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“Here.” Luz offers Amity the headphones, apparently done inserting what she called the ‘splitter’ into the laptop (which seems to function more or less like crystal balls do on the Boiling Isles, capturing and transmitting sound so you can keep up with the news and watch movies).
Amity plucks at the knit of her purple hat.
“No one’s gonna see, these bad boys’ve got you covered. Plus they’re so soft, they’re like little mini pillows for your ears!” Luz enthuses, wiggling the headphones in the air. Amity has to admit, it does essentially look like a hairband with two mini cushions attached. And when she removes her hat and quickly slides them over her ears, they feel like it too.
Luz clicks something, and snow starts falling down the laptop screen.
While Earth and the Boiling Isles share some movies in common, Amity’s never seen this one. It’s…well, it’s about a girl trying to propose to her girlfriend at Christmas, only they’ve gone home to the girlfriend’s family, who don’t realise the two are together, or even that their daughter likes women.
It’s trite, and it’s cheesy, full of close-ups of tears clinging to impossibly fluttery eyelashes and cosy cardigans and women gossiping around tables, telling bad dirty jokes while they clutch mugs of hot chocolate with both hands. Amity is glued to every second.
Such little media makes it into the Boiling Isles as it is, and what does, well … the love stories have never looked like this.
“Wasn’t it adorable?!” beams Luz as the credits roll. “SO many scenes where it was a challenge for me not to squee.”
“You didn’t always quite accomplish that, hate to tell ya,” says Amity. “But I appreciate the effort,” she adds quickly, seeing Luz about to launch into an indignantly self-aware defence of her movie watching etiquette.
“Hmmph.” Luz knows she’s being mollified.
“I normally don’t mind, I love analysing stuff with you,” says Amity. She means it, too. On the rare occasion her parents would ever watch anything with their children [sticking strictly to what were considered ‘classics’], there’d be nothing but rolled eyes and ‘shushes’ if anyone expressed confusion about what was happening, or dared muse aloud that they thought they recognised a certain actor from somewhere. So, when Luz interjects over films to talk about anything from costumers to actors she has a crush on to queer subtext (it’s usually queer subtext), Amity is more than happy to join in, even if it means she misses a few lines. Hey, she’s a smart witch, and there’s such a thing as inferring from context, right?
But on this occasion, she’d appreciated (mostly) having peace to be absorbed by the schlocky sentimentality.
Luz can see Amity’s sincerity, and she softens, giving Amity a look that even now, never fails to raise a lump in Amity’s throat.
“Perfect timing anyways, we’re nearly there!” Sure enough, an announcement states that the train is five minutes from its final destination. Amity pulls her hat to the crown of her head, slipping it on as she removes the headphones.
“You look SO cute with that hat,” Luz says earnestly. Amity is at least (mostly) past the stage of turning into a tomato that’s gained cognition purely for the purpose of being able to faint any time Luz pays her a compliment, but she’s still, intrinsically and unavoidably, a blusher.
“It doesn’t look stupid, does it?”
Luz reaches up and runs her fingertips over the silver furry puff sewn to the end of the purple knit.
“No, just adorable.”
When Amity’s blush intensifies and Luz’s cooing intensifies, Amity finds herself grateful that at least Luz can’t see the tips of her ears flush too. Luz definitely has a thing about pointy ears, and Amity’s are second only to those of internet kitties.
The train rolls in. Amity hangs back, unused to the bustle, earning a fond eyeroll and a “You’ll never survive a weekend in the city with those genteel manners” comment from Luz, who steers them confidently through the crowd, somehow endeavouring not to jostle anyone with her backpack or roll her suitcase wheels over errant feet. She holds tightly to Amity’s hand all the while.
They wait by the bus stop, Luz practically (at times literally) dancing from one foot to another as she waits for her mom. She starts pinwheeling her arms furiously at the sight of a small green car waiting at the traffic lights.
Luz’s mom parks in the bus stop, which means nothing to Amity but seems to be cause for them to move quickly, shoving their bags in the trunk and scrambling into the backseat.
