A prompt and ideas provided by silverlightdragon.
A/N: There'll be 6 chapters. I decided to publish this while writing the bananun fic at the same time. It'll make me happy if you read both ;D
The sun rose, and Cordelia Goode told herself today would be the day she started it over. Beams of sunlight came through the lacy curtains at her large windows, bouncing off the pearl-like walls. The city of New Orleans in the early morning shimmered in the morning dew. This was the kingdom she reigned over, the kingdom she had earned and deserved.
This would be the day.
But it was a lie. Nothing more than a spell of self-deception. One month ago, at the party to celebrate the sixth month anniversary of the rebirth of the Coven, an illustrious female journalist had given her a crucial piece of advice— That lies are like scars on one's soul. That the end of such a life is self-destruction. But the Supreme contradicted, with her diplomatic smile on, that the whole opposite could be true. Not all scars are fatal. Accumulations of small scars have the ability to strengthen the damaged skin. Just like numerous horizontal scars on the inside of her left wrist made the skin there tougher, thicker. She was a young girl in her late teens, then, a victim of her own weaknesses. Not any longer.
She had a heart of iron now.
But was this also a lie? It only takes one blow of scorching air to melt iron. She stayed oblivious to this fact, to the imminent moment, until the very last minute. Her Sight could not give her any kind of premonitions. She spent her afternoon in the greenhouse all the same.
There was a tiny space in the corner of the herbal kingdom. Six flowerpots of white Orchids. The flowers there had no academic purposes, and the Supreme did not allow anyone to touch them under any circumstances. It was her shrine of mourning, dedicated to her fallen sister. Misty Day. Since her sudden passing, Cordelia had added one flowerpot to the shrine every monthly anniversary.
And it was when she was preparing the seventh pot that the fateful moment came.
The voices of the girls became loud all of a sudden outside the greenhouse. Cordelia found it peculiar. The greenhouse stood in the back of the academy building, rather isolated from everything else on the property. And as an unspoken rule, the girls avoided to play around the area. So, when the voices penetrated the walls and reached her ears, it rose a mingled feeling of alarm and annoyance in her. Her hands stopped. Among the yelling, she heard her name shouted, and the annoyance vanished into thin air.
She strode to the exit, a bad feeling deep in her chest. Accidents were part of daily life at the Coven. The Supreme and the council handled them with expert calmness and efficiency. But not once in the last seven months had anyone yelled her name with such hysteria. The last time it happened was before the Seven Wonders, under Marie Laveau's attack, on the Halloween night. This time, however, the Coven did not have an unexpected visit by zombies or voodoo witches.
The moment her hand touched the doorknob, the door swung open. Cordelia's heart jumped at the sudden movement, and at the sight of a person standing just right on the other side of it. Her dirt-covered hand rose to her chest. A gasp escaped her rose lips. Then, she heard a chuckle.
"Sorry, Miss Cordelia, I didn't mean ta scare you." The youthful voice had a mischievous tone.
Cordelia raised her eyes, feeling fooled by her own ears. But it was all true. The bright smile of a girl greeted her, and Cordelia's hands flew to her mouth. No word came out.
The voices of other girls grew closer. Within seconds, a flock of girls, Queenie and Zoe at the front, surrounded the two of them. Everything fell into a bizarre pit of silence, mingled with confusion.
Even then, the grin on the face of Misty Day radiated utmost joy.
ooOooOoo
The seventh flowerpot remained on the greenhouse table, flower-less.
The entire Coven gathered in the Ancestors Room that evening, with the heat of the summer afternoon lingering in the air. The center of the crowd sat Misty. The girls, except for the old members of the academy, only knew about the wild blonde from the few stories Cordelia had allowed herself to tell. Until this afternoon, Misty Day had existed, to them, as a mere concept. An urban legend. So, nobody could really blame them for their reactions.
Stimulated by timid curiosity, they flooded the room to get a glimpse of the mysterious necromancer, and possibly to get acquainted with her. It was as though Misty was a lioness in the safari park.
Cordelia watched them from a distance, standing by the grand piano. From there, she could barely see the top of Misty's head. Her mind raced with thoughts.
"It just feels surreal, doesn't it?" Zoe came to stand next to her. "After all these months, she just shows up as if nothing has happened. She had no shoes on, you know, just like when she first came here."
