Zelda Spellman needed a fucking cigarette. As she ran, no, walked briskly, out of Mary Wardwell's office, she rummaged through her purse, looking for a damn lighter, a half smoked cigarette already hanging out of the corner of her mouth, most uncharacteristically. Her high heeled shoes click clacked across the dark, deserted hallways, echoing loudly.
"That… woman," she said aloud, "that…detestable, shameless, wanton - oh, praise Satan, I have found fire, at last."
She wasn't even close to being outside of the school building when she frantically lit her cigarette. Inhaling greedily, she slowed her pace, and felt in control of herself again…somewhat. As she glanced at hand written posters adorning the high school walls, she calmed down, now feeling the familiar sense of utter contempt that she held for mortal-kind wash over her like a favorite bubble charm in a hot shower.
'Becky for School President - I'll blow all of you. I mean, like, I'll blow all of your expectations out of the rafters,' one read.
"Satan below, show these imbeciles the quickest way into your domain, that they may not project their sheer idiocy unto this world for a moment longer than is absolutely necessary, " Zelda chuckled to herself. She stopped in front of said poster, exhaled a huge plume of smoke unto it, then ripped it off the wall and shoved it into a nearby locker that happened to be ajar.
"There, Becky. Your new campaign headquarters. I'm sure that you'll find a way to blow everybody in there. From there? No matter, you'll be a rotting corpse soon enough and not many will remember this pitiful folly," said Zelda. Praise be to nicotine, she was feeling a bit better after that…infuriating meeting she'd just had with Mary Wardwell, her niece Sabrina's teacher at mortal school.
Mary Wardwell…it sounded like music in her own ears.
"No, you mustn't think like that!" Zelda admonished herself, all the while, picturing blood red lips against the fairest skin…eyes that looked like a virgin sky at the exact beginning of the most destructive of storms-
"Plus a body that cannot, and will not…quit?" a softly velvet voice proclaimed from behind her. Mary Wardwell's footsteps had been oddly silent against the stark tile floors of the school. Yet, she'd been following Zelda ever since she'd left her office for their "parent teacher chit chat nonsense bullshit whatever meeting" that she'd concocted to get the beautiful red-headed Zelda in the building.
"Oh, please don't be alarmed," Wardwell honeyed, as Zelda whipped around to face her, "I absolutely have been following you, but please, don't be alarmed."
"Well, what in Sata-ERM, what in the name of Dickens should I be feeling, having been stalked by the likes of…you?" Zelda inquired. She knew in her heart that Wardwell was other-worldly. Be that witch, demon, or…alien, she didn't dare to guess. She composed herself, smoothed her skirt, and batted a damned eyelash or two. Stared Wardwell right down.
"Oh, in the name of Satan," Wardwell began, licking her lips, "let us only discuss things in the name of Satan. Dickens is meh." She inched closer to Zelda silently, noiselessly. All of a sudden, the witches were inches apart. They were able to feel the red hot heat radiating off one another. Mary smirked, Zelda shuttered, then damned herself for doing so.
The smell of sacred flowers filled the hallway until it turned into a plush room of silks and pillows.