"Then perhaps you will."

The idea of visiting a foreign country had been given to me at a really early age. While natively "South African", I was born in tribal lands of Zimbabwe, where my father was highly esteemed. My mother, attractive to my father as an American and clearly inept at making good decisions, had chosen to stay in Zimbabwe with him after getting pregnant with my eldest sister. When my brother and I were born, they made the choice to escape the tribal lands and pursue life elsewhere that might be a better start for my twin and I as we had garnered far too much attention. Much like quote from the movie "Mean Girls" that I had been forced to watch with my sisters â€" it was inherently strange that we were white, and in the area of Zimbabwe that we lived in. After the decision had been made to leave, my family escaped to a city in Namibia where my younger sisters were born. Unfortunately, the escape and the move to a large city meant that we had nothing. No money, no fortune. How would my father have had any money, living in the lands he did? Money was for nothing, there; but in society? The last of my mother's money from her research and trip gone awry to Africa was gone. The hopes for a better life were squashed rather quickly, but with enough trickery and manipulation we ended up in a small house in the cul-de-sac of a rural end of a slum attached to Port Elizabeth in South Africa.

So as you might be able to tell, foreign countries were easily accessible to me from any age. I had been to Lesotho, Swaziland, Namibia, Zimbabwe, and most of Southern Africa as my unlawful pursuits took me to different heights. And now? Between the time that I had left South Africa and the present day, I had managed to visit almost every country that had caught my fancy. From the ancient ruins of Syriatic life in the fertile crescent to the colorful souks and bazaars of Morocco, to the Pyramids in Egypt or the Louvre in France. Next to nothing was out of reach thanks to undying funds and a mind that lusted for adventure, letting me venture to every border and country I could conjure up. Needless to say, it was astonishing to think that others had hardly left their homes. Then again, it was also hard to remind myself that I had a certain set of dysphoric opportunities than many had not; and that many Americans were never presented with. Upon hearing Serafina's words, I tilted my head slightly with growing curiosity.

"Have you managed to get out of the country, at all?"

The words weren't accusatory or judgmental but simply meant to gauge whether or not the idea of a rooftop terrace filled with... France, might be more surprising than it would be a romantic gesture. In that moment, half of me wanted to huff with disappointment that some of the illusion may be lost on her. I had gone into the finest of details in order to create the most authentic environment, filled with French speaking waiters and butlers and... As the elevator doors opened, any sense of doubt I had immediately fled the scene and was replaced with a sort of child-like pleasure in that she widened her startling eyes in order to attempt to perceive all of the surroundings as quickly as possible. Her expression encouraged a small smile to find its way onto my lips, tentatively accepting her breathlessness as a reward for my work. As her arm found its way into the crook of mine, the smile grew slowly and began to let my eyes show the delight as brightly. It was hard to wipe the need for approval from my eyes, and in the moment I wouldn't mind the vulnerability.

"Do you like it?" I asked softly, the sense that I was authoritative and predatory and ruthless as far away as you could imagine it. It felt like I was asking my sisters if they liked my artwork at school; the memory elicited a pleased grin. Far easier than I thought was I able to remove any sense of doubt or worry, and replace with a boisterous attitude that I hadn't seen in myself for quite some time. "And even if you don't, at least let me keep the illusion you do." The words were a mere tease, followed by a wink.

When the elevator doors closed and the scene became wholesome, it was easy to gently steer her towards the table, although it was far from filled. I had intended on cooking dinner myself, and had set up the tools before making the illusion. Fortunately, I had learned how to allow holes in the illusion in order to let me actually use the stove and cooking tools which had been set up right beside the table on the other side of a stone fire pit. I had made dinner prior to picking Serafina up from her home, and simply needed to put the finishing touches on it as it had been cooking all the while. Once we were close enough that I could draw out a chair for her, I gently slipped my arm from hers in order sit across from her. The attendees of the illusion sprung to life, immediately bustling around in order to bring the food to the table, accompanied by a bottle of French champagne to fill our glasses.

It might take the witch a moment or two to notice the envelope with her name etched upon it, but I was sure that when she noticed it, it would pique her attention. Inside the envelope was payment for her services that I had honestly begun the night in her shop while I had waited for her potion to be completed for me, without any prior thought to whether or not I would see her after the night was over. But her words against my skin as soft and breathless as they had been in the dark of the cab had made it clear that I would, whether intended or for other reasons.

"So tell me... How did you find out that you had such a talent with potions?" I asked, comfortably relaxed in my chair. "I think it's time I admit you're far better than I led you to believe I thought," I added, unable to keep the wry grin from spreading across my lips again.




PSA:***(Sorry for the lack of HTML! Will update as soon as I'm on a different computer!!)***