Chapter Text
Fire.
Salt.
Heat.
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"A house is like a body. Veins, arteries, passageways and staircases. They all mean something and lead somewhere, they're all of use yes, but of vital importance to the life and beating of a heart, the whole body-"
"Where's the brain?" Warren remembers her younger self cutting across her aunt's loving monologue, genuine and curious. She shakes her head at the memory before pushing open the back door to join Clara.
"I hope I didn't wake you." Clara sat on the porch steps looking out across the great expanse of green and water the house faces. Built into the hillside just so, not a cliff face carved from stone and wooded canopies, the house sits naturally into the incline. Unlike the surrounding houses in the neighborhood there was nothing forced or standout about it (until you walked inside). The front door was pretty special though, a bright blazing red. Hard to miss even in the dark.
"You didn't. Coffee?" she offers the older woman a steaming mug and sits herself beside her on the steps. "You smoke?" Clara waves a hand, nonchalant, "been quitting for a while now but apparently I'm really good at it." She laughs at her self just a little and then remembers she's talking to a teenager and straightens. "Thanks for the coffee."
"Don't mention it. So, you've known my aunt for a long time." she looks straight ahead and feels Clara's eyes on her. "Do you know... are you..."
"Sensitive?" Clara asks quietly.
Warren's eyes are wide when she turns to nod dumbly at the older woman.
Clara Dudley nods and puts her mug beside her before inviting Warren into a history and a future that is theirs to share.
Warren learns more that morning than she thinks she will ever remember. Clara and her aunt have been familiars for generations it seems. Whether in the town or across the world, spanning continents their connection is vibrant and they push each other, and often call one another home. They share the stories that Warren has heard about for so long but wondered if she would ever get to see come to life before her. Her family was weird and she had known that long before she came to be in her aunt's life as a permanent house guest.
It was one thing to know that level of oddity existed in the bloodline, it was quite different to see it in technicolor with her very own eyes.
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And honestly it feels like she's missing a limb. A piece of her sliced clean away. There was no tugging, no bleeding or gnawing nerve twisting pain. Just air.
And air is moving freely, loose and fresh, brushing against her body in place of an arm. A ghost. A spectre of a past life that she never remembers living but feels stolen from her all the same.
“Olivia? Something on your mind?” she blinks back into being and her eyes snap to a pair of green orbs staring back at her, mild amusement stretching their lips into a grin. “No. Nothing. Just spaced out for a second there. More wine?” she pushes herself off the chair and swings the blanket over her shoulders while padding across the patio.
“Hmm. I've heard that excuse before girl and it didn't fool me then. Still isn't working now,” Clara hums to herself as Liv retreats inside. “This is gonna be a fun year that's for sure.” she laughs around the rim of her glass and tilts her head back to watch the stars painting the cloudless sky.
“Talking to yourself again there?” his voice makes her jump just enough for him to bark a deep rasping laugh. He shakes his head and takes off his cap, setting it on the table before kissing her hello.
“I'm trying to figure when is gonna be the best time to share the news.” Before he can speak Olivia reappears and sets the bottle down. Curling into her chair she looks between them and her glass. She narrows her eyes at them and reaches for the bottle.
“Good choice.” Horace comments lowly. He glances between the two women before nodding and quickly making his way across the porch and inside. “Good night. You two have a nice chat,” he waves at them with a weird smile-not-smile from behind the patio door and if Olivia had felt strange before, the cold pulsing down her neck had set her nerves on edge. “Ok, what the hell was that all about?”
Clara sips her wine and regards her friend for a moment. Olivia watches her, searching for any hint as to what was about to come out of her mouth next. Clara leaned forward and knotted her fingers together, wringing them slightly before exhaling and holding her open palms out before her. “Clara wh-“
“Hugh Crain is in town and Horace needs him to help at the school and he said yes. He has no idea. Knows nothing.” It comes out in a rush and Olivia just blinks at her.
A clean slice and off fell her arm. Left her painless but tilted, shifted just slightly to the side, subconsciously working to counter for the imbalance.
“Well. Fuck.” she lifted her glass to her lips. “Yep. Well. I'm going to kill your husband.”
Clara nodded quickly, “That's understandable.”
She eyed her friend for a moment too long.
Olivia shook her head, “He knows nothing because he didn't want to know anything. I kept up my end of the deal. And Warren has no idea. I want to keep it that way, she's too young for this Clara.”
Clara shakes her head sadly and shifts closer towards the edge of the couch “Liv, that's not-“
Olivia cut her off with a raised hand and a pleading in her eyes “Not right now. Not... Not yet.” Her voice is small and tearful. All Clara can do is get up and move so the two of them are squeezed onto the single seat holding on tight.
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Fire.
It was a fire, not a knife.
The fire ripped through her and cleaved her life not in half but in fragments. Disjointed puzzle pieces held together by a thread. A line
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