#like she’s got a massive kinda. greenhouse type deal going on. just this lush green garden

[serabellyms]

Salem could sense the dread before Glynda even entered the room. Some might’ve called it a perk to have such foresight; Salem would argue it was only a perk if there was an “off” switch—and there was none.

“What?” The question was rhetorical; how could she be dead? She wasn’t supposed to leave until later in the week, when the semester was over. Salem herself was supposed to have gone with; the danger level warranted it. Had Summer gone on her own? Oh, no—she didn’t even want to imagine the horrors that might have been encountered by her. There was a reason she'd told Summer not to go; it was too dangerous, even for her.

“I didn’t send her anywhere, Glyn. She and I were supposed to leave later this week, after the graduation ceremony.” Why in the world would Summer have gone? And on her own, no less? The danger had been far too high for anyone to go alone, even Summer. There was a reason Salem was going to go with her; while Summer’s talent could be used to fend off hordes of Ozma’s minions, there was no replacement for Salem’s physical immortality. Summer knew that. She knew the reason Salem insisted on her own involvement.

Because as much as she enlisted their help, she was determined to protect them, too.

"This... isn't good." It wasn't good on many levels. Ruby and Yang, now without a mother, Yang for the second time... and Taiyang, now having lost another person he'd given a part of himself too. Salem knew that pain all too well; she was far too familiar with the feeling, given the way Ozma had tore her asunder with his betrayal. "I'll be in the garden; he can come speak with me there." That way, she wouldn't find herself overwhelmed by his emotions. She could at least draw strength from the plants and life in there; perhaps that would give her enough to subtly calm him enough for them to have a conversation.

[ @serabellyms | salem // glynda ]

The elevator to the top of Beacon Tower had always taken longer than Glynda liked, but she found herself appreciating it now. One hand pressed flat to the cool metal paneling, she watched the floor number tick higher and tried to impose some order upon her thoughts. No small task. They kept flying away from her, scattered like leaves driven by the wind.

Summer’s gone. Why Taiyang had chosen to call her first, Glynda didn’t know—perhaps grief had stricken every practical consideration from his mind, and he’d turned to her as a friend more than colleague—but she was glad. Better for Salem to hear it from someone calm, first.

The elevator glided to a halt, and Glynda released her breath sharply. Calm wasn’t the right word for what she felt as she stepped into the headmistress’s office; she didn’t feel much of anything at all, as though every emotion had been blasted out of her and left only a charred suggestion of feeling behind. She supposed she might call it shock.

“Professor Witchhazel,” she said, with a little too much formality. Stilted. Clearing her throat, she moved to stand at a more comfortable distance from the desk. “I–”

The words have bad news dried up, inadequate somehow. Glynda was no stranger to death. Gods knew Salem wasn’t either. Familiarity did little to soften the blow, or ease the burden of sharing it.

Better to just say it. Salem didn’t need to be told that Glynda had come to deliver bad news: a single glance would have sufficed even if the lateness of the hour and the unannounced intrusion had somehow escaped her notice. Glynda took a deep breath as she lifted her head to look the headmistress in the eye.

“Summer Rose is dead,” she said, stripped of inflection. “I’m not sure of the details: Taiyang called about ten minutes ago, and all he could tell me was that Raven’s bond to her has been severed. He’s on his way here from Patch now.” Her gaze flickered down. “I gather he wants to know where you sent her. He was… very nearly hysterical over scroll; I thought it best to inform you before he arrives.”