Witches Aren't Supposed to be Flowery

Chapter 1: In loving memory of blurry ink lines

TW// mentions of blood, graphic depictions of coughing/choking, implications of slight depression and anxiety, language

Just a note: I am not fourteen anymore, and I don't remember how advanced my thoughts were back then, so these guys might seem just a teeny bit older

Also the title is based off of the line Eda says at the beginning of "Covention" when she's bashing the "flowery language" of Luz's Azura book.

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Amity woke up in the middle of the night with a sore throat.

She had spent the day before at the Owl House with Luz, Willow, and Gus, and she immediately assumed that she had just overused her voice. She longed to get up and go get a glass of water to soothe the scratch, but she glanced at her cast and decided it would be too much work.

She tried to roll over and fall back asleep, but her throat hurt so much that it seemed impossible. After a few hours of lying on her bed restlessly, Amity finally turned to her last resort and decided to get some water from her bathroom. She slowly moved to climb out of her covers, moving towards the door (the healing magic had sped up the process, so she didn't need her crutches anymore after a few weeks). When she got to the bathroom, she closed the door and switched on the light with a wave of her finger.

She was about to grab a small paper cup to fill up in the sink, but before she had the chance, her throat tingled, causing her to begin coughing. There must've been something stuck in her throat because her coughs lasted for a minute or so, and she couldn't seem to breathe properly for most of it.

When whatever was stuck had finally been coughed up into her mouth (presumably some gross sick germs), she leaned over the sink to spit it out. However, as Amity looked into the sink to wash down the mucus, she realized that it didn't look right. She moved closer to inspect what was in the sink, which was as disgusting as it sounds, and she saw that it wasn't really spit at all.

It was...what was it? It looked like...

But that didn't make any sense. That couldn't have come from inside of her.

Yet right there before her very eyes was a flower petal. It was small and blue, and it was nothing like any flower Amity had seen before. Flowers on the Boiling Isles that weren't scary or poisonous were a very rare thing. Not to mention, this petal had been in her body.

Needless to say, Amity was confused and very concerned about the whole situation. She racked her brain for possible explanations to this craziness. She did think of one eventually, and it sent chills down her spine.

That couldn't be happening to her, right? She was a Blight. She was strong and independent and fierce.

Or at least she was supposed to be.

But she couldn't think of any other reason why she would have coughed up a flower petal. She had only heard of such a thing one other time in Boiling Isles history. There was a book at the library that had peaked her interest several years ago. It was in the romance section, which she would never admit was her favorite genre, but when she went to check it out, it wasn't in the system. The librarian surprisingly offered to let her keep it, so she took it back to her fort, read through it in a day, and found a new home for it on a shelf there.

Only now was she remembering the words at the beginning: "Based on a true story."

Amity couldn't quite remember what the book had called it or most of the little details, but she did know the main scope. It was some kind of disease in which the affected coughed up flowers that grew in their lungs due to unrequited love—and Amity hated to admit it, but she knew exactly what feelings the disease would be affecting her for.