#kore-sidhe

“I can’t find it!” “I’m sure it’s somewhere in the pantry, my sweet prince,” Kore’s voice said reassuringly from the living room. The dancer huffed, crawled out from the lower cupboard, bumping his head in the process. “Oh shit!” “Are you alright, my moon??” Marcone’s worried voice came from the mud room as he entered the kitchen from the backyard, hurrying to the tiny figure curled up in front of the opened cupboard door. “Yes…” Zayn groaned, rubbing the top of his head as the man pulled him easily to his feet. “I just bumped my head… and lost my honey pot…” Marcone chuckled and hugged the smaller witch, kissing the place where he had bumped himself. “Oh, Zay. I’m surprised, you fit in that cupboard sitting down perfectly…” he said, stifling another chuckle. “Is he alright? I heard the bump. I’m surprised, too,” Kore said, looking into the kitchen, a playful glint in her eyes, tossing her long gray braid over her shoulder as she settled on a stool in front of the island. “Har har…” Zayn snarked back, making both of them snicker again. “Y’all I’m serious! I lost my honey pot, it was an antique!”

The taller ones subsided and made a collective sigh, finally realising the seriousness of the matter. The woman stood up and wrapped her arms around both of her lovers, kissing them both softly and smiling. “Should we try out a seeking spell?” she asked, excitement barely contained. How she loved to do witchcraft with both of them! Marcone worried his lower lip. “Precious, last time we did something like that all the stray cats of the neighbourhood came meowing at our door, remember?” Kore laughed softly, “It was not my fault, was it, Marc?” She gave Zayn a little nudge as she let them go and walked to the pantry. “...I said I was sorry, I didn’t know it was catnip, I thought it was mint!” Zayn groan, making the others laugh again. “But, it could be a good thing to try… what could we summon? A swarm of bees??” he added walking behind Kore.

“That isn’t a good prospect either way, my moon,” Marcone mumbled pulling out a tray from behind the island with a pestle and mortar and candle holders and placing it on the island’s countertop. “Colour of candles?” “White!” both Kore and Zayn called from the pantry, afterwards coming out with garlic, caraway, and rosemary. “This is going to smell up the house,” the dancer said, opening up the jar of homemade powdered garlic. He sounded cross and distant. Kore looked over at him and ran her fingers through his unsually loose hair, lifting his chin up. “Hey, my love, it will be fine. You’re not useless for losing the pot, you do know that right?” she said, looking him directly in the eyes, eliciting that soft blush she liked so much. The dancer sighed a huffing sigh and nodded, albeit averting his hazel eyes. The woman smiled softly, letting him go knowing it was as much as she was going to get for the moment. Zayn was stubborn when he wanted to be, she knew that very well. He was a little like her in that sense, and even though ti gave them a bit of a headache sometimes, she wouldn’t have him any other way.

Marcone settled the candle holders with fresh white candles and opened the jar of caraway. “What is this one for again? I use them on the rye bread I make sometimes, gives it a fresher taste…” he said, pouring some of the seeds in a crystal candy dish. He was new to witchcraft. Of course he could do magic, but witchcraft was different. It required ritualistic preparations and it harnessed power in a different, more intense way. He wasn’t scared of it, but he practiced a lot of caution around it: he had seen it go wrong and was concerned about that. “Things with caraway in them are thought to be less likely to be stolen…” Zayn said softly, “Garlic is for attraction, some say it’s for passionate attraction, but attraction is attraction and intent is everything…” He took the garlic, poured in in the dish and then took the rosemary Kore gave him. “Rosemary dispels thieves and jogs memory…” “Wait, my moon, do you think-?” “Someone stole my honey pot? Yes, I do. I took it to the baker’s fair last sunday. And it’s mysteriously gone… I remember putting it on the table for decoration and forgetting about it, but I wasn’t the one who packed things back up, it was Lorenzo. I don’t think he took it, he’s too nice for that. But I can’t find it, so I think someone stole it when we weren’t looking…” the tan witch said, looking down at the candy dish. “It’s partially my fault, I let the tiredness get to me; but that doesn’t mean I deserved something getting stolen from me…” Kore nodded, bumping him with her hip. “Well said, darling. But it isn't even your fault at all, partially or full. People need to stop touching things that aren’t theirs…” she said darkly. Marcone smiled nervously. “I don’t want to get on the wrong side of either of you… ever…” he said, chuckling slightly. Both people looked up at him and laughed, too, walking up to him and sitting him down on a stool. “Do we scare you, Marc?” Kore whispered, twirling the wavy salt-and-pepper tresses in her left hand, coiling one around her sixth finger. “Yes, cariño, do we…?” Zayn said, standing in between Marcone’s legs and looking up at him as he caressed the man’s beard. The former soldier gulped and blushed. Was he ever going to get used to having both of these flirts do this to him? Probably not, but he didn’t mind regardless of his pulse racing and his cheeks blushing violently. He felt fortunate to have them both in his life…

