Cecily was enduring a rare full-member meeting when she felt it. A warmth along her wrist. A pulsing, gentle sting that sent a tingle of electricity, of anticipation up her spine. It'd been months since she'd given the sister bangle to Hermione's pretty men, and she'd honestly stopped thinking that they would ever call her. Even so, she'd continued to wear the bangle, had continued to wait, had continued, even, to hope (a foreign feeling that she deeply despised). It would seem as though her patience was paying off. They were calling her.