But the sweet memory could not loosen up the muscles between Cordelia's eyebrows. "Did you ask how she came back?" she asked.
"We did. But she asked where you were, and just ran straight to the greenhouse."
From between the girls' heads, Misty's face peeked sometimes. Everytime that happened, her eyes never failed to lock with the Supreme's.
"She's smiling," the Supreme said, almost to herself.
"Yeah, and she ate a whole lot." Zoe's voice had an optimistic air. "Look at her, she's so full of life."
Cordelia remained silent, her eyes on the pinkness in Misty's cheeks. She was in shock. A trance state, where her senses remained perfect, but she lacked the capability to entertain an emotion. She had difficulty wrapping her head around this whole affair. The only thing she knew, though, was that none of the Coven had imagined to have Misty back like this, so out of the blue.
Zoe rested an understanding hand on her shoulder. "It's about time we rescued her, don't you think? She must be getting tired. She needs a bed, and some quiet alone time." She gave a wink, left the baffled Supreme, and walked up to the crowd.
Despite her effort, however, she seemed to struggle for some moments to get the girls' attention. Her waving hands and shouts went ignored in the herd of excited teenagers and younger children. At that moment, some girl pointed at Misty's neck. "What does your tattoo mean?" she said.
Now, it became the only thing the girls cared about. Misty remained in the seat, with blankness on her face. The little girl kept pointing at said tattoo, showing others. Their curiosity grew so strong, so blind, that some of them even dared to lift Misty's wild curls off her neck for a better view.
There was a boundary, and it was that boundary they had crossed. Although the wild blonde herself didn't seem to mind, the gesture vexed Cordelia. She walked up to them, with a full intention to yank Misty out of the crowd if necessary. But, as the crowd parted before her, the target for their crazed curiosity came into view.
On the pale skin just below Misty's left ear, there was a mark, a little bigger than a quarter. Cordelia had never seen it before, not that she'd seen every inch of Misty's body. But the mark radiated some sort of mystic energy. One had to be literally blind to miss it.
.
Although with a sense of puzzlement, the Supreme managed to retreat for the night with the wild blonde. Unshakable apprehension dominated her mind, and she stood in the corner of her own bedroom, arms crossed in front of her chest. She watched the girl move about the big room.
The ringed fingers of Misty slid along any surface within reach. A nostalgic grin lit up her face. Her attention flew from one thing to another, just in a way one might do in her own house after a long period of absence. Nothing seemed wrong with Misty, as far as the Supreme could tell. Still, the sight of great joy wasn't enough to convince her.
The Cajun remained oblivious to the trouble of the other woman, and let herself sink in the bed at last. Her long arms hugged a pillow, as she pressed her cheek into it. She thrashed her legs, letting loose content murmurs.
Their eyes met, then.
Redness appeared in Misty's cheeks. She sat up, facing Cordelia, with a meek, guilty smile. "Sorry. Got carried away a bit," she said. "Been forever since I last slept in this bed." She placed the assaulted pillow back in its right place.
That, at last, thawed the rigidness of the Supreme's expression. "No apologies. I'm just so relieved that you are yourself." She sat in the bed, at a safe distance. "Do you need sleep?"
Misty shook her head. "Ain't sleepy at all. It's like, my body clock is messed up pretty bad. Like after you flew on an airplane. Never been on one before, but it must feel like this." Some sarcastic chuckles escaped her lips. "Who knew hell and airplanes had something in common, huh?"
Cordelia only gave a stiff smile in return. It felt odd, almost inappropriate, to talk about it so soon, with such lightness. But at the same time, part of her appreciated the girl's lack of reserve.
"I have many questions," Cordelia said.
"Ask away."
"How did you get out? What happened? Do you know how long it has been? Are you—"
Misty chuckled again, and rested her hands on the shoulders of the Supreme. "One at a time, Miss Cordelia. I ain't gonna turn inta mist."
The woman felt heat between her eyes. She forced out a laugh, though, at the awful pun, and at the the absurdity of herself. And she spent a moment to relish the weight of Misty on her shoulders. They hadn't felt each other's warmth until now.
"Tomorrow was going to be your seven month anniversary," she said, in a quieter voice. "I've been trying to save you."
"I know. I felt it everyday, every second."
"But I failed you. I failed you during the Seven Wonders, and failed you again even after your—" Cordelia swallowed. She couldn't let herself utter the word. "You must despise me."
