|m A G I C ( Something Still To Struggle With ) &even With Modern Wicca Weaved Into Every Fiberof Being

ϟ | m a g i c (  something still to struggle with  ) &  even with modern wicca weaved into every fiber  of being & breath - still, the literal hocus pocus of the matter drove stomach into knots. not for fear nor judgement. but for the simple fact that family could be taken from heart.    perhaps it is for fear, just not the type you would consider. a quiet nod.              “ i wish you’d come to me sooner ---- “  up, step up three& kneeling with broken in denim & curious caring hands.        cupping cheek - chin.  thumb aiding in brief examination of tired grassy& natural meadows    - ones far more wise than the  churning dark seas of his own.  a breath, thought.                              “ i won’t tell delia                                                   but you should ---           ( beat, two )     tell me every symptom.                                   spare no detail - i’ll do my best. “ 

Of course it couldn’t be that easy. She ought to know better, really. Does know better, because… Beckett Braddock is a good man, maybe the best man she has ever known, and thank God he’s married to her daughter. 

“I don’t—want to worry her.” Until it’s time to worry her. “Just… keep this between us for a little while, until we both have a better handle on it. I haven’t been feeling well for… I don’t know, a few months.” Liar. She knows all too well exactly how long it’s been. Longer than she wished to let on. Getting her mouth around the words is harder than she expected; she breathes out, swallows hard and tries again. “I think it’s tied to my magic, my… my title. My successor, the next Supreme, will eventually siphon away my power and my vitality. I have to… pass on for her to come into her own. I didn’t think it would happen so soon, and I don’t—I don’t know if that’s what’s really happening or if I’m… if something else is wrong. I’ve been all over—doctors in New York, and Paris, and London, and here in town. None of them can come to any final conclusion other than… there’s nothing to be done. You were my last resort, so… here I am.”

@wearscmethingblack | feels time. 

miss goode,      .....   this is doctor angello from   ucla medical.         your daughter has unfortunately been in         an accident.    -- if you could get here as         soon as possible ..... 

✣ | pills & potions  --- & poisonous need for attention.  liquor is quicker than a shot to the head when comes  to bad choices &h a z e d decisions // how much had she taken? how long had been between each?shots & then to a bottle of ( something ) -- an exp lo sion of  colors & noise &  LOUD  moments before numbness.  skin fair is slashed sporadically from thick cut glass  & a fainting fall in the total wrong direction. standing, fa - lling, crashing through & collapsing. flashing lights   & darkness. just BLACK   & cold & too calm for comfort. was this what it felt like-d e a t h  ( how disappointing ) hospitals were always cold & she can’t even complain. 

◙ | a long silence, a steady tick & tock of a watch, a clock.  of time slowing sinking away.  & reaching, touching, light. the brush of thumb a ghost of a gesture.   a deep sighing.                 “ & i apologize for being --- ( you know )                                              alana, i just wanted to see you. be                                              here for you. --      & selfishly, i was                                              alone &   wanting of your company. “

“Don’t insult me in some mockery of normalcy. We don’t have that anymore. We did, once, but I can’t keep up. Don’t bother with the pretense, Freddie. I think we’re more than coy flirtation by now.” Begrudgingly. Would that the normalcy could be there. Would that it was just that shallow. Lean back. (She thinks about dipping a finger into the absurdly hot concoction. Thinks about the burn. Endorphins. Silences the desire.) “You don’t have to– affect some airs. It’s not necessary,” a breath. Hand twitch, “I apologize. For bristling.”

◙ | gentle nods, the slight recoil was expected - though in honesty  the intensity was predicted to reach a much higher level.  this was  more acceptable, more appreciated.     holding alana was the first  action of freddie’s year & touching, comforting. kissing. a bliss akin  to no other combination, sensation. &brief, but so very memorable. soft tone. whispering for no one,  for no apparent reasoning. quiet.                  “ okay ---    ( there isn’t &                                             will not be an apology )                     i wasn’t followed. ----- ( simple hair brush )                     can you get out?      my car is at the back. “

Sudden touch at her wrist and her heart stops for the quickest second (it feels like having her ankle tugged and it feels like that tremulous trip up the stairs and bruised knees and–) but she finds herself instinctively turned, shifted moved– Kissed. She doesn’t ask for how her nails wander up into tresses and lightly rake through, find purchase there to a moment that’s accidental. There’s a sharp, threaded tremble. She shoulders Freddie at the chest sharp, feigns a duck in to press against. Feigns. Surely. Before a partially turned head exposes an eye, cheek rested, “I have to go. Chilton’s here. I didn’t know.” It’s not like Alana Bloom to flee from a fight. It is like her to run from what’s going to be a humiliating degradation of her career.

✣ |                “ oh don’t be dramatic --- “ slide that milk glass on over.  & mimicking sort of fidget. a seemingly  genetic  gesture.         “ ivy tells me you’re thinking about                taking her to paris for the summer -- “

“—What did I do this time?” 

It’s only a half-joke; Fiona still walks on eggshells, even after all these years and all the progress they’ve made. Hands twist atop the kitchen table, a telltale nervous habit.