Foxxay is my new favorite thing! I can't believe I'm so late to the game. A few notes for this story:

Cordelia's second sight is a little different in my world. If she touches someone, she can see what they see, not just what they've done.

Misty makes a great narrator, but it's hard to write her if you aren't saying it in a raspy, Cajun accent. You may want to read it aloud in your best Misty voice or at least ask your brain to put a filter on.

This is the first part of a two-chapter fic. Part two will be sexy and the rating will change, but for now, it's relatively tame. Any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading!

The whole story of our lives is about mothers, really. And I don't just mean 'Delia and my story, or the story of the coven, but all of us. Men, women, especially children. I had two mothers: the one that bore me and the one that nourished me. My mama, who passed when I was ten, had watery eyes and thick hair, lookin like a willow tree on the verge of tears. I didn't know then that I could bring her back. I was used to makin' brown leaves green and dry flowers soft again. I had made the leg twitch once on a dead squirrel, but that was too much and I never even told no one about it because it could have just been maggots movin' around, or so I thought. My mama died of somethin' that made her go pale. She didn't want nobody touchin' her in those last days, but she said that my hands gave her comfort, so I sat by her side and we listened to her records play while I braided her hair. When she fell asleep and I cried alone in the rickety chair by her bed, I heard Stevie tellin' me that she would rather be alone than without me, and between her and the birds and the cicadas, I knew that the life rushin' out of my mama's mouth was still hoverin' around me somehow. Same thing when my daddy's car hit the guard rail and he burned so bad the casket had to stay closed. I probably should've figured I'd be next. I didn't know about the rule of three back then, but blight spreads from tree to tree, and me and my siblings were bound to catch something. We were all affected; I just happened to get the worst of it when I went up in flames.

I'm still workin' on the details of this metaphor, but I know it fits somehow. There's these wasps. Parasite wasps. Parasatoid if you want to be formal about it. They fall into two families-Braconidae (which are usually tiny) and Ichneumonidae (which come in all shapes and sizes). I've been reading up on 'em because they're pretty important to my situation. They lay their eggs inside the living bodies of other bugs and when the babies hatch, they eat the other bug from the inside out. Horrible way to die. Well my mother, my second mother, is the one who allows this to happen. I don't know if she's a goddess or a power or somethin' too big to name, but people usually call her names like Nature, or Mother Earth, or Life Itself. It's hard to know what she's like as a parent unless you've lived with her, and I had no idea until I felt the skin grow back over my skull and the soothing mud of her bayou cool my burnin' body. You hear people talk about her like she's either all sunshine or all storms, but she's got rules like anyone else, and if you learn those rules, you can get by real good without askin' her for much.

If you watch the mother wasp, you'll see a few things: One-you'll see a mama who's well-armed. They. Are. Weaponized. Two- it don't matter if you like bugs or not; you'll feel bad for whoever's getting saddled with the babies. Three-you'll realize that my mother is capable of providing infinite suffering and death while simultaneously nourishing and growing. She's not good or bad. I may have only lived in the swamp alone for a few months, but I learned this lesson every day, and I remembered it with every meal, every accidental trespass against an anthill, every lifeless body that I touched. I learned it so well, that when I held Cordelia's hand in my own for the first time, all I could see was a ghostly little caterpillar with something gnawing a hole through her heart, and when I saw Fiona standing in the doorway, head wrapped up like a queen, I felt her words prodding the soft spot on the back of my neck, just waiting to jab her power into me. It felt wrong, though. In the swamp, there wasn't no rhyme or reason to who lived and died. There wasn't no force but chance that let me bring anything back. I'd never been worried about nobody parasitizing me before, but here I was, away from my home, my plants, my rules, and I was bein' cased like a gator at a shoe convention. My mother may have allowed for sufferin', but she also allowed for good, and I figured out pretty quick that Fiona wasn't allowing for no good under the roof of that house. Bad vibes. Bad vibes from the spirits, from her, and from sweet Cordelia, who was witherin' away inside just like Fiona was on the outside.

