Beginning is Near

When they returned to the comfort of their car at last, it was beginning to drizzle.

Folding the rear seats flat, they both lay among shopping bags. Misty salvaged her blueberry bagels and finished one within half a minute.

Cordelia kicked her swamp shoes off. The sound of the rain against the car roof was too hypnotizing. “Maybe we should camp out here. I can’t drive home.”

Misty said something unintelligible with another bagel in her mouth. But Cordedelia got the general message as Misty pushed one of her bagels into her hand. She watched Misty gulp orange juice out of its container.

“Satisfied?” Cordelia said with a grin.

Misty took a deep breath and lay her head near Cordelia’s knees. “I'm too full. I think I'm gonna be sick.”

“You might as well have swallowed three bagels in one go. Perhaps a little exercise would do you good. How about a casual walk to the shack?” Cordelia only meant it as a joke.

But Misty looked up with expectant gleam in her eyes. “Can we, please? I was half about to give up, but if you are in--”

“Hold on. Really? It's raining outside.”

“That’s what umbrellas are for.” Misty folded the seats up to grab two huge umbrellas from the underseat compartment.

Cordelia threw an uneasy look at the discarded mud-caked shoes. “How about we come back tomorrow, when it’s sunny? What's so urgent about it anyways, right?”

Misty's fingers fiddled with the hem of one of the umbrellas, however. “Welp, I have some stuff that I want to get.” She looked at Cordelia. “I'll go by myself. You rest in the car, I'll go and come back in a flash. So . . . can you just drive to our usual entrance?”

And there went that signature pleading look that she knew Cordelia couldn't say no to. She had no choice but to relent. They drove to the familiar part of the swamp, driving as deep in as the muddy ground allowed the tires to.

Misty grabbed a whole bag of her sesame bagels.

“I thought you were full,” Cordelia said.

“I am now. But I’m not going without food. Who knows I might actually walk through a portal this time?”

As Misty got out of the car, Cordelia followed with her soiled swamp shoes back on.

“You can stay,” Misty said. “It won't take long. I promise.”

“Well, it's the job of the Supreme to make sure you won’t accidentally disappear into another dimension.”

In truth, she would choose to strain her body if it meant she could spend another second with Misty. Even in the rain. It wasn’t a secret. And Misty’s gratified smile told that she wasn’t oblivious to it, either.

--

The rain got harsher when they were halfway to the shack. Misty sang any Fleetwood Mac songs that had the slightest association with rain and storms. The umbrellas almost served no function. By the time they arrived, the only dry parts of their bodies were the top of their heads.

Cordelia made a beeline for the bathroom and turned on the faucet to make a bath. The hot water seeped through her to the bone. She resisted the temptation to take off her drenched clothes and step into the tub. With a bath towel on her shoulders and another in her hand, she returned to the main room.

Misty was rummaging through her chest, still in her wet dress. The clothes clung to her skin, presenting the accentuated curves to Cordelia.

Averting her eyes, Cordelia started a fire in the fireplace with a flick of her hand. “Misty, come get changed. You’ll catch a cold.” She walked to the dresser and grabbed new clothes for both of them. “Misty, please.”

“Coming.” Misty scurried to the bed, where Cordelia had put her change of clothes.

“What were you doing?”

Misty patted her hair dry with the towel. “A thing.”

Cordelia raised her brow but said nothing. Instead, she turned her back on Misty in order to take her clothes off. “The bath will be ready soon,” she said so she had a different thing to focus on. “The nice, warm bath of your dreams.”

The only response Misty gave was an absent-minded hum.

Though it baffled Cordelia, she refused to turn around. She instead returned to the bathroom to turn the water off.

“Misty, the bath,” she said, walking back into the main room. But her expression grew perplexed as she saw Misty, still drenched, back at the chest again, pulling miscellaneous things out and spreading them across the mattress. “What are all these?”

Misty looked up. “Ummm, things?”

“Yeah, I didn't think they were animals.” She tried to sound sarcastic, if not stern, but her lips curled into a smile.

Misty wore a similar smile. “Depends on the definition of what an animal is.”

“Misty, please take a bath.”

“In a sec. I just need to . . .” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence for Cordelia.

That switched the Mother Mode on in Cordelia, which was usually reserved for the small girls at the academy.

“Those things won't disappear on their own, Misty. Or are they somehow more important than your own health?”

Her eyes scanned the objects. “They are, actually.”

“Oh--” Cordelia frowned. “What, are they gifts from Stevie or something?” Sitting down on the mattress, she played with some rings and necklaces that lay there.

“No. I collected them myself.” As she spoke, water dripped from the tip of her curls and trailed down her arm.

Cordelia couldn’t hide her unimpressed grimace. “Misty, I’m sure you cherish them, but objects should never be prioritized over your health. The bath. Go.”

“You go first.” Misty returned to digging through her chest. “I need to”--Her body shivered--”put them in a bag to take home. But, a bag . . . I don’t know if I have one.”

It was hardly the first time Misty let her passion consume her and render her blind to her surroundings. In usual cases, such an innocent relationship with curiosity pulled at the heartstrings of Cordelia. She would do anything to preserve it, keeping it as pure as her soul. But Misty’s teeth clattered as she walked around the room, and that was the last string for Cordelia.

“I’m the goddamn Supreme. My immune system is much stronger than yours, Misty Day.”

Misty span around with alarm clear in her eyes.

“I may have concoctions for a cold, but they are not to be wasted for something so preventable. I’ll say this one last time. Go take a bath. Now, or I will take your clothes off myself--” As the last sentence left her mouth, she heard how it sounded and tightened her lips.

Inside her appeared a vortex of awkwardness and guilt for using her Supreme voice to Misty. She found it unbearable to look Misty in the eye. How would she react? With fear for the Supreme or with a teasing laugh? Cordelia didn’t know which outcome would ease this wild vortex.

