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The first moments back in the mortal realm were all so warm for Misty Day. The white hot light of day shining off bronzed floorboards, reflected in honey-blonde hair and spilling over chestnut eyes as another sort of warmth came over her. Her Miss Cordelia finally taking the girl’s taller form into her arms, the comforting heat of her body and her presence altogether too much to stop tears spilling out the corners of Misty’s own eyes. Whispered words of time forgotten coming in hot breath against her ears, How can this be possible?, Oh I missed you, I was ever so lost. They had stood there and just held each other, basking in it for minutes that could have been lifetimes.
But now she was alone, and suddenly Misty couldn’t shake the cold that seemed to inhabit her bones, like rot settling deep in the pit of her stomach.
She had been given back her old room to stay in; Cordelia had made sure to keep it tidy and keep her things in the hopes that one day she might come back. The nights in which soft sobs could be heard from underneath the door, the bed slightly rumpled in the morning with a shawl cradled genty on a pillow, had been a regular occurrence in the early days, but as the months went by, the time between these evenings grew longer, although never longer than a week or two. Of course, nobody in the house spoke of it for fear of upsetting their Supreme more, however, the gravitude of Cordelia’s loss was sorely felt by those more empathetic in the coven.
It was this same bed that Misty sat in now, unaware of its sorrowful significance, the clock on the nightstand blinking past 4am. Her eyes were tired, undoubtedly forming dark circles underneath them, but every time she closed her eyes she was back; The frog, the knife, the cruel laughter and cold remarks that cut icily through her skin like she was the one up for dissection. She would not sleep tonight. Her legs unfurled from under the covers, her feet planting onto the hardwood floor below as she stood out of bed, the pale moonlight leading her to the window. It looked so still, so peaceful out there, as the night hung over New Orleans, cloaking the rest of the city in a sleepy haze. Misty was sure she must be the only one awake, like some cruel joke the universe was playing, keeping her in isolation even from her own dreams. But inspiration struck her as she lay eyes on the greenhouse. It was there she had felt most alive, watering plants, dancing to Stevie and learning potions and incantations with Cordelia.
Cordelia. Maybe that was her reward for all that time spent in hell. In fact, Misty was sure she would willingly put herself through more time down there with the promise that she would never lose Cordelia again after serving her sentence. She loved her...
She tried to push that thought to the back of her mind as her bare feet carried her down the stairs and out the greenhouse.
It's silly really
, she thought to herself,
To be so devoted to somebody who I’ll never stand a chance with. I’m just a girl from the swamps and she's the goddamn Supreme.
She huffed gently into the night, the door of the greenhouse creaking shut as she stepped inside. A dull tingle worked its way into her fingertips, nothing quite like the electric buzz she had felt in this room before. At least her connection with nature hadn’t been completely severed. Maybe if she called out to them, the plants too would feel her loss, and would grow around her so that she might become part of them. But she didn’t have the energy for that now. And so, the young witch sat herself among the plants, in the hope that maybe in some way they would heal her, as she once healed them. She didn’t mean for the tears to begin to fall, but they were met with no resistance as they slipped out from her tired eyes, her body growing weary with the weight of what she’d been through. The hours kept moving on, the sun beaming its way onto the plants as they lifted their heads to the morning, as Misty Day snuck back to the house, careful not to disturb, and left no trace of her presence in the plants.
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It had been 2 consecutive nights since that first evening in the plants, and each of them had been spent in the same way: sneaking out in the wee hours and coming back in with the sunrise. Last night she had tried to make herself useful by repotting some of the smaller plants, but the lack of magic when she brought them out of the earth made the experience too overwhelming, and so she tidied them away and sat between the plants once more. She felt so useless, like she wasn’t witch enough any more, like she didn’t deserve her place in the coven.
Now she sat at the table in the kitchen, the other girls filtering in and out as they got ready for the day ahead, chatting idly about anything and everything. But misty just perched there, staring at the bagel that sat on her plate, too tired to even think about eating but too numb to go and do anything else.
The chair beside her scraped along the floorboards, and a warm hand spread heat across her right shoulder as its owner sat down in the chair next to her.
“Misty? Are you alright? You haven't touched your bagel?” Cordelia’s hushed voice was music to her ears, a reprieve from the rushing of blood that had been building up there before.
“Sorry Miss Cordelia, I just… ain’t all that hungry.” She felt bad lying to the supreme, especially as she brought her head up to meet Cordelia’s eyes, which were full of concern for her.
