She practised, when she was alone. When she could close all the doors and pull all the curtains, and

She practised, when she was alone. When she could close all the doors and pull all the curtains, and sit on her bed in the half light that leaked through. 

It had taken a while, but she’d come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t ready to find someone, just yet. It was too raw a discovery, too powerful a thing for her to properly harness at the moment. The iron was too raw from the fire, needed a little tempering before she was happy wielding it in public. 

That didn’t mean she was going to idly sit while her brain mulled it over. She had a plan of action, and most of the steps in that plan involved her in a darkened room testing herself. Seeing how tight she could get the binds around her wrists, her feet, or, if she was feeling especially adventurous, her neck. 

She wanted to be ready, when she was ready. She was too eager to sit by and wait, too impatient not to try these things out when it was all she could think about whenever she was alone. 

It was only when her hands were tied around her back that she truly unleashed her imagination, let herself dwell on the packages she’d ordered, the things she’d be able to try out next week, next month, where she’d be next year.