The following silence told her that Misty  equally didn't have a clue. For some moments, she stayed motionless before going to the bathroom at last.

Cordelia dried their clothes in front of the fire while she waited. Her face grew painfully hot. It had nothing to do with what had slipped out of her mouth earlier, she told herself.

Afterwards, she found plastic bags in the cupboard. The collection of Misty’s things on the bed looked nothing strange at first glance. Accessories, a book of short stories, socks, scarves-- Cordelia raised her brow. Misty never liked the claustrophobic feeling of socks and scarves and strictly maintained her stance despite Cordelia’s countless persuasion. On closer look, the accessories also seemed slightly different from her usual style. And when her eyes caught a brand-new mortar and pestle, a new question arose.

It was when Misty came back. She looked warm, sheepish, and uncertain.

Cordelia offered a smile to ease the tense air, holding out the plastic bags. “Are these bags okay for your stuff?”

Nodding, Misty sat down on the mattress. “I’m very sorry for being childish earlier, Miss Cordelia.”

Childish wasn’t the exact word she herself would use, but Cordelia nodded nonetheless. “Me, too. I didn’t mean any of what I said. Of course, I’ll take care of you if you get sick.”

“I know.” Misty met her eyes and smiled. “But, Miss Cordelia, I don’t want you to think I’d so easily put myself at risk for any ordinary materialistic things. I’m not educated, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never think you stupid.”

Misty dropped her gaze. “They are important.”

“I know.”

“They are for you. For your birthday.”

“Oh--” Cordelia’s mind went blank. “My birthday is in february.” She wished she could have a better response than that. Her stupid mind had no business making her sound so callous.

“Not for that one,” Misty said. “I haven’t thought what I’m going to get for your next birthday. But these ones”--She grabbed the mortar and pestle--“are for the birthday I missed last year. You said your pestle was getting old.” Her hands reached for the other things, pulling them closer. “And them. Well, you know how indecisive I could be. I couldn’t possibly pick just one. Then, I realized last year isn’t technically the only birthday of yours that I missed. There are the ones you had before I met you, right?”

In complete awe, Cordelia started down at the ocean of gifts.

“It's quite a loophole if I may say so myself.” Misty wore a proud smile. “I was going to give them to you at home. I’m still short, though. Kinda running out of ideas.” Her inquisitive eyes looked into Cordelia's. “I hate to do this, but any suggestions?”

But Cordelia still failed to find her voice.

“Anything you want? I can't buy you a diamond or anything costly, but maybe a dress--”

She couldn't contain her emotion any longer. She wrapped her arms around Misty's neck. As tears spilled out of her eyes, all the memories of her past birthdays came back flooding her. Ever since her childhood, birthday was never a celebratory occasion. If anything, it reminded her how lonely she was in the world, how unlovable and unneeded.

“You're enough,” she said in Misty's curls. “You're everything I need and want.”

“You have me every day of the year, silly. It’s nothing special.”

Cordelia shook her head, nuzzling deeper into her neck. “But I didn’t for a long time. Sometimes, I get scared because you could be snatched out of my life anytime, and I’d be alone again like I have always been.”

“Hey, hey--” Misty made their bodies separate, cupping her wet cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? As long as you need me-- Hell, even if there comes a time when you don’t need me anymore--”

“That’s implausible.”

Misty smiled. “Then, we got nothing to worry about, yeah?”

Wiping her tears away, Cordelia returned the smile as best as she could. “I’m sorry. What I wanted to say was that you’ve taught me the happiness I’d never known. And if all my shitty life before you was an inevitable prerequisite for this life with you in it, then, I would go through it all over again.”

“No need to,” Misty said. “I would’ve found you either way.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

It was unclear who leaned in first. But Cordelia couldn’t care less when Misty pressed her lips against her own with equal zeal. Her eyes threatened to well up again. She traced Misty’s jawline with her fingers, and it was the most angelic sight in the world.  

Misty’s dreamy eyes stared at her lips. “Your lips are cold.”

Cordelia came to stand next to her, a little out of breath. “Are you sure? You said the same thing twenty minutes ago, and I feel like we’re only going deeper.”

She looked back. The tall grass and sloshy ground of the swamp concealed their footsteps, keeping them from going back. There was no way of calling for help. Her smartphone had turned into a non-smart, non-phone machine when they stepped into the swamp. The pedometer indicated that she had already achieved her daily activity goals, giving her celebratory and inspirational words. Push the limits! Go farther! She’d really rather not.

The phone beeped, and she turned the sound off without looking.

“I thought the phone didn’t work?” Misty said with a hint of hope.

Cordelia shook her head. “It’s just the alarm for the lunch meeting. Well, at this rate, I’m standing the Mayor up.”

It had started when Misty insisted on stopping by the shack on their drive home from grocery shopping. It was going to be a short stop. They would’ve had plenty of time before the Supreme had to leave the academy for the meeting.

The fault was on Cordelia’s part. She didn’t want to make a detour to their usual path to the shack, which was far from where they were driving. There didn’t seem to be enough time for that. So, they had entered the swamp from an unfamiliar spot.

What a terrible lack of foresight that had been. Haste makes waste. Or, as Myrtle liked to put, premature orgasming pleases none.

“I’m sorry.” Misty ducked her head. “It’s all because I dragged you out here, Miss Cordelia.”

Cordelia put her comforting hand on her shoulder. “Let’s focus on finding our way for now, okay?”

But there seemed no path --not even an animal trail-- to be found around them. The thick clouds hid the sun, and it was impossible for them to even get a sense of direction.

“Oh, I know!” Misty said. “We could use teleportation. Go to the shack, and you could even make it to the meeting in time.”

