"Welcome to your new home, Miss Mortenson."
An eccentric old woman with bright red hair and a flamboyant fashion sense, who was accompanied by albino servants, led a scared-out-of-her-wits Eleonora down a seemingly endless hallway with quaint white paint and a regal air about it. One of the albino men held two of her suitcases filled with clothing and things she would need. Her mother had accompanied her on the ferry to New Orleans, and even managed to stay there. Helen had even put their house back in Florida up for sale so she could get a lovely apartment for herself in the French Quarter while Eleonora stayed at the academy.
"Let's start a new life," she had said. "Away from all the bullshit."
The strange old woman with red hair stopped and opened the door to reveal a simple, but elegant bedroom. She gestured for the young girl to go in, and she complied, smelling the fresh scent of clean linen and French lavender filling the room. She went to go sit on the edge of the bed, looking up and watching the albino man with her suitcases look at the woman silently, but with a curious face.
"Oh, right there on the dresser," she said in a shrill voice.
Eleonora looked up at the woman with curious green eyes, and then her eyes wandered around the room. The comforter on which she was sitting was soft and white, and the bed frame was made of coiled brass. The dresser, side tables, and the support of the window seat were all a deep mahogany, which reminded her of the dining table back at home. Suddenly, the shrill voice caught her attention, and she looked up to see it was the strange woman.
"You don't have to be afraid," she said. "I am Myrtle Snow. I'm very happy to see a new face around here. You'll make a fine addition to our school."
"When do classes start?" Eleonora asked, flinching slightly as Myrtle took a seat next to her on her bed. "And my major? They transferred my high school credits, right? So I can be a wri—"
"I'm sorry," Myrtle cut in. "This isn't that kind of school."
"Oh," the girl muttered under her breath, discouraged. Myrtle smiled at her, peering at her through her large, horn-rimmed glasses as she took a tress of the girl's soft, straight hair and ran her fingers through it.
"Such a beautiful color," she crooned happily. "It is as though they took the brightest, most golden part of the sun and put it in your hair. It's so rich."
"Oh," Eleonora said with a girlish smile. "Thank you."
"And those freckles," Myrtle pointed out. "They make you look…young. How old are you?"
"Nineteen," she replied.
"Oh, that's a lovely age. I remember," the woman said to her. Then she stood up abruptly, leaving the room, but before she could, she turned around and looked at her. "Don't be afraid to look around, dear. This is your home, too, now," Myrtle said.
Eleonora took it upon herself to unpack half of her luggage before walking down the seemingly endless hallway to a grand staircase. She walked down the steps, slowly and curiously, and walked down the chandeliered atrium and gasped at the aesthetic quality of the ancestry room, a parlor of sorts that had Greek-style columns and a white stone fireplace with fire burning several pieces of wood. The furniture perfectly matched the walls and color scheme of the room, and it was quite luxurious and as much so as the crystal chandelier hanging above the sofa, lounge chairs, and coffee table. Ivory drapes adorned the antique glass windows, and a desk that matched the room was against the wall between the windows with picture frames hung up. As Eleonora reveled in her lavish surroundings, she heard footsteps—she turned her head to look behind her, but no one was there. When she looked to the side, she saw four hooded figures, robed in raven black with beaked doctor masks covering their faces.
"Eek!" the girl screamed as they came closer; she took consecutive steps back, looking at the figures in horror.
"No! Please! No! Don't hurt me!" Eleonora cried, holding her hands out in front of her—she was ready to use her powers at anytime to defend herself, but once they saw she was scared out of her wits, a young woman with honey blonde hair, light brown eyes and an attractive face removed her mask, squirming at her condescendingly.
"We're just messing with you," she snorted. "Madison Montgomery." Eleonora recognized her immediately as the famous child star who had received bad publicity in magazines for substance abuse. The next to remove her mask was a dark haired young woman with slanted eyes and a massive double chin.
"I'm Nan. Hi," she said kindly with smiling black eyes—Eleonora noticed she had Down syndrome. An obese African-American young woman, probably of her own age, removed hers next. It was just then that she lowered her hands back down to her sides and stood up straight.
"Queenie," she said in a lower pitched voice than the rest of them. The last to remove her mask revealed a warm, lovely face with honey brown eyes, light brown hair, and a kind countenance.
"We're sorry we scared you," she said. "I'm Zoe. And you are?" Eleonora looked at their faces and took a moment before answering, gulping really hard to contain her nervousness.
"Eleonora," she said.
"It's nice to see a new face," Queenie said. "Where're you from?"
"F-Florida."
"Palm Beach?" Madison asked, her snobby demeanor making Eleanora feel uneasy and queasy.
"No, it's a small town," Eleanora answered, looking her straight in the eye. "You wouldn't know."
"Oh." There she went again, being a snob.
"Hm, you're quite interesting," Zoe said, stroking her chin gently. "I can't wait for dinner. We can talk about why you were brought here, and—"
"What are you doing to her? Don't scare her," a voice said.
All five girls turned to look at a tall woman with glasses, blonde hair, and warm brown eyes. She was wearing a black dress with matching pumps and was holding a rather old book in her clutch. Eleonora was particularly curious, especially as she walked toward them authoritatively, but she gave off a good vibe to her. Her eyebrows were perfectly groomed and her shade of lipstick was a sparkly nude. Madison glared at her and took a sigh.
"We were just messing with her. She's a scaredy-cat," she sneered.
"Don't call her that, Madison," the woman said, her focus on the girl with rich blonde hair and freckles. "She is just what we've been searching for."
"Huh?"
