Wild Magic

[KayDuckula]

Welcome to Wild Magic

A magical creation brought to you by KayDuckula & Elaraal​

 

[KayDuckula]

“Yes. The lavender and rose petals will help. I made two for you. One for under your pillow, and one for your rocking chair.” Freya comforted Annie with as much as a smile as she could muster. Annie and Louis Ternbottom had been married for fifty-five years. They were also Freya’s neighbors. They’d had six children together, and many many more grandchildren. Louis had died in his sleep only a few nights ago. He was seventy six-years-old, and it was natural causes, but that still didn’t ease the pain of losing someone you loved. At his funeral, Freya could tell that poor Annie hadn’t been getting any rest. Feeling obligated to do something for her neighbor, Freya went home, afterwards, and immediately put together some herbal sleeping bags, made of lavender and rose petals, to help Annie.


“I want to sleep, Freya. I want to see my Louie in my dreams.” Annie said, when Freya appeared at her door only a few hours later. Her old and wrinkled hands squeezed Freya’s in gratitude. Mustering up enough courage not to cry, Freya pulled the elderly woman in for a soft embrace, and smiled. “I'm sure you will, and anything you need, Annie, I’m just right across the road. More herbs. Soup. Even just company, I’m only a phone call away.” Freya said, as she pulled away from the hug, looking at the beautifully-worn face of her neighbor. “I love you.” Freya comforted her neighbor softly, as she kissed Annie’s cheek. Annie did the same. “Back at you, button. Thank you sweetheart. Maybe Louie will be at the dock? you know, we used to go fishing and swimming off the old Lake Peterson so many years ago? It's where I met him, you know? Tall. Dark. Beautiful in his own mischievous way...Oh...that man...he was so darn tricky back then.” Annie closed her eyes as small teardrops formed, laughing at the memories forming in her mind. Freya spoke to the woman only a little while longer, before escorting Annie upstairs into her room. She waited until Annie had made it to her bedroom safely, before she let herself out; locking the door behind her. Across the road, she stared at her beautiful home.


On the right corner of Willow Avenue, was a small idiosyncratic cottage. It was blue in color, with bright yellow shutters on every window. Plants of various categories sat, and hung, all around the wrap-around porch The front door was painted a vibrant sea-green, with an “OPEN” sign hanging from it.. A medium sign hung from the front porch awning, that spelled out Tarot & Palm Shoppe, in a silver polished cursive. In the front left window, sitting like a true aristocrat, was a rather large silver tabby cat with baby-blue eyes. Freya smiled, and zipped up her jacket as she made her way across the street. She’d bought this home with her parent’s life insurance money six years ago. They had died when she was twenty two years-old. It was a car accident-drunk driver had hit them head on. They died instantly. Freya thanked whatever god for allowing them to pass without any pain. When she had bought the home, it was a run-down foreclosure, that had been raided in a methamphetamine bust. Freya always liked a project, though. After putting two long years working on it, she was finally pleased with the outcome. It was a home. Her new home.


“Meow.” A salute of welcome came from the inside of her living room, when she opened her front door. Freya rolled her eyes and laughed a little, as she hung her coat on the designated rack, and breathed in the aroma of coffee and mint. “Howdy to you too, big boy. Hungry?” She said in reply, and within seconds she heard the small thump of Grim abandoning his post. Her fat cat was always hungry.


Heading into the kitchen, she saw her best friend and living-companion, Ben, hanging his head over the bills; his small oval shaped glasses slipping down his nose. “We made enough this month to pay the bills, and start progress on the garden.” Ben said, as he peeked up over his glasses at Freya, a small smile pulling on his lips. “..and maybe go to Matrix tonight?!” Freya shook her head, as she opened up a can of cat-food for Grim, leaning down to put the food into his bowl. “No thanks, B. I’m beat. With Annie and the funeral, and then this morning with the sorority girls from Alpha Sigma Phi. I don't really think I'm in a celebrating kinda mood.” Ben scoffed, and ran a hand through his curly brown locks. “Fine. Fine…” He said, dramatically. “...but I’m going. I’ve been going stir-crazy with all this weird weather we’ve been having. It’s the nicest evening we have had all fall. Close down shop a little early, and come with me.” He pleaded with his saddened green puppy-eyes. Ben did have a point. The weather had been rather sporadic and unexpected. Today had been the first day with clear skies in a long while. Freya thanked Loius for that; he always did love a bright autumn sky..


