A/N
Just a little idea I had and couldn't get out of my head until I finally found the time to write it down. I would appreciate any kind of feedback. Thank you and please enjoy!
- Set after 3x10 -
White Witch Destiny
"Come in."
The words fell gently from the White Witch's lipstick-stained mouth when she signaled for Misty Day to enter the room.
Cautiously, starstruck, the younger did as told and, after contemplating whether to sit down or not, she decided to awkwardly stand in the middle of the room and wait for further directions. In this very moment, it seemed like she had given all of her body, all of her thoughts over to Stevie; the singer being her puppeteer and she herself merely an empty shell. She did not mind this feeling, though, as it suggested a hint of a connection between her and Stevie; some kind of bond that she was not ready to give up by making any self-initiated movements.
The sight of the artist on the piano, her fingers softly sliding over the keys without any difficulty whatsoever, her slightly wavy hair (that Misty had been trying to recreate for years) effortlessly resting on her shoulders, on the cushions of her black velvet blazer that was hiding the very top of an elegant, black dress embellished with some lace, left the swamp witch in awe.
For a second, Misty found herself questioning Stevie's affinity for black clothing, considering the lightness of her soul. Before she could explore this ostensible contradiction any further, she remembered an interview she had once watched and recalled the blonde offering the explanation why do we wear black? Because it makes us look skinny.
The young witch was suddenly hurt by the ridiculousness of this statement and wondered how someone like Stevie could dare to think of her body as flawed.
Watching her as she rose from behind the piano, Misty's adoration for her idol was only reinforced and, abruptly, turned the thoughts in her mind into a blank space.
"Misty," Stevie said in the low, raspy voice that was hers and signaled her to settle on the big, cushioned, white chair that was — next to the piano — the center of the living room.
"Thank you for finding the time."
"Oh, don't thank me; I would always find time for you, I mean–" she exclaimed in her heavy Southern accent, trying her best to hide both her childish enthusiasm and her choking nervousness.
Stevie smiled and reached for the young witch's hand, placing it between both of hers. It was just now that she was reminded of her frail physique and aging body, comparing her own hands to the other's.
"I need to talk to you about something very important. I felt uncomfortable telling you in front of the other witches; one of the worst qualities of magic is that it comes with jealousy."
Misty only managed to nod, accepting the fact that she would feel blatantly stupid no matter how she would react.
"Ever since Fiona told me about you, I've had a suspicion. I know she interpreted your growing skills as you being the next Supreme—"
"Yes, yes, the Supreme — can you imagine? Me, the Supreme?" The younger shouted in ecstasy, feeling like a stranger to her own words, embarrassed by her obvious excitement.
"Well, yes. I know she said that. Here is the thing, though… I do not believe that you are the Supreme."
Misty's smile slowly faded from her soft face. Staring into her idol's black-traced eyes, the swamp witch was overwhelmed with confusion.
"What do you mean — I thought…" she lost her words while saying them out loud, being torn between her blind trust in Stevie and the faith she had put in being the next Supreme.
"You told Fiona that you had discovered new powers alongside your first — and strongest — one, the power of resurgence. I'm not sure whether Cordelia has ever told you, but the first power of a witch is her core power; the one that will define her from the beginning and that is connected to the essence of her self in the closest and most intimate way."
Baffled, Misty's mouth remained open while her eyes were focused on Stevie's face, as if she was watching the invisible, dead bodies of her words float out from between her lips.
"All of the witches' core powers in this Coven are very strong and useful; however, they can also do much harm. Let's take Queenie, for example — her power was designed with the purpose of hurting others. Yes, those others may include enemies, but the root of her power is to cause harm."
"Yes, but how—"
"Or let's look at Fiona's case. The benefits of possessing all seven powers vanish when you consider the burdens they come with. The Supremes have a long history of destroying others, each other, and even themselves. Now, I am very close friends with Fiona — we have known each other for decades — and that is exactly why I also know what she is capable of. She may have been a good friend to me but she has not been a good Supreme to this Coven."
"There have been some strange incidents…" Misty admitted, trying her hardest to piece all of the information together without getting lost.
"It is a myth that the primary task of the Supreme is to protect her Coven. White Witches have been trying to disprove this theory for ages, so far unsuccessfully. You see, unlike common belief, there is no big family of our kind; in reality, there are only very few, hardly any of them known. A White Witch is not determined by birth, she is discovered by another White Witch; found, harvested, raised, until she can take over the elder's spot."
