Chapter Text
Warm beams of sunlight lanced through the thin fabric of the cream colored curtains, bathing the bedroom in light. Amity rolled over, petite fingers reaching for silk pillows in a desperate plea to shut the light out. She winced, her attempt rendered futile as the sound of heels clicking across marble floors jolted her to her reality.
“Amity, dear.” Her mother’s voice rang loud and clear. “You should really adjust to your set sleeping schedule.”
Twenty-four year old Amity Blight heaved, clutching onto her blankets. She bid farewell to her bed as memories of last night’s dreams poured in. Upset to leave her refuge so early in the day, she pushed the blankets off and sat up. Subconsciously, the heiress rolled her shoulders back and straightened her posture.
“Good morning, mother.”
In all honesty, she was quite irritated to be scolded by her mother so early in the morning. Amity usually saw the woman at breakfast, and it gave her at least a minimum of thirty minutes to be free from her demands. Seeing as her mom had no regards for her privacy as of late, she wasn’t sure why she expected to be spared from the woman.
Sudden nostalgia for late mornings in her studio apartment in the city hit. Amity would wake on weekends at around eleven- a feat never allowed before. She’d prop her bed right underneath a window, so she could sit and look to the outside in the comforts of her sheets. College and the short year after seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a period of discovering trashy tv shows with eight seasons and late night takeout orders.
She lied in anguish now, having indulged in freedom and aching for it more than ever. The aftertaste of the forbidden fruit lingered in her mouth to this day.
“Amity.” Her mother’s voice was awfully sweet nowadays.
She recognized it as being false, and maybe Amity would have fallen for her voice and thought her mother was changing years ago, but the Amity now wasn’t stupid. Ever since she moved back into the Blight household, the two were on unspoken, mutual terms. They somewhat understood each other, and Amity accepted it was best to carry on her mother’s bidding. If her mother wanted something done, then it would be done. Amity wouldn't complain as long as she carried that sweet tone. It was better than the screaming in her teenage years.
“Yes, mother?” She was up now, pacing to her vanity where she began to undo last night’s braids. Fingers worked to untie auburn strands free.
“I made an appointment with my hair stylist.” Odalia stood behind Amity, but she remained unfazed. Focusing on her unbraiding, the young woman nodded for her mom to continue. “It’s for you, dear.”
Rather, Odalia placed a business card on the vanity where Amity worked. Amber eyes travelled downward, eyeing the direction of said hair salon.
“I assume I will be dying my hair again?” Amity inquired nonchalantly, hiding the way her stomach dropped. Seeing her mother’s lips weave into a smile, Amity brought the card closer. “Thank you, mother.”
“Of course. It’s only fitting to have the signature Blight hair for your grand day.”
When she was younger and her siblings were stuck in their comic book phase, they’d made an inside joke that the infamous Blight green hair was a product of chemical poisoning. Her brother crafted an elaborate tale of how their mother was dipped into chemicals in the Blight factory instead of being baptized. It was her villain origin story. Somedays, Amity liked to believe her brother’s story. Something about the great Odalia Blight being dumped into a yellow tub of green chemicals made her less intimidating to deal with.
“Anything else you would like me to get done for today, mother?”
Odalia took a piece of Amity’s brown hair, analyzing the color. The brunette froze momentarily before forcing herself to continue her work. She reached for her brush in hopes her mother would catch the hint and leave her hair alone.
“It’d be...adequate for you to go shopping for a gift to present to Mrs. Pelleron tomorrow.” The woman replied. “Don’t forget we will attend lunch with your fiancé.”
Amity’s breath hitched at the mention of her fiancé. She composed herself quickly, turning to the little box on her vanity where she kept her engagement ring. She held it up, the diamond sparkling underneath the light. Sensing her mother's gaze, she slipped it on. It glimmered and glittered on her ring finger, forever there to remind her of her most sacred duty.
“I’ll go shopping for Mrs. Palleron right after my hair appointment. Is it fitting to give her daughter something?”