Freya sighed, as she wrinkled her nose, refusing to think about death any more this evening. She scratched behind Grim’s ears, before she stood to throw the empty food-can in the trash. “No thanks hun, but call Trey and make it a date. He's a real sweetheart. I’m sure the next two hours will be uneventful for the shoppe, anyways. It’ll give me enough time to finish up my book.” Ben smiled. “Oooh, is it the one with the cowboy and the artist? That one that was made into a movie?” Freya rolled her eyes, and pulled her wild red curls up into a bun. “Yes, that one. You know, you are welcome to read anything in the library you want. The books are always better than the movies.” Ben scoffed. “Nadda. I’m more happier watching a vibrant display of romance, then reading one. Besides, I can’t wait to check out that cowboy’s belt-buckle..” Freya laughed and motioned Ben towards his room with her hands. “Go. Have fun.”


Ben didn’t need any more coaxing. He cleaned up his pile of paperwork from the kitchen table, and excitingly hurried away as he dialed his new fling, Trey, on the phone. Freya shook her head at her flamboyant best friend’s actions, and turned towards the kettle that was still sitting on the stove. Ben had made mint tea while she was gone. It was a kind gesture, and Freya knew it; mint was her calming herb. Grabbing one of her large owl mugs, she poured the tea and set off to the library to grab her book.


At first, the small room that housed her library was a tiny bedroom. It had built in bookshelves on the far right wall, and when Freya had initially seen it--she knew this room would have a great purpose. After a lot of wood work and time, there now was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three of the four walls, and the fourth wall was covered with photos and memorabilia of her parents. Most of the books that filled the walls were her father’s old classics, but she’d added quite a good collection of modern and contemporary titles as well. She sat down on the small chase she’d put in the corner of the room, and picked up her novel.


Just as she finally got comfortable, the chime that hung from her door alerted her someone had came inside. Closing her eyes and releasing a small annoyed sigh, she sat down her book--but carried her warm mug of tea, as she approached the foyer. Grim had beat her there, though, and was unusually rubbing himself up against the newcomer’s leg with a purr. With a furrowed brow she studied her cat for a moment, and glanced up to take the newcomer in. “Hi there. Seems Grim likes you. He’s not usually so taken with clients.” A curious smile formed on her lips. “Anyways, welcome to Abernathy’s Tarot & Palm Shoppe. I’m Freya. How can I be of assistance?” She stated, as she smiled at the newcomer who’d just walked in--before taking a long pull of her mint tea from her mug.

 

[Elaraal]

She sensed it once more. The magic sleeping inside had finally awoken, yearning to get rid of its chains, and after all these years, Delilah finally felt like a complete person again. No description could ever do the sensation justice. It was akin to re-gaining sight after decades of blindness and being completely overwhelmed by the breath-taking scenery this beautiful world could offer. The energy flowed through her veins like electricity, intensifying each sensory perception tenfold. That was probably why the impatient blowing of a horn hurt her delicate ears even more than usual. "Are you standing in the middle of the road on purpose, you fucking moron?!" the driver screamed at her, apparently determined to vent all his pent-up anger on the air-headed pedestrian with a death-wish. Snapping out of the trance, Delilah realized where exactly she was. "I'm sorry," the woman mouthed towards him and hurried to the safety of the sidewalk. Some things never changed, like her magic always catching up to her in the most inopportune moments. It almost seemed as if her powers came with an inbuilt mechanism that periodically tried to off her upon activation. Of course, that would have been much more effective if she technically wasn't immortal.


So it's time to try again, huh? To be honest, Delilah didn't know how to feel about this development. Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results, which was a hauntingly accurate description of her actions so far. The sequence of events remained roughly the same. The return of her powers, the spark in her partner's eyes when she learned how to look beyond the facade of reality, the struggle against the coven, her inevitable death and then the twenty-something year long wait for another chance. It was like the cycle of seasons, predictable and unchanging. One would guess Delilah had been desensitized to it already, but every failed attempt hurt just like the first one. What would happen if I just didn't show up this time? Would she be able to lead a normal life, a life entirely removed from all this mess? Possibly. Who knew, maybe it was their meeting that started the domino-effect that always led to a catastrophe, not the resurrected magic. That particular theory had never been tested, so nobody could tell. It did sound like an interesting option to consider. One thing Delilah could tell, however, was that she lacked the willpower to resist the enticement of seeing her again. Especially now, with all the new information available. No, I can't give up now. We've sacrificed too much for this to end in failure.