The girl's hands lowered, to connect their hands in a fine grip. "Miss Cordelia, tell me how ta hate the awesomest person in the world, because I don't know how. I fought for you, in my hell. I knew you were blaming yourself."
"How did you get out, then?"
Here, for the first time, Misty frowned. She dropped her gaze to her lap, as she shrugged. "Can't remember," she said. "It's all blank."
"You mean you don't remember anything?"
"No, I remember being in hell. It was the biology class in ma high school. But, it stopped, and when I realized, I was standing in the middle o' the swamp. I just knew I had ta go back to you." Then, her cheeks became red at once. "To the Coven, I mean. You— Yeah, you are big part of the Coven, is what I meant. God, it's a hot night, isn't it?" She fidgeted, still blushing.
It would've made the Supreme blush just as hard, if her attention hadn't been elsewhere. But her eyes saw the way Misty's hand rose to her own neck. She saw the tattoo under the palm, and saw nothing else.
"Is that when you got that tattoo?" Cordelia asked. "Do you remember how you got it?"
"Oh . . . No, I don't." Misty's hand remained there on the neck, and began to pick at the skin. "I saw it in the mirror. It doesn't look like anything I've ever seen."
"Let me take a look." Cordelia scooted closer, until their knees nearly touched each other. She brushed the thick blonde curls away, mindful not to let her hand touch the neck. Her eyes squinted at the tattoo. "It looks like," she said, "a birthmark, rather than a tattoo. A bruise. But it has a distinctive shape."
"It looks like a symbol or something," Misty said.
"It does. An ancient rune, maybe. Hold on—" The Supreme twisted her body at the waist, and reached out for her smartphone on the nightstand. "Let me take a picture. Could you hold your hair?"
Misty obeyed, and tilted her head even more for the camera. The loud sound of the shutter echoed in the room twice, back to back. She flinched a little. Then, they sat side by side, as they examined the pictures.
"Amnesia itself isn't really a problem," the Supreme said. "It should've been expected after spending months in another realm. But this . . ." She looked at Misty's face. "Does it hurt?"
"No, but it's kinda hot." The Cajun again pressed her hand to the skin. "Not that it irritates me, though. I like it, actually. It's comfortable heat, like sitting in front o' a fireplace in winter."
With a soft smile, Cordelia put down her phone. "Let's do a little research tomorrow, to see what it could mean. Queenie must be able to help us."
As Misty gave a positive nod, they fell quiet. The singing of cicadas and crickets came in through the open windows. There was a strong blow of the summer breeze, and the curtains waved with velvety flutter. The wind touched the tip of Misty's curls, too. The sight of it mesmerized the Supreme.
"Miss Cordelia?"
Cordelia looked up, and found those affable eyes looking into hers.
"I said I ain't sleepy yet," the girl said, "but can I cuddle you? It's— It's hot, so I get it if—"
"Of course, you can." Cordelia forced a smile, as she bottled up half of her enthusiasm. Her heart began to pound at once.
She lay down, on her side of the bed, and welcomed the Cajun into her arms. Through her nightgown, she felt the heat of Misty, and the whole weight of her. The wild curls tickled her chin and neck, as Misty buried her face in her neck. The Supreme couldn't help the urge to caress the curls, and to twist a strand around her fingers, the way she used to do. It felt like finally coming home.
I missed this." Misty heaved a sigh into her neck.
Cordelia answered with a quiet hum.
"Miss Cordelia?"
Cordelia hummed again.
The girl's arms tighten around her waist. "If it was all for you, hell was worth it," she said, in a delicate voice.
The Supreme regretted not turning the lights off immediately. All of the heat of the summer night gathered in her face, in her neck. But despite the heat, she pulled Misty even closer, until no space separated their bodies. And when the Cajun responded with an equally strong hug, her heart swelled, and shattered at the same time.
"I'm not that worthy," she said next to Misty's ear, too quietly.
ooOooOoo
Day 2
During the morning council meeting, Cordelia felt blatant, almost intrusive eagerness from Zoe and Queenie. They maintained their professionalism, though, and reported necessary information to the Supreme with straight faces. So, she did the same, acting as though it was just another day at the Coven.
But at the end of the meeting, the two council members went back to being two young girls.
"So, about Misty. . ." Zoe still kept up her professional pretense. "Do you want to give her a roommate, or just a room to herself, or, you know, let her sleep in your room?"
