Work Text:
Cordelia turned the page of her alchemy book as she sat against the headboard of her bed. With a wine glass in her another hand, she relished the rare occasion of serenity. And, of course, the company of the swamp witch. Misty was lying on her stomach on the other side of the bed, a botany book propped up against the headboard.
The days of the Supreme were hectic, and while it was a pleasant kind of chaos for Cordelia, she needed some serious time-off. So, she felt more than grateful when Misty had showed up in her room with that bashful smile tonight. Loosening up wasn’t something Cordelia was good at, and Misty always seemed to sense it, visiting her at night like a pacifying fairy of a sort.
Without Misty, she would’ve broken to pieces a long time ago.
“You got a tattoo, Miss Cordelia.”
Cordelia looked up from her book, turned her head to Misty, and looked back down at her own wrist. A tattoo of a plant with four leaves and bare roots. “Yes, I do. It’s an embarrassing story.”
“When’d you get it?”
“When I was eighteen. I–” Cordelia hesitated. A vague thought flashed across her mind, that it might change Misty’s view on her.
Misty got up. “Yeah?”
“It’s silly, really. This used to be the initials of the guy I was dating at the time. He was the first person I ever dated, and I felt like that was something I could be proud of. Also, getting a tattoo was, to me, a form of rebellion against Fiona– Well, I guess the latter part played a bigger role.”
“But you covered it up.”
Cordelia realized she was rubbing the tattoo with her thumb as if to wipe it off. The initials of the boy she’d thought was her dream-come-true was still discernible, if you knew where to look, among the wiggly line work of roots.
“It wasn’t worth having his name on my skin,” Cordelia said.
Misty slid her finger across the tattoo as she brought her face near it. “I’ve seen people with colorful tattoos. Didn’t you wanna have colors?”
“The idea of colorful tattoos wasn’t that common when I got it.”
Misty nodded. She didn’t seem to notice how close their faces were. Then, her pensive expression turned into a smile.
“I got an idea! Wait here. Will be right back.” Saying this, Misty left the room.
Beyond some knocks on other doors, Cordelia couldn’t hear anything. But a smile was already on her face. Whatever Misty had in mind, she knew it would overshadow any negative memories she had of the tattoo.
A moment later Misty returned with a pack of paint and a palette. Closing the door with her butt, she held the pack so Cordelia could see it was a face paint kit for kids.
“Queenie sometimes paints Nan’s face for fun,” Misty said. “I can do that for you.”
“You mean, on my face?”
“Nah, your tattoo. I used to have tons o’ coloring books as a kid.” Misty sat back in the bed, spreading the borrowed stuff across the pearl-white bedsheets, and held a brush in front of her face. “Queenie said this is called a dagger brush, ‘cause of the shape of it.” She pretended to throw it like a real dagger, making it land on the back of Cordelia’s hand, fake-stabbing her with the soft tip.
Cordelia giggled. “Okay, okay. You can paint on me, so stop tickling me, please?”
With a huge grin, Misty rolled up her sleeves. “I’m gonna paint like Picasso.”
“Are you sure? Picasso was a child prodigy. He could draw realistic figures since he was very young.”
“Really? Then, why do his paintings look like he was on drugs when he painted ‘em?”
“That’s his style, Misty.”
Misty paused in thought, and then shrugged. “I’m gonna paint like the gay artist, then.”
Cordelia almost choked on her wine. “Which one?”
“The guy who painted the Mona Lisa.”
They had to figure out a comfortable position for both of them. Eventually Misty found her place on the left side of Cordelia, while the other woman had the palette on her lap and a cup of water in her other free hand for cleaning the brush. This way, the Supreme could extend her arm in front of Misty and hold her wine glass at the same time– She just needed to remember to switch from the water cup to the wine glass. Neither drinking paint water nor having the brush dunked in her wine sounded enjoyable.
Misty started with the leaves. The sensation of the wet tip of the brush sent chills down Cordelia’s back, but it grew rather calming in time. It felt similar to the feeling of Misty’s muddy hands. Cordelia liked that.
She rested her head on Misty’s shoulder as her tattoo become vibrant. Each of the four leaves had a different color, and so did the roots. Cordelia found that a pleasant surprise. And instead of stopping there, Misty expanded her canvas and began painting lively shapes all across her forearm. Hearts, clouds, rainbows, and what seemed to be alligators and birds, and more hearts.
Da Vinci would be damned. “That’s a whole lot of hearts,” she said instead.
Misty hummed. “I’m gonna use all the colors, ‘cause you are a rainbow.”
There was no need to ask what that meant. Cordelia already knew.
Misty seemed determined to paint every inch of her forearm. And as she neared the elbow, pushing the boundary in a literal sense, she tucked up the sleeve of Cordelia’s nightgown a little so it wouldn’t touch the paint. The result was ringed fingers pressing against the inside of Cordelia’s upper arm. Goosebumps broke out on the sensitive skin. And with Misty occasionally blowing air to dry the paint, Cordelia couldn’t help but notice the intimacy of it all.
That was the thing about Misty. She didn’t need any sexual or romantic act, or expensive gifts in order to make Cordelia feel loved.
“Are you asleep?” Misty said in a whisper.
Cordelia shook her head on the other’s shoulder.
“I wanna say something crazy.”
“You? Crazy?” Cordelia laughed. “Hit me with your best shot.”
“Well, I’m happy that you let me stay with you tonight, is what I wanted to say.” Misty kept her brush working on Cordelia’s skin. “You’ve become so powerful, an awesome leader and teacher. Everyone, both inside and outside the Coven, admires you. And, sometimes I feel like you’re so far away now and don’t need me anymore like this. Everytime I stand at your door, I get a li’l scared that you might turn me down.”
Cordelia lifted her head to look in her face.
That made Misty smile nervously. “See? Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Misty.” She put a gentle hand on Misty’s and made her stop working. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“You’ve been awfully busy. Ain’t your fault.”
“Misty, listen,” she said. “I need you. I always have and will, like this and in every other possible way. Don’t you know? Every morning, I walk in the dining room and sit beside you, no matter where you’re sitting, because I need you to be the first person I talk to before starting another day. Because sometimes it can be really brutal out there. It can’t be another person. It has to be you, to keep me going.”
Misty nodded with a tearful smile.
“You are special to me, Misty Day.”
Misty nodded again. She wiped away her tears, but with her paint-covered hand, some of it ended up on her face.
There had never been a more precious sight than that, Cordelia knew. So, she put her hand on Missy’s cheek, spreading the paint with her thumb, drawing a tiny heart just below her eye. She then made Misty rest her head on her own shoulder.
They waited in silence until Misty felt calm enough to resume her work.
—
When Misty finished her masterpiece at last, it was almost midnight. Cordelia was dozing off.
“It was fun. You should be my canvas more often.” Misty’s voice had no vestige of the earlier confession. There was only the tiny heart under her eye, telling Cordelia it wasn’t a dream.
The Supreme examined her own arm. Although the psychedelic color scheme was shocking enough for her sleepy eyes, she could only smile. “So, what’s the message here?” she said.
“Hm?”
“Art is a form of self-expression. What did you want to convey with this piece?”
Misty looked at the painting as if it was her first time seeing it. Her hand came up, pressing down on each of the hearts with her index finger. She met Cordelia’s gaze.
“I adore you,” she said.
Cordelia wished she could tattoo that phrase, in Misty’s voice, on her heart.