“Are you sure? You look tired-”
“I’m okay, you don’t need to worry about me.” It came out harsher than she had expected, and for a minute she could see the slight hurt pass over the older blonde’s eyes, but it was followed by sympathy and recognition, knowing Misty didn’t want to talk about it if there was something going on. It filled her with guilt to keep pretending that everything was okay with her when the headmistress was only trying to help, but at the same time she didn’t want to hurt her more by sharing her burden with her. It's better this way. She doesn’t deserve to feel the pain I went through.
She rose from the table, taking her plate to the sink and leaving Cordelia sat there, an inquisitive yet forlorn look on her face. One day she would talk to her, be able to tell her when it wasn’t still affecting her so much, but not today.
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It was 2am and Misty was in the greenhouse again, the tears rolling freely down her cheeks as she sat in the veritable jungle, the hems of her nightclothes growing dirty against the earthen floor. Suddenly, she felt a surge of magic rush through her, more than she had ever felt from the plants since coming back. The greenhouse door swung open with a loud creak, sending Misty jumping, and disturbing a pot of Monstera Deliciosa which rolled across the floor.
“Who’s there?” Cordelia called out, equally as disturbed as the young Cajun girl, who sat in silence, begging for Cordelia not to find her in this state. Cordelia’s slippered feet came around the back of the counter, slowly approaching where the pot had been sent from. Spying a pair of bare feet jutting out from the foliage, she called out again, softer this time,
“Misty?”
The girl drew herself even tighter into the greenery, hoping by some chance of luck Cordelia hadn’t seen her. But a soft form came into her line of sight, and kneeled down in front of her.
“Is it okay if I sit here?” she pointed to the spot on the floor next to where Misty was sat. The wild blonde hesitated for a moment before nodding her head, allowing the headmistress to take her seat next to her. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the low hum of the electrics and a few sniffles coming from Misty as she tried to hide the tears the only noise accompanying them. Then, Cordelia broke the silence.
“I used to come here too, you know, when you were gone.” she said softly, her voice instantly soothing Misty, “It was the place that most reminded me of you, the place where I felt most connected to you. Being in here was the only thing that made me feel like maybe I hadn’t lost you. Your magic made its way into everything in this room.”
Misty looked up at her friend with glassy eyes, surprised by the words coming from her, silently asking her is this true?
Cordelia continued “I came here today because… because you looked so… not yourself, over breakfast. It was like there was nothing I could do to make you feel better. I thought somehow coming here today would help me find an answer.” she paused, letting out a shaky breath, “I feel like I’ve failed you, Misty, it’s all my fault”
“Miss Cordelia,” the girl finally spoke, “You haven’t failed me, it's not your fault, how could it be?-”
“I pushed you, Misty, I made you do the seven wonders when you weren’t ready. It’s my fault all this happened to you, that you went to that horrible place,”
“It’s not. I knew what I was gettin’ myself into”
“But seeing you today, refusing my help when I can tell you’re still hurt, I can’t help but feel like it is.”
“I’m sorry… I just-”
And then the dam broke and the tears came afresh to Misty’s cheekbones.
“Hey, hey, shhhh. What’s all this about?” Cordelia whispered, her eyes similarly welling at the sight of the Cajun girl’s sadness.
“I’m so sorry Miss Cordelia I- I never meant to snap at you this morning or anythin’, I-” the girl breathed heavily “I’m just so, so tired.”
“Misty, when was the last time you slept?”
The girl avoided the supreme’s eyes at the question, not wanting to burden her with her struggles.
“Misty?”
Misty sighed wistfully, accepting that she should probably tell her.
“I- I can’t. Every time I try to, I’m back there. It’s so lonely, Miss Cordelia, it’s so cold…” She trailed off into another round of tears, burying her face in her knees that were still drawn to her chest.
“Can I touch you?” the supreme asked gently, not wanting to disturb the girl any more. Misty slowly nodded her head, and Cordelia softly wrapped her arms around her, almost drawing her into her lap, as she traced soothing circles with her fingers into her back. Misty leaned her head into Cordelia’s chest, her body starting to release the tension she had been holding. “I may not understand what you went through down there, but I know what it's like to feel alone, I should have anticipated that and I can only apologise for putting you back on your own straight away.”
“It’s okay.. You- you weren’t to know what was right for me then. I didn’t even know…” she replied quietly, her voice coming out slightly choked from the crying.
“Would you like to come stay in my bed with me? To see if that helps? Only if you’re okay with that of course.”
It took Misty a few seconds to process the question Cordelia had asked, her mind bemused at the prospect of sharing a bed with the woman she loved. Surely i’m dreaming all of this…
“Are you sure, Miss Cordelia?”