"Which is exactly what you did last night," Queenie said. Unlike the brunette, she didn't seem to care about her intrusiveness.
Codelia opened her mouth for self-defense. Outside the office, the doorbell rung, catching their attention for a moment.
"We don't really have any room left at the moment," Zoe said, "so, if you two don't mind, sharing the master bedroom will be nice."
"You did share your room before, right?" Queenie said. "After I came back from Marie and reclaimed my room? It'll be a win-win situation to be honest."
Cordelia bit her lip. She knew she'd blush if this intrusive interrogation continued. "I will talk to Misty to see what she needs." Then she opened the laptop in front of her. "The meeting's over. You may go now."
Even with her eyes trained on the screen, she didn't miss when the girls rolled their eyes at each other. But her mouth remained shut, her posture rigid, as she spent an eternity waiting for them to walk out. The door closed, at last. Her shoulders relaxed at the clicking of it. A long sigh escaped her lips. She sank in her chair, thinking about the Cajun in her bed.
She'd only slept a little last night, three hours at most. The loud pulsation of her heart had kept her wide awake. And Misty's soft breath on her neck caused her eyes to open too early in the morning.
She'd come to realize, in her sleep-deprived state, that peaceful sleep would never come to her, with Misty in her arms. And at the same moment, she found herself disregarding sleep completely, without a second thought.
She yawned in her seat, stretching like a cat. There came knocks on the door, then. Two gentle taps.
"You have a visitor, Miss Cordelia," Kyle said from behind the door.
It left her baffled for a moment. Although they did have unexpected visitors from time to time, nobody liked to step into the Coven of cranky witches so early in the morning. Cordelia yawned once more, patted her hair, and invited the person in.
Then, through the open door walked in a woman. A handsome woman, about as old as the Supreme herself, in a tight, long black dress. Her blonde hair was put up in a simple manner, but with the elegance of a royal. The black high heels clicked against the marble floor in a confident stride. Bold earrings swayed, the black jewels shimmering in the light. As she walked past the Supreme, her musky perfume filled her nose.
Cordelia had never seen her before. No word had yet to come out of the Woman's mouth, but the domineering atmosphere of her already gave the Supreme unnerving sensations. Inexplicable feelings, but not unfamiliar. It reminded her of someone else.
"Cordelia Goode, the headmistress." She gestured to the chair in front of her desk, as she herself sat down. "How may I assist you today, miss?"
The Woman, however, kept wandering about the room, studying the ornaments. "No need for the formality, Miss Goode. I'm not one of your students' parent." Her voice had an equally dominant depth.
Cordelia noticed her own body shrinking at it. She straightened her back. "I see. May I ask, then, what has brought you here this morning?"
"Oh, I'm just here to have my puppy back. I know she's here. I let her off the leash yesterday, knowing she won't be in any danger." She let out a delicate sigh, as she tilted her face up in a rather theatrical way. "But I've grown awfully lonely without her."
Cordelia shifted in her seat, confused. "I'm afraid you're looking in the wrong place. Some of our students might have cats and birds, but that's the only animals here."
Then, the dark eyes of the Woman looked at her for the first time. The smile grew wider. Her exceptional beauty possessed something very threatening, something revolting. Cordelia had felt this way before.
"You're mistaken," the Woman said. "I'm not looking for some dirty dog. She's a fine, pure-bred Cajun with the most exquisite golden mane."
Cordelia grimaced, at which the Woman laughed.
"I'm positive it rings a bell."
At that moment, the door of the office opened with a quiet creak. The Supreme found Misty putting her head around the door. Those curious eyes locked with Cordelia's. But soon, they flew to the other person standing on the other side of the room. Her whole face lit up at once, and she ran, exhilarated like a real dog, into the open arms of the Woman.
The Supreme stood up. She didn't know what to do with herself, though, and kept watching the scene as it unfolded before her.
"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you," the Cajun said. She nuzzled into the Woman's neck, just exactly how she had in Cordelia's embrace the night before.
The Woman raised her gloved hand, stroking the head of blonde curls. "I wanted to give you some time to spend with Miss Goode. I'm sure you had fun last night?"
Misty nodded with a full-blown smile. It disappeared in a flash, however, as though struck by a sudden realization. Her eyes travelled between the Woman and the Supreme. They had a faint color of guilt.
