painted in the stars ; cordelia goode

↬ chapter nine: a painting of a barn on fire

The drive to the house was silent but far from uncomfortable. Cordelia held your hand over the middle dashboard, padding her thumb over your hand.

You opted to look out the window, watching as the trees and the houses buzzed past you, eyes training on the walking families.

Soon enough, Cordelia drove the both of you out of the city and into the quiet homestead, trading the brick and concrete high rises for the gentle giants of the forest.

Cordelia tapped the steering wheel with her free thumb, biting the inside of her cheek as she eyed you occasionally, "How're you holding up?" She turned her head to look at you, who was still looking out the window.

You whip your head to look at her, giving her an apologetic smile,"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be feeling."

Cordelia nodded her head slowly, "That's okay, there really isn't an emotional handguide to tell you how to feel in moments like these. Whatever happens, I'll be here okay?"

You squeeze her hand gently, murmuring a soft 'thank you' before returning your attention to the landscape whizzing by. The inner turmoil within your stomach worsened as Cordelia drove closer to the house.

Your knees became shaky as she parked in the driveway. You've gone all these years without a word from your father, and through a stroke of bittersweet luck, here you stand in front of his estate looking up at the windows that littered the stone house. Cordelia's gentle touch brought you out of your trance, her warm hand enveloping yours, giving you the softest and reassuring squeeze.

You sighed and held onto Cordelia as the two of you walked hand in hand towards the door. Cordelia looked at you and took charge, and gently jostled the knocker.

Muffled chatter can be heard from the other side of the door, Zelda's familiar raspy nagging voice.

The door opens to reveal Zelda in a skin tight black dress, hugging her curves that she proudly flaunted even at the prime age of 50. She had a cup of wine in her left hand, a lit cigarette expertly nestled in between her fingers. She took a sip before she spoke anything to the both of you.

Zelda pursed her lips as she stared at your conjoined hands with Cordelia, to which you promptly let go of her hand, however Cordelia didn't fail to notice . "Oh Y/N, you've brought... a friend."

You cleared your throat before embracing your mother awkwardly, "Good morning Mother."

Zelda took another sip, "Yes, Good Morning." She stepped aside, letting the two of you enter your father's house.

Cordelia eyes the paintings strewn across the entryway as the both of you inched towards the living room, where quiet mumblings can be heard.

You silently pondered who else was here, seeing your father.

Aunt Bertha

Uncle Jones

As you rounded the corner, all the babbling came to a stand still as they stared at you and Cordelia. You eyed everyone in the small living room, trying so hard to desperately pinpoint the names of these people. Until you realized you couldn't.

You knew these people were your family, but these were faces of people you never met in your life. In the distant corner of the room, you spotted an elderly couple whispering to themselves, only shutting up when they noticing your unwavering gaze upon them.

The awkwardness only lasted long until a small frail woman came marching back in, wringing her hands dry. She spotted you the minute she looked away from her hands. A small soft smile painted her face as she approached you.