Love was dumb. It was sappy, gross and overrated, and no one could convince her otherwise. It wasn't worth half the trouble it caused, at least not that icky, complicated romantic love, always so fantasized by the magazines thrown in mailboxes. And no, Eda was not bitter, nor was she biased (disregarding the 12th ex-boyfriend yammering at her door, yelling at her to come out; just another stupid idiot hardly worth her time).
Eda had no interest in love. No time. No patience. No trust.
When she first meets Camilia, all she can focus on are her glasses, square rimmed and angular. Librarian glasses. They perch on a rounded nose, maroon framed by dark hair falling from her meticulously made bun. She gazes at Eda with a look that screams stickler, uptight in the way she stands, and the way she glares and the way she glowers at her with a half upturned frown.
"Are you playing dress up?" It's a genuine question, though charged with judgement. Eda's fists clench, and she quickly bites her tongue.
"At least I don't wear my grandmother's glasses" Eda replies.
She can already tell they're going to get along swimmingly. Exchanging first insults to make the heart grow fonder.
Camilia hated her. She hated Camilia. It was a mutual thing, this dislike between them. Camilia was just too serious, and uptight for her tastes (too reminiscent of her sister, and her parents, and the restrictive system she was trying so hard to get away from), and Eda, apparently, was too cool for the human lady's "logical" sensibilities.
She's shaking with anger, palms spread wide on the counter. Eda opens her mouth to speak, to comment, but the look in Camilia's dark eyes suggests she's ready to grab a steak knife and stab her in the eye socket. Her jaw clamps shut.
"You did what?" She roars, eyes wide behind those stupid glasses.
"I may or may not have brought some… contraband with me" She throws her hands up in protest, rolling her eyes, "Look, it's no big deal. Just some runes, and fire traps, and maybe- ugh, it's nothing really. Okay… nothing serious, anyway"
Somehow, Camilia looks even more dissatisfied.
"If my house burns down, Eda!-"
Eda throws her hands up once more, to protect against the oncoming onslaught. And goodness, was it coming.
"It won't. It won't. Geez. I'm a witch, not an idiot"
Camilia scowls at her for a while, as if wanting her to combust on the spot. As if she'd catch on fire if she just glared at her hard enough. It didn't work like that, of course. Eda should know.
Luz walks down the stairs then, appearing before them clad in starry pajamas, gaze droopy and hazy with sleep. She rubs at her eyes, letting loose a big, hearty yawn.
"What's going on down here?" She calls, punctuating the sentence with an audible smack of her lips.
They woke her. Of course they did.
"Nothing, mija. Go back to bed" Camilia calls tenderly, such a contrast to just seconds ago.
It was not nothing, and her tone, tense and almost desperate, said so. She wanted Luz to sleep, and she definitely didn't want her to know about this wonderful… conversation (argument).
It was an odd scene, laid out before her. Her mother, standing in the middle of the kitchen, and her mentor, also standing, just outside the threshold between kitchen and living room.
Luz blinks, looking ready to argue. The girl wasn't that stupid. No, Luz was quite perceptive. And she hated being left out.
Eda nods eagerly,
"Yeah, kiddo, we're not talking about anything interesting. Just some boring adult stuff, like taxes" She pauses for a brief moment, looking concerned, "Get some rest, alright?"
Luz nods in the half dim light, stretching with another yawn. Too tired to protest. Too tired to think much of the situation.
She just wanted to be sure no one was dying. Everything was clearly fine, and now properly assuaged, she happily treks back up the stairs to head to bed.
Eda and Camilia exchange terse looks as soon as she's out of sight, out of earshot.
Neither speaks for a while. The clock ticks and the silence stretches and Eda feels like she may explode.
"Alright, well, I think I'm turning in for the night. Need my energy to crack skulls in the morning. You know the feeling, right?"
Camilia glares at her. Like lazers through those thick, square rimmed glasses. Eda resolutely ignores her.
She's already pulling herself up the stairs two at a time, determined to escape that unpleasant exchange.
She really couldn't stand Camilia. And Camilia could not stand her.
She'd make nice, though. For Luz, at least.
Eda dives over drawers, rummaging through wardrobes and filing cabinets. Searching for something.
"Eda? What are you doing in my mom's room?"
Her ear twitches, and she freezes mid motion, "Looking for dirt on her" She lies smoothly.
Luz looks on dubiously, "In her closet?"
"Yep. Now shoo"
The picture in her pocket said otherwise.
She really didn't care what the woman thought of her. Not one bit. She didn't have even a tiny, little inkling of concern.
Then Eda reflects a moment, and realizes she does. She cares a lot.
She brushes her hair for her, and makes sure to look neat, because she knew how much Camilia appreciated tidiness. Sometimes she leans against the counter as she passes and just waits for her to notice. She always saves her best jokes for her, and when she inevitably laughs, because let's face it, that was a given (Eda was hilarious!), She feels a great soaring satisfaction that left her floating on cloud nine. Her expressions were usually so serious, marred ever so slightly by stress, and seeing her laugh was just.. such a treat.
"You look so pretty when you laugh"
"What?"
"It just takes years off your face. You look so young, so vibrant. Just glowing" She leans forward, chin in hand, expression playful, dreamy, "You should smile more often"
Camilia looks uncertain whether she should take that as a compliment or not. Then she smiles once more,
"Thanks. You're not too bad yourself"
Eda cracks a sharp toothed grin.
"What do you mean? I'm gorgeous" She ruffles her hair, flashing a cocky smirk.
Camilia laughs, leaning forward, chest rising with her giggles. Her glasses slid forward, hanging just on the tip of her nose. She seems not to notice.
Eda leans closer, elbows across the table. Carefully pushing the frames back up the bridge of her nose. There's a weird, fluttering feeling in her stomach as Camilia looks at her, eyes half lidded, one she knows all too well and has no interest in identifying.
Identifying was admitting, and admitting was accepting.
She hates Camilia. Camilia hates her too. It's mutual.
Except, she can't say that with confidence anymore.
Maybe those glasses weren't so dumb after all. And she was beautiful when she laughed (and no, Eda was not enamored, it was just an irrefutable fact).