She reached into the handbag with her slender hand and pulled out a small, elegant cellphone. The person on the opposite end of the line picked it up within seconds of dialing the number. "David?" Delilah tried to confirm the identity of the caller. "The one and only. Hi, Dee. What do you need? Should I kill someone for you?" he asked, apparently in a great mood. "Don't tempt me, David, or I'll take you at your word. But no, currently I'm not interested in assassinations. I need you to pick me up as fast as you can. If you have to break some laws to be faster, be my guest, I'll pay you more," she told him while playing with a strand of her long black hair. "Uh oh, sounds serious. What happened, did you leave your stove on?" Delilah could hear the sounds of typing in the background, an unmistakable sign that he had began working on her request already. "Something like that, yes. You see, it's a metaphorical stove, but I didn't bother to get an insurance for my metaphorical house, so I'd hate to see it burned to a crisp." David chuckled from behind his computer. "That's sensible." Apparently he understood that she didn't wish to elaborate on the reasons for her haste. This respect for privacy was one of his most precious traits. Immortality did feel maddening at times, but it had some perks, like having all the time in the world to find reliable friends. "Where are you and where do you need to go? I'll arrange everything."

***

​

Delilah was sitting at a table in a local café, occasionally sipping her latte and letting her fingers run across the keyboard like those of a master pianist. I have to admit, technology really does make life infinitely easier. The bond shared between them allowed her to roughly pinpoint her partner's whereabouts, however finding her exact address had still consumed a lot of time in the past. Well, not anymore. That obstacle had been conquered with the discovery of the internet. There were certain traits and inclinations which carried over from her previous lives, and those could be used to track her down if you were even mildly competent. For instance, it seemed that no matter what, her partner retained her old passion for sorcery. The girl didn't actually have access to it, of course, but she actively sought it out, or at least that which passed for magic in this day and age. That meant Delilah had to investigate every Wicca club, neopagan movement and spirituality enthusiast in general in the area. The task appeared to be quite daunting, but the reality was that people loved to put their personal information on the internet for attention, which made the whole ordeal considerably easier.


Alright, so she isn't a member of that weird group that tries to hunt ghosts. Good, the last thing we need is her angering one of them accidentally and adding them to our ever-growing list of enemies. These guys don't play around. Closing the website with no small amount of relief, Delilah opened another one, this time something like an e-shop for a physical store that dabbled in 'arcane arts'. Translation: We sell herbs and lie to people about their future for money every now and then, the witch smirked, but her heart skipped a beat when she saw a photograph of the shopkeeper. Oh my god, it's... It's her. There was no doubt about it. Delilah would recognize that face anywhere; she didn't necessarily look the same as centuries ago, yet the vibes surrounding could belong to one person only. Abernathy's Tarot and Palm Shoppe, she read quietly, memorizing the directions. A shiver ran down her spine upon realization of how close Freya - which was apparently her current name - resided. Practically within arm's reach. Sure, that had been clear to her since start, but it felt somewhat more real now that she knew the precise location.


"Miss Delilah?" The woman finally took her green eyes off the screen only to see a tall blonde man in a nice suit with sunglasses. "You are Miss Delilah, correct?"


"Yes, that would be me. Let me guess, David has sent you? Are you my driver?"


"Exactly. My name is Roman Borowski, pleased to meet you. Would you be so kind to follow me to the car?" Throwing some money on the table and closing her laptop, Delilah simply nodded. "Thank you so much for the quick arrival. I will make sure David hears of how competent you are. Now, let's go."

***

​

Time flew fast, faster than it had any right to, and before Delilah could prepare herself mentally for the encounter, she was standing in front of the store already. Damn, I shouldn't be this nervous. We've known each other for so long, so what's the big deal? Too bad that common sense did very little to lower her sky-high blood pressure. So many things could go wrong, so many things could go right and all of these options made her breath falter. Understanding that she would never be fully ready anyway, Delilah did her best to hide behind a mask of indifference and entered the shoppe. "Oh... Hey, little fur-ball," she caressed the cat that had come to greet her. The animal's presence was a welcome distraction, especially when a familiar voice cut through the silence. "So his name is Grim? Why hello, Grim, I'm Delilah, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance." Then she slowly looked up with a (hopefully not tense) smile on her face. "That extends to you too, obviously. And how can you help me? Well, I've come here to find out what my palm has to say about my future. I understand you provide the service?"

 

[KayDuckula]

Freya studied Delilah for a moment. She had this overbearing feeling like she’d seen this woman before. There was that pull from the back of her mind, which alerted Freya to take caution. Her intuition was almost never wrong, but she wasn’t sure what harm this kind-looking woman could cause. Furrowing her brow in thought, she mentally sorted through her memories. The only memory she had of ever meeting a Delilah, was back in grade school. Delilah Groves. She was an acne-ridden redhead, who smelled horribly, and often got food stuck between her two front teeth. She was in a few classes with Freya, but nothing more than a passer-by throughout childhood. She wouldn’t even classify them as acquaintances, really.