“Thanks kids, sorry for the rush! You’d think they’d make parking around here easier,” says Camila over her shoulder. She’s constantly stealing glances in the mirror, love for her daughter and the fact that she’s desperately missed her evident. Luz helps Amity with her seatbelt, and through it all Amity tries to smile, to look relaxed.
Luz always speaks of her mom with such obvious affection, and Amity can’t imagine anything less than the sweetest person raising someone like her girlfriend. While Amity can confidently cut down an overtly-familiar Lordlet with a cutting comment uttered in nothing but the evenest of polite tones, she doesn’t know how to be in Camila’s company – even after all this time, if she feels like she doesn’t know the rules, she messes up and retreats into herself, leaving impressions of coldness and snobbery.
“How did you find the trip, Amity? It was your first time on a train?” asks Camila, warm eyes flicking to meet Amity’s in the rear-view mirror.
Amity nods. Just be positive, right? People like people who see the good in stuff. “Yeah, it was my first time on one. It was really cool actually, we don’t really have anything quite like it where I come from.” Oh titan, this is probably super boring, Amity chides herself. It’s new to you, but to her this stuff is totally mundane.
But Camila nods and smiles and chats back, and Amity feels her shoulders unwind. At one point, Luz beams at Amity softly and squeezes her hand.
The journey to Luz’ house isn’t long, but it looks really different from the train station, which had been surrounded by compact streets and huge buildings. There are rows of smaller houses, and while everything is laced in frost now, Amity can tell that it’ll be super green in the spring. Strings of lights hang across the windows – Amity suspects it’s some human invention, but she half wonders if Luz had taught Camila any of her glyphs.
Camila insists on grabbing Amity’s suitcase, and she finds herself glad she’d packed light for the trip. While Camila is reaching into the trunk, Luz leans in and brushes a stray lock of hair from Amity’s shoulder. “You’ve nothing to be nervous about, Mami loves you. Just like I knew she would,” she whispers, accompanying it with a mittened thumbs up that melts something new in Amity (at this point, she melts around Luz so much, she half suspects that her insides are 90% slush).
An animal that Amity’s only seen photos of on Luz’s phone barks excitedly in the hallway when they troop in – she doesn’t seem to know where to direct her attention, at one moment obsessed with the fact her beloved Luz has returned, then trying to stick her head into their suitcases, then determined to make friends with the New Person, before remembering that Camila is also there and that she adores and must jump on her too.
“Hello, my beautiful Bea,” says Luz, wrapping her arms around the dog and sticking her face into the fur. “Oh yes, I missed you too.”
Though she’s unused to dogs (obviously – she’s pretty sure the closest thing you get on the Boiling Isles are werewolves, and their wolf forms are notoriously shy), Amity pets Bea’s head once she’s calmed down. The dog seems delighted, black eyes staring adoringly into Amity’s. When she tries to give the witch her paw, Amity doesn’t even bother trying to hide her squee of delight – nor do Luz and Camila. Why is that so cute that now Amity is sure she’d give anything to this animal that it wanted?
Despite Camila’s protests, the girls insist on carrying their own suitcases up the stairs to Luz’s room. Camila mutters about hard shifts at the hospital where she has to bear twice that weight and makes derisive comments about her daughter’s “weak nerd arms” (“Luz, to be fair, I have heard you call them that,” teases Amity, who definitely does not remember the time at Grom when Luz had caught her from the air and spun her to the ground with nothing less than aplomb, or when she hurt her leg at Grugby and Luz had scooped her up and carried her to the medics like she weighed nothing, or the multiple weapons she’s seen her girlfriend wield at various times in the Boiling Isles…nope.) It’s worth it, to watch Luz splutter and to share a wicked grin with Camila before they take their luggage to Luz’s room.
The room itself is still covered in posters and art from Luz’s teen years. There’s a huge bookshelf with knickknacks and memorabilia cluttered in front of the rows of books – the shelves should have been dusty, but have clearly been meticulously cleaned and kept in order.
“Your mom loves you a lot,” comments Amity.