"Sorry. Did I interrupt your conversation?"
"No, it's alright, puppy," the Woman said. "I was just telling Miss Goode that I've come for you."
Misty blushed. And the shade of red grew even more evident, when she took notice of Cordelia's gaze.
The Woman cupped the red cheek with her hand. "So, are you ready to go back to the swamp, or do you wish to stay here a little longer?"
The Cajun glanced at Cordelia again. The same coyness embellished her lips. "I wanna stay," she said to the Woman.
"Excellent. It's decided, then." The Woman's eyes returned to Cordelia. "I'll borrow the guest room, if you don't mind, Miss Goode. This would be fun. I've always wanted an opportunity to see the wonderful work of my successor."
Cordelia could only blink, as the abrupt acknowledgement from the Woman pulled her out of the invisibility she was starting to get used to. But only the first part of the sentence made sense to her. She looked at Misty, by instinct, asking for elaboration. And even in the silence, the girl understood the question.
"Ursula is the first Supreme o' the Coven," she said, shining with boundless pride. "The beginning of us all."
ooOooOoo
The Supreme gave the Woman the guest room, the one at the far end of the east wing, far from the master bedroom. Misty moved her belongings, one box of clothes and a cassette player, to the room, without any hesitation or remorse. Her eyes shone, her steps light. The bright smile put a crack in Cordelia's heart.
What's more, the girls began to talk about the Woman and Misty. To them, Misty was still a person of mystery, and the next day came another enigmatic woman, of extreme beauty. It certainly fanned their flames of curiosity. Within an hour, the academy heard nothing but the rumors about those two. Tons of nonsense, in Cordelia's opinion.
The greenhouse was the only place safe from this idiocy, a literal shelter for Cordelia's wounded heart. She focused on her experiments, and tried to think about nothing else. But the conceited face of the Woman would flash before her eyes every ten seconds, and her world grew darker each time. She ground leaves in a mortar with crushing force.
"Are you conjuring up a potion to kill someone?"
Cordelia jumped at the voice. She turned her head around, and there Queenie stood at the corner of the table. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You taught me before that alchemy is all about the intention," the Voodoo doll said. "The effect of a potion depends on not just the ingredients, but also the intention. And now, you looked like you wanted to murder someone."
"That's ridiculous."
"You were grinding whatever it is for at least five minutes, not even noticing when I came in." Queenie sounded more concerned than mocking.
Cordelia knew how uncharacteristic it was of her. "You were watching me for five minutes?"
Queenie let out a sigh. "Can we talk about Misty and the Woman? I know you were thinking about them."
Cordelia's grip on the pestle tightened.
"They don't even try to hide anything from anyone," the Voodoo doll said. "They don't seem to see anyone else. PDA everywhere they go. The girls are beyond hysterical, as if they are witnessing royal romance or some shit. They don't listen to the teachers in class— Who is she? What is she to Misty?"
"Her name is Ursula Knares." Codelia kept her gaze on the mortar. "She claims to be the First Supreme. I don't know anything else."
"Whoa, the First Supreme? Literally?" The Voodoo doll snickered. "What kind of bullshit is that? And why is Misty so . . ." She waved her hand in front of her face, searching for a proper word.
"I don't know."
"Do you know she calls Misty her puppy?"
"Yes, I do know. Thanks." Cordelia felt her brows knit tighter than ever. If this torture continued, her head would explode. "Could you leave me alone, please, if you don't have anything else? I need to finish this potion."
A flame of frustration burned inside her chest. And with her tendency to internalize her suffering, the Supreme felt a grueling temptation to cry at the same time. She couldn't breathe. Her sight was getting narrower. Nothing made sense to her.
Queenie gave a look of great pity. She didn't dare to speak, let alone continue with this cursed subject.
The moment the Voodoo doll walked out, Cordelia sank in her chair. Her hands shook, as she buried her head in them. There was a quivering in her bottom lip. In the dizzying haze of bitterness, mostly towards her own weakness, she admitted Queenie was right about the potion. It had to be made again. The paste in the mortar had changed its color, from fine green to decaying brown. The liquid in the beaker next to it fizzed with impurities, negative elements in the atmosphere. She grabbed both the beaker and the mortar, and shambled her way to the sink.
Then, she heard something outside the greenhouse, some voices. It wasn't Queenie.
