a mind of it's own.

"What. The. Hell." the irishwoman muttered, her heart picking up as an image began to finally take shape. Lavender eyes snapped back and forth between the tall male and the table, unsure what to do. "Is that normal?"

A small shrug was her answer.

Finally, at what felt like forever, the coffee stopped moving along the pages, staining a picture as it now was absorbed and drying.

It was eerie, yet fascinating, because neither casted a spell to perform such an unusual phenomenon. Not in great detail, the coffee stained painting before them held a subject that left them both even more confused:

Wolves?

"Maybe," she whispered, thinking maybe something may jump out at her like some freaky thriller movie. "I'm haunted. Or possessed?"

Bo scoffed. "That...isn't impossible, but honestly, I don't think this was...any of that. Besides, witches aren't exactly possess-able...?"

That even a word, she cringed.

Saoirse looked up at Bo with a bewildered strained smile, eyes wide. "Perhaps, the coffee spirits tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

Bo gave a loud guffaw, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the picture. "Yea, and I think they're getting a lil' impatient."

"As if I can help it!" she plopped back onto the mocha colored sofa, arms crossed in a pout. "I feel like they're yelling at me at this point. Practically trying to rub my face in it to get some message through."

"Saoirse," realization dawned in his dark brown eyes, as he finally looked away and stared at her intensely. "I think I know what the spirits are trying to hint at..."

She stared at him in further confusion. "Spirits, now?"

Sighing, Bo gave her a gentle smile. "I think it's time to give ol' Billy Black a visit."

...*oOo*...