There was a lurch in her stomach, electric warmth rushing in her veins, and Meghan nodded slowly. A pen. Right. She could do that.
The picture formed in her mind, gradually, sketchy at first but eventually filling out. She held it there, perfect in its detail, rounding out every shade and curve and gleam.
Then her lips formed around the charm, the words sounding both utterly foreign and perfectly natural on her tongue. At first there was nothing, and she almost just let go in disappointment. But her brow furrowed and, grasping hold of the pencil more tightly, she said those words again, firmly, commanding rather than asking.
It started out as heat spitting against the palm of her hand. The friction made her hiss out, pleasure and pain both at once, confusing and muddled as she felt the energy rush out of her, felt the spell grab hold. With a gasp and an almost audible shock, she opened her hand and let the pencil roll out.
The pen roll out.
"Oh, God," she said quietly, her head lolling forward as if spent in her release, forehead leaning against Elaine's temple. "Oh, shit."