Chapter Text
The last time Cordelia had seen Misty, she was cradling her in her arms, tears pricking her unseeing eyes as she whispered counterspells in a feeble, last-minute attempt to bring back the beloved swamp witch. As sand continued to empty from the massive hourglass, Cordelia acquiesced to burying her face in the unconscious witch’s hair, pleading her to come back as she broke down in sobs, her shoulders heaving slightly with the weight of her anxiety. Cordelia could almost hear the second that Misty Day left this mortal plane. The air grew still, and the warm, smooth skin of the witch beneath her grew rough and barren.
“Her time is up.”
Myrtle’s voice pierced this bone aching silence as a new wave of sobs wracked Cordelia’s body. The sudden lack of weight on her lap and the smell of decay clinging to the air below her told her what her eyes couldn’t. She was gone. Misty had failed. Cordelia wailed as she collapsed onto the part of the rug where Misty once was, begging anybody, anything that she could to bring back her dear friend. She could feel gloved arms surround her in an embrace, the Chanel perfume quieting her senses as she let all the tension built up during this trial out in Myrtle’s arms. The redhead said nothing, her comfort expressing all her shared sorrow and disappointment that the necromancer turned out not to be Supreme material.
The next day without Misty Day hadn't been any easier. Even though Cordelia was crowned the new Supreme, and had regained her eyesight, she had still lost a few girls in the process. Madison, Zoe, and Misty were the victims of the Seven Wonders, their deaths all completely preventable in Cordelia's eyes. If she had been a little better at teaching the girls some discipline while using their powers, Zoe wouldn't have been impaled on the fence of Miss Robichaux's. If she had cared enough to sort out the conflicts between her girls, Madison would have revived Zoe and would not have been throttled by Kyle. Cordelia was at least fortunate enough to revive Zoe.
Finally, there was Misty. Misty didn't want power. Misty didn't want to be the Supreme, but Cordelia just had to force her to take the challenge. There were little things in the tests prior that could have told her that Misty didn't want to be the next leader of the coven. The way her scattered thoughts of doubt hit Cordelia’s mind when the blonde struggled to will the candle towards her, the childlike joy that came over her when she successfully used Concilium to make Queenie hit herself, the way she held her breath before she uttered the single word that sealed her fate. All of these told Cordelia what Misty had told her for weeks prior. Misty didn’t want to be an all-powerful witch. Misty didn’t want the immense responsibility that Supremacy would bring.
After almost a few months of distractions with the transfer of power and new students enrolling in Robichaux’s, Cordelia finally brought herself to sort through Misty’s things. This time she was alone. The girls were all in bed, and Myrtle was burned to a crisp just a few weeks prior, leaving nobody there to hold her hand as she opened up the cardboard box of possessions left by the swamp witch. Tracing the messy scrawl of Misty’s Stuff in Sharpie on the box, Cordelia resolved to open it up.
Inside the box was three records, a pile of shawls, a book on Herbalism, and a small journal. All the rest had either been thrown out or moved to Cordelia’s room already, and this last box was one whose contents Misty had been fiercely protective of. It had been hidden in the back of her and Queenie’s closet, shoved into a corner underneath all of Queenie’s black clothing.
Cordelia flipped through the vinyl, finding all of them to either be Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Nicks Greatest Hits Compilations. She shook her head at Misty’s endearing predictability, her grin growing larger as she opened up Misty’s book of herbalism to see it overgrown with a thicket of notes scrawled messily in dark green ink. The note on Basil caught her eyes first.
Miss Delia said that it means protection, prosperity and that it can be used in love potions.
Cordelia’s eyes lit up as she saw Miss Cordelia this, and Miss Delia that. The necromancer was faithful to her guidance after all. Cordelia carefully set the book down and took a shawl out of the small pile in the middle of the box. It was a light mint green with fringe and black leaves embroidered on the back of it. Cordelia buried her face into it, and she could almost feel Misty near her with the amount of emotional resonance the garment carried. She inhaled, and the smell of Misty consumed her. Her heart began to beat fast as she began to have a vision of the past...