“Of course. You don’t have to call me ‘Miss’ either, Cordelia is okay.” She smiled tenderly at the younger witch, hoping to calm any worries she had about her offer.
“Okay then. Thank you so much.”
“Let’s get you to bed.” and with that, Cordelia transmuted the two of them to her bedroom, peeling back her bed sheets so that Misty might lie between them. The Cajun girl gingerly climbed into the bed, as Cordelia lay the sheets back on top of her, before slipping off her silk robe and getting in on the other side.
“Are you alright if I turn this light off?” the supreme asked, not knowing whether the light would help or disturb the girl.
“Yeah…” whispered Misty hesitantly. She paused, not ready to sleep alone quite yet. “Mi- uhh… Cordelia?”
“Yes Misty?”
“Could you uhh… could you hold me again?” The question was asked in a barely there voice, as if Misty was afraid the words would eat her alive if they had the chance, her confession of need so alien to her.
“Of course.” Cordelia moved across the bed, closer to Misty, and drew the taller girl into her arms, so that her head rested in the crook of her neck, messy blonde curls tickling under her chin. Cordelia inhaled the perfume of the girl’s hair, perhaps a little self-indulgently, as lavender and patchouli overwhelmed her senses. Meanwhile, all Misty could think was how warm and how safe it felt to be in Cordelia’s arms, her heartbeat drumming a calming lullaby. Cordelia waved her fingers, and the light turned off, plunging them both into darkness, but this time, Misty was not afraid. Slowly but surely, her tiredness finally won the battle against her fear, the last thing she remembered being Cordelia’s delicate fingers slipping through her hair, as she calmed her finally into a deep sleep.
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When she awoke, the sun was streaming through the curtains and spilling onto the white sheets, but the bed next to her felt cold and empty. Panic started to set in; Oh dear lord, please don’t have taken her away from me again, she thought to herself, her heart racing with emotion. She looked over at the clock on the nightstand, reading a quarter past 12 in the afternoon; had she really slept that long? Perhaps her sleep deprived state the night before had knocked her right out, and she’d missed Cordelia leaving her, what if something had happened to her, what if-
The door to the supreme’s room clicked open, and in walked Cordelia, fully dressed and with a glass of water. Misty sighed an audible breath of relief, her worry quickly fading from her face as the older witch walked over to the bed, placing the glass down on the side table and perching on the edge of the bed next to Misty’s covered form.
“Hey sleeping beauty,” she spoke quietly as not to upset the peace of the room “How are you feeling?”
Misty tried not to let the blush from the affectionate comparison and proximity creep onto her face, but she could already feel her cheeks warming, praying that Cordelia would assume it to be her sleepy state.
“A little less tired… how long did ya let me sleep?” the swamp witch croaked in response, her voice not quite awake yet.
“I didn’t want to disturb you when I got up… you needed the rest” she giggled endearingly, Misty’s heart soaring at the gesture.
“Well, thank you for letting me stay here,”
“It’s no issue. Anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable, I will do. You can come here anytime you like, you know?”
“You’re so kind, Cordelia. Thank you so much.” She smiled up at the older blonde, who looked almost angelic in the pale afternoon light. Misty thought that if angels did exist, then Cordelia was the closest thing to one she had ever met in her life. It was as though she had been sculpted by the gods themselves and thrown down to earth, too good even for them, her protector in this mess that had become her life. Even if she didn't know it herself, Cordelia Goode was Misty’s own private deity.
“Well, I’m really glad you’re feeling a little better,” she took Misty’s hand and started tracing circles over her skin, a blush creeping down the younger girl’s neck, “I’ve got to go get back to some paperwork if that’s okay?”
MIsty nodded, not wanting her to leave but knowing the supreme was a busy woman. She had already devoted enough of her time to Misty and for that she was grateful. “I should probably get up now anyway” she smiled in response, moving to sit upright against the pillows, not yet willing to sever the connection at their fingertips.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Cordelia asked tenderly, with care dripping from her voice like Misty had never known. She wanted to bask in it’s honey-sweet tones for eternity.
“I’ll be alright, Delia” replied the girl, not even noticing the slip of the nickname.
“Delia, huh? I like that” she laughed airily, though not in the cruel way Misty had become used to in hell. It feels nice to be laughed at in this way she pondered to herself. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you later. Have a lovely day” She beamed as she stood, brushing her hand one more time before leaving Misty alone in the room once again. The cajun girl stared at the door for a second, almost starstruck as Cordelia left. She let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding, sighing as she kicked the covers off and finally moved to set about her day.
