UNSCATHED, UNCLAD, UNBOTHERED. Cole walker emerged from the woods with not so much as a story of scratch embroidered on his gleaming skin, scandalously half dressed and unfeeling to anything but slight irritation at the prospect of being late for school. It was almost as if he'd not witnessed his best friend possessed by a shadow demon or chased into the woods by an army of demonic (likely rabid) children. It was almost as if one of his friends hadn't been enchanted and toyed with like a living doll.
"let's do this, again ladies." Cole managed in between sips of his tea, winking at Gola who scoffed and rolled her eyes. "We'll all meet at the Academy on Prom night, We'll carry the plan out then. Beaumont and Prue will be safe."
"I'll keep in touch." Nyx uttered in no more than a whisper, the look in her eyes far away.
Gola soundlessly slipped out of the dinner not anxious to do anything of the sorts anytime soon nor longing to keep in touch with Cole. His natural coy charm reminded her so much her ex best friend it hurt her soul. Furthermore there was something hauntingly unsettling about air around him. It was utterly suffocating with an profuse aura of mystery, of hidden magic.
She'd had enough magic for not only one but possibly two life times.
Magic always comes with a cost and the toll the misplaced time when Gola crossed through the edge of the wood had been her stamina. Upon arriving home she'd all but collapsed onto the couch, not waking until the following morning. Sort of.
"Five more minutes." Gola hoarsely grumbled, pulling her blanket over her disheveled head.
"It's five o'clock in the afternoon and your friends are here." Sylvia stated in a matter of factly tone, snatching the thick woven quilts off of her Step daughter yet once again.
"I don't have any friends. Nobody likes me." she pouted in reply, raising one of her arms to shield incoming rays of remaining sunlight and the other to blindly search for her pillow to place over her head.
"I'd agree if not for the posse of wide eyed hormonal teenage girls tracking mud and leaves all through my newly refurbished lounge." Sylvia smuggly retorted, sashaying out of Gola's room and back down the hall.
Gola waited until the satisfying bang of her heavy door slamming closed and the irksome click of Sylvia's six inch heels faded before sulkily climbing out of bed. "Refurbished!?" she confusingly shouted, half clad, half hanging out of her door.
Only the wind against the window replied. Unsettled Gola wasted no time throwing her extended silk robe over her revealing azure slip and making her way down the grande lengthy hallway into the living room. Upon entering she turned to stone. She opened her mouth to say something but her mouth had gotten so dry she choked on the words.
Sylvia had removed the two antique paintings of ancestors of Smith's that had most likely clung to the houses walls since it was built and replaced them with hideous grey abstract art, replaced the slightly busy creme floral wallpaper and carvings so that now all that stood were plain colorless characterless walls, exchanged the the grande crystal chandelier with bland led lights, the thick tasseled velvet curtains with what looked like sheer white sheets and the stunningly woven persian rugs with polished marble flooring. The only thing that failed to be changed were the white stone columns that were sparsely embroidered in gold.
Gola saw red, her heart sank into her stomach and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" she shrieked, her eyes searching wildly for the mismatched antiques collected by her grandmother.
Waya loved the parlor. It's where she lazed reading poetry with the curtains drawn with green tea and sweets. It's where she danced carefree in her favorite simple linen dresses, painted, sang and slept. it's where she had her first kiss and first kid.
Sylvia flew across the room to grab Gola, digging her lengthy nails deep into her skin as she pulled her down into the hall. "DON'T MAKE A SCENE!" she hissed, glaring at the poorly dressed girl.
Gola snatched her arm back and clenched her fist at her sides. Never had such an overwhelming urge to punch someone in the face. She was having a crisis and all Sylvia was worried about were appearances. "LET THEM HEAR! LET THE WORLD SEE!"
"ENOUGH!" Sylvia hissed like the snake Gola knew her to be.
"What don't want anyone to know that I'm not perfect?" Gola scorned, stepping so that her and sylvia were close enough to kiss, looking eye to eye."Don't want anyone to know your imperfect step daughter has a problem with your ruining her once perfectly fine living room of perfect woman who you'll never be able to live up to, not even in death."
The sound of skin harshly meeting skin bounced off of the hallway walls. Gola raised a hand to cup her cheek realising what had happened when the warm flesh started to sting. Sylvia gazed at her hand in disbelief at what she'd done. Her eyes wide and pretty pink lips slightly parted.
Sylvia knew the truth hurts. Gola felt numb to it all.
"I said enough." Sylvia calmly composed herself, returning to the parlor.
Gola made quick work of getting dressed into a simple cherry hued pleated dress that stopped mid thigh. "Let's go girls." She mumbled, walk-in straight past the crowd of adolescent women lounging in her living room, with her head down. She couldn't let them see she was so filled with anger that tears threatened explode from the damns in her eyes. She couldn't let them see her weak.
Yona noticed immediately and took her younger sisters hand into hers. Whispering contorting nothings in her ear. It wasn't until they'd arrived downtown that she'd regained a tiny bit of courage to look up at the girls that had accompanied her. Katherine, Clara, America, Nicola, Surprisingly Nyx but Not as shocking as Yvonne.
She immediately squinted her eyes at Yvonne who only smiled back through those one of a kind sparkling emerald eyes.