“It wouldn’t work. To use teleportation, it’s crucial to know one’s location in relation to where you wish to go. Witchcraft 101, Misty.”

“I may or may not have skipped that class.”

“It’s also in the textbook.”

“Never opened it before.”

“Misty--”

“Hey, so, can we teleport back to the car, then?” Misty sounded extra cheerful, dodging further lecturing. “We know where we parked the car.”

“But we don’t know where we are. So, no.”

Misty sighed and buried her nose back in the map. “What if we have walked through a portal to another dimension without knowing? Maybe that’s why everything looks strange.”

“Well, that would be a nice excuse to tell the Mayor, at least,” Cordelia said. She knew that when Misty began talking nonsense like this, she was either hungry or sleepy. Considering the time, it was most likely the hunger.

Misty nodded and hummed, lost in thought. Then, she made up her mind and started walking. Cordelia tried her hardest to walk on the less muddy part of the ground as she followed.

“What do you think lives in other dimensions, Miss Cordelia?”

Cordelia shrugged, only taking a side-glance at her. “I don’t know. It has never occurred to me.”

“Do you believe in aliens?”

“The universe is immeasurable. The size and the age. It’d be ignorant to assume we are the only living organism.”

“I think they are already here on Earth,” Misty said. “But they are so common that we don’t realize they’ve come from other planets.”

“Is that right?”

Misty noddeed with a proud grin. “The octopus. They’re so intelligent, Miss Cordelia. And, they may not use spoken words like us, but they can communicate through their skin color. Humans can’t do that. And the dragonfly-- Did you know these suckers have zero blind spot?”

Despite their situation, Cordelia couldn’t help her smile. “Someone has been binge watching nature documentaries.”

“I swear, I never thought I’d like that tiny computer. I always get the heebie-jeebies around all those machines.” She shrugged. “But it’s nice, getting to learn about the animals I’ve never known before.”

“I’m glad,” Cordelia said. “Perhaps I should give you a VR set for your next birthday so you could go to the safari or the Papua New Guinea jungles.”

“What’s VR mean?”

“Virtual reality. You wear a headset like giant goggles and immerse yourself in the digital world-”

The moment Misty heard the word digital, her curious eyes clouded with doubt mixed with slight disgust. “That means they are fake, though. Nature can’t be controlled. It’s fun because it can only be observed. That's where happy accidents come from.”

“Oh, like getting lost?”

Misty gave her a guilty glance, which made her laugh.

“I agree with you, Misty. But this better be over soon.” Cordelia looked up at the grey sky through the naked branches. “The forecast said it would rain around noon.”

Although this uncalled-for exercise was keeping them warm for now, the air was crisp. It would be freezing in the rain.

Misty wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “The girls must be chilling in front of the fireplace now, with hot cocoa . . . and s’mores . . . Hollywood is maybe taking a warm, candlelit bath.”

This made both of them shiver even more.

As they kept walking, they stumbled upon what looked to be a huhman trail. Misty opened the map again. Cordelia, on the other hand, looked at the trail in suspicion.

“Misty, I think we are going in circles.”

“What are you talking about? We’ve been walking in a straight line.”

“But, look--” Cordelia neared the biggest tree  in their vicinity and pointed at the small pile of stones at the root. “I put them up in place of footprints.”

Misty’s hesitant gaze travelled back and forth between the stones and the map. “How’d you know it’s your doing, though? Maybe some people got lost before us and did that.”

“With my magical signature in it?” Cordelia picked up the stone at the top, pushing it into Misty’s palm.

The doubt on Misty’s face vanished in an instant. The trace of the Supreme power was too evident to ignore.

“Right?” Cordelia said.

With tight lips, Misty sighed through the nose. “Alright, Miss Gretel. You’re right. We’ve been going in circles.”

“Hansel. It's the brother who leaves a trail of breadcrumbs. Not the sister.”

Misty’s sigh turned into a groan. She sat on the protruding root, folding up the map in surrender. “I wish I had a bagel right now.”

They had bought blueberry bagels at the supermarket along with her favorite sesame ones. But everything was left in the car.

“Why isn’t there a spell for conjuring food up?” Misty said.

“Witchcraft doesn’t work miracles, as regular people think. It has to abide by the law of the universe like everything else. You can’t create something out of nothing.”

“We make fire out of nothing.”

Cordelia smiled. “Not exactly. There are certain molecules in the air that produce heat. Magic just helps you collect those molecules, pack them so dense that they start to combust.”

“I understood none of that.” Her stomach grumbled as if in agreement. “Are there molecules that could produce food?”

“No.” Cordelia sat next to her on the root. Her hand reached for the folded map in Misty’s hands. “May I?”

Misty obliged to the request without a word, too tired and hopeless. It pained Cordelia to see her like that. It was way better when Misty was rambling on all gibberish.

Cordelia ran her hand up and down her shawl-clad back. “It’ll be alright, Mist. I promise. Now, can you tell me where we might be?”

It goes without saying that the swamp map didn’t compare to the sophistication of the city map. It only had a few markings here and there. But it still showed the circumventing highways and the bodies of water spread across the place. Until now, it was more than enough.

Near the center of the map was a cross mark.

Misty’s index finger hovered over the area between the cross and the south-east edge of the swamp. “Around here, I think. The car is parked somewhere here, because this is the road we were driving on, and--”

“Wait, no.” Cordelia’s index finger joined over the map. Her eyes scrutinized it as if it was a Latin spell book. “No, Misty. This is our highway”--She pointed at the one almost on the opposite side of the map--“We were supposed to go east. But we’ve been . . . going west.”

Misty held the map closer to her face, turned it upside-down, and looked at Cordelia with deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

“Misty.”