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It was nightfall again, all the other girls tucked away safely in their beds, as Misty stood outside the door to Cordelia’s room, her stomach tied in knots. She knew logically that Cordelia would let her stay another night if it was helping, but she couldn’t shake the part of her that said she was intruding. Maybe it was her upbringing, always feeling like she had to hide her emotions and never being able to ask for anything, or maybe it was just the debilitating fear that she would let her feelings take over and ruin everything, but she was frozen to the spot. Nevertheless, her hand raised itself to the door, knocking abruptly before she could prepare herself. Oh god, she’s gonna tell me to go away, and that she doesn’t want me here and-
“Misty?” the door opened slowly, so not to disturb the cajun girl as Cordelia spoke softly into the night, “Are you alright?”
“I umm… I couldn’t sleep again and… um… I was wonderin’ if I could stay here again? But I don’t wanna intrude and it’s okay if you say no and-”
“Misty, Misty shhh,” Cordelia gently grabbed the girl’s hands and held them, as Misty desperately tried to control how her pulse raised at the action, “It’s okay! Of course you can stay with me, whenever you need to, okay? I would do anything if it would help you.” Misty blushed pink at that, not used to such kindness, hoping that the dark of the corridor would mask the redness under her freckles. “Now come in, let's get you settled.”
Misty allowed herself to be led into Cordelia’s room, and settled in the bed. Without her needing to ask, Cordelia once again took her into the crook of her neck, the supreme’s arms draped loosely around the younger witch’s spindly frame as she drifted off to sleep, their hearts beating in tandem from their closeness.
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The lights flickered a sickly green through the cold room. There was a slight hum that ticked through the air, just at that pitch where it was detectable and annoying, yet not loud enough to be picked up by anyone else in the class it seemed. A sense of dread seeped into the very cells of the young Cajun girl as she realised where she was. The frog lay in front of her, its legs splayed against the cold, unfeeling metal of the dissection tray, its lifeless body calling to her, begging her to do something about it. She fretted her teeth against her bottom lip and brought ringed fingers above the greying corpse, directing her energy through the nerves of her body into her fingertips. Intent. The frog croaked out and upturned itself on the tray, the green returning to its legs and back. Misty sighed a breath of relief, before a shrill voice popped up beside her.
“Freak. You’re a freak!” No, not this, not again, “Miss Goode, she did it again!” Miss Goode? Oh no… please no...
Cordelia walked towards the workbench, but it was all wrong. Her gold hair a shade too dark, her magic not calling to Misty in the same way it usually did, and her eyes holding an unsettling darkness that chilled the younger witch to her bones.
“No, please... no-”
“Miss Day, where is the dissection frog?” the words were spoken without a trace of compassion, her name spat from Cordelia’s lips as though it left a foul taste in her mouth.
“Delia, please d-don’t-” she stuttered.
“You will address me as Miss Goode, Miss Day. I have told you this before, and I do not expect to have to correct you again.”
“She brought it back to life, Miss Goode” the boy next to her piped up. He shot Misty a wicked grin, spite registering across his small features, thrilled at the chance to pick on the girl.
“No Bobby, she snuck a live one in to trick you.”
“N-no I didn’t I- you know I can bring things back-”
“I would prefer it if you kept your mouth shut right now Miss Day, and don’t interrupt me while I’m speaking. Now, you will pick up the scalpel.”
“Miss Cordelia… please don’t- don’t make me-” the hair on the back of the Cajun girl’s neck stood on end at the thought of what was to come. The cold handle of the scalpel pressed into the warm palm of her hand. Looking up, she saw Cordelia standing over her, bringing her hand over the frog’s quivering body. The tears started to fall from crystal blue eyes then, spilling over paling cheekbones.
“For the last time, it is Miss Goode. If you won’t dissect a dead frog, you will dissect a live one.” her hand edged closer towards the amphibian, the blade encroaching on fragile skin.
“I don’t wanna harm a living thing, please, you can’t make me!” she shook her head furiously, the tears coming almost as hot waterfalls now, making small puddles on the workbench below.
“You will kill it or I will have to talk with your parents.” Cordelia said, a bite to her tone that Misty had never heard before. Was she planning on sending Misty back to live with her family, just to be burned at the stake again? Who was this woman that stood in front of her right now, so bitter and distant? She roughly brought Misty’s hand down, pushing the blade through the frog’s chest, red spewing from the gaping wound. The wild blonde cried out as it did so, a sorrowful wail that erupted from the depths of Misty’s heart, as though she herself was being ripped apart with the action. To some extent, you could say she was.