The wooden door opened. The ear-to-ear smile of Misty appeared, and the Woman trailed behind her. They walked in, hand in hand, like some highschool sweethearts.
"Hiya, Miss Cordelia. Can I show Ursula around?"
Of course, the sun-like brightness of the Cajun made it impossible for Cordelia to refuse. Even when it shone for someone else, even when that someone had robbed her of joy, it still bewitched her, made her dizzy with adoration.
"Absolutely," Cordelia said, with a stiff smile. "Just, make sure to wear gloves if you want to touch any plant. Some of them are very—"
"Very poisonous, I know. You were always sayin' that." The girl chuckled, and pulled Ursula into the room lit by purple lights.
The eyes of the Supreme followed the two. Her heart wavered with two conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to be content with Misty's happiness. The other part couldn't stand it. She wanted to smile at all of the memories shared with Misty, untouched by anybody else. But those memories were all she had. Now, the Woman not only invaded her sanctuary, but she also forced Cordelia to watch the girl make more memories with someone else. And Cordelia could do nothing but to stand by the sink, with her dirty experiment apparatus. Misty's laughter came from the secluded room. Cordelia wondered if she ever had the right to feel so heartbroken, so humiliated.
The lovers walked to the other side of the greenhouse, then. Misty pointed at plants as she went, recounting things that the Supreme had taught her. Ursula only responded with hums once in a while. Although her red lip curled into a gentle smile, Cordelia saw quite evident arrogance. It turned her stomach.
Misty picked up a watering can, and started to water plants. Stevie's songs flowed from her mouth. Some drops of water slid off the glossy leaves, and spattered the floor at their feet. It turned the smirk of the Woman into an annoyed grimace.
"Be mindful of your surroundings, darling," she said, as she took a step away from the puddle. "I can't have germ-infested water on my heels."
The Cajun murmured an apology with a meek grin. She returned to her task. "Oh hey, I've never seen these guys before," she said. In the corner, she crouched down in front of the cluster of flowerpots. The shrine. Her eyes found the Supreme across the room. "They are mighty pretty, Miss Cordelia. Why are they hidden in the corner?"
Cordelia hesitated, and remained speechless without a plausible excuse. But the silence rendered her defenseless, when Ursula began to speak.
"They are Orchids. The white color symbolizes innocence and purity. They seemed to be intentionally separated from other plants, and the pots are of exquisite design, not like the other mass-produced ones from a retailing hypermarket. They are special, quite so." The Woman gave Cordelia a sweet smile.
"What's so special about 'em, Miss Cordelia?"
"Well, let's see," Ursula said on behalf of the Supreme. "There are six pots, and another similar one on the table. Only, that one is empty. My observation is that she bought the pot, but decided not to plant an Orchid in it. Am I correct, Miss Goode?"
The Supreme looked down. The little child within her trembled in fear and mortification.
The Woman let out a laugh. Her gloved hand landed on the head of Misty at her feet. "Do you know, puppy, that Orchids are a flower for mourning."
"Mourning?"
"Perhaps, Miss Goode has been grieving for the passing of someone she adored. Who could that be? Let's play a guessing game. You had never seen these flowers in this place before, which means Miss Goode paid the first tribute after your departure. This one seems to be a little younger than the rest, and there was going to be a new one. I assume Miss Goode added one pot to the collection monthly." She then arched her brow at Cordelia. "I'd say this is a shrine dedicated to my puppy, or are my assumptions too wild?"
All of this speech came out without a pause, or even a hint of self-doubt. It was as though the Woman had been here the whole time, since the beginning of Cordelia's suffering. Her eyes glinted with a sadistic light. The Supreme trembled harder, blushed harder, for the revealed secret.
"Is that true, Miss Cordelia?" Misty stood up, and looked at her with a humble smile. But that very look of innocence made it even more humiliating for the Supreme.
Ursula laughed again. "No need for such coyness, Miss Goode. Indeed, I find it quite noble of you to mourn the death of your friend."
The arrogant tone of the last word pierced through the haze of misery. The beaker in her hand cracked under the increasing pressure. She watched, from under her twitching brows, as the Woman stroked Misty's cheek with the back of her hand.
