The faint clanking of glassware in the kitchen, the echo of footsteps in the hollow halls above, the intermittent chirps of crickets outside of the window, the steady tick of the clock, the soft crackle of the gentle fire in the center of the room: All of the mundane noises of the nightly comings and goings of the house flooded Cordelia's ears. Each distinct sound was deafening, yet all at once a quiet whisper compared to the soft tone of the melodic voice in front of her. She had to force herself to focus on the words that were flowing from those lips.
"I've gotten most of em' figured out," Misty said matter-of- factly, "but there's sum' I just can't figure out. 'Specially, the ones without petals"
Petals. Cordelia watched as the lips formed that last word, under a trance as Misty apprehensively chewed her bottom lip…those sweet, soft lips. She was mesmerized by them— from their rosy hue, their succulent shape, or the way they gave under the pressure of Misty's teeth. They looked as if they were begging to be kissed, and Cordelia found herself wondering how those lips would feel pressed against her own…Never before in her life had she entertained thoughts like these, at least not about another woman. The thought of it made her head spin, for not only was she desiring another woman, but her position as headmistress made the situation all the more grossly inappropriate. But on the other hand, imagining the taste of Misty's kiss made butterflies flutter in her stomach. It was all she could do to—
"Miss Cordelia?" Misty questioned, forcing her mind back into reality.
"I'm sorry, Misty, what?" Cordelia responded, silently chiding herself on losing herself to her daydreams, "Oh, right, without petals…the seedless plants. How about first thing tomorrow morning you and I head over to the greenhouse and I will help you figure it out. There is much to discuss; they are really quite fascinating."
"Sounds great," Misty beemed, "Thanks, Miss Cordelia. See ya in the mornin'."
Cordelia rested her head against the armchair she was sitting in. As she sat in the fire's warm glow, her mind was running a mile a minute. She was having such difficulty coming to grips with the feelings she had clearly developed for Misty. It was all that she could seem to think about, and the more she tried to will herself to stop thinking about it, the more thoughts of the other witch seemed to invade her mind. If something didn't change soon, Cordelia was sure that she was going to go mad. A stiff gin and tonic would suffice to cloud the thoughts swimming around her head, but she didn't have the time to waste on self-indulgence, nor was it particularly her style. Instead, she soberly trudged off to her empty bed to face the imminent sleepless night ahead. Once in bed, Cordelia tossed and turned as she desperately tried to keep Misty out of her mind, but to no avail. Instead, she submitted and allowed the images and memories of every moment the two witches ever shared rush in. She poured over every slight brush of hands, every word exchanged, every questionable glance, and quiet breath from the beginning, wondering how this all began.