The thing about parasites, and predators in general, really, is that they need something hearty to feed on. Cordelia may have been fragile back then, but even though her eyes were milky and she moved like she could use some grease in her joints, I could see that she'd make a fine meal for anyone who wanted to suck out her light. Someone, probably many someones, had been siphoning it off for years, and I could still see it. I could feel it. She made my heart beat like I'd been runnin'. She was gorgeous and damaged, like a chipped and cloudy crystal ball. Here she was, burned up from the inside and still trying to be mother to us all. I wanted to make my swamp mud into a pill that would pull out the poison-rub it on her temples to ease the thoughts that caused her forehead to wrinkle. I suppose there was a lot of motherin' back and forth those first few days. She was all business with her incantations and coaching, and I told her she was a great leader despite evidence to the contrary. We were both shadows of the forces that raised us, but while I was busy channelin' my mother's strength into lifeless plants, I could see the effects of Fiona's squirming larvae as they burrowed into her. She never had a chance, I thought. She was exactly like those soft little caterpillars. Fiona'd hooked her early and hard, and she was doomed to live in shadow. She was a good teacher, and she made my palms itch with that sad, mismatched stare, but she was two parts stick in the mud and one part sitting duck, and that's not a combination that screams sex appeal, you know?

Then I watched her toss her husband to the curb and I had to rethink some things. And then she stabbed out her eyes and I realized I had been wrong about the whole direction of this shit show. I woke up to her face, raw and swollen and I wasn't lookin'at the same woman. Three days before, she had been a joke to everyone under her care. The sun was a hot pistol in my eyeballs, and she was a pillar of darkness at the foot of my coffin. Ain't no one saved me before. I had burned, been hunted, lived for months without the company of another soul, always resurrectin' to forget how it feels to die. She was the weakest of the house, but as she ran those pale hands across my arms and pulled me close, I knew that she was made of somethin' different than I had assumed: her light wasn't just good-it was deep and wild, the same as mine. Caterpillars is only soft because they're babies themselves, and babies is vulnerable because they don't have a choice in anythin'. Maybe stabbin' out those eyes was the last bit of baby meltin' away because after that, the last three days before I died in the Seven Wonders, I was wasn't livin' in a type-A, little girl's dollhouse. I was livin' in the house of a grown woman, and I had a case of nerves like I'd never felt.

The first time I knew I was in trouble, I was standin' in front of the mirror and I heard her cane tappin' down the hall. My stomach hurt whenever I heard it. I have a real empathy when it comes to pain, and that tappin' was a little jab into my own eyeballs every time it hit the floor. I knew exactly which clippers she had used to do it-had seen 'em gleamin' in Myrtle's hand as she tossed 'em in the trash. I don't know why, but I snatched 'em and wrapped 'em up real tight with one of my shawls under my mattress. She passed by my door and continued down the hall. Her left arm was stiff at her side, movin' like the Tin Man again.

"Miss Cordelia?" I called. The cane wagged through my doorway and she stood straight as a board in front of me. I didn't have a follow up and so I just stood there, useless.

"Misty?" she asked.

"Miss Cordelia, you're so very brave". It was all I could think to say, and I needed to say somethin' because I needed her to stay.

The old Cordelia would've deferred her bravery and credited anythin' besides herself, but the new Cordelia smiled at me sadly and her shoulders relaxed a little. "Thank you, Misty. It was the right thing to do. I don't regret it."

"I know I've said it before, but I owe you my life."

"Think of it as an early coronation gift."

"Miss Cordelia, that's a lot of horse shit. No one knows who the next supreme is gonna be." I walked over and took her hand. " But I wanna tell you…"

She interrupted me then, snatchin' her hand back. "What are you doing with the shears?"

I'd be lying if I didn't tell you I started to sweat. I had forgotten about her second sight. "Well…" I stammered, " I don't really know. I just thought…"

"Give them to me, Misty." She held out her hand and I felt my stomach go hollow as I obeyed her as quickly as I could, diggin' under the bed and handin' over the bundle like a guilty child. Her face was dark with suspicion as I blabbered at her, tryin' to explain that I hadn't meant anythin' by it and I wasn't some kind of murderin' pervert evil witch traitor thief or anythin' else she might be conjurin' up in her head. Her face was tense with emotion and as a last resort, I clasped her hand in mine, beggin' her to look and see that I wasn't tryin' to betray her trust. Her face froze for a minute and then she smiled and said my name so sweetly I wanted to cry. To hear her tell it, she saw into my heart and knew that I was never gonna hurt her, but the way I think it really happened is that she was so relieved that I wasn't plannin' a spell with them shears that she kind of resigned herself to likin' me again. Either way, she apologized for not believin' me and I hugged her close for the first time. Her battered eyelids touched my neck and I felt my magic leachin' into them, tryin' to heal. She must've felt it too, because she pressed herself closer, inhalin' and exhalin' deep breaths against me. I remember thinkin' that her shoulder blades were so pronounced, like little bird wings, and that her livin' and breathin' in my arms was more like family than I'd known in my whole life. She pulled away then, and her mouth looked sad. She held my hand a moment longer and turned away, sweepin' her cane in front of her as she left. Good lord, in five minutes I'd gone from pityin' her to squirmin' like a kitten at the thought of her disapproval.

