❛Are you real?❜
❛What do you mean?❜
❛I don't know. I just feel like maybe I made you up in my head and you've been haunting me for the last five years. Which would really suck.❜
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𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, Fable gets a...
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╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
With Madison's bare legs laying upon her own, Fable stared blankly at the fireplace, the orange flames crackling as they mixed with the sound of the piano Myrtle was playing. The coven of witches sat, waiting anxiously for their Supreme to die. "How about something less doleful, Myrtle?" Cordelia suggested, turning her head up towards the redhead briefly. "It's Schubert's last sonata. It's all about acceptance of death." Myrtle explains but nobody really cared to listen. "This is so incredibly stressful and weird," Zoe says, glancing around at her sister witches who barely glanced up before settling her eyes on Misty who sat in an uncomfortable position in one of the chairs.
"You don't feel anything?" She asks Misty, causing Madison and Fable to snap their eyes away from whatever they had been staring at. "My stomach feels like a storm's about to hit, but it's probably just my nerves." She notes, turning her body so her back was to the chair and placing her bare feet on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. Looking at Madison, she admits, "I'm not exactly what you call a natural-born leader." Madison smiles softly, turning her head back to her phone which she held in the air in front of her face, glancing at a solemn-looking Fable beside her. Nudging the brunette's leg with hers, she brings Fable's attention from the fire once more as Madison rose a brow, a silent question between them, "are you okay?", Fable just sighed and shrugged.
"Neither was King George, but one rises to the occasion." Myrtle croaked out. "Your feet should be getting warmer," Cordelia tells, causing Misty to untuck her feet from under her and replace them back on the edge of the coffee table to examine them. "I'm told it starts as a tingle in the cooch." Fable cast the redhead a weird look before sharing the same look with Madison. "For me, it started with as a classic migraine." A new voice entered the room causing everyone to freeze in their spots. "Auras, nausea, pain behind the eyes." Fiona listed as she stepped forward, closer to Myrtle as she popped out a joint from one of her hidden holders around the academy.
"You know, Myrtle, Schubert was emotional, not mawkish." Staring at the joint between her wrinkled fingers, it quickly lit, before she placed it between her coral-colored lips. With her hand pressed comfortably on the back of her, unbelievably tense, daughter's chair, she spoke. "So where..." she tilted her head to the ceiling, blowing out the long puff of smoke from her lungs. Fable couldn't bring herself to look away from the woman, who they'd partly manipulated into committing suicide which obviously didn't stick.