“Besides your hand in marriage?” In another lifetime, she would brush this off as a playful jab at her engagement. Yet her mother’s tone was anything but playful. “Though I recognize it wouldn’t be a bad idea to show with something- many of the Palleron’s acquaintances will be present at lunch tomorrow.”
Which meant wowing her soon-to-be-wife in front of a crowd sold their romance even more. Image meant everything to people like her, so she would just have to shop for two.
“Perhaps the press will be there.” She hated saying words like that. She was even more mortified at how easy they were to articulate and how freely they slipped off her tongue. “A magazine moment would be nice to help remind the general public of the wedding.”
Her mother hummed in agreement, letting go of her daughter’s hair. Amity thanked the heavens she had said the right words.
“I’ll arrange for a member of the press to be there. Also, spare no expense on those gifts.” Her mother waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t embarrass your family.”
The words “your family” actually translated to “me”. She brushed the comment off again, focusing on the fact that her mom was gone now.
Giving her reflection a wry smile, she put her hair up in a high ponytail. Finishing adjusting her gold stud earrings, she fished out her cleanser and prepared her skin for makeup. Having a flawless skin routine for her wedding, the foundation glided smoothly across her face. The brunette dipped concealer underneath her eyes and in a few problematic areas. She blended carefully, humming to herself as she reached for some bronzer and blush. The rest of her makeup routine consisted of curling her lashes, carefully applying mascara, and liquid lipstick. Her very last step was highlighter, and she found adding a lilac shade to the inner corner of her eyes made them pop.
She stood from her vanity and walked to her closet, visualizing each piece of clothing and a nice combination. Her mother had dragged her to styling and makeup classes when she began high school. Although a thorn on her side, she did silently thank the classes for her fashion sense.
Deciding on a black baby doll dress, she adjusted the collared neckline and puffed sleeved to her liking. She paired it with dark purple combat boots. Grabbing her purse and shoving in the hair salon card, the Blight spared a final glance at her childhood bedroom. Never in her college years did she imagine she’d be back here again, caged in four walls. Amity had done everything to escape, and somehow she wound up where she started.
Sighing, she shook the thought away and closed the door behind her. It was pointless to ponder on the past. Her future was dictated and she couldn’t do much about it.
Breakfast went surprisingly well. Ever since she moved home, she was put on a “wedding diet”. It was distasteful at first, seeing as she got used to baked goods and cheap cereals in her time away from home. The brunette was somewhat adapting to the fruit bowls and teas again.
At least her mom wasn’t around. Neither was her dad, though that was not a surprise.
The ride to the hair salon was fine. Her mother assigned her one of her own personal drivers, and the limousine was warm and cozy. Amity wouldn’t have minded taking the bus. Of course, she wouldn’t voice this to her mother, who would assume she had gone mad. It was awfully lonely, though she intended to get used to it.
Married life was probably worse than this.
The upper “heights” side of the Isles was distastefully expensive. When she was younger, she was fascinated by the blinding lights and the careless manor the women walked in. Shops littered across the street, where only the richest of the rich were allowed to walk in. She enjoyed her youth here, strolling from store to store and being attracted to each piece of clothing. It served as a wonderful distraction from the pressures of life.
The hair salon her mother recommended was located in the heart of the city. Eager to leave the limousine, she waved goodbye to her driver and instructed him to meet her in two hours or so. Amity walked through the plaza, tucking at her purse.
Autumn was just beginning in the Isles. She personally adored winter, though the transition from summer to autumn was whimsical. There was a sense of wonder in the air, and the leaves were dyed in red and brown. The rest of her walk was pleasant, spent sightseeing what the season had to offer.
When she made it to the salon, she inhaled and slid in. She put on the facade of a happy bride and excitedly greeted her mother’s stylists, chattering excitedly about her wedding. She spent most of her teenage years here, having grown accustomed to dying her hair every so often. Green was a tricky color to maintain, after all.