“Yeah,” says Luz. There’s no embarrassment in it, just an affectionate sort of pride. “She’s super tough, but she’s sentimental.”
“Like you then,” says Amity, shrugging her backpack off and freeing her ears from the hat.
There’s a scratching and whining at the door – Luz opens it to permit Bea, who trots in with her tail held aloft like a flag, and springs onto a blanket draped over the end of the bed.
“I’m glad she somewhat listened to me when I told her to use this room as a guest bedroom though,” says Luz, gesturing at the large bed. “Both of us trying to squeeze into my old twin would be less than ideal.”
Amity shrugs, scratching Bea’s ear. “I dunno, sounds kind of cosy.” While Luz tends to generate her own heat and often ends up kicking her sheets off in the night, Amity, typical of most witches, runs freezing-slitherbeast-cold.
Camila calls for them both to come downstairs when they’re ready. They eat an amazing spread that Camila had pre-cooked yesterday, Luz showing Amity how to neatly fold the edges of her tortilla like a present. Camila’s mother has also pre-assembled their Christmas tree (Luz had tried to explain the ‘why’ of this tradition to Amity, but Amity’s at the point where she finds it easier to just nod politely and appreciate the pretty centrepiece).
“I thought it’d be fun for you and Amity to help decorate,” Camila announces.
While she tries to act game, Amity is at first bewildered by the sheer amount of sparkle, her fingertips soon feeling gritty with glitter. She tries to reign in some of Luz’s showier tendencies, and somehow ends up with a piece of yellow-gold tinsel wrapped around her neck like a tie. In the end, she settles for placing the glassier ornaments in front of the little lights so they reflect the glow around the room, and primly applying strands of angel hair to the branches, while Luz adopts a distinctly more is more creative process. At one point, her tongue between her teeth in concentration, Amity catches Camila looking at her with an expression she can’t decipher.
“Is it…does it look okay? I can add more.”
“Your additions are beautiful, so tasteful!” says Camila with an expansive gesture, and Amity realises that her expression from before had been a barely contained fond smile (which no longer allows itself to be contained). “I know you don’t celebrate Christmas on the Boiling Isles, but with your eye, I’m sure your parent’s house looks fabulous during your celebrations.”
Amity’s own shy grin falters. “Um, not really. That is, I guess it does look pretty great at birthdays and anniversaries and stuff, but we never really decorated ourselves.” She hears herself, and cringes. How snooty must that sound to someone who stands on a ladder and hangs their own lights?
But when she meets Camila’s gaze again, there’s nothing but curiosity, and maybe a little sympathy. She wonders how much Luz has told her mother about Amity’s living situation. “I’m sure it did look great, but nothing to what you could accomplish with a little creative freedom.” She pats Amity’s shoulder.
Soon enough (through no fault of Amity’s), they’re out of angel hair, and finished.
“Oh, my darlings, it looks so beautiful,” says Camila, the lights reflected in her glasses. “What a lovely tree!”
Amity has to admit that it does look gorgeous, and it makes her feel proud that she helped make it look that way, and that maybe that’s the only ‘point’ of having a Christmas tree that is necessary for her to understand at the moment.
They round off the evening with another movie and a sweet hot drink with some kind of liquor splashed in that cuts beautifully through the creaminess, and makes Amity feel sleepy and relaxed, down to her toes. Through it all, Amity gains an understanding of why Luz is so tactile – Camila is constantly grabbing for her daughter’s hand in delight when they all laugh at a joke in the movie, or gently touching her fingertips to Amity’s shoulder when asking if she needs anything.
“I’m super beat,” says Luz as the credits roll. “I know you’re technically just sitting there, but travel is exhausting.”
Amity nods. “It is. Let’s go to sleep.” Remembering some pointers Luz had given her about winning Camila’s favour, she lifts everyone’s mugs and leaves them by the sink with a little water in the bottom of each. “She really appreciate manners and helpfulness, but don’t try to overdo it, she loves being hospitable,” Luz had said.