“Hm.” She thought, picking out facial features of the woman in front of her. No. If this was Delilah Groves, she had extensive cosmetic surgery done. There was no way they were the one and the same. Sighing outwardly, Freya filed her feeling of caution away as a sense of deja vu. She then smiled warmly at Delilah and Grim. “It’s actually Grimalkin,” she began, but that earned her an annoyed noise from Grim as he nuzzled his head up against Delilah’s leg in acceptance. Freya chuckled. “..but he’s a bit touchy if you use his full name.” She glanced back up at Delilah, as Grimalkin moved to Freya’s side and sat down like a perfect gentleman. “Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you Delilah, and you have certainly came to the right place.” Freya offered a bob of her head, as she motioned Delilah to follow her into the living room.


The room was brightly painted in a periwinkle blue, trimmed in a dark purple crowned molding. It was decorated with a stand-alone three tiered bookshelf on the back wall, that housed a variety of different Wiccan, Pagan, and occult studies. The bookshelf also housed holistic cultured books on sociology, spirituality, and religious tendencies. Along the front of the house, was a large window-seats where Grimalkin hopped up and took residency on a pet-bed. It was obviously his territory. The side walls were decorated with various pictures, and personal photos. A modernized flat-screen television was mounted in the right corner, and the furniture was obvious antiques that had been refurbished to fit the bohemian blend of modern and old.


“Welcome.” Freya said, as she motioned with one hand; sitting her tea mug down on the oval-shaped coffee table, that separated a large over-stuffed chair, and a antique orange-printed couch. “I don’t like all those fake seance rooms, and black lights, and crystal balls.” She laughed, as she sat down in the over-stuffed chair and crossed her legs underneath of her. “I know it's a bit eccentric, but I feel it’s more welcoming. I like my clients to feel like they’re at peace, not like a ghost or evil spirit is going to pop out of every corner.” She laughed a bit, and motioned to the coffee table.


There, on the middle section, were various tools of the art. There were three different sets of tarot cards, two sets of nordic runestones, and a laminated page that identified palm reading and explained it with photos. “I don’t like my customers not knowing what they’re getting, so I’ll explain a few things for you.” She seemed rather casual and comfortable, as she leaned forward with her legs crossed underneath of her. “Palm reading is a simplistic reading, really, because I don’t have to consult energy to do it. You were born with these symbols embedded already.” She smiled, as she pointed to the laminated sheet.


“You want to know about your future, but that’s just such a broad word, isn’t it?” She tapped her finger to a diagram of a hand. “Do you want to know about everything your hand can tell you? Are you looking for a more detailed course, be it related to work or love?” She sighed, as she studied the heart line on the picture, before gazing back up to Delilah with a nod. “If you’ve any questions, I will ask them. I also give very thorough explanations, too. The prices are detailed on the sheet, but honestly I’m alwa--...” A loud banging noise came the kitchen, making both Grim and Freya jump.


“Freeeeeyaaa!” A loud musical voice sang from the kitchen, and Grimalkin meowed in annoyance, before settling back down on his throne. “Sorry.” She mumbled to Delilah, as Ben came around the corner dressed poshly like a model, but still holding on to his nerdatious roots with the glasses. “Ooh. Client.” Ben put a finger up to his lip, as if it that was going to shut him up. “I’m heading out, moi dear! Trey is taking me out to dinner before we hit up the club.” Freya smiled warmly for her friend. Trey seemed like a real keeper. “I promise not to wake you tonight, and I’ve locked up the back.” He motioned to Delilah, and offered her a smile. “She’s really good you know.” He said, before turning and waving over his shoulder.


Freya blushed a bit, and itched at her brunette-curls, before smiling back at Delilah. “Sorry about that.” She laughed. “Now..where were we?” She curled her brow in concentration, and then looked to Delilah in earnest. “Oh right. Price is always up to negotiation. So, what will it be?”

 

[Elaraal]

She's nervous around me. Not the oh-my-god-there's-a-psycho-call-the-police type of nervousness, more like slight confusion. A small part of her probably remembers me, Delilah realized with a tinge of flattery. When you lived for so long, you naturally learned how to pick up on those little cues that allowed you to read body language. In Freya's case, this skill was only amplified by the fact that Delilah knew her, at the moment possibly better than the girl in question knew herself. The way she arched her eyebrow when encountering a mystery her mind couldn't grasp, the thoughtful pucker between her eyes, her slightly defensive stance... It all felt so overwhelmingly familiar that it was difficult to contain her excitement. Oh, how delightful would it be to wrap her arms around her neck and - No, no, no, I shouldn't do anything that could get me pepper-sprayed. Now that wouldn't be a nice start to a healthy relationship, would it? And so she buried the idea before it could even be fully formed, choosing to interact with the cat some more instead.





