"Thank God," Cordelia sighed, breathing in the clear air of the Academy. She kicked off her uncomfortable heels and closed her eyes, suppressing the desire to yell about her aching feet. She glanced down and wiggled her swollen toes, wincing slightly as pain surged through them.
Of the endless, unbearable Halloween parties she'd been to, tonight's was easily the worst. It had been a clichéd mess of jack o' lanterns and tacky fake cobwebs, filled by an infuriating gaggle of statesmen. Utterly hapless. The only reason she'd suffered through it was for the Coven's safety. Not worth it, she thought. With a restrained nudge, she pushed the front door closed behind her and tiptoed towards the staircase.
She scooped up her shoes, swaying in dizziness as she walked. The party's alcohol supply had been pathetic – barely enough to drown out the aimless conversation, or the crass music. A constant supply of tequila kept her occupied all night, and she'd lost count of how many she'd guzzled early on. Who could blame her? Fiona had taught her that well, at least.
Studying the stairs ahead, she rocked from side to side. Normally, she could admire the ethereal architecture of the Academy. Not tonight. She'd rather sleep on the floor downstairs than take on that obstacle. There was no trusting her power of transmutation either, not in this state. She could end up on the other side of New Orleans for all she knew.
With another sigh, she dropped to her knees and resigned herself to crawling up the steps, hands grabbing at the banisters. She climbed with the grace of a tiny puppy, dragging her feet agonizingly behind, slipping over the polished wood. I'm too old for this, she scolded herself. As the Supreme, there were countless standards to uphold. She prayed that none of the younger witches were loitering about upstairs; that they were still out at their own parties or asleep in their rooms. Unlikely. She couldn't afford for them to see her scrambling about like a lunatic across the floor.
Hauling her body upright once she reached the landing, she scampered through the corridor towards her room. Shoving the door open, she flung herself onto the bed and threw her arms out. Finally. The peace enveloped her.
Damnit. Her head throbbed. Reluctantly, she pulled herself up and walked over to the table in the centre of the room. She snatched up an empty glass and carried it into her bathroom. The tap creaked as it turned, releasing a sharp torrent of water into the glass. Cordelia took several sips before setting it down on the sink and peering into the mirror. She scrutinised her now wispy blonde hair, smeared make-up, rumpled dress. God, she groaned.
Without warning, a deafening crash hammered against the wall. Cordelia jumped back from the mirror, the sound echoing painfully in her head. At the ring of shattering glass, she was alert and in control.
"Come on, bitch! Get up!" a cry tore through the Academy.
Cordelia darted out of her bathroom, the Supreme in her taking over. She thundered along the corridor and into the next room, her eyes widening at the disaster which greeted her.
"What the hell is going on here?" she exclaimed, folding her arms in disapproval. Her eyes flitted across the area and found Madison stood brazenly atop her bed, waving a bottle of something in the air. Below her, sprawled out on the floor and surrounded by innumerable empty bottles and glasses, lay Misty Day. Her hair was splayed like a fan on the wood, her face shielded by a thick, black shawl.
"For Christ's sake, Madison, what have you done?" Cordelia yelled. She rushed over to attend the passed out swamp witch, struggling through a haze of alcohol to reach her. This seemed to be a recurring theme this evening.
"She asked," Madison began, jumping down from the bed. "Swamp bitch wanted to play a drinking game. I told her she couldn't handle it, but she wouldn't back down."
"Please don't use that language. You've already done enough damage," Cordelia replied, folding stray pieces of hair behind her ears. The cocky movie star flourished her arms about in protest but was silenced as the Supreme shuffled dirty glasses out of the way. She bent down and tugged the shawl away from Misty's face.
"God, you're such a loser." Madison rolled her eyes at the passed out swamp witch and fell back on her bed. She swiped up another bottle from the table and continued to drink.
"Misty? C'mon, let's get you up." Cordelia attempted to roll Misty's body into a comfortable position, suppressing a laugh at the confusion in the swamp witch's eyes. As angry as she was with Madison, there was something undeniably entertaining about the dazed look on Misty's face.
"H-hey," Misty muttered, beginning to smile. "Miss Cordelia! Did Madison ask ya to play as well?"
The Supreme grinned at her, turning away slightly to throw an accusative glare at Madison. The extravagantly dressed star raised her hands submissively, but there was no fooling Cordelia. Not after the shit-show of an evening she'd endured. She rocked Misty softly and helped her stand up.
"Shit," Misty mouthed, grappling to her feet. She flailed suddenly and clutched Cordelia's arm as her inappropriately high heels gave way. In a stupor, she scraped her untidy hair away from her face and stood dead still beside the Supreme. Her shawl tumbled from her shoulders and she fought to catch it, her movements slow and disengaged.
Cordelia shook her head in disappointment. Madison will be on extra chores for weeks after this, she thought, supporting the drunken witch in her arms. The pair began edging their way to the corridor as Misty's body lolled backwards, just enough for her to cast a knowing wink back to Madison before swerving out of the door.
"You certainly know how to pick 'em," Cordelia said, guiding Misty through the Academy.
"Whaddya mean by that, Miss Cordelia?"
"Well, of all the people to get drunk with, you pick Madison Montgomery!" she chuckled. Misty leant away from her in disrepute.
"I'm not drunk, Delia!" she gasped, fixing her blue eyes on the Supreme. "I'm just intoxicated by ya."
Cordelia blushed at Misty's impromptu compliment. She wasn't sure whether she believed its sincerity with them both in such a state, but the depth of Misty's gaze drew her in.
"Hm," she murmured. It was all the sound she could manage, especially tangled so tightly between the swamp witch's arms.
"Ya woulda liked it, Delia," Misty continued. "The drinkin' game, I mean."
"Yeah? Why do you think that?"
"Well, ya knock me out too, y'know." The swamp witch couldn't resist a giggle at Cordelia's flippant head shaking. Drunkenness brought out the worst in her sense of humour.
"C'mon, Misty. Let's get you to bed," Cordelia replied, curtly. She was enjoying Misty's pleasantries, but didn't want to read too much into them, considering their compromised frames of mind.
"If you say so," Misty sniggered, lurching forward as they spun into her bedroom. She bolted abruptly towards her bed, snatching up Cordelia's hand. She spun away and let the Supreme fall onto the covers, where she remained, albeit confused at the haste of Misty's appeal.
The swamp witch galloped clumsily over, still gripped by the force of alcohol, and took a seat next to her. She planted a kiss firmly on Cordelia's lips, resting her hand on the Supreme's thigh. Noticing the flash of contentment on her face, Misty swung her legs around and straddled Cordelia's body, lowering her onto the bed.
"Hey, Misty, slow down! Now's not the best time," Cordelia said, her breathing becoming erratic with excitement. She ran her fingers through Misty's tousled curls, overwhelmed by her courage. She returned a kiss and whispered, "We don't have to do this now."
The swamp witch exchanged flushed looks with her Supreme as she let out a rapturous yawn. "Ah, Delia, Halloween suits ya. Brings out the darkness," she teased, her eyes becoming heavy. She leant in to deliver another kiss as exhaustion caught up with her, bringing her body crashing down on top of Cordelia.
The Supreme shook her head again, this time in exasperation. Misty now slept unknowingly with her face against her chest, lost in Stevie-filled dreams, no doubt. This wasn't exactly the Halloween she'd planned, but Misty's bed was cosy. Well, I don't really have a choice about being here, she smirked. There was no way Misty was moving in a hurry.