"Almost like the Supreme." The swamp witch uttered, her body so tense and full of new information that she couldn't manage a longer sentence.
"Yes, that part is almost like the Supremacy." Stevie turned a little more towards Misty in order to address her more directly.
"The difference between a White Witch and a Supreme is that the former's destiny is predetermined by her core power, which is primordially good, innocent, pure — white. The chosen one is destined to use it to make this wicked, witchy world a better place. For the latter, however, the singularity of having such a multitude of equal powers overrides the intended purpose of offering her Coven protection. The good she is supposed to do with her powers is compromised by her desire to stay the most powerful witch around. And it has taken more lives over the years than it has saved them."
"So, do you think we should stop Fiona?" Misty blurted out, both afraid and serious.
Stevie chuckled, all at once extinguishing the confidence Misty thought she'd gained.
"No, no. Fiona is a grown woman — dangerous, yes — but has… she has her own load to carry right now. I will take care of her, don't worry. The reason I wanted to speak to you was because I don't believe you are the next Supreme — I believe you are a White Witch, just like me, and I wanted to ask whether you would like to come and be trained by me. I have a beautiful, big old house in Los Angeles and—"
"Wait." Misty interrupted her, so overcome with joyous shock that she wasn't concerned with her manners.
"You want me to come live with you?"
"Yes, well—"
"Oh my God, Stevie Nicks wants me to come live with her!"
"Only if you want to, of course."
"Are you kidding me?!"
The swamp witch was now fully thriving in her role as a Stevie Nicks fan and, while still feeling a mixture of embarrassment, insecurity and fear, was completely filled with enthusiasm. The glow in her eyes faded briefly when the obstacles that would come with a possible departure caught up with her.
"But what about Miss Cordelia? It was more than kind of her to take me in. And Miss Fiona? She expects me to perform the Seven Wonders and prove my Supremacy."
"Don't worry, dear. I will handle it all." Stevie said in a light-hearted manner and offered a consolatory smirk, hoping to relieve some of her opponent's anxiety.
Being the tired and busy superstar that she was, Stevie let go of Misty's hand and got up, silently informing her of the end of this conversation.
Misty immediately caught on and got up herself, anxious to anger her idol in any way.
"Thank you so much, Stevie, I really appreciate it."
The two blondes walked towards the hallway, Stevie guiding her young counterpart by holding on to her arm. They stopped right in front of the staircase and turned to face each other. Misty, still unable to process the recent events, couldn't help but reassure herself of what she thought she had heard Stevie say.
"And you really think I could be a White Witch?" She balanced the words on her lips carefully.
Stevie was suddenly captured by the incredible light that radiated from Misty's eyes, the softness of her voice and her being, the swamp witch's smell of roses that a breeze of air had revealed, the smoothness of her skin and the purity of her soul. The concoction of all of these features that made up Misty Day evoked an intense feeling of desire and, in a way, adoration in the singer.
Even though the feeling overwhelmed her when it first arose, the White Witch quickly reminded herself that she was the one in power in this situation; she was the teacher, the leader, the star; she could do anything and get away with it.
In the surprising heat of the moment, Stevie's hands reached out to grab Misty's cheeks, making sure her face would stay in place. The singer then moved her face towards the other's until their lips were pressed together, perfectly in place and united, merely separated by the thin layer of fluids that escaped their mouths. Misty returned the kiss obediently, feeling her body freeze as her lips were burning.
Finding comfort in the vibrant touch of her new student, it was as if Stevie was kissing her youth goodbye; she didn't feel jealousy towards Misty but rather a bittersweet nostalgia for her own better days.
Not wanting to let herself linger too long — maybe Misty would perceive her as weak — Stevie ended the kiss, softly but swiftly, only letting one hand rest on the next White Witch's skin for a little longer.
"You can be anything you want." Stevie replied to the question that was asked what seemed like hours ago, giving Misty a mysterious feeling of hope, reassurance and ambiguity.
The young blonde couldn't help but let her face light up with the biggest smile. Dismissing Misty with a gentle cheek squeeze, Stevie turned around and let her student watch the black shape of her body vanish in the depths of the living room.
Misty Day was left in the empty hallway, smiling vigorously, and, biting her lip in awe of what had just happened, she could still taste the traces of the captivating magic that was Stevie Nicks.
THE END.