“Gods above, you will be the death of me, you two will,” he murmured, first kissing Kore’s lips slowly, then Zayn’s, wrapping an arm around both their waists and bringing them closer. “I will have a heart attack one day if you keep coming onto me like this, you dryads…” “Oi, now, I’m the dryad, Kore-Sidhe is the beautiful fae goddess,” Zayn said, smiling and pulling away from them to get the candle. “Do the honours, teddy bear?” Marcone blushed again, but smiled and touched the wick of the candle with his index finger, making it light up with fire. Zayn placed it on the countertop and sighed, walking around it to the front and placing both hands at either side of the candy dish, kneeling on a stool to reach properly. “Let it be returned What has been stolen For whoever took it Till the wrong has been righted, Will know no peace...”

His voice sounded distant and with an echo as he spoke, taking the candle from the holder and lighting up the herbs in the dish, which sparked burning up rather quickly. “Is… that good?” Marcone asked, ready to douse the dancer should he catch in flames. “It looks like he’s going to singe his lashes…” “Oh, he will be fine. I think the universe is listening to him,” Kore said, smiling, proud of how far the little dancer had come in terms of witchcraft. “Ooooh… Yes, it has!” Zayn had opened his eyes, looking up. They were glowing the trademark blue of the Sparkles that always surrounded him. Both taller ones could feel the electricity in the air, and just as suddenly it was gone, his eyes back to their soft hazel. He sighed as if he had stopped breathing for a long while and relaxed his pose, yawning. “That was amazing, Zay! It really was!” Kore said, kissing his cheek once he had slid off the stool and walked to them. “It looked… like quite something, my beautiful moon. Are you sure you’re alright?” Marcone asked, pulling him into his arms, ever the slightly clingy type. “Yes, I’m just thirsty, I don’t usually use fire in witchcraft, I’m more of a water bender,” he said, winking and laughing softly. “HA! I got that reference!” Kore exclaimed in her own way, pointing at Zayn, who nodded as he poured himself a glass of water. “And now what? We wait?” Marcone asked, putting the tray away, dumping the cinders of the herbs in a coffee can. They would use them, at the end of the month, together with the rest of the ash in there to create black salt. Both witches nodded and pulled him to the living room to snuggle on the sleeper sofa, pushing the ottoman in place to create a comfortable mattress, while they paid no attention to the show on the smart TV. They settled in their respective positions, Marcone spooning Kore who spooned Zayn, and smiled. Suddenly a huff was heard and Danae, Marcone’s huge mastiff poked her head over the sleeper’s edge. He huffed again, getting Zayn in the face, making him laugh and pat the sofa. “Come on then!” he said, making Marcone groan. “You do know she’s going to push someone off the bed and that someone is probably going to be me?” he said, nuzzling Kore’s soft hair. “Lucky for you this isn’t a bed!” Zayn chirped, booping the dog’s nose, making the man groan again. Kore simply chuckled, pulling Zayn closer and snuggling, sandwiched between the two. Two hours later, right after sunset two figures swooshed in through an open window, one of them landing on the sofa, pecking at Zayn’s exposed ear while all three slept. “Hmmm…” he protested, then without looking up he pointed at the fruit bowl in the dining room. “Avocados are there… cut open already… let me sleep, please…” Jawahir cooed, pecked him affectionately again and flew to his fruit bowl, pecking aggressively at the fruit. “Are we going to sleep here…?” Marcone asked stifling a yawn, woken up by the small commotion.

