#clodagh.

Though the night was one she knew many looked forward to, Matty was dreading the inevitable run in with her mother starting weeks back. Sure, the unexpected brush with a canine death had distracted her from the fact that the time around the holiday made Mateo an absolutely miserable being. For one, it made her miss something she knew she had never had. She missed her mom, her real mom, though even the thought of her felt like Mateo’s design at this point. Any memory she had of the woman had to be fabricated, more what Mateo wished she had the pleasure of having in her life rather than a reality. After all, she was just a baby when she was snatched from her mom and the very human normal childhood she could have had. Her father had been no help to her growing up, though she knew not to make the same mistake as her mom and expect love from him, and Mateo had been left to fend for herself against her mother on more than one occasion. Clodagh Duggan, God, even the thought of sharing a last name with her left a bad taste in Mateo’s mouth.

She had thought on more than one occasion that she could come up with a good excuse to miss this ball, but it was hard to let go of expectations that had been beat into you one too many times before. Any seasonal changeovers were important for witches and warlocks, and celebrations were equally as important as they were invigorating, nothing felt quite like the energy in a room full of happy dancing people did. But every year, without fail, her mother was there to suck at Matty’s energy like a proverbial black hole, always causing a cataclysm of self-implosion that resulted in Mateo reverting to a scared little girl. It didn’t help that a main feature of the evenings were the many masks that donned the faces of the party goers. While Clodagh fit in more than ever tonight, Mateo was triggered by the presence of any masks, reminding her much to closely of what she had caused to her mother’s face with her bare hands. After all, the woman had adopted wearing a mask to cover Mateo’s hand print scar, the only one she had received in exchange for the many she had left on Mateo’s own skin over the years. 

So yeah, being present in a room full of people wearing masks, well, that always put Mateo on edge. What’s one night of masochism, Mateo thought as she placed her own facemask on, feet crossing the threshold of the ballroom on their own accord. She made a beeline for the bar, hoping to get a drink or two in her before the unpleasant part of the evening began. Such would have it though that, as always, her mother sensed Matty at her weakest, like a shark in a pool of blood, and her trajectory to the bar was cut by the sight of a familiar pair of eyes. 

“You’re late,” the woman stated matter-of-factly as her eyes looked over Matty. Her lips curled in disgust and she grabbed at Mateo’s blazer as she added, “and what are you wearing? This isn’t very feminine.” 

“Mother, so nice of them to throw an event in your honour, must be nice for everyone to look like you,” Mateo quipped sharply, taking a step back away from the woman and pushing her off of her. Her mother’s perfume was inundating her with unwelcomed memories and Mateo felt that hair on the back of neck raise. The very sight, touch, and smell of the woman was enough to make the flames underneath her skin burn. There was a particular kind of pain that came with those flames, almost like they remembered who put them there, and Mateo clenched her jaw as she looked away. 

“I see you still haven’t learned to control your powers, much less let them merge with you,” her mother replied slyly, one hand reaching to grab onto Mateo’s chin and forcefully turn her head back to face her. Her eyes met Mateo, searching, prodding. “Even now I can see how much it’s taking for you not to strike me. But you won’t, will you? Wouldn’t want to make a scene in public, even you don’t have that much of a death wish.”  The woman released Mateo and clasped her hands together in front of her. Mateo let out a shaky breath, felt hot tears burn at the back of her eyes. 

“My offer still stands,” Clodagh started, “I could teach you how to control them, Mathilda. You could be happier, if you merged them with your energy. It’s in your heart already, in the rest of your body, it’s futile to think you can resist letting the flames into your soul, too. The more you resist, the more you’ll burn in the end.” 

“I’d rather die before I let you turn me into a monster,” Mateo seethed, fists clenching at her side. Control, she needed to control herself, could feel the heat burn at her fingertips. Clodagh stepped into Mateo’s space then, eyes looking up and down Mateo with a smirk on her lips. 

“Don’t you see,” she started, before meeting Mateo’s eyes, “you’re already a monster. The only thing now is whether you want to hurt anyone else. Wouldn’t want to implode and kill your friends now, would you?” 

“I think we’re done here,” Mateo said through clenched teeth, thankful that the mask was hiding the welling tears in her eyes. She made to move past Clodagh but the other woman wrapped a hand around Mateo’s wrist to stop her in her path. The touch brought an icy shot of fear through Mateo’s whole body, stunning her momentarily. 

“I’d be careful if I were you. I know you don’t think so, but I do care about what you become. You’ll see how much you need me, though I fear by then it might be too late.” The woman paused before adding, like an afterthought, “That temper of yours… perhaps we’re more alike than you think.” 

With that Mateo ripped her hand out of the hold and back down at her side, leaning in so her face was inches away from her mother’s. “We are nothing alike,” she seethed, “now get away from me before I decide killing you is worth the risk.”