“Hmm?”

“Have you been reading the map upside-down this whole time?”

In grave silence, Misty gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “It appears that it is the case.”

It was Cordelia's turn to let out a groan.

“I’m sorry, Miss Cordelia.” Misty took her hands and blinked her puppy eyes. “Please, don’t be mad at me.”

Cordelia swore Misty knew that look could get her away with anything, at least, as long as the Supreme was concerned.

“I’m not mad, Misty. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” She gave gentle pats on the back of Misty’s hand before returning her attention to the map. “Okay, so, the river we walked by earlier is not this one, but more likely this one. If we follow the water, we may be able to get out.”

But the look on Misty’s face betrayed her apprehension. “What if-- Not that I doubt you, but what if the water led us deeper instead of out? How’d we know if we should go upstream or downstream?”

“Shit, you have a point.” That was a possibility that Cordelia didn't like to dwell on. “But you know what? Either way, the swamp would end if we kept walking.”

Misty’s stomach grumbled again as her expression turned into that of despair. “I should’ve had an extra begel this morning,” she said, standing on her weakening feet.

She loathed those stormy days. They reminded her of the life she could’ve had, of the love she had lost. Of Misty Day, the witch that had entered her life like a storm and disappeared just as quickly and violently. Now the only thing left was a scar in her heart. The howling wind sounded like her own sobs, and with that the sensation of ashes on her hands always returned. Back to her old self, the weak woman who had let love slip through her fingers.

So, on days like this, Cordelia tended to spend her time alone in her office, where nobody could see her. She would sit in silence and wait for the storm to pass-- But did she really want the storm to go? Because no matter how much she cried and blamed herself, it could never bring Misty back. It only left more scars and a cold emptiness that made her shiver even in the middle of summer. Perhaps she should make the storm stay forever, the way she wanted Misty to stay with her forever.

Of course, it couldn’t be so.

So, she would let Misty go with the storm, put on makeup, and return to being the strong Supreme the coven needed. That was the only way of atonement in this life.

--

A week after Misty returned from hell, New Orleans suffered from a big storm. Cordelia gave it a brief glance out the window and grimaced, before entering Misty’s room.

The curtains were closed, and the lights were off. In the relative dark, she caught the pale figure of Misty twirling to Fleetwood Mac. With her eyes on the dancing witch, she put a tray of food on the table by the window and opened the curtains.

“Lunch time,” she said.

Squinting her eyes, Misty came to sit down at the table. “Stew! God, I’m starvin’. I could smell it cooking even from this room.” She took spoonful after spoonful as if she hadn’t eaten three bagels this morning.

In contrast, Cordelia maintained her mannerism, with a napkin on her lap, mindful about noises. But it never occurred to her to reprimand Misty. “You can come down and eat with everyone in the dining room instead of here, you know? You wouldn’t have to wait for me like this that way.”

“I can wait. I like eating alone with you.”

“I do, too. But, it’s been a week since you came back, and you haven’t even gone out of this room once.” She reached for Misty’s hand across the table.

But Misty pulled her hand away slowly. Since her return, she had been shying away from Cordelia’s touch for some reasons.

“I know you need time to heal,” Cordelia said, forcing a smile. “And it’s my number one priority to ensure that you take as much time as you need to do that. Just-- Please know that we are all waiting for you, and all the new girls are looking forward to getting to know you.”

With creases in her forehead, Misty looked away and shook her head. “I don’t know if I should.”

“What do you mean?”

Misty stood up, walked to the iPod on the nightstand to turn it off, and sat on the edge of the bed. Cordelia stayed in her chair, not sure if Misty needed her by her side.

“I thought I was fine,” Misty said. “I had Stevie and you. But I’ve been having this dream. I come back, and you are there. But then, when I hug you, you bleed from all over your body, like my hug cut you.” She took a deep, trembling breath.

“Misty--” Cordelia walked to stand before her.

Her blue eyes looked up. “Then, I run to the girls, but as soon as I touch them, they all bleed to death. Zoe, Queenie, everyone. And I’m the only one left. When I try to bring you back, it makes you bleed even more, and--”

“Misty, stop.” Cordelia extended her arms and cupped her tear-soaked cheeks.

With a start, Misty tried to pull away. “No--”

Cordelia wouldn’t let her, however. She knelt down, held Misty’s hands in hers, and with the uncharacteristic use of force, she brought those hands flash against her own cheeks. “Listen, Misty.”

Misty struggled to get free. There was nothing more painful than seeing her frightened of her own darkness.

“That is a dream. Not who you are,” Cordelia said and held her even harder around the wrists. “You are not breaking me, you see? You could never hurt me.”

“But what if I hurt other people? Animals? What if I couldn’t bring them back anymore?”

“Then, I’ll help you. But please remember, the world is not as fragile as you think, and when you still get scared or sad, talk to me. I will hold your hands like this until the feeling goes away. I promise.”

Through tears, Misty looked her in the eyes and gave a nod. It was slow but unshaken. And Cordelia knew everything would be fine when Misty cupped her cheeks at her will. She sat on the bed and did the same to Misty, who nuzzled into her palm in return.

“You’ve changed a lot, Miss Cordelia.” Misty offered a soft smile. “But still kind all the same.”

“I’ve changed, but it took too many sacrifices. Sacrifices I wouldn’t have had to make had I been stronger, but--” Cordelia stopped as if someone interrupted her. Retracting her hands, she forced out a pitiful laugh and apologised. “I’m making it all about myself when I should be supporting you.”

“No, I want to hear it.” Misty reached out and laced their fingers together. “You talk when you are sad, right?”

The laugh Cordelia let out this time was genuine. Her hand rose again, fingers running through Misty’s curls. With Misty Day, it seemed impossible to keep her hands to herself.