Once the deed was done, Cordelia dropped Misty’s shaking hand without a care, and walked away from the workbench back to her desk, her heels a harsh drum beat against the linoleum floor. The Cajun girl’s eyes were red rimmed, her lungs screaming for air as she hyperventilated. She had to try again. She had to save it. Once again ringed fingers covered the frog, as her life force flooded its form, resurrecting it.
“Miss Goode, she did it again!” Oh no...
Once again Cordelia marched over to her workbench.
“If you won’t dissect a dead frog, then you will dissect a live one.” the handle pushed into her palm.
“Please, please no, I can’t-” the blade pushed down and red seeped from the poor frog. A guttural scream left Misty's lips, and a fresh coat of tears adorned her cheeks.
The scene played over and over before her eyes, the same cycle on repeat; she brought back the frog, Bobby called over Cordelia, and she was forced to kill it all over again. The image of blood and death burned behind her eyes, pushing out more salty tears as she wailed hopelessly.
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Misty woke to a pair of soft hands framing her face, wiping the saline liquid that had pooled under her eyes. She was vaguely aware of her movements, her limbs tangled in the covers as she thrashed against them, a thin sheen of sweat glowing on her skin. A loud scream filled the room, which began to die down as Misty became more aware of both it and of her surroundings, realising that the sound emanated from her own throat. Her eyes flew open in terror, only to see chestnut brown eyes staring back at her, tinged with emotion.
“Shhh, shhh, you’re safe, Misty, you’re home,” the thumbs under her eyes continued rubbing soft circles into salty skin. The younger witch’s screams morphed into chest-heaving sobs as Cordelia’s words washed over her, the gentle tone of her voice soothing to her mind but not quite quelling the fear that still ran coarsely through her veins. Her vision blurred more, turning the figure before her into nothing more than an apparition. Was she even real? The panic began to rise in her chest once more, her breath getting shorter as she began to recall the events of her dream, eyes refusing to focus on Cordelia for fear she was like before.
“Misty? Misty?” the panic dripped into Cordelia’s voice, as hard as she tried to keep it at bay, as the Cajun girl stared blankly ahead, tears still streaming down her face. Cordelia moved her ever so gently to sit upright, propping a pillow behind her so she’d be more comfortable, and to ease the burden on her chest. “Misty, sweetheart, can you hear me?” at the use of the pet name, Misty’s trance broke, her gaze snapping to Cordelia. She nodded jerkily, the movement barely visible as she shook, fear convulsing through her body. “Okay, you’re okay, you’re here with me and you’re safe.” she cautiously reached out for the girl’s hand, looking for any sign of hesitation before taking it gingerly between her own, drawing letters over her knuckles, the touch grounding her to reality. Misty’s breathing however, did not slow, and the tears still dripped down her chin in streams and rivers.
“Can you breathe with me, Mist?” the girl nodded, “Okay, follow me. In through your nose for four,” she inhaled, “hold for two… then exhale through your mouth for four.” the pair exhaled in unison, the wild blonde’s breath still slightly shallower than Cordelia’s. They repeated the pattern together over and over again, until Misty’s breathing became more regular.
“Do you think you can speak yet?” Cordelia asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as not to startle the girl.
“Y-yeah” she croaked out in response, her voice hoarse from the crying which hadn’t quite yet relented.
“Okay, sweetness, do you think you can name five things you see for me?” the technique was one that had saved Cordelia herself many times when she was younger, when her brain would wander places after a particularly harsh conversation with Fiona. She found it reminded her that she was here, that she was real, and that was what Misty needed most in this moment.
“Umm… uhh… y-you… the- the window…”
“Thats two, good,” she spoke in encouragement
“Okay uhh… the bed… the drapes… and… the- the alarm clock on the side table,” Misty sighed with relief. Cordelia rubbed her palm in a proud gesture.
“Good, Misty. Now, how about four things you can touch?”
“Well uhh… your hands, the duvet… the pillows and… ummm… the air?” Misty looked up to Cordelia for confirmation for her last answer, worrying her bottom lip in case it was wrong.
“Yes! You’re doing so well, good! Now… three things you can hear?”
Misty paused for a second before answering, listening intently to the room around her, “Well… there’s the noise of the heating, theres… the cicadas outside and… your breathing.” she said decidedly, her lips quirking into a half smile. Cordelia smiled tenderly back.
“Two things you can smell?”
“That's easier… your perfume and my own sweat!” she said with some humour, although the joke came out drier than she expected, tinged with sadness and… was that longing?
“Okay, last one, petal, you’ve done so well,” Cordelia rubbed her hand again “One thing you can taste?”