Watching her once auburn hair wrapped in aluminum, prepared to be bleached, she silently said goodbye to her last sense of normalcy. Going to study and leaving the Blight household was an act of rebellion by itself, but the abandonment of green dye in plastic boxes sent another message. Whenever she sent photographs to her mother, she made sure to show off the brown cascading down her shoulders. It was a message of departure- her final farewell to everything the Blights stood for.
Yet here she was, in her mother’s clutches, preparing to be wed off like a piece of meat. If twenty-year-old Amity Blight saw her, she would probably knock some sense into her.
Amity’s mind wandered from the cage she was locked in to life in a bustling city miles away. She was independent and unapologetically herself. She learned to undo years of trauma and expectations. She was accomplishing her dreams, for Titan’s sake. How did she end here, a year later doing her mother's will? She thought briefly of the mentor she left in another city and her heart ached.
The rest of the appointment was spent daydreaming and snapping out of it, albeit only to pander to the stylists’ own fantasies. Somehow, they had scored an invitation to a rehearsal wedding, under the pretense of styling her hair for the wedding. Their giddy laughter made Amity sick, but she didn’t dare take their happiness away. In their eyes, her marriage was written in the stars. It was sealed by the invisible red string that tugged at their fingers, serving as a plot device to join them together. Her wedding was a testament that true love existed.
Amity knew her marriage was a product of bundled dollar bills and family names. It was nice to know she was selling the act so well. She even showed off her engagement and laced a perfect tale of her proposal, ignoring the fact that her mother had announced it beforehand during dinner. The ring was just a formality.
When her hair was revealed- the green locks that swept across her shoulders- she couldn’t feign her happiness.
She left the salon with the infamous Blight hair, heart heavy. It was whatever, though. This was what was expected of her. At least she wasn’t dipped into hazardous chemicals.
Waiting for her chauffeur, she crossed her arms over her chest. It had gotten colder and the now green-haired girl cursed her lack of judgement. She should have brought a coat.
Amity still had to shop for her mother-in-law, after all. So when her limousine pulled up, she asked politely to be taken to another shopping plaza not so far away. Taking a sip of some of the champagne in the back, she rubbed her temples.
Shopping for a woman as extravagant as Mrs. Palleron was not a hard task. The woman, unbelievably, was always kind to Amity. She was only indirectly nasty to the Blight woman, but Amity supposed that was what adults did when they tried to one up each other. She wouldn’t have minded Mrs. Palleron in another lifetime, yet she did mind her now.
The only issue was that whenever Mrs. Palleron flaunted her riches, Odalia had to go and order something even more lavish. They lived that way, taunting one another. Of course, their insults were hidden in a sickenly friendly tone. Even when Odalia was naturally envious of anyone who had more than her, she still wanted to please Mrs. Palleron. She didn’t want to seem too poor to grant a costly gift.
Amity stopped thinking of their dynamic years ago. They were business partners, somehow friends, and rivals in one.
Though she was tempted to whip out her phone and call her mother, she knew it was foolish to ask her mom for an opinion. Her only request was to not embarrass her, but it was hard to do. The woman’s thinking process was odd.
She tried stepping into Odalia Blight’s shoes. A ring was not acceptable, seeing as the lunch was meant to celebrate their engagement. Neither was an article of clothing, since it could come off as being in poor taste. Jewelry was a hit or miss, so she ignored such. She thought back to her youth, the long summer days wasted basking in the presence of the Pallerons. She alternated between her household and her fiancé’s, although marriage wasn’t in her head at that point. She often spent time studying the Pallerons, understanding the woman’s taste for art and her choice of furniture.
Suddenly, an idea came to the youngest Blight’s mind. Determined, she picked an item for her fiancé and ran off to pay. The store she had in mind was down two stores, so all she did was walk there. She spent less than twenty minutes looking through the articles before being satisfied with her choice.
