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It all happened so fast.
One moment, a golden rune shimmered proudly above Lilia— the next, she was back with her Maestra— only it was dark, and raining, and the winds whipped at her hair.
A strike of lighting, and she was drowning.
Even far from the water, her lungs screamed for air and her body… her body tore into fragments— every muscle pulling while her bones splintered; Invisible weight tugged at her face, warping her perception of how skin was meant to feel.
That plastic was not skin.
Her name was being screeched somewhere to her left, sounding every bit of one foot away while feeling miles.
Until it all stopped.
And she was on the floor.
There was no Agatha in sight, just Billy and Jen, hunched over her wearing identical masks of horror.
Her breath was all but nonexistent now, the air cut off at the lungs, leaving a long-drawn wheeze in its place; All while the room began to spin.
The growing panic fizzled out as quickly as it came.
Hell, perhaps that instinct was stunted, whether from nature or nurture— though Lilia could say it was both; Something to be grateful for now— after all of her flip-flopped living years, she'd never felt anything like this.
She would never be able to forget it either: the soul-searing anguish— how it yanked at every fibre of her being in a way that left her body numb from the inside out, but clawed at her magic so harshly that Death would be heaven sent.
Her coven-mates hands did nothing to soothe.
Not even Jen's, who always had a healing touch.
The woman's pointed nails swiped at the frayed locks at her temples, scratching just enough to feel. A larger, calloused hand held onto her own— a lifeline in its own right, Lilia couldn't tell who was gripping harder.
A part of her wished to feel a third pair of hands.
But Agatha wasn't there.
Brows knitting together, Lilia sought the answers in her memories.
It was a magic lesson between coven-mates: Agatha's turn to teach. Billy insisted— he'd even made a nice little monthly chart that Lilia had happily hung on the fridge.
It became a part of his whole "blessings and burdens" shtick, or as Agatha called it, 'a whole crock of bullshit'— namely for Jen's rotations. Though secretly, Lilia could see how her pride inflated every time she learned something first.
Not that she had any complaints.
They were a coven, whether they liked it or not. Spreading the teachable parts of their craft amongst them was only proper.
As it was, Agatha was a wonderful teacher.
Sure, siphoning wasn't something she could teach, but her forte wasn't in that.
Imagine Lilia's surprise when Agatha shoved a stack of books in her arms; All written in familiar scrawl, all guides for complex runes.
Some of which, Lilia had never seen in her life.
It was all going so well— the 'stasis' rune had flared to life in an array of different colors: a strong pink… her own golden shimmer; Even Billy had picked up the first half, painting the room in sharp blue angles and curving spirals.
But the plants, sitting tall and healthy in their pots, had never filled their purpose.
The spells were never written.
"Is she okay?"
All hell broke loose.
Jen had gotten to her feet much quicker than Lilia's eyes could track, hands balled into fists so tightly that her nails created white pressure marks in her palm.
"Is she okay? Is she okay?! Fucking look at her!" She spat. "You think Alice was okay?" Lilia flinched in spite herself.
"I couldn't—" Agatha started. Jen cut her off.
"What about the other covens you killed, huh? Were they okay?!" Desperation poured in waves from those words, silencing the room in one fatal swoop.
Before, "I didn't want to."
Everything clicked into place.
The rune. Magic going haywire. Agatha's eyes, widened in shock, as gold turned purple. The vision that swallowed Lilia up—
"I didn't want to hurt her." Agatha's voice was closer now. Or stronger— despite the way it broke.
Jen stepped closer to Lilia's prone form. "No."
"Let me near, Jen." Agatha pleaded; From the corner of her vision, Lilia took in the woman's haggard appearance, from the dark eyes to the silver streaks staining her cheeks.
"Please."
"No." Jen held firm.
"Please… I can help her."
"Just like you helped Alice—" Jennifer took a step forward, shoulders squared and aura flaring, "—before running like a coward?"
"I—" Agatha closed her eyes while her lip trembled. "I came back this time. Please, I can help." Creeping forward, hands extended out, Lilia wasn't sure the other would make it before Jen attacked.
And the taller of the two certainly looked poised to do so.
The hand in hers held steadfast, if a little too tight now.
"Billy-" Lilia rasped, flexing her fingers in his grasp. All eyes zeroed in on her instantly, and for the first time since she'd found herself on the floor, the room seemed to actually breathe.
Multiple things happened at once.
Her fingers wormed out of Billy's grasp to fall weakly to the floor, in perfect time for Agatha to crouch at her side, Jen lingering behind.
Something wet smeared across her chest— every movement intentional. Practiced. Agatha's jaw clenched in concentration as she worked, not even sparing a single glance at Lilia.
At the last trail of fingers, the darkness settled in.
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Hot.
Uncomfortable.
Why was it so hot?
Lilia blinked her eyes open, taking in her surroundings.
She was in her shared bedroom, with far too many blankets tossed on her; a pillow sat parallel as a divider of sorts. Curled up against it lay Agatha.
Fast asleep.
The dark bags under the woman's eyes stood out against her too-pale looking features, as if she hadn't slept for a week. Or longer.
Probably longer.
"Lilia?"
"What day is it?" She found herself asking.
"Lilia!" Agatha shot up, eyes wide and hands shaking— lingering close enough to disturb the air, but too far for Lilia to touch. They wrung together, nails nicking skin, fingers squeezing tightly—
"How are you feeling?"