Misty furrowed her brows at this, licking her lips as she thought, encountering a salty deposit from her crying “Oh! Uhhh… my- my tears?” she said, more of a question than a definitive answer.
“Yes! Well done Misty, i’m so proud of you,” Misty glowed at the praise, her sadness having simmered somewhat since they began the exercise. The young witch felt herself more grounded than before. She was here, with Cordelia, in Cordelia’s bed. She wasn’t out to make her suffer, she was here to help her out of her suffering. Without hesitation, Misty launched herself at Cordelia, arms wrapping tightly around her neck as she buried her face in soft golden waves. The older witch could hear the muffled sniffles coming from her as her tears died down, and so she rubbed circles into the small of her back as she pulled her further into warm arms.
“It’s okay, let it all out,” Cordelia stroked through unruly blonde curls, “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Misty froze and began to shake her head, before pausing as though she was considering whether talking might incriminate her. The girl didn’t want to upset the supreme with the hellish creations of her own mind but… there was something about Cordelia that made her want to tell her everything and more, to confide in her with no boundaries. And so, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It was… awful. It was m-my hell but… but you were there and- and you were sayin all these horrible things and… you kept making me… making me k-kill that- that poor, innocent frog… I couldn’t make it stop, Delia, why couldn’t I make it stop?'' The tears started flowing more freely again as she buried her face into silky golden tresses, her fists balling and gripping the soft fabric of Cordelia’s sleep shirt. The supreme stroked the back of Misty’s head as she cried, leaning her face against the girl’s soft curls, whispering soothing noises against her hairline. She wished there was some way she could make it all go away, to ease the Cajun girl’s pain as she adjusted to being back in the real world once more, but Cordelia knew magic didn’t work like that. So, for now, she would have to do the best she could in being there for Misty, and rebuilding her trust. She went over the younger woman's words in her head once more, a little confused by part of them.
“Did you say… I was there?”
Misty pulled her head from the embrace and nodded her confirmation a little nervously. “You were… you were the teacher… it’s the worst thing that I- I could ever imagine… you bein cruel to me…” She bit her lip after her confession, not daring to look Cordelia in the eyes for fear she would hate her for it, or think her weird.
“Misty…” Cordelia sighed with a little sadness, both endeared and heartbroken that the girl’s worst fear was her rejection, “I would never be cruel to you, I hope you know that.”
Misty sighed, a little dejectedly. Over the years, everybody she loved had turned against her in one way or another. Her family had been the worst of all; Misty had loved her family, despite the way they sometimes treated her growing up, and so to have them turn heel and murder her for being herself? That broke Misty in unimaginable ways. Time of course, had helped heal her somewhat from the past, but that fear of rejection still lingered, and sometimes it felt to her like it was only a limited time until things would get bad again, and the new family she found in this coven would turn on her too.
“I know that but… sometimes it's just so hard…” she whispered, her sentence trailing off as she struggled to put her emotional turmoil into words.
But Cordelia understood. She nodded to the girl as she took her tear stained face in her palm, lifting her chin a little so that they were now face to face. Trust was something Cordelia had to teach herself after everything she had been through. Whether that was trust in her own power after Fiona’s constant belittling throughout her life, or trust in another person after Hank’s betrayal, she’d made headway through it with the support of her coven and Myrtle too. Therefore, she knew the importance of helping Misty allow herself to have faith in both herself and others once more, and she would do everything to give her that.
“I know, Mist,” she said in as gentle a tone as she could muster, “I know how hard it can be to trust again. But I will never leave you, I will never hurt you, and I promise that. I will be right by your side for as long as you need me, okay? I won’t let anything hurt you or take you away from me again.”
The words rang quietly through the quiet night air, like magic itself, everything Misty needed to hear in that moment. Her eyes were glassy as they finally locked onto Cordelia’s, pupils blown in the moonlight. They stayed like that for a few moments, the words settling around them, sinking into Misty’s skin like fog does to the ground on a winter’s morning.
Then suddenly, all at once, Misty was seeing stars instead.
MIsty wasn’t sure who had initiated the kiss, as though they had both been pulled in by sheer magnetic connection alone, but the way Cordelia’s lips fit against hers, pressing softly and with warmth against her own, Misty was sure this was her personal heaven. It lingered, the sweetness of Cordelia’s chapstick melting onto Misty’s own lips, as sweetness seeped, too, into their very souls.
But it was over almost as swiftly as it had begun. Cordelia had broken the kiss, a look of panic present on her face as she stared off into the opposite direction of Misty. The young Cajun was confused, did Cordelia not feel the spark that she could?
“Delia?” Misty asked softly, only to be met almost immediately by harder, almost regretful words.
