Chapter Text
fiona notices everything about patricia. she finds it hard not to. her eyes are naturally drawn to the other girl, the way she talks, how she holds herself, her laugh, her smile. it’s hard to look away from the enchantress for even a second.
fiona notices that patricia has a certain grace about her. she’s delicate in a way that only patricia dorval could be. she’s calm and well put-together, all while being rough, and strong. fiona notices that patricia is strong in every sense of the word, and to say that she hasn’t thought of being carried around by the enchantress would be a lie of immense proportions.
fiona is entranced by patricia dorval in the way a moth is drawn to a flame. in a way, patricia is like a candle fire: she is steady, composed, and unfaltering with the ability to burn anyone who dares to do her wrong. fiona wishes she was like patricia in that way. she wishes she was as bold, as straightforward as patricia was.
fiona would blindly follow the enchantress into danger, even if it meant an untimely demise. her trust, her faith in the other girl, is untouched. no, patricia has saved her far too many times for the priestess to be skeptical of her skills.
fiona is not patricia’s only admirer. in fact, she’s not sure patricia knows how much fiona adores her. she is in no way like norton, who throws himself into patricia’s arms whenever he sees fit. the prospector is outward about his love for the girl, even if his advances are denied every time he tries. no, fiona is more reserved when it comes to love. she’s not shy in any way, but she finds herself wary when it comes to intimacy. her mother taught her that love was a dangerous thing. to never fall in love with one so invested in something that is not real.
fiona is sure that her love for patricia is real. she’s never felt as strongly as she does towards her.
she imagines her mother would frown upon her choice of lover in more ways than one.
a girl—a black girl, at that—who believes in curses and voodoo. she was quite sure her mother would throw a fit.
though, it wasn’t as if her mother was especially proud of her now. not since she ran off to pursue religions and “stories”.
fiona sits in the dining room next to three of her companions. at one head of the table sits norton campbell. he is cocky, and bold, but not in the way that patricia is bold. norton is bold in the sense that he says whatever comes to mind, regardless of the consequences. his mannerisms have caused him many injuries, none of which were related to the hunters. rather, it is the survivors who have taken a liking to shoving or lightly punching norton whenever he says something too out of line.
norton is throwing words as sharp as daggers towards naib subedar, who sits at the other head of the table. fiona notices that the two have a rivalry similar to tweedledum and tweedledee. they are similar in many ways, she observes, and yet, all they seem to do is argue. naib treats their arguments as if his life depends on it; norton treats them like a game. she imagines the prospector’s carefree attitude is what the mercenary hates the most.
across from fiona, william ellis and tracy reznik try to ignore the ongoing argument. fiona hears a phrase from the forward that is along the lines of “rugby-playing robot”. this gets a laugh out of the mechanic. fiona smiles. the two were quite the duo.
right beside fiona is the enchantress herself. she alternates between staring and avoiding eye contact at all costs. the enchantress is wearing an outfit known to fiona as “servant”. patricia has told her many times that she despises the name. fiona adores the dress. fiona adores anything patricia wears.
perhaps it was the atmosphere, or the argument, or the food, but patricia stands up from the table. this silences the group just as quickly as she stood. her presence was commanding. like soldiers awaiting orders, the group stares at her in complete silence.
patricia pushes her plate towards the middle of the table, pushed her chair in, and leaves the dining room slowly. the conversation picks up as if nothing had happened.
fiona can only stay in the dining room for so long. her worries grow and grow until she feels she is about to burst. she, too, pushes her chair in, though her actions are done hurriedly and anxiously, and no one stops talking when she leaves.
she finds patricia heading towards her room. fiona calls her name. the enchantress turns around slowly, face stone cold. it’s impossible for fiona to tell how she is feeling.
“are you alright?” fiona asks. she is well aware her worry is clear to see. she can only hope patricia tells the truth.
patricia is silent. she turns and continues to walk to her room.
like a moth drawn to a flame, fiona follows.
fiona has never been in patricia’s room. she is not sure what to expect. patricia holds the door open for her. the priestess feels her heart beat faster and faster.
fiona enters. the door closes behind her.
fiona gilman is in the room of patricia dorval, a girl she has admired since the second she arrived. she feels as if she might faint at any second.
“annoying, those two. subedar and campbell. i wish they were quieter.” patricia speaks, breaking the silence between the two. her words cause fiona to turn to face her abruptly.
“you’re not like them. that is why i enjoy your company.” she adds, sitting down on the bed and motioning for fiona to join her. fiona follows hurriedly. her anxieties only worsen.
“stay for the night, will you?”