It was late in the afternoon when she was done with her tasks. Her hair was green, she had two gifts to present to the women of the Palleron household, and she was ready to go home.
“Where to, Miss Blight?”
“Home. Please and thank you.”
The ride home was quiet. She looked through the window, only drifting to look down at her phone. No texts or notifications. She sighed, shoving her phone into her purse. Whatever.
A sudden jolt and loud screech halted the car in its drive. Amity’s eyes flung wide, as the car came to a full stop. She heard the doors open and she saw her driver leave, muttering to himself.
“What happened?” She asked, stepping out the limo. “Is everything alright?”
“Apologies, Miss Blight.” The driver sighed, shaking his head. “We have issues with the vehicle. I’ll call in another car to take you home, so I can stay here while waiting for it to be repaired.”
They were no longer in the upper heights area of the Isles. She recognized the area, though she spent less time here. It was a smaller town, one necessary but easy to navigate through in order to get to the Blight estate. She wouldn’t mind spending time here. Besides, it’d be nice to get away from family for a little while.
“No need to. I am familiar with this area, please call me when the car is ready.”
“Miss Blight, that might take at least two hours or so.”
She shot him a smile.
“I am aware. I left some gifts for the Palleron family in there- Take care of them for me.” With that, she was gone.
She had ventured through the town of Bonesborough before. Before her siblings moved out, the twins would force her to accompany them to the markets. They were always more rebellious than she had been, and if their mom knew they spent so much time in this part of Bonesborough, she was sure they’d face her wrath. Unlike the elegant stores ornamented in glass walls and colorful displays, the shops here were family-owned. The sight alone would have made Odalia screech in disgust. Somehow, she never found out the twins were to blame for their daily trips. Maybe she did know and chose to turn a blind eye.
Memories of her teenage years spent running after her siblings spilled into her head. She cautiously walked down the crowded street, peering at the new shops that had been established after her departure. Smiling, she stopped at the bakery her siblings hogged cupcakes at. The memory lane was proving to be worth it.
When she moved out, she spent most of her time holed up in her dorm. She went to class, stayed out late at the library, and enjoyed nights in her dorm with cheap takeout. It wasn’t until two months in her college experience that she realized she desperately needed to get out. When she was done with law school, she was content with her life experiences.
She stopped at clothing stores, picked at food samples, and went sightseeing. Oddly enough, this was probably one of the better days ever since she moved back in.
Stopping in her tracks, she came across one little shop. Bitter memories swarmed in her mind as she gazed at the flickering lights. The Owl House stood in front of her, and she had been walking without picking a destination. Glancing at her phone, Amity realized she still had an hour to go.
Exhaling, Amity shoved the phone device in her purse and continued on. She reached for the door, cringing slightly as her fingers brushed against the shop’s logo. It was an owl stuck to the door that popped out each time and squealed horrendously each time a customer wandered in. On second thought, it was the damned bird that made her never come back.
Ignoring the way her ears rang after the obnoxious squealing, she stepped inside the little cabin. Walking through the aisles, she looked at the items stacked on shelves. The little thrift store was known for its eccentric owner and the oddities she sold. Amity knew the Owl Lady because of the one time she was scammed, and the one time her mother decided to check her banking statements and realized she had been here.
Scoffing, Amity put down a crystal guaranteeing healing. She picked a rose quartz, raising a brow at the little tag attached. It supposedly attracted love, but she knew better than to believe anything from here.
“Hi! Welcome to the Owl House!”
A yelp escaped her lips as she dropped the crystal, the sound of the item breaking into several fragments on the floor. She flinched, taking a step back as she reached for her hand, red splattering next to the piece of glass.
“Oh, wow.” Amity blinked.
The brunette in front of her gasped, muttering to herself as she reached out to Amity.
“I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed. “Here, give me a second!”