The second time I knew I was in trouble was late that evenin'. We were all sittin' together at the table, eatin' some soup concoction that I'd never heard of (this was before I'd had the pleasure of bein' educated in international cuisine). I was next to Cordelia, glarin' daggers at Madison who sat as far from me as possible. Despite my impressive ass whoopin' earlier in the day, she was wearin' a smirk that persisted even when she sipped from her appropriately metaphorical silver spoon. Cordelia must have picked up on me gettin' riled because suddenly she was holding my hand under the table. She squeezed my fingers as her voice lisped over the second course, "Is something funny Madison?"

The bitch paused. "I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to. Your attitude is loud enough."

Madison rolled her eyes and swallowed, the scar across her throat risin' and fallin' like a wave. "You aren't slick, Cordy. You only have one trick. If you weren't so busy lezzing it up and holding hands with your girlfriend over there, you wouldn't be able to see shit."

Cordelia immediately let go of my hand, but instead of surrenderin' like I thought she would, she slid her palm under my dress to rest on my leg. I got the hint. "Wrong answer, Hollywood." I sneered, raising my hands in the air, "No lezzin' it up over here. Sorry to disappoint ya'".

Madison dropped her spoon and flashed me both her middle fingers. Cordelia immediately spoke up, "I won't tolerate any more of your vulgarity today, Madison. Put your hands down and take your dinner to your room."

Feeling smug, I made a V in front of my mouth with the fingers of my left hand and wiggled my tongue in Madison's general direction.

"You too, Misty. Tongues are for tasting, not taunting. Finish your dinner."

I blushed all over with embarrassment, but as soon as Madison got up and left, Cordelia gave my thigh a reassurin' squeeze and giggled softly. Queenie joined in, and then Zoe, and pretty soon, we was laughin' full force, and Cordelia's warm fingers lingered on my leg, tracin' her thumb back and forth under the black cotton. I blushed even deeper and she took her hand away, turnin' her flushed face to me with a grin. Things moved differently in those hours before the Seven Wonders. Cordelia swears that before Zoe came along, Miss Robicheaux's had been as still and fetid as a bog in summer, but whatever power was in the air changed all that. We had stabbed a man to death hours before, and here we were, potential enemies, potential sisters, sharin' somethin' as simple as a laugh and a meal. I thought of my two mothers, and I felt my heart hum. The coven was dangerous and kind and powerful. I try to forget all the teachins from the church on account of all the bad memories, but I felt a story risin' in my mind about findin' a land of plenty, and even though I don't necessarily pray, I said a silent thank you for the power and violence and sisterhood and greenhouse and for Cordelia's quiet confidence as her fingers and lips and throat turned eatin' into an art.

Friday night was my undoin'. I couldn't take the house. There's a difference between a swamp and a greenhouse. There's a difference between a house that breathes and one that don't. I opened the window as far as it would go, but I was still feelin' boxed in, so I decided to take a walk. Only problem is that I didn't trust the creaky old staircase not to wake everyone up, so I decided to see what I could do from the windowsill. I figured I needed to practice my transmutation anyway, so I sat on the sill and pictured myself walkin' along in the backyard. Nothin'. I tried imaginin' Cordelia's voice tellin' me to have stronger intent, and suddenly, I found myself standin' in her room. I would have taken myself back, but her light was on and she was sittin' in bed like she had been expectin' someone.

"I know it's you, Misty" she said quietly. "Did you come here on purpose?"

"No." I admitted, standin' still, "I was tryin' to practice for tomorrow. I'm not feelin' too good about it." Somethin' dawned on me. "How'd you know it was me?"

She smiled, "If you can keep a secret, which I know you can, my magical capabilities have been growing as well. I've been doing some research, and I believe that the power which will inhabit the new supreme is affecting all of us. It's just waiting to enter her, like a storm cloud hovering over this house. It would explain the chaos, the increase in magical abilities, the emotions, strange behaviors…"

"Like PMS from hell. We're all synched up."

She laughed and held out a hand to me. "Maybe it's no coincidence that you showed up. Come sit. I know you have questions about tomorrow."