To be frank, Lilia might have felt better had she been run over by a train, but while her muscles ached something fierce, the rest of her was passable. Her head no longer spun, and her magic felt intact, if a bit weak.
Though from the way Agatha shriveled against her gaze, looking everywhere except Lilia— much like a child who'd been caught making mischief. She knew then, her bluntness would not be received well.
Though they'd probably laugh at it later.
Eventually.
Her hands caught Agatha's, guiding them to her chest. To her heartbeat.
It took a moment for the realization to set in.
Agatha looked up at her expectantly.
"It hurts…" Lilia began, "Everything hurts—" The hands in hers squeezed tighter. "But that will ease." She murmured. "And I can see clearly, which is even better." Her lips twitched with amusement.
But Agatha's face didn't change.
"Your magic—"
"Is fine." Lilia cut her off, pushing her partner away while she sat up. With a careful flick of her fingers, the room was bathed in a pulsing, golden light. It sputtered out moments later.
"That is not fine." Agatha sat back on her heels. "I know it's not. Just— just don't sugarcoat it."
"When have you known me to sugarcoat anything?"
Agatha mouth opened, only to close soon after.
"I'd tell you as it is, Aggs," Lilia muttered softly, "And as long as I have magic, I can get stronger again."
"But it's not the same."
And it wasn't. Lilia hadn't felt like this in centuries… but today wasn't yesterday, and yesterday wasn't the day prior. "Nothing is ever the same." She replied.
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Agatha slumped against the bed-frame, arms crossed tightly in front of her.
"Then tell me where your head's at." With a wince, Lilia shifted to sit next to her, forcing the mass of blankets away. Agatha flinched away when their arms brushed.
Silence descended on the pair.
Moments like these were frustrating to Lilia; Though she didn't mean for them to be— she'd gone years living alone, holding onto the assumptions of others like gospel… the one-dimensional caricatures.
It kept her safe. Stationary. All while her head kept her everywhere at once.
On the road, it kept her sane.
Until reality set in and the webs of other's half-truths splintered apart, because with new knowledge and new experiences, she was seeing these people for who they were and then some.
Not their reputations, but living, breathing, hurting individuals.
Never would she have seen that without moments of weakness.
Of course Lilia wasn't stupid— people were more than the sum of any rumors that followed, but why would she risk seeing that, forming bonds, only for them to be ripped away after a misplaced vision.
And she'd be alone again, wishing she'd never gotten close in the first place.
But life had a funny way of getting back at her.
It gave her Agatha.
In spite of her partner's better qualities, she was likely the most traumatized person Lilia had ever met (fuck you, Evanora)— Agatha's main communication style remained limited to snark and avoidance… which gave time for the assumptions to start again.
"I can feel your magic," Agatha whispered, "Running through my veins— I can feel it… Lilia, I shouldn't be able to feel it. I don't want to feel it— shouldn't want to feel it." Her hands curled around each other, beginning their anxious dance once more. "And it feels good. So fucking good— to have a part of you, something so ingrained in your person, in me…"
Lilia studied her with a thoughtful expression. "But..?" She prompted.
"But I want more."
Before, "I just don't want to kill you."
Agatha took a shaky breath, everything about her growing still. Yet her eyebrows scrunched and a cheek hollowed out as she bit it— Lilia brought her hand to rest there, thumb stroking over where she knew the flesh to be abused most.
"I've been doing this for so long—" Agatha continued, "Just taking, taking, taking… killing, killing, killing." Her jaw clenched under Lilia's hand. Agatha didn't pull away, but she didn't lean in either. "Control is out the window—
Lilia simply let her talk.
"… gone and buried with the other witches I've killed; and I did want to kill them—
"Before they killed me," remained the unspoken sentiment. Lilia knew too well how Salem was, how the world worked for witches. She'd gotten by without murder, though she was one of the lucky— Agatha was not.
"—that's why they're dead."
"But not me. What changed?" Lilia withdrew her hand to face her, proper.
Agatha didn't meet her eyes.
"I thought caring would be enough," She rasped instead. "That greed could be pushed down, that I could prove that I was good. That I am good." Agatha shrugged out of Lilia's touch. "Until I felt Alice's power… the warmth around me, ripping me from mother's arms; I realized I wanted that warmth… forever. Caring about her didn't stop that. So I took."
A bitter line formed on Lilia's lips. Complicated situations would always bring complicated answers, no matter how the sweet girl's death weighed heavy on her shoulders…
Sometimes even more so for dating Agatha.
Lilia pushed it all down, turning away from her partner.
Alice was a sore subject for the two; She doubted that would ever change— even as the months passed since the road, even as Agatha paraded indifference, Lilia still found flowers on the grave marker.
Agatha released a sigh, skull 'thunking' against the headboard— hard enough to rattle it behind Lilia's head. "Maybe I didn't care for her at all, in the end."
"You don't mean that," Lilia countered.
It grew silent, aside from the rustle of fabric.
"I don't know now."
A hand found Lilia's, interlacing their fingers.
"But I do know that I care… a lot, for you." Agatha squeezed gently. Lilia squeezed back. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Because I lo—" Agatha trailed off. "I… can't do it without you anymore."
"I know." Lilia replied, thumb stroking what it could reach of her partner's skin, finding a repetitive pattern that she could get lost in. "I know…"