Amity glared at her boots, ready to curse the girl out before she realized she was gone. Cursing, she rubbed the blood off her hand. Remembering her ring, she removed it and carefully hid it in her purse. If her mother found out her ring had been stained, she’d never hear the end of it. Besides, she wasn’t in the mood to conjure up an excuse for her injury that didn’t involve this damned place.
The stranger was back with a first aid kit. She reached for Amity’s hand again, and scowling, the heiress allowed her. She worked fast, tending to the large cut on her palm.
“Sangre escandalosa!”
Once the strange girl finished bandaging her hand, the heiress pulled away. She huffed, indignation written on her face.
“First I get scammed here and now I get hurt! I have a very important event to attend to! I can’t show up like this!” Amity motioned to her wounded hand.
“I’m sorry!” The girl defensively held her hands up. “But if it helps, we sell healing crystals!”
“How would that he- Why on earth would I want another crystal?” She snapped, leaning closer. “Get me your manager because there is no way I’ll pay for the damaged crystal.”
Amity internally flinched at the mention of a manager. Great, she was turning into Odalia. Whatever, she was in her right to make this girl’s life hell for a little longer.
The brunette huffed, shaking her head and placing both hands on her hips.
“I’m the manager. And no, I won’t make you pay for that. Though the store’s not responsible for your cut, seeing as you were carelessly handling our merchandise.”
“You’re the manager?” Amber eyes studied the girl. She seemed awfully familiar- the way her chocolate brown eyes gleamed and the dark curls that framed her face. Yeah, something about her reeked of familiarity. Amity just wasn’t sure what. “Whatever happened to the Owl Lady?”
“Well, she’s the owner. But she’s not in town- family business. And if you know Eda, trust me that she’ll just say the same thing.”
Amity narrowed her eyes.
“Whatever.”
She made a show of reaching for her phone and taking pictures of the damage done. From the corner of her eye, she saw the manager roll her eyes, but she kept her thoughts to herself. The Blight was just really tormenting the young woman, anyway. She wouldn’t file a lawsuit over glass that was painted pink.
“And look! Your merchandise is all fake!”
“It’s a thrift store. We don’t produce any of our merchandise.”
“So you just resell other people’s things?! Is that even legal?”
“Well, yeah.” The manager snorted. “It’s all donated material.” After some moments of silence, chocolate brown eyes flew open. “Wait, are you an undercover cop?!”
“What? I- No, I am not a cop.”
The young woman’s demeanor suddenly changed. She pushed the first aid kit on a shelf, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring daggers at Amity.
“That’s exactly what an undercover cop would say.”
For some reason, Amity found her behavior amusing. She let out a laugh, beckoning the girl to continue. “Oh, really? How did you figure it out?”
“The interest in our material, the fake blood-”
“That’s very real blood-”
“The wig.” The brunette declared firmly. “Undercover cop.”
Amity gasped, grabbing her freshly dyed hair. There was no way in hell this girl just dissed her hair like that! Sure, it was not her favorite, but still! She took great pride in her hair!
“It is not a wig! This is very real!” She pulled a strand of her hair, only wincing in response.
The young woman chuckled.
“Wow, how do you maintain that? I bleached my hair once out of curiosity and then I promised to never do it again!”
“Bleach is a pain.” Amity mourned quietly. “The secret is a consistent hair routine.”
“Hm.”
The girl’s hair was really pretty. She had an unmanageable set of curls, almost seeming a dark purple from a certain angle. She knew the girl’s hair was natural- Amity remembered the one time her mom forced her to twist her hair a certain way in hopes of achieving some curl. It worked, but not to the degree of curly the manager had.
“Your hair is really pretty.” Amity blurted, stopping only when she realized what she had done.
Surprisingly, she only nodded and smiled.
“Thank you!” She beamed. “Your hair is pretty as well!”
Blood rose to her face and Amity burned red. She coughed, momentarily forgetting what she’d done and the argument she embarked on. She unlocked her phone again and showed the brunette the pictures, before proceeding to delete them.