“I still can’t believe you are here,” Cordelia said. “And I’m such an idiot, because it almost cost your life for me to finally realize how much you meant to me. I was so busy running away from everything that reminded me of my weakness. Fiona, Hank, you . . .”

“Me?” Misty looked hurt.

“No, I meant-- I should’ve said my own feelings for you. I’m sorry. Because of my self-loathing, I kept myself in the dark, literally, believing I was unworthy of you.” Looking up, Cordelia offered a smile. “But I’m stronger now. You made me so.”

Misty seemed at a loss for words.

Although that look brought her old insecurities back, Cordelia refused to let them hold her back. “I’ve loved you, Misty, from the beginning, I think. You are the most important thing in my life.”

Those blue eyes stared back. “Really?”

Cordelia nodded. “I swore that I’d never--” Never lie to myself again.

She didn’t get to finish the sentence as Misty wrapped her strong arms around her. It made Cordelia feel dizzy, almost close to fainting.

Misty pulled away immediately. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Cordelia managed to hide the vertigo behind a smile. “I told you, you could never hurt me, Misty. It’s just that nobody has ever held me this tight before.”

Misty apologised again.

“I love it,” Cordelia said. “I feel safest in your arms.”

Misty’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears. She opened her mouth, but no word passed her lips. So, she took Cordelia’s hand and pressed her trembling lips against the back of it instead. Cordelia knew it was the highest form of affection and adoration Misty knew. When Misty pulled her back in a hug, it felt like Cordelia finally had her back, body and soul. She never wanted to let her go.

But it was only a wish. Voicing such a thing would be too heavy a promise to make. A new Supreme was on the rise, and they both knew the meaning of it. Cordelia wondered how much time she had left with Misty on this earth.

Despite all that, Misty said it. “Please never let me go again, Miss Cordelia.”

So, Cordelia nodded without hesitation, burying her face in those Cajun curls.

They finished their now cold stew before lying in the bed with each other in their arms. Misty hummed in the softest tone. It was one of the most heartbreaking and beautiful melody Cordelia had ever listened to.

“Can we go to the swamp tomorrow?” Misty said when the song ended.

Cordelia looked out the window over Misty’s shoulder. The weather looked harsher than this morning. “Tomorrow might be difficult, but when the storm is gone, I’ll take you to the swamp.”

“Can we stay like this ‘till then?”

“Of course.” Cordelia planted a kiss on her cheek.

For the first time in a long, long time, Cordelia felt alive during a storm. And even when the sun came back, her love would stay with her. There would be a heartbreak someday, maybe sooner than anyone believed.

But for now, they were in the eye of the storm together.

--

Cordelia smiled, knowing Misty was up to no good. “Go ahead. You know the password.” Gesturing to the device on the other desk, she walked to the rose bushes to examine them.

Misty, on the other hand, leaned against the wall near the entrance, the phone in her hands. “Them roses are pretty, Miss Cordelia. I don’t think none of them was in bloom yesterday when I watered them.”

“I sped up their growth a little bit. It’s a check-up week for the plants, and it’s easier to detect any anomaly with open petals.”

“Those things are still buds, though.” Misty pointed to the nearby marigolds.

“Oh, I planted them last week,” Cordelia said and went back to examine the roses. “They were in perfect health, so--”

Then, a distinctive sound of the camera shutter resounded inside these walls.

Cordelia span  around and caught Misty quickly lowering the phone. The puppy eyes stared back as if to claim innocence. It was hard not to smile at that.

“Misty, my hair is a mess, and I’m covered in dirt.”

“So?”

Cordelia walked towards her. “You have to delete the picture, missy.”

“What picture? I don’t know what it is that you speak of. Oh, I’m so un-couscous.”

“Uncouth. Give me that--”

“Not yet, please.” Misty held it against her chest. “I need to post this on Instagram, and then you can have it back.”

At that, Cordelia’s attempt to retrieve her phone halted. “Wait, you post pictures of me on social media?”

A playful smile was Misty’s answer as her fingers moved on the screen. “Look at this one, Miss Cordelia. This is the most popular picture. Almost thirty people liked it.”

The screen showed a picture of the Supreme standing by the bookshelves in the office.

“Who taught you about this thing?” Cordelia said.

“Instagram? Well, everyone, I guess-- Done. Alright, here’s your phone.”

--

It was a total surprise for Cordelia. It wasn’t news that Misty took pictures of her at every opportunity-- Misty never bothered to delete them from the gallery app. Her storage was almost full with those secret pictures. But it’d never occurred to her that Misty would even think of going any further than that.

Cordelia called it a night earlier than usual that day to go through Misty’s account. Since she herself didn’t have an account, the phone didn’t have the app. Misty always used Chrome as it seemed, so all Cordelia had to do was to dig through the browsing history.

She felt guilty snooping around. So, she convinced herself that it was a public account and everyone could see the pictures, although it was questionable whether Misty knew how to make it private if she wanted to.

There weren’t as many pictures as Cordelia had expected. Most of them were of Cordelia, of course, never looking at the camera. Some pictures of Misty’s own wardrobe. Some of Stevie Nicks.

Nothing scandalous, at least, at first glance. That changed when she scrolled down to the very first picture and began reading the captions one by one.

The first ones didn’t have any captions. Just pictures. And, two months ago, all the pictures began to have captions as if Misty just discovered the feature. They were all super lengthy. Misty seemed to think social media was her diary, which shouldn’t be Cordelia’s business-- But when almost every single caption was composed of praises and affectionate words for her, it was hard to ignore them.

Miss Cordelia looks very beautiful in this dress.

Not just a powerful witch. Also one of the smartest people in the world!

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like her.

And more similar stuff.

