#warrewell

Though it had been a few decades since she had left Sicily and Italy, instinct still had Lilia speaking Sicilian or Italian first before remembering that most of the people around her only spoke their native French. She had picked it up quickly, but she didn't like it. Shouting insults in her own native tongue of Sicilian at the woman who had decided she was a 'gitane' and worthy of being spat on, she had turned to find a girl looking at her with what could only be described as dumb shock.

Reading a little of her from afar, Lilia had felt herself drawn closer, her Sight guiding her steps.

"Erm, well, honestly I usually avoid Lilia because of what she Sees, and my aunties are not afraid to use that to their advantage, trust me," Sabrina told the other girl. She had been leaving Lilia's shop, having found the woman oddly absent (and was she really going to mind that Sabrina had done a slight breaking and entering to check?), when she'd found herself face to face with another teenage witch looking for Lilia too.

"But the problem I have kinda needs her Sight, so I thought I'd take the risk of her ratting me out. But uh," Sabrina looked around the empty shop. "Apparently she isn't here. Who knew she had an actual life, right?" she half-joked, trying to break what she hoped was imagined tension.

"If you two stay any longer, I'm going to have to start charging you again," Lilia quipped, only half joking.

"From your tone I can't tell whether that's supposed to be a compliment or an insult," Lilia admitted freely, looking at the other with a frown.

"Are you thanking me or blaming me?"

Lilia let out a short, sharp, bark of a laugh.

Lilia blinked in confusion, frowning as Vivienne pushed past her through the opened door, arms filled with what looked like ingredients.

"What are you doing?" she asked in utter bewilderment, watching as the young girl carried on her path, unstoppable until she reached the kitchen counter and was able to dump all her items on the side. Lilia got the sense she had been seconds away from dropping something.

Walking over, Lilia's eyes glanced over the contents of the packets and boxes; semolina, yeast, sugar, broccoli, black olives, tomatoes--

"You came here to make scacciata?"

Demons. Why did Warren witches attract them like god damn flies to honey? And it was never the ones that were out for just mischief or the ones who answered questions; it was always the power hungry murderous ones.

After having missed with several daggers, the determined ass had conjured a fireball.

"Oh, great, fire!" Lilia cried out in exasperation, seeing it hit the curtain and quickly set ablaze. Distracted by the destruction, she didn't see the second attack coming from behind her.

Vivienne got there first.

"No!" Lilia cried out, the scream guttural as she hurried over to the girl. "Why did you do that?"

Scully had always loved Christmas. When she was younger she had loved coming downstairs in the middle of the night with Melissa and shaking all the presents to guess what was inside, and once she'd finally gotten a place of her own she'd loved having the freedom of keeping her tree up past Christmas Day, of celebrating as long as she wanted to. The one defiance against her father's habits.

She'd had bad Christmases since then, ones filled with loss, but still, even now, the sparkle wasn't dulled. She still got excited.

"None of these seem like the right tree," she said to Vivi as they looked around the farm, her gloved hands trailing over a branch or two. "I can't say I know what it is I'm looking for, but this isn't it," she concluded, coming to a stop as she looked around. "Maybe we should all go back to the farm before this one..." she half suggested.