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Cora was not entirely sure what to do with a crying Lydia. Specifically, with a crying Lydia who was trying very hard to seem like she was not crying.
“I’m tired of it,” Lydia whispered. “I’m tired of the dreams and the voices and the screaming and never knowing what’s real and what’s not. I’m tired of feeling like I’m broken because of something I never wanted and don’t have any control over.”
“You’re not broken,” Cora said fiercely. “Nothing is wrong with you.”
Lydia jabbed a finger at her temple. “I. Hear. Dead. People. How is that normal?”
Cora flashed her eyes. “I’m not normal, either. Do you think I’m broken?”
Lydia regarded her shrewdly, but the usual haughtiness in her gaze was gone. “That’s different. You’ve always known what you are, and you had someone to show you how to be that way. Meanwhile, I get to find dead bodies and occasionally scream so loud I lose my voice.”
Cora didn’t know how to deal with this. Her mother and Laura had been the ones who were good with this kind of thing, not her. She didn’t know how to tell Lydia she didn’t see a curse; she saw a gift, a fellow supernatural who just needed to find out how to use her powers.
She took Lydia’s hand. “We can figure it out.”
Lydia laughed hollowly. “What’s there to figure out?”
“There’s always something to figure out!” Cora shouted. “We can be vicious and violent and lose ourselves entirely if we don’t have our anchors. And that’s control that we have to learn. You just…you have to learn it, too. You have to find your anchor, or whatever the banshee version of an anchor is. Just because you haven’t found it yet doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
Lydia stared at her. “That’s surprisingly positive, coming from you.”
Cora looked away and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I can be positive.”
“Yeah, not usually your thing.” Lydia leaned against her. “But I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.”
Lydia smelled like strawberries and cream. Cora was pretty sure it was her shampoo, but it didn’t have the normal chemical scent that came with shampoos. Part of her wanted to ask Lydia where she got it, while the other part wanted to bury her nose in Lydia’s hair and breathe in as deeply as she could.
“I’m not saying it to make you feel better,” Cora said. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Mom always said it was a gift.”
Lydia scoffed. “Pretty sure she was talking about being a werewolf.”
“Not just werewolves,” Cora said. “She meant it for any supernatural creature. So you’re not broken. We just haven’t found your…user manual yet.”
Lydia burst out into laughter. “My user manual?”
This was what she got for spending too much time with Stiles. Cora crossed her arms and looked away. “Shut up. It made sense in my head.”
Lydia kept laughing. Cora had to admit, it was better than the crying. Even if it was at her expense.
Finally, Lydia’s laughter died down, and she rested her head on Cora’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
Cora stiffened. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do here. “Uh, no problem?”
“Will you help me figure out my user manual?” Lydia asked quietly.
Tentatively, Cora put her hand over Lydia’s once again. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Lydia made a soft noise, and she didn’t pull her hand away.
Cora took the invitation and rested her cheek on Lydia’s head. She didn’t know the first thing about being a banshee, but she did know there had to be some way to control it better.
And she was determined to do whatever it took to help Lydia figure that out.