I ambled over, takin' her hand and fiddlin' with it while I asked her all about the Seven Wonders. Turns out Madison and Queenie only had a little more experience than me when it came to the test, but they had been hearin' stories about it for years where Zoe and I were green to everythin'. Cordelia answered my inquiries with her usual encyclopedia talk, holdin' my hand all the while. I didn't want to keep her up, but I figured around the third time that she asked me if I had anymore questions that she wanted me to stay.

"I have two more, actually" I found myself sayin' with a sleepy, late-night confidence.

"Mmm hmm…" she responded, playin'' with my rings and strugglin' to stay awake.

"Are you gonna grieve your mama?"

"That's a doozy."

"I know."

"What's the second one?"

"What's the difference between my power of resurgence and the Vitalum Vitalis that I have to do tomorrow? Ain't they kinda the same thing?"

Cordelia smiled and leaned her skull back against the headboard. "I'll answer the hard one first. I've been thinking about my mother's death for a long, long time."

I took the time to study her. The black straps of her nightgown were slack as she leaned back. The taut skin of her chest barely covered the ridges of her sternum. Her hair was thick and straight and as she told me about her lonely childhood, I couldn't help reachin' forward and running my fingers through it.

Her breathin' came a little quicker, and it dawned on me that she could see what I was thinkin'. I didn't have no regrets, though, and I didn't say nothin'. Just listened as she told me about Fiona and the rotten years of loneliness and neglect. I felt my heart swell up like a bruised fruit.

"I don't want you to pity me." She interjected, "Everyone suffers. Fiona hurt me for a long time. She's dead now. A part of me will always miss her, always want my mother, but a larger part of me is relieved, because trust me, Misty, she would have killed every single one of us. You know as well as I do that sometimes we have to lose people more than once in our lives. Fiona's been dying for a long time-absent, hurtful, abusive, and then back in my life for one day of mothering before she was gone again. She's been dying for years."

"I know." I replied. I didn't know what else to say. I didn't really know. In my life, I seemed to be the one who kept dyin' and comin' back, but I didn't have nobody to care about it before Cordelia. I guess my relationship with death was a little different because it wasn't somethin' permanent. My mother was the same way. She had setbacks, sure, but she was always there-her life force in every tree and cloud and little frog.

Cordelia interrupted my musin'. "As for your second question, I don't think you have to worry about Vitalum Vitalis. Resurgence is a far more powerful trait. Vitalum Vitalis is a way to help someone who has recently passed on or sustained an injury. It's a trading of life-force to balance out the health of the person you're trying to help."

"Could I try it with you?"

"I'm not dead, Misty."

"You're blind."

She paused a long time. "I'm more useful to the coven this way."

"Just let me practice for a second. I won't do nothin' drastic. I just want to try." I could tell she was fightin' with somethin'. I slipped my fingers out of her hair and traced a gentle circle around her scars. "Miss Cordelia, if I'm the next Supreme, I'll bring your eyesight back for real. I promise I will. I think you're valuable with eyes or without. You deserve to see your flowers again."

She smiled at that and slid down until she was lyin' flat on her back. "Just for a second." She warned. "You need your strength for tomorrow."

I untangled our fingers and placed her hand in my lap as I leaned forward, palms on either side of her face. I pursed my lips above hers and prepared myself to start the flow of magic.I wasn't expectin' her to turn her head and lean up to kiss me. "I want to see you" she whispered, "If you're the supreme, restore my sight so that I can see your face." Her hand tightened against my leg, tracin' patterns again as I lay my forehead against hers and we breathed together. "Please be careful tomorrow. I know we haven't known each other for very long, and I have so much confidence in you, but please…" her voice broke. "I've been looking for you. I've felt you pulling at me. I don't know why, but I've been trying to find you, and now you could be gone again. Please."

I didn't know what to say and so I kissed her again. It didn't feel like I was kissin' someone for the first time; it felt like I was tellin' her I loved her for the hundredth. She reached both hands into my hair and rubbed my scalp. It was so gentle. Everythin' about that night was so gentle, so kind. She scooted over in the bed and tugged me down next to her so we was facin' one another. Then she kissed me and kissed me until we was both so tired that we fell asleep in each other's arms, our black dresses poolin' together as she slid her leg between mine and tucked herself under my chin. In all my years of searchin', I had never imagined myself findin' my home like this. Peace, yes. I had wanted peace. But I had never known that peace was a beautiful woman curled up in my arms, her hair silky on my shoulders. I ran my hand over the curve of her waist and felt her bones and her softness. To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement. As the morning light started creepin' into the window and the birds started chirpin', I held Cordelia closer and felt a fear of dyin'.

To Be Continued