It made Cordelia blush so hard that she had to kick her blankets off. Misty had been an unbashed believer of her since day one. But Cordelia clearly hadn't understood the depth of the admiration until now.

She didn't want to sleep yet. Her reality was way better than her dream world.

So, she tapped the most popular picture with thirty likes. The office walls looked bright in the westering sun. Her flowing hair glowed. She stood with her back facing the camera, holding an open book. It looked like a Vermeer painting. A masterpiece. And it was how she appeared in Misty’s eyes.

She entertained the thought that maybe one day, Misty could reciprocate her feeling.

--

Misty asked to use her phone again a couple of days later. They finished lunch together and walked up the hallway to the office.

“The world needs to see you in those pants,” Misty said. “You rarely wear them these days.”

Cordelia looked down at her outfit. “Fiona liked me in pants, too.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“She said they hid my ugly knees quite well.” Cordelia opened the door to the office, rolling her eyes for Misty to see.

“No.” Misty grimaced as she followed in. “Miss Myrtle should’ve gotten a new pair of eyes for her, too.”

Heat crept up Cordelia’s neck, so she laughed it off and handed over the phone. She sat at the desk, turned on the computer, and began reading emails. A fragment of her focus still remained on Misty. But despite her waiting, the sound of the camera shutter never came. Instead, she saw Misty grimacing at the screen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Strange people are arguing in my comment section.”

Cordelia walked to her. “What are they arguing about?”

“Complete nonsense to me.”

They both sat in the couch with the phone between their faces. Cordelia recognized it was the comment section of the latest post, the one in the greenhouse. The first two comments were harmless, possibly made by her students. Things started to get strange from then downward.

dame.queenbitch I miss the greenhouse. Coven’s still white but not as white as this hotel

sallythatgirl quit whining and go babysit march. @dame.queenbitch. he’s throwing a fit at the bar.

dame.queenbitch  You not understanding this isn’t a text message is the whitest thing bitch @sallythatgirl

sallythatgirl whatev, I have more followers than u.

dame.queenbitch Most of your followers are fucking ghost accounts JUSt LIKE YOU

sallythatgirl one of us got killed epically after bragging about her witchy power, and it ain’t me. #whospatheticnow

dame.queenbitch Meet me in room 413 I will pull your electroshocked ramen out of your thin scalp

sallythatgirl lol u maybe used to back-handing white bitches like madison mongomery, but I know how 2 fight.

dame.queenbitch Ho delete that comment^^ If u say that name online even once, it’ll summon the demon

supreme-m.montgomery  hi, i heard there was a bitch slapping contest? where do i sign?

supreme-m.montgomery did you know ig still works in hell? lmao

Reading them made Cordelia’s head pound. “And you don’t know who they are?” she asked Misty. “I mean, besides Madison.”

“No. How do I make them shut up? I want them to go.”

“Well-- Have you gone to their accounts?”

Misty stared at her as if it was a new concept. “How do I do that?”

“Just tap on their username like this--”

Pictures of dame.queenbitch appeared, and there was no confusion as to who was in those selfies. It was Queenie. Guessing from the newer pictures, she now lived in a shabby hotel in Los Angeles.

“I knew Queenie’s aura faded out in L.A.,” Cordelia said to herself. “But trapped in a hotel?”

“This person can’t be our kind, though.” Misty showed the account of the other person. “What’s up with the hair? Did she really get fried? Whoa, she’s got a ton of followers. Is she famous?”

“I have to go to this Hotel Cortez.” Cordelia stood up. “Help her out of there.”

Once the decision was made, there was no more time for pictures. Cordelia packed, booked a flight to L.A., and left the academy in less than an hour.

“I’ll be back with Queenie before you know it,” Cordelia said as she stood in the academy’s driveway. Her hand rose to hold Misty’s. “And when I’m back, I could teach you about selfies and filters if you don’t know already.”

So, with a beaming smile and a promise, Misty watched the cab drive away.

The days of the Supreme were hectic, and while it was a pleasant kind of chaos for Cordelia, she needed some serious time-off. So, she felt more than grateful when Misty had showed up in her room with that bashful smile tonight. Loosening up wasn’t something Cordelia was good at, and Misty always seemed to sense it, visiting her at night like a pacifying fairy of a sort.

Without Misty, she would’ve broken to pieces a long time ago.

“You got a tattoo, Miss Cordelia.”

Cordelia looked up from her book, turned her head to Misty, and looked back down at her own wrist. A tattoo of a plant with four leaves and bare roots. “Yes, I do. It’s an embarrassing story.”

“When’d you get it?”

“When I was eighteen. I--” Cordelia hesitated. A vague thought flashed across her mind, that it might change Misty’s view on her.

Misty got up. “Yeah?”

“It’s silly, really. This used to be the initials of the guy I was dating at the time. He was the first person I ever dated, and I felt like that was something I could be proud of. Also, getting a tattoo was, to me, a form of rebellion against Fiona-- Well, I guess the latter part played a bigger role.”

“But you covered it up.”

Cordelia realized she was rubbing the tattoo with her thumb as if to wipe it off. The initials of the boy she’d thought was her dream-come-true was still discernible, if you knew where to look, among the wiggly line work of roots.

“It wasn’t worth having his name on my skin,” Cordelia said.

Misty slid her finger across the tattoo as she brought her face near it. “I’ve seen people with colorful tattoos. Didn’t you wanna have colors?”

“The idea of colorful tattoos wasn’t that common when I got it.”

Misty nodded. She didn’t seem to notice how close their faces were. Then, her pensive expression turned into a smile.

“I got an idea! Wait here. Will be right back.” Saying this, Misty left the room.

Beyond some knocks on other doors, Cordelia couldn’t hear anything. But a smile was already on her face. Whatever Misty had in mind, she knew it would overshadow any negative memories she had of the tattoo.

