𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 || tbob

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

Bee Sommers held up the black and gold tarot card. It showed two skeletons, their arms wrapped around each other, skulls pressed together in a loving embrace. The words 'The Lovers' were printed at the bottom in some vintage font. She smirked at the half elf she handed the card to. 

"The Lovers," Bee murmured. "Upright. Means love, harmony." She leaned forward to place a kiss on Tera Brewer's bare neck and whispered against her pale skin. "Alignment of values."

"I don't need a card to tell us we're going to be OK," Tera giggled, placing the card back in it's spot in the spread on the table. Bee felt Tera's slim fingers sliding up her sweater, wrapping around her bare rib cage. Tera's nails ever so slightly pressed into her flesh, sending a shudder down her spine.

"I love you," Bee told her, wrapping her arms around Tera's waist to pull her up onto her hips. "God, you're fucking perfect."

Tera smiled down at her, her blond hair falling from her braid and framing her face. Her fingers brushed Bee's dyed hair from eyes. The bed wasn't a far walk from Bee's altar; Bee carried Tera, mouthing along her collarbone as she moved. The two fell onto the bed together and Bee lifted her gaze to Tera's eyes.

"Purple," she said, as she had many times before when looking at Tera's eyes. "For psychic power, divination, intuition."

"So you've said."

"We're made for each other." A joyous laugh creeped into Bee's voice. "No one can say otherwise, we are meant for each other, Wisteria Brewer."

- - -

Being an oracle wasn't an easy feat. Beatrice Sommers knew that when she chose to train for it. She also knew she was a strong oracle, stronger than the normal. Sometimes it was  a blessing, sometimes a curse. 

She had to put this particular dream in the latter category.

Bee was no stranger to having prophetic dreams, she was used to bolting up in bed, drenched in sweat. She was used to looking around the room, her eyes landing on the alarm clock showing some ungodly hour of the morning. She was not used to the feeling of terror, however. An unrest, sure, but rarely was she terrified. 

And by god, was she terrified at 5 AM on March 22nd.

She looked over at Tera, who was still peacefully sleeping. After four years, she had gotten used to Bee being restless and slept through it. Good, Bee thought. She gently crawled out of the covers, padding silently across the room to pick up her duffle bag. Quietly as possible, she pulled open the closet door to shove a few t-shirts, jeans, and sweaters into the bag which she then slung onto her back after dressing in sweat pants and a hoodie. She turned back to the bed; after a moment's hesitation, she walked up to Tera's side of the bed and adjusted the covers over her bare chest. She placed a soft kiss to her temple before turning her back and leaving the bedroom, shoving her phone into her hoodie pocket as she closed the bedroom door. She didn't stop to leave a note before stepping into the cold March air, locking the front door of their apartment. 

She had to stop the prophecy. There simply wasn't another option. It could not happen.