The clarity of her voice absorbed Cordelia. Its many dimensions acted as confirmation of her inherent purity. The heaviness of Cordelia's own troubled thoughts began to lift, evaporating like fog from her mind. Misty's idyllic visions of nature had enthralled her.
She immersed herself in the imagery, embracing the anonymity the developing trees provided her. The boundaries between her own reality and Misty's appeared to crumble as the words guided her through the landscape. The landscape, itself containing a wealth of contradictions, welcomed the presence of another likeminded soul. The trees stood proudly as columns, guiding her through the superior temple of nature. The gradual slope of the hillside ahead summoned her to its transient peak, gesturing for her to explore further. Light grazed the air, summoning calmness from deep within her into emergence. The compassion of the earth sought to recover her from the conflict she'd grown so used to feeling, as the soft ground beneath her feet responded delicately to every movement. The clarity she felt whilst immersed in nature was overwhelming. She grounded herself in it, rejoicing at the power of her heightened senses and resisting the pull of a force that sought to separate her from it. Her surroundings epitomised beauty in decay.
A sudden, intense intake of breath wrenched Cordelia back into her familiar darkness.
"Hell, even I didn't know I could do that!" Shock reverberated from Misty's voice as she released Cordelia's hand from her own. She stepped back and spun towards the menagerie behind her, huddling into her shawl. "Didn't the trees just elevate you?" She spun back again. "They were like... towers! And the way they held themselves – we were constant in them." Her hands gesticulated wildly as she twirled around the greenhouse.
"The power of telepathy," Cordelia declared. "You're quite the surprise, Misty Day." She felt calmly for her cane, struggling to contain her desire to smile.
"Do you think so, Cordelia?" She wasn't expecting a reply.
The elusive darkness hung in the air. Misty exhaled silently, recovering from the elation that had gripped her so in sharing the precious images with her headmistress. She rested her palms on the edge of the counter and admired the blossoming azalea which faced her. Her fingertip brushed carefully along its wrinkled petals; a splash of warm pink diffusing across the flower. The stillness that cradled the two witches seemed to encourage the flower's colour to deepen.
An aspect of Cordelia ached in unison with the thriving plant. The agony of her wounded eyes still seethed behind her flesh as desperately as she tried to reject its aggression. Yet her enchanting encounter with Misty appeared to revitalise her belief in the future of the Coven.
"I think I'm going to call a meeting of the Coven with the other girls," Cordelia said. Her words reattached the pieces of their initial meeting. She pivoted with the aid of her cane and attempted to find her way out of the greenhouse.
"Let me help!" Misty darted over to her, latching onto her free arm and assuming once more the position of a guide; the provider of sight in multiple dimensions. She sought out Cordelia's tense hand and began to walk forward. Her shawl swept against the headmistress' shoulder as she clasped both hands around her fingers. Their physical closeness and the warmth of their touching skin underwrote the trust they both craved. That their friendship had manifested itself in Misty's growing power had disturbed Cordelia's preconceptions of the young witch. She remained in thought as she relinquished her power to Misty; allowing the swamp witch to guide her through the Academy's intimate corridors.
"The power of telepathy," Misty muttered, barely audibly. "I like the sound of that."
"Is this gonna take long?" Madison sighed, picking irately at her fingernails. Plucking at their smooth tips distracted her from the petulant stares of the others witches. Their eyes were too critical of her demeanour.
Cordelia pursed her lips dismissively at Madison's remark, readying herself to finally tackle the severe divisions within the Coven. She had lost count of the many times they had gathered in this manner to repeat the same plea for harmony. There had clearly been little success.
"I do not care how long this meeting takes," she replied, rigidly holding the handle of cane, "but the state of this Coven will continue to be our main priority. We have been a divided unit for too long and, in the light of my mother's death, must resolve our disputes before we are consumed by our own selfishness."
Madison folded her arms furiously across her chest. "Oh, grow up Delia. This isn't Girl Scouts. This shit show's a goddamn power play – it always has been and always will be unless we grow a backbone."