“Sorry about that.” The heiress cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t have made a big deal. Thank you for, uh.” She raised her bandaged hand.
“No problem!” The latina’s smile grew. “Thank you for the apology, but I understand where you came from.”
Without thinking, Amity reached for one of the crystals, awkwardly shoving it to the worker.
“I think I’ll take one after all.”
She didn’t protest, taking it and signaling for her to follow. Once at the register, the total came up to $4.55. Amity grabbed her wallet and handed a twenty dollar bill. She remembered how her mother scolded her while throwing copies of her transactions at her. It was absurd to think her mother still monitored her transactions at age twenty-four. She had to be cautious, however.
“What’s your name?”
The question took Amity by surprise. She assumed the green hair was a fair indicator, but the way the question was innocently posed convinced her otherwise.
“Amity.”
“I’m Luz!” She passed her the crystal in a paper bag. “Amity, you got the obsidian crystal!”
“Oh, really?” Honestly Amity reached for a random crystal without focusing on which one. “What’s that for?”
“Protection from negative energies.” Luz counted the bills. “Works to cut emotional ties that hold you back.”
Amity nodded. “Hey, cover the other crystal as well.”
“Pfft. Nah.” Luz handed her her change. “You broke a rose quartz. Good luck with your love life after that.”
A small laugh left her lips. Please, as if she had one to begin with. Any chance for a love life ended the day of her engagement.
“C’mon, I insist.”
“Not happening.”
“When does your boss come back again?”
Luz pursed her lips.
“Well, if you’re asking to shop again and say I’m an incredible manger, tomorrow. If you want to report me, she’s never coming back.”
The Blight laughed again, putting the bag inside her purse.
“We’re past that, Luz.”
“Mhm. Anyway, have a nice day, Amity!”
“You too, Luz!” The conversation came to an end and Amity left the premises, heart set on coming back tomorrow and repaying the Owl Lady herself.
When she made her way back to the limousine, the car was repaired. The trip home went smoothly, and Amity fiddled with the crystal. When she was younger, she was interested in the occult and manifesting. She remembered sneaking in books on witchcraft and the supernatural. Thankfully Odalia never found out.
She found it funny- the whole shattering a love crystal and the obsidian signaling freedom. Luz didn’t know it, and she wouldn’t ever, but the crystal was fitting. She imagined one day running away from home and never coming back. Alas, some days never came.
At least her shopping trip was successful. Not that Odalia would give her sincere validation. The woman only bobbed her head in approval and continued to her office, reminding Amity of their scheduled lunch tomorrow. She only paused when she caught sight of Amity’s hand, and Amity feared she would be screamed at, but Odalia only raised a brow.
“Where’s your ring?”
“Oh, I put it away when I was washing my hands.” Amity fished out the engagement ring. “Didn’t want to damage it.”
She wasn’t sure if her mother bought the excuse. The woman didn't press further. Somehow, she missed the bandages wrapped around her palm.
“Your green hair looks fitting. Don’t know why you thought to stop dying it.” Odalia clicked her tongue, turning away to return to her obligations. “Once a Blight, always a Blight.”
Amity caught her breath. There was no need for a response. Odalia was long gone and Amity was left alone again. She twisted the ring on her finger and closed her eyes.
Tomorrow she’d have lunch with her fiancé. She’d pose for the cameras and act like a giddy bride, thrilled to be engaged. Then she’d make an excuse and visit the Owl House again, hoping to spot Eda and pay her back for the crystal.
She should have let it go, but the thought of seeing Luz raised her hopes for a little bit. There was something about Luz that was awfully familiar and intriguing. She wasn’t sure what it was about Luz- if it was her utter lack of knowledge on the Blights, or her bundle of curls, or the way she made her laugh- that piqued Amity’s interest.
Amity turned for her bedroom, the dark crystal in hand as she climbed the stairs.
Whatever it was, Amity would figure it out. She had a knack for it- figuring people out and how they worked. Luz would be no exception. She’d figure out Luz.