I'm finally enough.

If only He does, then where does your certainty come from? I came to this world from a prayer for a miracle. You came of a man and a woman, Kitty, and you preach violence and hatred. All I did was ask two questions, and you’d fight me for them.

When a man’s ways please the Lord, He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him [Proverbs 16:7].

Your birth is more holy, but you’ve done nothing for the upkeep. Then it’s the opposite. I came from the earth and I’ll ascend to Heaven. I won’t fall for your lies, you fake angel.

And what is the greatness of this school, Kitty? Where is your strength?

If you want to see strength so bad, come fight me! 

Contrary to common belief, my entire life isn’t always displayed on social media. Unlike some, I’ve learned I can do things without asserting myself to anyone who will listen. It’s hardly disappearing.

You’d think after all these years calling me sister, you’d come to expect me. This is hardly the first time I’ve disagreed with you, Kitty: LGBT+ representation within Witch communities, collaring shapeshifters, among other things. You usually cave, or stop responding. Feeling a little braver with your new alliance to the Corcorans?

Asserting is better than resting on your laurels, don’t you think sis? 

I did come to expect you. Then I stopped. I didn’t cave. I gave you your space to talk because I’m a good, supportive member of the family. I don’t squash down what my sister says just because I don’t see eye-to-eye with it. But you never saw eye-to-eye with me. You looked down on me. Like your father did to my papa. And now my papa is the leader. And now, me.

[Josh peeked over her shoulder. Kitty chuckled nervously and deleted it from her phone. God, what was happening tonight? Her heartbeat was picking up faster from each reply. But she just couldn’t. Stop.]

This sounds like the exact deflecting sort of conversation you create when you’re actually interested, Wilde. 

But that can’t be right, can it? You wouldn’t join something like Midnight Madness since it’s a tournament of violence, no? 

Midnight Madness, famous for the to-be-confirmed rumours of Cooper Jonathan Anderson winning it and being crown as king, it’s one of the sauciest NYADA traditions who are still on going dating 1900.   

This is culture. 

Well, there won’t be a king or a queen this year. The new Dean doesn’t play around. He’s not a bloodline, but he could be an honorary one. Real recognizes real.

You know, there are much more effective ways to undermine a secret yet time-honored tradition like Midnight Madness without blustering about it on the dash. One could almost think you’re trying to justify why you wouldn’t participate, over actually disliking the event. Afraid you wouldn’t actually be top witch, if put to the test?

[Kitty didn’t believe her eyes when she saw Sister Quinn’s reply. From the grave of silence, She arose. Josh, sitting next to her in his foyer gloated with that same ugly smile Kitty freaking hated. 

“I told you she doesn’t care about you, Wildecat,” he practically purred with smugness. Kitty angled herself away from him and made herself smaller. Something inside her felt like it broke.]

My, my. Sister Fabray. I didn’t expect you. I didn’t expect you to reply at all. Here I thought the only windbag bloodline is the one who pretends not to be one after cashing in all the checks. I’m not afraid of anything. I’m the one who doesn’t run away and disappear, sis.