Sparkling Ivy

15

Abigale shook off her chiton, but it didn't stop the sopping wet fabric  from clinging to her legs. Jason's eyes were fixed on her as he helped her up. 

"This doesn't mean anything," Abigale spat, wrenching her hand away. The man snorted.

"I know. This is a favour."

The witch crossed her arms, eyes blazing with fire. She still couldn't believe her day of gathering was inexplicably ruined by this numpty. As per usual. 

Jason's gaze fell heavy on her and he was near enough that she could hear the lilt in his breath, see the tremor in his arms. He tilted his head slightly and chuckled, "I sometimes forget how human you are."

Abigale shuddered. "Just tell me your shitty lie so we can get this over with."

Jason blinked. "You really don't understand why I'm here, do you? For a smart woman you have certainly lost any capability of rational."

Fucking hell I'm going to melt his face off with poison one day. The witch toed the ground and jabbed a finger to his chest. "I do, Jason." He smiled and rolled his eyes as she took a few steps away. "I know Bruce sent you. I don't have any notion of how you managed to sneak and follow, but you did and you did it for Bruce."

A pregnant pause. 

The stream gurgled softly, the wind tousled Abi's hair. A familiar weight was laid on her chest as she stared into the man's cerulean irises, saw the whispers of memory residing there still. Remembered how once that had echoed in her own before she understood. 

Jason rubbed his neck. "Yes."

Abigale sniggered gently and the weight disappeared. "Okay. Well Jason, talk. That's what you wanted before, so do it." 

"Abi you don't need to be....Let's just talk. Maybe you'll be surprised."

"I doubt it," the witch snarled heart hammering. "Not like this."

The man cleared his throat and gingerly took a few steps, hand reaching out for hers once more. Abi shook her head and marched forward, paces somehow longer than his. Her feet slipped against the foliage, the pungent earthy scent rising in warm waves. Somehow even in the depths of summer the forest managed to trap the luscious moisture of the past winter. Jason scuttled after her as Abigale came to a felled mushroom-sprouting and moss-covered tree. 

She plonked herself down without a word, arms wrapped tightly across her knees. Jason mirrored her and heaved a tired sigh.  Another drawn-out silence. Fucking coward. Abi leaned her chin on her scrunched fists. 

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're so careless with this shit. More than you used to be."

Never thought you would care. Abi straightened, chin lifted. She did not answer. Her silence was enough. Jason twisted his lips. "I guess you don't have someone to remind you, huh?"

His eyes met hers all too sincerely. Abi felt her stomach flip grudgingly like it had all those times before. Her voice wavered as she replied, "I've never had that."

For a moment his hand had inched toward her. But the moment passed. He drew back, darkness falling over his features like it had in her cottage . When he had helped expose her. 

"You know you look guilty, Abigale," Jason grunted, gesturing to her sodden clothes and leaf-addled curls. Abi laughed. 

"Of course I do."

"You know you're guilty." Jason leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "We know you're guilty."

"We?" Abi snorted and rolled her eyes. "You and I? Or you and your cronies?"

Jason's head fell a little and his jaw clenched. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I managed to follow you out here...and I could turn you in."

"Oh?" Abigale drew out any fear from her voice like a butterfly drinking nectar and buried the storm of panic down, down, down. "Will you?"

Jason flinched so suddenly his strawberry-gold locks bounced against his brow. "Well, I could-"

The witch yawned and rose to her feet, a thrill running down her back. She was in the midst of a moment so completely inherent of human nature. 

A wise man would listen, strategise. They would sit and hear the proposal, the deal, then weigh the consequences. Best solution would be won through careful consideration and crafty counsel. 

A fool would attack, driven mad with fear. They might succeed and yet plant themselves in a greater mess than before. 

Abigale did not consider herself a wise man, nor a fool. Those were options for only the reputable, the respected;  she was certainly neither. Luckily there was a third option few philosophers knew of. 

"You seem to be torn Jason." She wiped down her skirts and tightened the straps of her sandals. Jason stared at her, mouth open. "If I am guilty, let me be guilty. Let all guilty be guilty." 

Her pale skin was spilled with pink as that weight began to lower upon her once more. For a split second she felt gentle fingers rake through her curls, brush her chin as she shared in a raw laugh. For all the things you are...

Abigale grinned and curtsied. "Call for me when you have decided what you want."

Without another lick of hesitation the girl broke out into a fierce run. Jason let out a furious roar as she sprang toward the stream, coral hair snagging on hanging twigs. Run bitch. Run.

Her arms flailed for balance as she skid roughly into the cool waters, knees scraping on stone. 

"ABIGALE! WAIT!"

There was her answer. So he needs something. 

The witch scrambled forward, almost blind in the rush of warped reason. Her hands attempted to push herself up, but her feet were still unsteady, so she slipped forward, body once again falling on the stray gravel in the stream. "Fuck it!"

Abigale floundered and took to crawling, teeth grit with determination even as the rage of Jason threatened. Her hands pulled herself forward, arms tensed with strength. Water splashed up and drenched her hair, filled her mouth. Reeds snagged her chiton and scratched her skin and the repetitive rhythm of her body against the waters was all she could hear.

She wasn't sure if the man was still following her; Abigale didn't allow herself to care. Yet still she felt those hands brushing against her as she wondered why it didn't feel like it should have. Felt the poisoning guilt as she didn't return a brush of the lips, as she made another excuse for escaping the arms. 

And then she heard the voice. This is love, Abi. Isn't it? 

And she heard her own cold-hearted answer. No. 

Abigale was no wise man - she did not listen. She was no fool - she did not strike first. She was a witch, a sorceress. A sorceress would weave. So Abigale took her wool and began.