"Do you know the meaning the flower has in such occasions, my girl? 'I will always love—'"
"That's enough," Cordelia said, glaring at her hands. Her throat felt like it was on fire. Even then, the little girl in her kept her from shouting in indignation. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I see that you are a very knowledgeable person, but all of what you said isn't correct. They are not a tribute to anybody." The world around her began to buzz. She had to hold onto the edge of the sink, as the beginning of nausea hit her.
"I do need to apologize, then," Ursula said. "I must admit to excessive avidity for proving myself to you, Miss Goode. But it was unseemly of me, and I failed quite miserably. Botany isn't my speciality, if I may make an excuse."
"What's your speciality?" Misty said.
"Oh, it's nothing." The Woman waved a dismissive, mock-humble hand. "Geometry, arithmetic, handicrafts, and what else . . . just simple astronomy."
Misty turned her head to the Supreme, twinkling her blue eyes, as though to share her wonderment with her.
It made the Supreme feel more inferior, ugly with envy. The potions she attempted to make afterwards all turned disgusting black.
ooOooOoo
A summer shower began to patter against the windows of the master bedroom later that night. Cordelia sat in her bed, preparing for a sleepless night before she even made any attempt. The book she'd been meaning to finish for weeks now rested on her lap. This would be her midnight companion, probably for the next several days. Still, she had been reading the same paragraph over and over again, and couldn't seem to turn the page. Between each word, between each line, she saw the faces of Misty and Ursula. And the wider her Cajun smiled in her mind, the more acute the pain in Cordelia's chest became. Even when she looked up from the book, the same faces haunted her.
She rubbed her eyes. It was not the lack of sleep that troubled her, but it was the emptiness of her king-sized bed, the coldness in the other side of it. The memory of Misty's warmth remained vivid in her arms, in her mind, on her skin. It drove her insane.—Had this memory been a mere dream, one of the countless desperate dreams she'd had before, then she could've cried a little and given up. But the Cajun was here, under the same roof. Despite the distance between their rooms, Cordelia thought she'd heard Misty's laughter.
Then, someone knocked on the door. Although the desire to fake sleep crept across her mind, the Supreme answered eventually. Misty walked in.
"Came to say goodnight," the girl said, sauntering to the edge of the bed.
"Goodnight, Misty."
This didn't end the visit, however, as Misty fidgeted on the spot. She nibbled on her lip, shifted her gaze between the Supreme and the book, and at last, sat on the bed.
"I missed you, Miss Cordelia. Sorry I couldn't really talk ta you today."
Words failed Cordelia, too stunned for such an unexpected confession. She took off her glasses, but not knowing why she did it, she put them back on. And when the Cajun's words sank in, bitterness spread inside her, rotting her heart. Not a single nice thing to say came to her mind. She closed the book, and put it on the nightstand.
"Are you angry with me?" Misty said.
The Supreme couldn't meet her eyes. "No."
"Are you angry with Ursula?"
This one, she couldn't answer.
"I know she can be a li'l pushy. She didn't leave you a choice when she decided ta stay here. And we bothered you during your experiment in the greenhouse. But— She's super kind at heart, and the smartest I know."
"How long have you known her?" Cordelia said, with a squeezing in the heart.
The Cajun thought about it, and grimaced. "Why's that matter?"
"Do you not remember? Do you remember where you two first met, then?"
The grimace grew deeper. "It didn't matter with us. You became my closest friend even though I'd only known you for a couple o' weeks. Why should it be different for Ursula?"
Cordelia bit her lip, looking down. Her bitterness got the best of her, and with it she was pushing the girl away, almost intentionally. There was a vague idea in her, that she'd rather be happy without the Cajun, than to be miserable watching her happy with someone else.
But then, despite her fear, she felt Misty scoot closer and take her hands. "I didn't come to argue with you," she said. "It makes me real sad. I wanna talk ta you like last night."
"I'm sorry."
"Can I sleep here tonight, too?" Misty didn't let go of her hands. "Ursula said she wouldn't care which room I spend the night in."
So, just like last night, they lay in each other's arms. But the shadow of self-doubt, and all sorts of negative thoughts kept pestering Corelia through the night. They kept her awake, on the brink of silent tears. This was exactly what she had desired for, but not how she had wanted it. Although she got to twist a strand of the wild curls around her finger, it couldn't have happened without Ursula's permission. She had an inkling that this would be the way from now on, her happiness depending solely on the Woman.
And Cordelia prepared herself again. Not for a sleepless night, but the real warmth that would leave her in the morning.