Anger

Sirona came into the little chamber Druid had been assigned and smiled. While the room hadn’t been meant to be used as a small house, Druid was crouched beside the fire, stirring a pot of soup. She grinned.
“You wouldn’t happen to have space for two, would you?”
She wasn’t hungry, but she remembered the taste of Druid’s soup.
He smiled at her, “Always. Please, join me.”
Sirona nodded and grabbed bowls and spoons. Druid filled both bowls and she carried them to the table as he pulled the soup from over the fire. Sirona smiled.
“Thanks for letting me join you for dinner.”
She had wanted to spend some time with Arawn, but he’d been pulled off with Fedelm as soon as they came back from training out in the forest. Her appearance had killed the humming pleasure that had been left in her after they had sex in the middle of sparring, but the increased power hadn’t ebbed.
Druid felt the increased and unsettled power in her and hoped that it would calm down though it was hard to be completely relaxed when her inner light was so tumultuous.
What was Arawn thinking letting her leave training in this state? He supposed a god never needed to be mindful of these things. Arawn never seemed to be in a state any more tumultuous than he wished and even if he was, he would have no remorse about it.
Sirona was not the same. He’d prayed to the Supreme One every night that Sirona never lost touch with her humanity. Druid settled into his seat across from Sirona and started eating. They ate in silence for a little while before he felt the shift in her aura that could spell danger. It started as a little spark of irritation.
Then, the spoon clattered to the ground as if it had simply slipped from her fingertips and a wave of hot, angry magic filled the room. He lifted his bowl of soup off the table as she slammed her hand down.
“For the love of—” The table caved in, turning to a pile of splinters between them and sending her bowl of soup tumbling onto her feet with a loud wet splatter. “Ow!”
He doubted that the soup had actually burned her, but it likely irritated her further. Her aura turned furious. Druid lifted his bowl from the table and set it aside. He brushed off the splinters as her magic heaved and invaded the splinters of the table, dismantling it quickly.
Sirona panicked. The bowl of soup on the ground crumbled to dust. The vague burning sensation that had come from the hot soup vanished before she had even managed to cry out. The remnants of the table crumbled to a pile of splinters then into a fine dust.
“Oh, no, wait!” She said, trembling and looking down at the dust on the floor. “I didn’t mean to.”
What was she supposed to do? Would it keep going? She scrambled to pull her power back, but it was too late to save the table. Druid stood from his seat and came to her.
“I-It was an accident, I—"
Druid’s hand fell onto her shoulder, “Deep breath, Sirona. You’re just fine.”
But she wasn’t fine because that shouldn’t have happened. She hadn’t meant to do any of that. She’d just been unusually frustrated by how strange it felt to be eating food again even though she really wanted some of Druid’s soup. It had been irrational to be irritated with her body telling her she wasn’t hungry though the scent of his soup made her mouth water.
Now, the table and her soup were dust and her magic was rioting with her panic.
“Don’t—I could—”
Druid’s grip tightened on her shoulder, “I’m fine, Sirona. You won’t hurt me. Just calm down, okay? Get your bearings.”
“I… really wanted that soup.”
“I have other bowls. You can have mine for now. It’s really not as serious as you think.”
Sirona’s jaw trembled, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing to apologize for. I can only guess that Arawn didn’t think to warn you about how having so much more raw power would affect you.” He sighed, “Though I should expect nothing else of him.”
Admittedly, they had been busy with other things even if he had meant to warn her. She’d been desperate to have a bit more time alone with him and to have sex with him again.
“Deep breath,” Druid coaxed, “Just remember what you were doing and ease up on the worry. You can’t let your emotions get the best of you so easily or you’ll have more accidents like this. It’s just something you’ll have to work on.”
Sirona nodded, “Sorry about the table.”
“No need. If you tried hard enough, you could undo it.”
She looked up at him, “I could undo dust?”
Druid nodded, “Focus on the thought of the table as it once was.”
Sirona frowned looking down at the dust. She tried to picture it as a table but nothing happened. Druid crouched beside her, taking her hand and extending it over the dust. She shivered at the gentle sweep of power that he pushed into her.
“Gentle your power,” Druid said. “Temper it. Focus on fixing the table.”
She worried her lip and nodded, relaxing under the soft weight of his magic. Her irritation seemed to float away and she watched as streams of light whirled around, stirring up the dust. A half hollow form started to form and soon it solidified into a table. It wasn’t the same table. It was much shorter than the table had been, but it was something.
“That was pretty good,” Druid said. He pushed a wave of magic through her palm.
She froze at the unexpected heat of it, like the heart of a volcano that went through her. The table expanded to the proper size and she felt the bowl reform on top of her feet.
She looked at Druid in shock as he withdrew his hand and bent down to grab the bowl. He hummed and sent it and the wayward spoon over to the washing bucket.
What was that? Druid’s power hadn’t felt like that before. Was it because she’d slept with Arawn that his power started to feel different or was it just some part of his power that she hadn’t felt before?
Was that possible?
He returned with a piping hot bowl of soup for her and a smile, “Still want it?”
She nodded and took the spoon. He set his bowl back on the table and started eating with a grin.
“You’re staring.”
Sirona frowned, “How do you know that?”
Druid grinned, “I can feel it. And you didn’t deny it.”
She huffed, nudging him with her foot under the table before eating. The familiar taste of it seemed even better now and they ate in companionable silence. She washed dishes before heading out into the garden alone.
It wasn’t like her to get so upset over something so small, but Druid had, as usual, taught her something crucial to dealing with her power.
She found a place in the garden and sunk to the ground, trying to recall Druid’s lessons about meditation. She’d been training with Arawn most of the day, fueling her destructive power using her anger and focusing on the revenge that was just out of her grasp.
She hadn’t realized that she’d still had so much to work out when she’d come to dinner with Druid. Had Druid known? Had Arawn known? Maybe that had been why he’d kissed her so deeply before returning them to the garden of the palace.
She struggled against the great weight of her anger and the unmoving block inside her. When she wanted to use the destructive power, it felt more like a hot, gushing river, but now that she needed to calm down and settle, it refused to move.
She tried to coax it to soften and shift aside, but it wouldn’t move. Instead, it almost threw the memory of her father’s severed head and the panic of having to escape the knights by jumping into the river back in her face.
Fedelm’s face flashed through her mind. She saw her holding on to Arawn’s arm with a smug expression and pulled back violently.
She’d been wrong about the character of the block. It wasn’t just about the anger she’d been focused on during her training, but Fedelm and Arawn. Fedelm had been sure to pull Arawn away from her as soon as they returned from training. Arawn hadn’t been eager, but he’d still gone, promising to see her later.
Fedelm hadn’t given her a smug look. She hadn’t even looked at Sirona at all, but even that felt like a slight against her pride.
Maybe it would be best to take a few days to try and get used to tempering her emotions. She’d have to talk to Arawn about it.