Control (Open)

Control was a funny, funnny thing. When you had it - and Kallie did have it in spades - you felt on top of the world. If everything was in its right place then it was perfectly simple to keep a handle on things.

But all it took was one things, one thing to just not go right, and suddenly that control... was no more.

This time it had been her order was not what it was supposed to be - at least, that had been the last straw, the one that finally broke her - what it had really been was the person behind the counter.

It had looked so much like... of course it wasn't, that was impossible, but that did not mean anything to a mind at work. What was logic when the brain could make its own conclutions.

That had been the start. She could feel her control begin to fall appart and splinter then. Like that one thread that falls loose from your favourite sweater. It looks like nothing at the time - a slight paling of the completion, a tiny minute shake of the hand - but then you puck it - get the wrong order, pile more things on top of it - and it all unravels, failing appart like it never existed.

Now her breath hitched and her vision began to swim. She knew she should leave, leave before it go worse, leave before people began to notice but she couldn't, she couldn't make anything work.

No. No. No. No. No.

It was all falling appart. If she didn't get some control soon she was more likely than not going to pass out. She had already spirled too far.

Control was lost.

Sofia had just gotten her tea. The girl next to her looked worried. She had no idea why. She smiled at her. Now that she got a better look she looked to be about her age. She took a sip. She was still bothered by her dream the night before. The teacup shook in her hand. Both her parents had told her that some dreams had meanings and came true. She shook harder.

Kallie looked up as someone else sat down near her. She shook her head. She had to leave now.

Shaking rather violently, she took a deep breath striving to grab any strains of control that she may have had left and pushed herself from the table.

Her legs were wabbly as her breath got close to hyperventallating. She took a step and then another before crashing into the the chair of a young girl.

"Sorry," she muttered a a febly Finnish, her brain too far gone to remember any language but her first one. She took another deep breath, attempting to push away the dots swirling in her vision but they were already too far gone.

With another mumbled Finnish phrase, her legs gave and the Minister of Magic passed out in the Tea shop.