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Reuniting with Misty has been like crawling out of a bleak, howling fever-dream. Shaking off the weight of eternity that meant to send Cordelia, grim and weakened, into the cool burial dirt.
They've had time to reconcile, to dwell in the fondest memories.
Cordelia wanders outside, into the sunshine-bright and fresh air, rubbing the bridge of her nose. This property houses another coven of witches. They're a little headstrong to put it politely. Young in their magic and prideful and eager to defend themselves against strangers. She needs a day or so to consider how to approach the subject of coming together for all of their best interests.
In the uncut grass, there are hundreds of dandelions releasing their fluffy seeds. Like a delicate, warm snowfall. Misty twirls on the edge of a swamp pond reflecting the clear morning sky. She hums out a deep, lulling melody, the fringe of her iridescent shawl catching rainbow-strands of light.
Pale gold boho jewelry and amulets cover Misty's hands and her neck. Cordelia has felt the softness of her golden, frizzy curls between her fingers before. She has learned Misty's taste upon her lips.
Like rainwater dewing upon Misty's inner thighs, her slick, slippery heat.
Cordelia felt all of her, pressing a forefinger and thumb against the other woman's mound, easing past her folds and caressing those rosy-pink, fluttering muscles. She has listened to the crackle of firewood, Cordelia's nostrils filling with smoke and flowery perfume. Misty, bare-breasted in her dark crochet, rode her hips down against Cordelia's fingers plunging in and quivered, murmuring out her name.
"Miss Cordelia…"
It was the first night, lying upon decorative throw pillows and blankets, half-asleep and smelling of Misty's fluids drying upon Cordelia's skin, she realized cannot do it again.
Cordelia cannot stand once more living without her dear sweet Misty.
She blinks, drifting out of her thoughts, as Misty's arm tangles to hers. The other witch grins, cradling the side of Cordelia's face tenderly, placing her mouth to hers. A flurry of wild, winged monarchs burst into view, spiraling high above them, and Cordelia knows this peace in her heart like muscle memory.
Like it can crawl out of her, removing the burial dirt.
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American Horror Story isn't mine. Aaaahhhhh me clutching my chest I'm love them lots! I forgot all about my emotions! Hope you guys like this! Any comments appreciated! This was for "Split" as the official Femslash February prompt and them "Yearning" which was mt challenge prompt! Aaayyy!