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The world is tilting.
The world fractured into shards of color and light, spinning just beyond sense. Shapes melted and reformed like a kaleidoscope twisted too quickly. It was beautiful, almost—but in the way a storm is beautiful when you’re standing too close.
The Owl House isn’t the place she remembers. It’s a swirl of melting, shifting colors, the familiar browns and reds bleeding into one another. She holds a sweaty hand on the wall, trying to regain the firm hold she had once before. Instead, the clamminess of her hands betray her and she falls against the wall, her balance non-existent.
Everything is tilting, and Luz Noceda doesn’t seem to remember why.
Maybe it’s the haze clouding her mind, making the day slip through her fingers because somewhere inside, she knows too much has happened to forget. The haze that isn’t even supposed to be there.
She doesn’t remember why.
“You gonna tell me why you’re swaying like a cursed tree in a windstorm, or should I guess?”
Luz jumps. More than jumps, she stumbles, knocking over a stack of scrolls, heat crawling up her neck as she scrambles to pretend she’s fine. Or, attempts to scramble as the world spins once more and she has to regain her balance and grip on the wall to remain upright.
Luz blinks slowly, face pale. “I just stood up too fast.” But her fingers betray her as they clench tightly in the fabric of her shirt like she’s anchoring herself.
“Kid…”
Luz’s smile wobbles. “It’s nothing, I swear. Just a little—whoa—uh, gravity glitch.” She leans harder into the doorframe, blinking slowly.
The tall, distorting shape which she now vaguely registers as Eda doesn’t move. “Kid…” she repeats quietly. However, Luz can feel the weight behind that tone, despite the haze still clouding her mind.
It’s as if Eda can see right through her.
The facade crumples, her shoulders sinking as she mutters, “Okay. Not... nothing."
“Yeah, no kidding. You look like you’ve been steamrolled by a Basilisk in heels.” The distorted, red and white shape moves closer. “Start talkin’, Luz. What’d you get into?”
Luz ducks her head, cheeks flushing, and tries to muster a grin but it slips sideways as the room tilts just a touch. She reaches out instinctively, steadying herself against the wall once more. Her legs feel like poorly cast stilts, knees wobbling despite her best effort to look casual. She crosses her arms, only to uncross them when she realizes that makes her sway more.
She hangs her head low, refusing to look Eda in the eye despite how her vision is still swimming. “I might’ve… accidentally sampled something from your potion shelf. In my defense, it was really shiny and smelled like fruit.” She grips the wall again as her legs wobble, threatening to give way. “Also in my defense, I think I’m dying.”
Her breath comes too fast and too shallow, like the air’s been thinned out without prior warning. It scrapes through her lungs, sharp and unsatisfying, as if it’s scraping her lungs raw of the air she’d tried to preserve. Her heartbeat is a frantic stutter, pounding so hard it feels like her ribs are trying to rattle loose and escape.
The floor sways beneath her feet, not with the lazy rhythm of tiredness, but with the nauseating lurch of something gone deeply wrong. She’s felt this before, she should be used to this, but the panic she thought she buried ignites like a fire in her chest, the flame unyielding and refusing to die down.
Her stomach flips, her skin too hot and too cold at once. It causes a tingly feeling to spread, the familiar experience of pins and needles invading her skin once more. She leans harder into the wall, but her fingers barely register the stone like she’s wrapped in cotton, sensation dulled and slippery.
And through it all, her mind won’t stop racing. Thoughts flash in and out of focus like lightning behind her eyelids: What did I drink? Is this what dying feels like? Is this even real? The world pulses in and out of shape, her vision bubbling at the edges, colors running together like a painting left out in the rain.
She tries to swallow but her throat’s dry. Tries to laugh it off but her voice sticks halfway up. All she can do is press her forehead against the wall and mutter, “Definitely dying.”
“Shiny and fruit-scented? Great. You drank the ‘Dreamy Delirium Draft.’ I was saving that for a date with unconsciousness.” Eda says casually, as if discussing the weather.
Luz’s heart pounds harder, anxiety rising to the surface. Delirium? Is that what she was experiencing now? All these colours, distortions, the numbness... it’s all just delirium?
Eda strides over, placing a steadying hand on Luz’s shoulder when it’s clear her knees are about to surrender. Luz’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and pupils dilated, reflecting too much light like twin moons. “You’re not dying, kid.” A pause. “Probably.” Then, softer, almost too quiet to catch, she adds, “Next time, just ask. I’ll give you the potions that won’t scramble your brain like eggs.”
The grip on the wall falters, and Luz panics as she pitches forwards towards the ground. Everything spins faster, the colours blending into one mute hue. Shapes melt and reform quickly, before dissipating like they had never existed.
But someone catches her.
The fall stops too soon, too gently. Arms coil around her, steady, warm. Luz blinks, slow and heavy, and there’s a scent like moonwort and ash, oddly familiar. Her cheek finds its resting place against something, or someone, solid. The world still tilts, but there's an anchor now.
And her skin…it feels safe. Not smooth, but sure. Like parchment left in the sun, weathered and warm, holding stories in every crease. Luz breathes in. That’s Eda. She’d know that presence anywhere, even through the blur.
“I've got you, kiddo.” Eda says as she pulls Luz closer, staggering slightly under the unexpected weight.
Her eyes sting. She blinks hard, but the blur doesn’t go away. It takes her a moment to realize that it’s not the potion. It’s her. Tears fall down her cheeks, quiet and unannounced, like her body’s reacting to something her mind hasn’t caught up to yet. And she leans in closer, suddenly seeking the warmth Eda is offering.
Her breath hitches. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “Didn’t think it’d actually do anythin’. I just needed something to feel normal for a second.”
Eda lets out a long breath through her nose, her hand coming up to rest on the top of Luz’s head. It’s grounding. It’s warm and steady and real in a way the rest of the world isn’t right now. While everything else spins and sways, that hand stays put, anchoring Luz like a lighthouse through the fog. She can feel the individual, rough calluses on Eda’s fingers, the weight of someone who’s not going anywhere any time soon.
“Kid... I get it. Believe me, I do.”
She moves the hand to rest on Luz’s shoulder. Steady, grounding, warm.
“But next time you need ‘normal’, don’t go raiding the chemical chaos cupboard, alright? Come to me. I’ve got safer ways to feel a little less like the world’s upside down.”