A moment later Misty returned with a pack of paint and a palette. Closing the door with her butt, she held the pack so Cordelia could see it was a face paint kit for kids.

“Queenie sometimes paints Nan’s face for fun,” Misty said. “I can do that for you.”

“You mean, on my face?”

“Nah, your tattoo. I used to have tons o’ coloring books as a kid.” Misty sat back in the bed, spreading the borrowed stuff across the pearl-white bedsheets, and held a brush in front of her face. “Queenie said this is called a dagger brush, ‘cause of the shape of it.” She pretended to throw it like a real dagger, making it land on the back of Cordelia’s hand, fake-stabbing her with the soft tip.

Cordelia giggled. “Okay, okay. You can paint on me, so stop tickling me, please?”

With a huge grin, Misty rolled up her sleeves. “I’m gonna paint like Picasso.”

“Are you sure? Picasso was a child prodigy. He could draw realistic figures since he was very young.”

“Really? Then, why do his paintings look like he was on drugs when he painted ‘em?”

“That’s his style, Misty.”

Misty paused in thought, and then shrugged. “I’m gonna paint like the gay artist, then.”

Cordelia almost choked on her wine. “Which one?”

“The guy who painted the Mona Lisa.”

They had to figure out a comfortable position for both of them. Eventually Misty found her place on the left side of Cordelia, while the other woman had the palette on her lap and a cup of water in her other free hand for cleaning the brush. This way, the Supreme could extend her arm in front of Misty and hold her wine glass at the same time-- She just needed to remember to switch from the water cup to the wine glass. Neither drinking paint water nor having the brush dunked in her wine sounded enjoyable.

Misty started with the leaves. The sensation of the wet tip of the brush sent chills down Cordelia’s back, but it grew rather calming in time. It felt similar to the feeling of Misty’s muddy hands. Cordelia liked that.

She rested her head on Misty’s shoulder as her tattoo become vibrant. Each of the four leaves had a different color, and so did the roots. Cordelia found that a pleasant surprise. And instead of stopping there, Misty expanded her canvas and began painting lively shapes all across her forearm. Hearts, clouds, rainbows, and what seemed to be alligators and birds, and more hearts.

Da Vinci would be damned. “That’s a whole lot of hearts,” she said instead.

Misty hummed. “I’m gonna use all the colors, ‘cause you are a rainbow.”

There was no need to ask what that meant. Cordelia already knew.

Misty seemed determined to paint every inch of her forearm. And as she neared the elbow, pushing the boundary in a literal sense, she tucked up the sleeve of Cordelia’s nightgown a little so it wouldn’t touch the paint. The result was ringed fingers pressing against the inside of Cordelia’s upper arm. Goosebumps broke out on the sensitive skin. And with Misty occasionally blowing air to dry the paint, Cordelia couldn’t help but notice the intimacy of it all.

That was the thing about Misty. She didn’t need any sexual or romantic act, or expensive gifts in order to make Cordelia feel loved.

“Are you asleep?” Misty said in a whisper.

Cordelia shook her head on the other’s shoulder.

“I wanna say something crazy.”

“You? Crazy?” Cordelia laughed. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Well, I’m happy that you let me stay with you tonight, is what I wanted to say.” Misty kept her brush working on Cordelia’s skin. “You’ve become so powerful, an awesome leader and teacher. Everyone, both inside and outside the Coven, admires you. And, sometimes I feel like you’re so far away now and don’t need me anymore like this. Everytime I stand at your door, I get a li’l scared that you might turn me down.”

Cordelia lifted her head to look in her face.

That made Misty smile nervously. “See? Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Misty.” She put a gentle hand on Misty’s and made her stop working. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“You’ve been awfully busy. Ain’t your fault.”

“Misty, listen,” she said. “I need you. I always have and will, like this and in every other possible way. Don’t you know? Every morning, I walk in the dining room and sit beside you, no matter where you’re sitting, because I need you to be the first person I talk to before starting another day. Because sometimes it can be really brutal out there. It can’t be another person. It has to be you, to keep me going.”

Misty nodded with a tearful smile.  

“You are special to me, Misty Day.”

Misty nodded again. She wiped away her tears, but with her paint-covered hand, some of it ended up on her face.

There had never been a more precious sight than that, Cordelia knew. So, she put her hand on Missy's cheek, spreading the paint with her thumb, drawing a tiny heart just below her eye. She then made Misty rest her head on her own shoulder.

They waited in silence until Misty felt calm enough to resume her work.

---

When Misty finished her masterpiece at last, it was almost midnight. Cordelia was dozing off.

“It was fun. You should be my canvas more often.” Misty's voice had no vestige of the earlier confession. There was only the tiny heart under her eye, telling Cordelia it wasn't a dream.

The Supreme examined her own arm. Although the psychedelic color scheme was shocking enough for her sleepy eyes, she could only smile. “So, what’s the message here?” she said.

“Hm?”

“Art is a form of self-expression. What did you want to convey with this piece?”

Misty looked at the painting as if it was her first time seeing it. Her hand came up, pressing down on each of the hearts with her index finger. She met Cordelia's gaze.

“I adore you,” she said.

Cordelia has uttered the name before. Once when Zoe joined the Coven, once when Misty herself took her hand for the first time, and once Hank intruded in the greenhouse, begging for her forgiveness. Every time that name leaves her lips, Cordelia feels like it changes its meaning more and more.

“Misty Day,” she says as she feels her way into the greenhouse with a cane. In her literal darkness, she imagines Misty looking up from the plants with her bright smile.

“Miss Cordelia. I thought you’d be in your room.” Despite that, Misty’s voice lacks the usual vigor.

But it is understandable, Cordelia supposes. Nobody can recover from getting trapped in a coffin so quickly.

