Sooted Fingertips (Agatha/Agnes)

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Request: I am very excited for Coven of Chaos. I fell hard for Agatha the first time, her hands are magic. If your requests are open I would like to request an angst. Powerful Witch without training R who wakes up Agatha/Agnes from Westiview because R wants Agatha teach her magic and Agatha is interested because R is powerful

The world was a big, difficult, complicated place. Everyone wants a magical solution, but they burned the witches into secrecy. Now it was nigh impossible to find a coven without already having one. That meant you were even more screwed without guidance. Oh, yeah, you were magic. A witch, to be specific, but that was a title you gave yourself. Bursting with pitch black ink spilling from your hands and painting the world with your will, you were terrified. There was a reason for the saying "be careful what you wish for". Instant gratification was wrong and it never worked out quite right. So you ran away. You got your dream of traveling the country, maybe even the world eventually, but it wasn't how you wanted. You had to keep moving because you broke things when you got upset, because people became things, and because everyone could track it all back to you when you got upset.

You felt like an idiot when it occurred to you. Watching a rerun of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, you gaped at the black cat, Salem. If anywhere had the resources you needed, it was old Salem, Massachusetts. From your position on a motel bed, you vanished in an explosion of obsidian energy. The bowl of cereal you had been eating out of fell to the linen which had irritated your skin.

You were in the woods, in your pajamas, three states away from that motel room. Your jaw dropped in exasperation. "You've got to be shitting me!" you shouted up to the stars. You had no way of knowing which way was out and not deeper, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't pop right back into the motel room. Maybe it was nerves from the impossible happening again. Or maybe it was the freezing air brushing your state of undress and the hard, pokey ground beneath your bare feet. In any event, you couldn't focus, not that you knew what triggered the episodes anyway. You spun in a circle to see if that would help you get your bearings. Behind you stood a post on a platform. It was possible it used to be a towering structure, but it just looked like a pyre now. A trick of the light illuded you into seeing wisps of blue and purple energy floating through the air. You marched in a direction, paying it no mind. You were done with weird.

You walked for a day and a half. You must've looked a fright, as you felt afraid. The longer you were out there, the more unhinged you became and the less likely you were to help yourself.

Luckily, you stumbled on a young couple more startled to see you than you were to see them. Well, you were still in a nightgown. They both kept their distance as if your state meant you were a murderer, not a victim. You weren't either, and you were relieved when the woman started using her brain. "Do you need help?" she asked.

You looked down at yourself, feeling sarcastic but you held it back. "I could use some clothes. And a finger in the direction of a road."

The woman was a little taller than you so you had to roll up the pant-legs and sleeves of the clothes she had lent you, but you didn't look terrible. They offered to drive you into town, confirmed it was Salem, and you accepted. You did a lot by accident, on little emotions. If they tried anything or got in an accident, you knew you would be fine. But as you got close to town, their voices lowered and the radio volume rose. You didn't know how - a reoccurring feeling - but you still heard them. They weren't bad people, as you'd expected, but they really wanted you to go to the hospital.

Once the trees became buildings, you reached one hand to your seat belt buckle and the other to the door. But it must've been child-locked. You'd seen no sign of a child and still hadn't, and the car was insanely clean. No way did they have kids in this car ever. You looked at the other side's door, but felt eyes on you. In the rear-view mirror, the man was smiling sympathetically, pityingly, back at you. It made your blood boil and you suddenly wish you were outside so you wouldn't-

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