Amity also gets some water for Luz and herself (Luz doesn’t drink half as much water as she should, somehow subsisting off coffee and sugary drinks, but Amity knows her girlfriend will be grateful for it first thing in the morning).
“Goodnight Ms Noceda. Thank you for dinner and everything, I’ve had such a lovely evening,” Amity says in a quiet voice before she leaves the living room.”
“Please, call me Camila,” comes the soft reply. “And it was my pleasure. You seem really good for Luz. I like you for my daughter.”
Amity doesn’t know what to say that would be an appropriate mix of humility and non-suck-uppy, so she just says the truth. “She’s been really good for me.”
“I’m glad.” It’s a cliché, but the simple statement in Camila’s gentle voice that makes it sound like there’s no pressure to explain anything because she already understands is like a hug.
Amity leaves Luz’s water on her bedside table and slips in beside her, Bea at their feet.
Luz rolls over and kisses her nose, making Amity give a ‘mm’ of surprise.
“Thought you were asleep already,” she says.
“Waiting for you. Spoon?”
“Always.”
Luz indicates that it’s Amity’s turn, so Amity obligingly rolls on her side and pulls Luz’s arms even tighter when they encircle her.
“I knew she’d love you, but this went even better than I could’ve hoped. My mom loves you. Bea loves you. I love you. And I love that you’re here.”
“I love being here.” Amity kisses the back of Luz’s hand. But her shoulders are still a little tense.
“Hey, Am? If you just want to sleep now then feel free to lie and tell me you’re just tired, but you ok?”
There’s a moment of silence, Amity struggling to string together a hundred conflicting emotions into a coherent explanation. “Today’s been great. Beautiful, even. But it’s also kind of making me sad. Because I know we’ve got to go back to the Isles – and that’s still great, because I still get to see you. But it also means I’ve got to go back to that house.”
“I know,” whispers Luz. “You know you’re welcome to come live at the Owl House any time, right? Eda likes you, especially after you helped her figure out that injunction against her stall last year. Plus I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but she’s got a weakness for waifs who aren’t where they’re meant to be.”
She’s offered it many times before, and Amity gives the same reply. “I’d love that. But you know I need to wait until school’s up. If I can keep my head down for one more year and earn a scholarship at a Coven, then believe me, I’m out of there. Plus, if Eda needs any more help deciphering complicated scrolls, I’m charging a fee,” she adds.
Luz is quiet for a moment. “A year in that house seems so loooong,” she mutters into the darkness.
“It will be,” says Amity flatly. Because it will, no two ways about it.
Luz is quiet for a while, and Amity wonders if she’s actually gone to sleep. “What do you say we extend our trip here? Ring in the New Year?”
“Ring in what? What’s new?” asks Amity, scrunching her forehead.
“It’s a human tradition where we arbitrarily decide that it’s time to wipe your slate clean and make a bunch of self-improvement promises that will inevitably fail because good god that’s so much pressure to put on yourself during the months when it’s constantly dark and miserable out, but we stay up until midnight and toast each other and sing! You can tell your parents there were transport issues and you needed to delay. They know nothing about the human world, they’d buy it.”
Amity nods slowly. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”
“Yay!” Luz crushes Amity even tighter into her embrace. “And as soon as we get back, aside from hanging out all the time and going on dates and having fun, because obvi, we’ll make another plan to come back here and visit again, real soon. If you’re gonna make it through this next year, you need to, a, start it off with a bang, and b, have lots of good times to look forward to. Times when you know you’ll actually be able to relax and take a breath.”
Amity turns in Luz’s arms. “Sounds like a plan,” she whispers between kisses.
Christmas is surprising and strange (and horrifying in parts – the legend of Santa is as disturbing as any monster on the Boiling Isles, as far as Amity’s concerned), and overall, wonderful. When she spends New Years comforting Bea against the fireworks (while feeling guilty about enjoying the colourful sprays across the sky), and clinks her glass against Luz’s at midnight, she knows that as long as there’s more of this to look forward to, she’ll get through this year – and that, if this is the life waiting on the other side, it'll be well worth it.