The School for Good and Evil: A Fanfiction

all that is gold does not glitter

She gasps, sitting up straight, clenching the thin bedsheets between her fingers. She glances down at her hands, pale white, almost ghostly. She looks around her small room. It's cast in dim light, the sun just barely peeking above the horizon. She presses her hands into her eyes, remaining unmoving for a while, just listening to the sound of her heart thumping rhythmically. So many thoughts are running through her mind, yet all are too fleeting to ponder.

She lets out a breathy sigh. Agatha shifts to look at her the shelf next to her bed. Her teddy bear, Anthony, stares back at her with black eyes devoid of any emotion. The rising sun filters through the curtains, revealing the layer of dust nestled in his tattered brown fur. She leans forwards as if to grab him, but stops herself. She is old enough now not to need childish toys to bring her comfort or reassurance. 

Agatha shakes her head, pulling herself out of bed. She shoves down the heavy feeling in her chest, the one that tugs at her every time she reminisces. Somehow it feels like an anvil was shoved down her throat, even though she's trying to suppress the feelings from bursting.

Agatha pulls aside the curtains, letting the morning sunlight touch her skin properly. Small stone pillars jut out in neat rows, the long grass looking much livelier than it did many years ago, though the weeds she used to frolic in still wave proudly in the summer wind. The graveyard looks less insolent than it did. It now feels more sombre, a place to remember and mourn the dead should be, rather than a place so eerie even children on Halloween avoid. The flowers Agatha helped her mother plant probably help. The small bunches of poppies and daisies act like the few visible stars dotted in a gloomy night sky.

It's time to start the day, Agatha thinks to herself.

She hears a cross between a meow and a hiss seep under her closed door. Claws softly scratching on wood. 

Agatha let the ends of her lips raise, briefly. 

It's time to begin the day. And to feed Reaper.

. ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 ˎˊ-

"Darling, you look horrible!" 

"Thanks for being so honest," Agatha grumbles. "And this is always how I look in the morning!"  

"If you looked this bad every morning, I would tell you," Sophie says, giving Agatha a pointed look. "I'm not that bad of a friend, am I?"

Sophie is dressed in soft pink, with tiny, intricate white frills on the collar and sleeves of her frock. She walks with a bounce, Agatha slouching alongside her. They are walking through the market, conversing in low voices. People bustle around them, immersed in the sound of vendors shouting out deals. They pass by a woman selling bundles of flowers, varying colours of tulips, lilies, daffodils, and—

"Ooh, roses!" Sophie gasps. She links arms with Agatha, pulling the girl stumbling backwards. "Should I get some for my father?" Recently, Sophie and her father's relationship improved, both of them trying to spend more quality time with each other and make up for the time lost when they were both too bitter. 

"You could get some for Honora, too," Agatha suggests.

Stefan and Honora married not long after Sophie and Agatha returned to Gavaldon. Sophie still doesn't like Honora and her two children, but she's trying her best to get along with them for her father's sake. Albeit, Sophie could be a bit brash with her words, remarks roll off Sophie's tongue with ease. However, unlike Agatha who uses wit as a reflex, Sophie knows the right moment to strike, strategic even when flaunting her 'fabulousness'.