"Union is a necessity for the preservation of our kind, Madison," Myrtle said, abruptly. Her pale eyes narrowed, concerned but unsurprised by Madison's proclamation. She rose from her seat and diligently walked over to the fireplace. Her wistful mannerisms faintly overthrew the sincerity of her point.
"She's just pissed that Misty kicked her ass," chuckled Queenie. Her eyes flitted over to Madison, who glared viciously back in retaliation. Misty's unassuming giggle heightened the intensity of her stare.
"Shut it!" Madison snarled. She clenched her fists tightly, her face taut in anger.
"Girls - this is no time for fighting!" Cordelia shouted sternly. "Surely I've made this point clear to you enough times. That's exactly the reason why I called you all to this meeting." She clutched her cane firmly between her palms, leaning forward onto its handle as she perched on the edge of the gilded sofa.
"We cannot afford to remain in this state," she continued, her tone of voice lowering. "You are all aware of the upcoming trials of the Seven Wonders, and of the new manifestations of your powers."
Misty's gentle face invaded her thoughts without warning. Her power of telepathy. The peaceful images she had relayed to Cordelia. She struggled to recover herself from the alluring memories. Only a bitter current of fear could pull her back. "Our next Supreme must do right by this Coven."
Myrtle nodded solemnly in agreement. The angular strands of her fiery hair illuminated against the dusk. Her hands were frozen as if engaged in religious contemplation, barely visible from beneath the jagged cuffs of her garish crimson jacket.
Cordelia adjusted her position swiftly in her seat. "I have no doubts about the strength of each of your individual powers. But I'm compelled to tell you to use them properly. Our Coven is strongest as a unit. At the very least, defeating the Axeman must have been enough for you to realise that."
"Can we go now?" asked Madison. Her foot tapped manically within its sleek boot.
"Patience, Madison. Finally," she said, evoking particular stress on the latter syllables, "I want you all to learn how to control your powers; to understand them. Only then will we be able to determine who the real Supreme is." She harvested a lingering sense of dread as she spoke those final words. Her mother's carelessness and lack of concern for the Coven's safety still plagued her, even now.
Madison's boots pounded the floor as she stood up and paced towards the doorway. The usual vivacity of her walk was absent, with innumerable aspects of her body still in remission from the harsh attack she'd endured from Misty. As she passed the armchair in which Misty sat with her chin resting inadvertently on her knees, Madison bent gratuitously over to her. She paused, leaning in closely beside her ear.
"You're not a part of this Coven," she spat. Her voice was dense and intimidating. She remained barely for a few seconds before storming out of the room, satisfied at her minor revenge.
Misty hesitantly considered following the arrogant witch to resume their battle, yet the rage within her scarcely held. Madison's words were cruelly intended and Misty knew there was little to be done to avoid their painful impact. She had spoken quietly, barely attracting attention from the sombre persons of Zoe and Queenie, who also vacated the room once Cordelia had finished speaking.
Misty's eyes flickered in surrender. Her solitary soul anticipated the isolation of life without the Coven, without the support of Cordelia, of sustenance in nature. It was a fear she did not want to have to realise again.
And she was gone; tearing through the corridors, gasping for meaningful breath until she reached the sanctuary of her small bedroom. Closing the door rapidly behind her, she fell against it and collapsed to the floor. Bad vibes. She resented not paying more attention to her discomfort sooner.
Trouble stirred within her veins. A panic had overcome her. The reality of her loneliness before she'd arrived here had been insufferable and she was not prepared to revisit it. She ran her fingers into her fragile mess of hair and sighed heavily. Her breathing was irregular. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought to control the irregularity.
"Every night that goes between," she began to murmur under her breath, "I feel a little less." Her hands fell, gripping desperately at the shawl draped across her shoulders.
A sudden, brisk tap at the door grounded her aches.
"Misty, are you ok?" came Cordelia's voice through the woodwork.
"No, Miss Cordelia." Misty's head fell into her hands. "I am afraid."
I have always been a storm.