“Yes…” Zayn mumbled, the gray haired witch turning onto her back.

“Maybe,” she whispered and turned again, resting her head on Marcone’s chest. “You two do realise the bed upstairs is bigger and more comfortable…?” the man said again. “My feet don’t dangle there…” “Nobody told you to grow that much…” Zayn groaned, curling up and covering his face with his hair. “If you want us to be upstairs, you’re going to have to carry me…” “Uh, you’re right, bed is better… Is he always this cranky?” Kore asked teasingly, sitting up and starting to untangle her hair. “Or is this a new phase?” “Oh, no, precious… Try waking him up early for an appointment, cranky is an understatement. Alright, my moon, come on…” Marcone said softly, standing up with difficulty and taking Zayn up like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. The dancer hissed and squirmed but a hand on the small of his back prevented him from falling off. “Unhand me! Unhand me, I tell you!! It’s inhumanly early!” “Zayn, my love, it’s barely 7 in the afternoon!” Kore giggled, pinching his cheek. “You’re too moody for such a fun size, you know?” “I-uh… shush…” Zayn spluttered, blushing furiously, crossing his arms as he stopped fighting, hanging from Marcone’s shoulder as they all walked up stairs. Marcone barked a laugh. “I think you and Danae share one feeling when being woken up,” he said, looking at the dog as she followed them, not at all pleased. Kore patted her gently on the head. “But you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” The dog barked softly, wagging her tail at Kore’s compliment as if to say “Yes, I am, you’re right!”. Just then Jawahir circled and landed on Zayn’s butt, making his eep in surprise. “You have no decorum, do you…?” he mumbled as the bird settled there, cooing to Danae softly. Reaching the bedroom, Marcone gently left Zayn on the wooden floor, gracing him with a soft kiss before going in to change. The dancer blushed again, sighed and follow him and Kore, starting to undress. “Just so both of you know, I’m sleeping in the middle tonight, due to all these grievances…” he muttered, tossing his t shirt and jeans in the laundry bin, pulling out and on an oversized tattered shirt, and crawling under the covers, pulling them up to his forehead, like an angry teenager. Kore sighed, shaking her head with a small smile, pulling her silk and lace silver night down, rebraiding her long, soft hair. She looked into the mirror, her bare pretty face looking right back at her, her tattoos contrasting with her skin and her gown in the pale moonlight.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are…?” Marcone said, placing a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder as he passed on his way out of the bathroom, chest bare, plaid flannel trousers on. The woman blushed softly and straightened up, going to the man and kissing a scar on his back. “You say it so prettily I might believe it myself, my handsome knight…” Marcone smiled back at her, and caressed her cheek softly before turning the light off and guiding her to bed, opening the covers for her. Once she was settled he went to his side of the bed, sliding inside it, stretching as he did so. “Are you speaking to us at all…?” Kore said, poking Zayn’s side from under the covers. “Eek! Kore-Sidhe!” Zayn pouted, pulling the covers down. “I’m sorry… I’m just-” “Mad at whoever took your pot. But it wasn’t us, my moon…” Marcone said, laying on his side, propping his head up with a hand, like a roman. “Or was it…?”

Zayn sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be too snarky. Can you please forgive me…?” The other two smiled and hugged him, kissing either side of his face and nodding. “Of course, my darling summer king. I’ll always forgive you if you ask this prettily…” Kore said, nuzzling him gently, a hand playing his with dark locks. Marcone hummed and kissed the dancer’s neck softly. “Marcone… don’t…” the dancer protested. “And why not…? Maybe you could use some… release…?” the man said, his breath hot against the dancer’s tan skin. “Oh, why I hadn’t thought about that…? Maybe you yourself need a bit of a honeying, my love…” Kore purred, snaking a hand under his shirt. “Oi… wait… I…” Zayn mumbled, but then gasped and melted into their touches. “You will have to trade two nights for me, though… Today was my turn,” Marcone growled against Zayn’s stomach. “Fair is fair… Tomorrow we’ll see more about your honey pot, darling…”