“We should get some sleep.” The supreme lay down, making herself comfortable under the covers, her face turned away from Misty.
“I-”
“Goodnight, Misty.” Cordelia said monotonously, as the light flicked off again, plunging the pair into darkness.
Misty lay back, staring at what she knew to be the ceiling, though she couldn't see it in the absence of light. Tears slipped silently down her face as she willed herself to sleep once more, though it was laboured and light. She was vaguely aware of Cordelia slipping out of bed as the sun rose, leaving her cold and alone once more.
-----
Eventually Misty awoke properly, the room quiet in the cold daylight. And that’s how Misty felt. Quiet, and cold. It was almost overwhelming, how the chill of Cordelia’s words last night had seeped into her skin, making home in her bones, and how the quiet seemed so loud in her ears that she was sure almost nothing could drown it out. She lay there for a few minutes, almost wallowing in her sadness, before the smell of Cordelia’s lingering perfume on the pillow was too much to take.
She trudged through the short remainder of the morning, eating a slice of toast, plain and without even a plate, for breakfast, before heading outside in hopes that maybe some sun and a walk could cure her mood. She set off, with no direction or objective, but just to wander and to try and forget the previous night.
—--
By the time Misty returned to the academy, her feet ached from the repetitive drum of concrete underneath them, and her hair had frizzed to nearly twice its normal size with the humidity. The walk hadn’t calmed her mood as she had hoped, but had in fact only worsened it, the repetitiveness of each street leaving her with little stimulation other than her own thoughts, which only spiralled more and more the further she got from the academy.
She traipsed through the entrance of the academy, almost in a trance, already bare feet dragging against the hardwood floors, and headed for the only place there where she knew she might find solace: the greenhouse. She paid no mind to the fact the door was already ajar, her gaze trained to the floor as she walked into the cooler room, so almost jumped out of her skin as she saw Cordelia already in there, sat at the workbench.
“Shit I- I’ll go-” she started, turning towards the door, not wanting to bother the woman in her own space.\
“No, Misty, wait,” Cordelia said softly, getting up from the bench, “I um, I actually could do with your help.”
Misty turned back to the older witch, looking between her and the large metal pot of English Lavender she was gesturing to, that almost wept away from the supreme. Misty could have laughed at how it represented how she felt if she wasnt so concerned at the health of the plant. You see, this wasn’t just any pot of lavender. This pot was planted from seeds back when Misty and Cordelia had first worked in the greenhouse together, and over the course of the years misty had been gone, grown in her absence. The Cajun stepped cautiously towards the desk, inspecting the plant.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s not responding to my magic well for some reason… I thought that because you gave it the first boost of energy, maybe it would respond better to yours.” Cordelia sighed, looking to Misty with hopeful eyes.
Misty’s feet carried her round to the other side of the bench before she could verbally respond. She took a moment to observe the direction the plant had grown, and how the stems had started to brown, before taking a deep breath in, and digging her fingers into the soil at its roots, closing her eyes as she did so. As she breathed out, and magic flowed through her fingertips, the plant slowly grew more rigid once more, the flowers regaining their violet hue, as more bloomed near the ends of the plant. Her lips curled up a little at the corners as she opened her eyes again, pleased that the plant was back to how it should be, and looked back over to Cordelia, who smiled too. Though it appeared to Misty that the woman hadn’t been watching the plant at all, instead staring directly at the Cajun. The both of them soon felt the awkwardness return however, diverting their attention elsewhere, Cordelia’s to pruning the plant, while Misty stepped over to the sink, washing the mud off her hands. They stayed like this, in silence, for a hot minute, before eventually Cordelia broke it.
“I haven’t seen you all day, where were you?”
“Out. I went on a walk.” Misty breathed slowly, not up to a longer response yet, and still focused on drying her hands over the sink, though she could feel Cordelia's intense stare on the backs of her shoulders.
“Where to?”
“Nowhere in particular… just got the feeling you didn't wanna see me.” The sentence hung heavy in the air, leaving Cordelia speechless for a second, her mouth gaping as though paused mid thought.
“Look… Misty… i’m so sorry about last night…”
Here we go , Misty thought, the rejection .
“I overstepped and I- I shouldn’t have kissed you… I’m your supreme and I- I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that, especially when you clearly don’t feel the same and I- I’m just sorry…”
Misty took a second to rewind through what Cordelia had just said, unsure if she had heard her right. She turned around to face the other woman, placing the towel down to her side. Cordelia sounded angry with herself rather than with Misty, which completely threw a curveball in Misty’s direction. She had thought it to be her fault, that Cordelia didnt want her, but…
“Miss Cordelia, I- you don’t have to apologise…” she began, before Cordelia interrupted again
“No, I do Misty, it was my fault, I just thought that’s what was happening and I went for it, when that's clearly not what you wanted, and I should have known better as your supreme, and I-”
“Miss Cordelia, I wanted to kiss you too.”