“I couldn’t bear to be alone,” Cordelia says. “The girls told me you were in here.” Sitting in a chair, she offers an apologetic smile in the direction of Misty. But there came no respose, but silence. “Of course, if you’d rather be left alone, I’d be more than happy to--”

“No, don’t go,” Misty says, “please. I’m just surprised, is all, that you even wanna be in the same room as me after what happened.”

What happened. The yelling of the Axeman, the sticky feeling of the blood on her fingers, and the Sight of Fiona’s death come flooding her senses. The lump in her throat returns, so she tightens her grip on her cane.

“What do you mean? You have nothing to do with what happened to my mother.”

“Oh, no. That’s not-- I meant your eyes. You did that to yourself to find me. Zoe told me.”

Cordelia fixes her sunglasses, making sure her hideous eyes are well-concealed. “Well, I doubt this would make everyone stop calling me the biggest failure, though.” She forces out a laugh.

“You ain’t a failure.” Misty’s husky voice comes closer. “Far from it. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself.”

Again, silence surrounds them, along with a sense of dread in Cordelia. She wishes she wasn’t such a pathetic failure, unable to accept compliments or gratitude without self-degradation.

Misty lets out a sigh. “I was gonna come to your room, you know, after watering your plants.” She pulls up a chair next to Cordelia. “Let me see your eyes?”

Cordelia’s empty hand quickly touches the sunglasses. “You don’t want to. They’re ugly.”

Still, Misty puts her hand on Cordelia’s, slowly lowering them. When the barrier comes off and reveals her eyes, Misty takes a shaky breath. “Oh, Miss Cordelia. What have you done?”

Although Cordelia feels her lip quiver, no tear is able to fill her battered eyes.

“Stay here,” Misty says, standing up. “I wanna try my mud on you.” She saunters to the back of the greenhouse and comes back with a heavy jar of the swamp mud. As the lid opens, the pungent smell encloses them in an invisible bubble of reek. “There ain’t nothing the magical swamp mud can’t heal. Hold still.”

“I don’t know, Mist--” Cordelia feels the warm hand on her cheek first, steadying her face, and then the cool, thick layers of mud on her eyes. And when both of Misty’s hands cup her face, Cordelia finds herself speechless. She feels bare and protected at the same time.

“Feel anything?” Misty says.

There is certainly something going on in her chest. Cordelia ignores it and shakes her head.

Then, Misty’s hands move from her cheeks to her eyes, covering them. “Anything?”

The force of her white magic seeps through the mud and her scar tissue, so much it almost feels tangible. “I can feel your power, but it’s not doing anything. It sort of passes through my wounds.” She feels Misty’s hands retract. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t get it. Why does it work on Kyle and Miss Myrtle but not you?” Her voice grows louder. “It’s severed limbs and a whole burned body. Why can’t it heal a simple pair of eyes?”

“The concoction I made when I-- Maybe some of it is still in the wounds and working against your powers.”

“The concoction?” Misty says to herself.

The saving grace -- at least, in Cordelia’s eyes -- is that the whole attempt happened and ended so fast that she didn’t have enough time to get her hopes up. Failure doesn’t feel so tormenting when there is no anticipation. But now, she feels bad for Misty. After a rather long silence, Cordelia hears her sob.

“It’s all my fault,” Misty says through her tears. “If I hadn’ta trusted Madison so easily, you wouldn’t have ta lose your eyes all over again.”

“Of course, it’s not your fault.” Cordelia reaches out to her in the dark, and Misty, still sobbing, takes the hand with her own muddy hand. “I would do anything without a second thought if it meant I could have you by my side.”

It took some more time for Misty to calm down, her hand secure in Cordelia’s.

“You are too kind, Miss Cordelia,” Misty says in a whisper at last.

“No, I’m not. I just need to have my only friend around.”

Misty caresses her hand as she responds with a hum. Then, it grows into a quiet giggle. “Sorry, I forgot you still had the mud on your face.”

“Oh.” Touching the mud herself, Cordelia feels her doleful frown turn into a smile. “Me, too. How silly I must look.”

“Here, let me.” With a clean hand on Cordelia’s jaw, Misty begins to wipe it off with a towel.

There goes her heart in Cordelia’s chest again. It leaves her breathless, speechless, and yet her whole being screams for more. She wishes she had a means to communicate this feeling to Misty.

“It’s you that’s kind,” Cordelia says when her face returns to being mud-free.

“Hmm? Me?”

Cordelia nods, listening to the sound of water as Misty washes the towel. “I don’t know how you do it after all the shit you’ve gone through.”

“What do I do?”

“Keep your heart open. Let the world in. You make it look so easy.”

“Well, doesn’t that just mean I’m awful gullible?” Misty laughs. “But yeah, I don’t know any other way. So, I do what I’m best at, I guess, and hope for the best.”

“I wish I could do the same.”

“Give it a try. I mean, you might meet someone that turns your life upside-down, in the best way.” Misty’s voice sounds rather dreamy, which makes Cordelia smile.

“Like Stevie?”

“Yeah, like Stevie, but . . . you know.”

Cordelia raises her brow. “Know what?”

Hesitation radiates from Misty as she shifts her weight from one foot to another. “You,” she says at last. “I hoped for the best. And you came around.”

In that moment, Cordelia realizes she has been fooling herself. What Misty is for her. Her only friend, her best friend. But also something else that could make her heart beat faster. The reason why the thought of her gone hurts Cordelia so much.

Misty is her teacher. She teaches Cordelia the true meaning of love, what it means to make sacrifice for love. And that love is the total opposite of the love she has known her entire life. It feels soft, like the feather of a bird. For the first time in her life, Cordelia learns how it feels to be loved for who she is.