"Hello, I'm Cordelia Foxx, and it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Mortenson," she said kindly, extending her hand to introduce herself. Eleonora took it and shook it politely, nodding her head even though she was confused. If this wasn't a college, what was it?
"Hello," she replied shyly. She bit her lower lip.
"I understand you are nervous about being here, but there's nothing to be afraid of," Cordelia said. "You are just like everyone here. We are all different in our own ways."
"I can sense she's doubtful," Nan said, her fingers to her temples. "Very doubtful."
"Uh, no," Eleonora said. "I'm just confused."
Nan was right, though, but she didn't want to readily admit it. Cordelia extended her hand to the timid blonde girl, and she reluctantly took it, leading her down the hall away from the five girls. As they left, Zoe looked at Eleonora with a sense of sympathy. She knew exactly how she was feeling, as she had felt the same when being sent there by her own mother after accidentally killing her boyfriend during sex. It only made her wonder what kind of powers Eleonora harbored within, and what she was capable of fully unleashing with her inclusion in their 'school'.
"Ma'am," the young girl said to Cordelia. "I don't know what's going on, but I was supposed to go to college in Tallahassee. My mother sent me here, but I want to be a writer. A literature major. Do you guys have that here?"
"Dear, this is no ordinary school. In fact, it isn't a school," Cordelia replied, continuing their walk to the dining room, where they sat down in the luxurious chairs. She continued her explanation about what was going on, and an eager Eleonora listened.
"We, in fact, did start off as a school for privileged girls. The academy was found in 1790. In the Civil War, this building was turned into a military hospital. In 1868, Marion Warton, the first Supreme of our coven, reclaimed the school as a cover-up. You see, Eleonora," she continued; the girl listened in shock, "this place is a safe one to keep people like you safe. We are here to hone and practice our powers, and to put them to use in whatever ways we see fit. We…are witches."
Witches. The thought made Eleonora gasp slightly in shock—she had never previously thought about the possibility that she, her mother, and her mother's mother were witches. Her green eyes sparkled strangely into Cordelia's dark brown ones, and she looked away in shock, sighing sadly. All she wanted was to be normal, to live a normal life without powers. She had seen too much abuse of power by her mother during her lifetime that she didn't want to end up to be the woman her mother became—mean, ruthless, heartless, promiscuous. Even if she was able to control the weather, she couldn't help it—she had been born with it. She began shaking her head frantically.
"What's wrong?" Cordelia asked.
"I'm not a witch," Eleonora blurted. "I…I need to get out of here."
"Eleonora, it isn't bad that you have abilities," the woman told her, watching the girl get out of her seat and pace around nervously.
"I don't have abilities!" she shouted. "I'm normal. Just like everyone else outside this house."
"Your mother told us everything," Cordelia said. Eleonora's eyes widened, and she turned to look at the woman in shock—is that how she got me in here, she asked herself, the nerve.
"What?"
"Yes, she did. You're very gifted, you shouldn't let it go to waste," Cordelia said gently, trying to coax her out of her delusion of being 'normal'. She stood up and looked down into the girl's verdant eyes, putting her hands on her shoulders. "You are very special, Eleonora. You have a gift that none of us have; controlling weather is the one I'm talking about. Then, I heard you have telekinesis and the power to revive the dead. Vitalum Vitalis."
Eleonora said nothing, letting her ears absorb the false fallacies—I'm not a witch, she thought, there is no way. Her warm brown eyes looked convincing, but Cordelia was not being mean; in fact, not even close. She was only trying to appease the girl and make her feel comfortable in her surroundings. She blinked a few times, licking her drying lips and biting the lower one.
"This establishment is crucial to our survival," she continued. "It's not a nunnery. It's not a jail. It's a safe haven for girls like you. You'll be safe here." She took a sad, but calm sigh. "Our very existence is always at risk."
"At risk?" Eleonora asked, having calmed down by Cordelia's gentle demeanor.
"Yes. It is important that none of us are caught. People just don't understand us," the woman replied, taking her hands off her shoulders. "Like Misty Day. The poor woman…"
"W-What happened to her?" the girl asked with concern.
"She was burned," Cordelia replied. "I…I was going as fast as I could to stop those Bible-beaters from harming her. They just…relentless."
"Oh."
Suddenly, Eleonora felt very sad. Cordelia knew, however, not to frighten the girl with explicit details on the poor victim—she was so similar to her. She looked down, her rich light blonde hair slowly cascading down the sides of her face. The woman lifted her chin up and made eye contact, a smile on her face. Finally, Eleonora was curious rather than afraid.
"Who is the Supreme? You just mentioned her," she asked timidly.
"Fiona Goode," Cordelia replied. "She's been away for quite some time, but—"
"She will return sooner rather than later," Nan said, sprinting toward the two with a smile on her face. "I see it."
"Well, that's good to know," Cordelia said; she then glanced at Eleonora and whispered. "She is clairvoyant."
"Ah," Eleonora said, glancing at the charming Down syndrome girl with dark hair and eyes and a larger-than-life grin. Cordelia smiled at the girl and patted her back, leading her down toward two elegant, glass French doors.
"Let's get you settled, shall we?"
Eleonora walked along with the tall, gracious woman, passing through several ivory-draped windows. She glanced over, slightly concentrating on the windowpanes as they burst open, letting a gush of wind blow the translucent white curtains around. Suddenly, the sound of thunder made itself known in the distance.
A/N:
It's Keri, here! I have been trying to stay true to the Coven storyline with this fanfic, but I am adding my own spin on it with OCs and events. As chapters progress, you will notice things getting more and more different from the actual storyline.
Anyways, everyone loves feedback—please leave Reviews, and if you like the story, please give it a Follow or Favorite. Thank you!