Silence fell through the room, like somebody had just sucked the air straight out of it, the pair of them waiting on baited breath for the other’s next move. It was Misty that spoke next, her demeanour turning shyer in the new untouched territory.
“I- well… I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.” she said quietly, bordering on a whisper, as she looked to the floor again, scared to make eye contact.
“You have?” Cordelia asked, tentatively, not quite believing the words that fell from Misty’s soft lips. The same soft lips she herself couldn’t stop thinking about.
Misty took a deep breath in, finally looking up and making eye contact with Cordelia, but still dancing around the confession she wanted to make. If it was all coming out now, she might as well just get it over with, and tell her. She crossed over the gap between them, feeling the need to be closer to the woman, before she finally let the truth free.
“Cordelia I- I love you… I’m in love with you.”
The heaviness in the air fell away in that moment, as something in Cordelia’s face softened, like the worry itself was draining from her body.
“Oh Misty… I love you too. I’ve loved you almost as long as I’ve known you”
The response was hushed, meant only for Misty’s ears in their newfound proximity, as they both stood side on to the bench, only with eyes for each other. Cordelia reached out, touching Misty’s arm to see if she was okay with the contact, before Misty nodded, pulling them both into an embrace, heads tucked over one another’s shoulders. They stood like that for what could have been hours, but more realistically was a few minutes, just relishing in each other’s warmth, their magic reaching out for one another.
After a few minutes had past, Cordelia spoke again, whispering to the curly haired blonde in her arms.
“Misty?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you again? Properly, this time?” she asked softly.
Misty pulled back to look Cordelia in the eyes, giving her a small nod before whispering a quiet “Please.” With her consent, Cordelia brought her hands up to Misty’s face, cupping warm cheeks which only grew more flushed under the supreme’s touch. Misty’s own arms remained securely around Cordelia’s waist.
Slowly, softly, Cordelia leaned in, her sweet breath ghosting over Misty's slightly parted lips, before they finally made contact again. This kiss felt less like stars, and more like a tidal wave, crashing over the pair, ebbing and flowing deep into their bones; it was as shocking as it was calming, as thought their love confession had turned the feeling into something tangible, something they could build from instead of just look at from afar and wonder.
Gradually, their kiss grew in intensity, Cordelia taking Misty’s bottom lip between her own, Misty’s hands threading into the soft hair at the base of Cordelia’s skull. Cordelia’s tongue ran along the younger woman’s lip, requesting entrance, which Misty granted, softly pressing her own against it. The supreme gently backed Misty up against the bench, one hand on her waist, prompting Misty to sit up on top of the desk with her help, giving Cordelia better leverage to kiss her by evening out their height difference.
However, as she did so, a metallic thunk sounded through the room, and the pair broke the heated kiss.
Misty looked to her left, where the pot of lavender now lay dented on the floor, pushed off by her frantic clamber onto the surface. Her mouth fell open as she looked back to Cordelia, before the pair burst into laughter, foreheads resting against each other.
“Probably could do with a repotting anyway.” Misty giggled, much to Cordelia’s false horror.
“I liked that pot!” She gasped, hand clasped to her chest, as Misty bit her lip to contain more laughter.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I was kinda more focused on kissin ya!” she joked, with a grin full of mirth.
“Hmm… maybe I can forgive you for that sole reason then…” Cordelia pretended to ponder, before dropping the act, and pecking Misty’s lips once more, “I love you so much, Misty Day.”
“I love you too, Cordelia Goode.”
—--
It had been a month since their conversation in the greenhouse, and Misty lay in bed next to a softly snoring Cordelia. The morning sun that had awoken her was streaming in from the curtains behind her, making the supreme appear to glow in its light, something Misty thought appropriate for the woman. Cordelia had asked her to be her girlfriend just a few short days after their first proper kiss, and Misty had of course accepted. She slept in Cordelia’s bed each night still, and slowly but surely, the nightmares were beginning to ebb away, being replaced instead with sweet dreams of the pair and the long future ahead of them. It was in these moments, Misty finally felt fully happy, where she knew Cordelia was hers and she was Cordelia’s.
Taking one last look at the older witch’s resting form, Misty smiled to herself, kissing the sleeping blonde’s forehead before rolling onto her side, and going back to sleep.
She was home.