Themis wasn’t certain if her intuition was what she wanted to trust this evening. She wanted facts and case studies and maybe a few annotated notes. This was terrifying. Her hands smoothed the fabric of her nightgown reflexively, her hands locking at her side as soon as she recognized the gesture.
Themis relaxed slightly when it was confirmed that the sweets weren’t part of the ritual. She didn’t know why, but not being forced into an action felt almost like agency. She could at least pretend, and she did as she popped the candy into her mouth. At least it had been her choice.
She reached for their hair now twisted together and held tight, her eyes so sharply focused on the other witch, the gaze may burn. She looked for a lie, some indication that the woman lied, but found none. She would take that comfort and wager her safety on it; she had no other choice she could see. Morrigan Crowley, whatever the rumors might say, was her only link to the puzzle of Samuel now. She would not forsake that link, no matter the cost. Perhaps one day, she may slow down long enough to consider that. All that was left to say was, “Thank you. I am trusting your guidance.”
She watched closely, looking for the patterns as she did in Alchemy, doing her best to memorize the ritual but finding little reason to the movement. Professor Crowley seemed to move at a pace that was her own, the ritual complete and comprehensible to her alone. Themis tried not to resent that.
Yearning, she smirked, the gesture almost remorseful. If only that word didn’t make her ache, didn’t send her heart and head scattering in all directions. She sought answers; knowledge. So what if Samuel stood behind each of those answers? She could picture him, his lopsided grin making him appear younger, mischievous at best. She wanted that grin back, wanted the man that wore it safe and sound in her arms again. All things she could never voice to Crowley. It didn’t matter, she decided as she took a deep breath. She could do this. It was as simple as sleeping.
Keeping her eyes forward, she nearly cursed when she felt the change in the room, magic and gravity seeming to shift and her head feeling like it may split at her forehead. Before she could question, her eyes went dark.
She didn’t know how long she walked, time seeming to dance in and out around her. Themis stopped. Her surroundings hadn’t changed, but she had traveled, she knew this somehow. She stood waiting, for what she didn’t know, but after a time she tested her voice. “Morrigan?” Her waking self would have been shocked to use the other woman’s given name, but it came easily in this world. Perhaps this was what she had meant about truth being apparent. Here, they were simply themselves.
Themis relaxed slightly when it was confirmed that the sweets weren’t part of the ritual. She didn’t know why, but not being forced into an action felt almost like agency. She could at least pretend, and she did as she popped the candy into her mouth. At least it had been her choice.
She reached for their hair now twisted together and held tight, her eyes so sharply focused on the other witch, the gaze may burn. She looked for a lie, some indication that the woman lied, but found none. She would take that comfort and wager her safety on it; she had no other choice she could see. Morrigan Crowley, whatever the rumors might say, was her only link to the puzzle of Samuel now. She would not forsake that link, no matter the cost. Perhaps one day, she may slow down long enough to consider that. All that was left to say was, “Thank you. I am trusting your guidance.”
She watched closely, looking for the patterns as she did in Alchemy, doing her best to memorize the ritual but finding little reason to the movement. Professor Crowley seemed to move at a pace that was her own, the ritual complete and comprehensible to her alone. Themis tried not to resent that.
Yearning, she smirked, the gesture almost remorseful. If only that word didn’t make her ache, didn’t send her heart and head scattering in all directions. She sought answers; knowledge. So what if Samuel stood behind each of those answers? She could picture him, his lopsided grin making him appear younger, mischievous at best. She wanted that grin back, wanted the man that wore it safe and sound in her arms again. All things she could never voice to Crowley. It didn’t matter, she decided as she took a deep breath. She could do this. It was as simple as sleeping.
Keeping her eyes forward, she nearly cursed when she felt the change in the room, magic and gravity seeming to shift and her head feeling like it may split at her forehead. Before she could question, her eyes went dark.
----
She woke to nothing but fog, the air thicker than a London dock in the evening. She was nude, but the discovery didn’t alarm her as it should. Her braid was gone, her hair falling around her unbound, another oddity outside of her own chambers. As soon as she remembered her nightgown, she was wearing the red garment again, the ease of change startling. There was nothing else on her person, her wand back with her body. What a thought. She was here, feeling fully formed yet somehow lacking. It was eerie, but intriguing. It wasn’t ten seconds before she was assembling a list of questions for her host. In all directions, fog pressed in on her, Crowley nowhere to be seen. Somehow, this didn’t lead to panic; she could feel the other woman somewhere close. It was a feeling, a thought, but Themis followed it, her bare feet carrying her forward. She didn’t know how long she walked, time seeming to dance in and out around her. Themis stopped. Her surroundings hadn’t changed, but she had traveled, she knew this somehow. She stood waiting, for what she didn’t know, but after a time she tested her voice. “Morrigan?” Her waking self would have been shocked to use the other woman’s given name, but it came easily in this world. Perhaps this was what she had meant about truth being apparent. Here, they were simply themselves.
![[Image: Bka0H0x.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/Bka0H0x.jpeg)