“Again,” Alaira says, but there's no sharpness in her tone, just patience. “Slowly this time, your line work is good. Your confidence is what’s rushing.” She stands behind you with her hands folded neatly, close enough that you can feel the calm of her presence without it pressing. When you falter at the third curve of the spell, she leans in and gently touches your hand, guiding the pen back into the correct angle. The correction is almost absurdly soft.
Alaira always teaches that way, as though the magic itself might bruise if handled too roughly. She's a good teacher, kind but thorough. Learning magic as an adult is the same as hard as an adult trying to learn a new language. The mind is no longer built to absorb the knowledge like a sponge, and Alaira knows that. She knew you'd need extra help when she took you on as an adult apprentice.
“There,” she murmurs, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “That's better.” The praise lands warm and bright.
It happens often now, she praises you when you get it right, encourages you when you don’t, brings you tea before you realise you're tired, and always takes a little extra time to make sure you understand. At first, it seemed like the kind of care she gives everyone. After all, that's Alaira; open and attentive, the sort of woman who makes sure her students are thriving, even if they're her own age.
But then she starts lingering. She stays after lessons to help you tidy your notes. She asks how you’re adjusting to the spell work in that tone that suggests she wants the answer not just as your teacher.
Once, when you rub at your aching wrist after a long afternoon of sigils, she takes your hand without a word and smooths her thumb over the joint. Her face is calm as ever, but her eyes soften in that quiet, unreadable way that makes your own heart do something inconvenient.
“You push yourself too hard,” she tells you softly, smiling whilst her eyes dance with playfulness, “I can't boast that I had the greatest Witch as my apprentice if you sprain your wrist every session.”