"Oh, I can sympathize. I wouldn't want to be called Grimalkin, either," Delilah chuckled quietly, sparks dancing in her eyes. And yet, despite her smile, there was something almost wistful seeping through the apparent mirth in the same way the sun shone through clouds. "Still, you don't have it so bad, Grim. If the only price you have to pay for getting to spend time in such charming company, you've got yourself a bargain." It was when her voice reached her ears that Delilah noticed that the thought had somehow mutated into words without her consent. Her cheeks flushed deep red immediately. Well, so much for acceptable behavior. God damn it, why do I manage to embarrass myself in front of her within five seconds of introducing myself every single time? She should have been an expert at this by now, but nooo, her brain kept inventing new and exciting ways to fail. It happened with such irritating frequency that Delilah was beginning to think it had to be some law of nature implemented solely to annoy the hell out of her.


For a second, the woman had no idea how to fix her faux pais, but then it dawned on her to use the approach she had perfected over the centuries; to ignore the problem until it went away. Right, if I pretend that everything is normal, perhaps she'll think I'm just being friendly instead of assuming I'm a creep who is hitting on complete strangers in the most bizarre manner imaginable. Or maybe not, but it wasn't like she had a better idea. "Wonderful," she smiled at the young woman as if nothing questionable had happened, "I've heard only praise when it comes to your art, so I can't wait to find out what the fate has in store for me." Concealing all the remaining traces of awkwardness in her face through sheer willpower, Delilah followed her into the next room. It didn't look like a typical seance room, but she hadn't expected it to conform to the old clichés in the first place. And why would it? Freya had always been a breath of fresh air, willing and eager to bring new ideas where others worshiped their dogmas.


"A bold move. I thought that the theatrics was a part of the package, kind of like when you buy a coffee and expect to get a few packs of sugar with it automatically. Aren't your customers a bit disappointed?" Photographs on the wall caught her attention, especially the ones that clearly depicted moments from Freya's life, and Delilah couldn't resist examining them briefly. Perhaps she shouldn't have done so. The scenes captured on the pictures were so normal, so full of ordinary human happiness that it almost broke her heart. Freya obviously couldn't know, but her arrival meant those times would end very soon. For all the beauty it created, magic could be a vicious thing. Dedicating yourself to arcane arts was very similar to keeping an alligator as a pet. It didn't matter that you loved it, took care of it and fed it, the beast could still tear you apart at any given moment. It wasn't evil, it just followed its nature. Magic was the same. Delilah did think that this farce had the potential to play out differently this time, however one aspect of it could never really change. Freya wouldn't be able to return to that blissful state of ignorance ever again.


Why do I feel so guilty? I'm not stealing anything from her. On the contrary, I'm opening her eyes, showing her the world that has always been hers. It wasn't a lie by any means, yet her own reasoning sounded hollow to her. Shaking her head slightly, Delilah decided it would be wiser to focus on Freya's words rather than on her dilemmas. "Sure, I'm all ears," the woman leaned forward as well, unconsciously mirroring her movements. She couldn't stop her lips from twitching slightly; there was just something so cute about seeing her genuinely interested in her job, even if her beliefs were wrong and palm-reading worked about as well as trying to predict your future from your breakfast. Well, maybe even less so since the food you ate could tell you a lot about your future, like your average life expectancy.


Delilah took a deep breath to answer, but someone - probably Freya's roommate? - chose this moment to disturb them. Hmmm, it's a good thing he's going out. Not that she harbored some irrational hatred against the guy, but dealing with outsiders while awakening Freya's powers could be problematic. Collateral damage was involved sometimes and ordinary people didn't need to witness that. And even if no physical manifestations of magic occurred, millions of other things could go wrong. No, Delilah would rather have some privacy in this case. "Oh, I'm aware," she winked at the roommate before he left. "So," she turned back to Freya and clasped her hands, "first of all, I'd like to state that money isn't an issue. I find it demeaning to argue about prices, especially when I expect top-notch services. A good work deserves a fine reward. As for what I want... I'm not sure I wish to focus on one specific topic. After all, how can I know what will be the most relevant information for me when there are so many variables? Tell me everything," she said and offered Freya her hand with great anticipation. Would it be enough to set the events in motion?

 

[KayDuckula]

Freya furrowed her brows. Delilah had been speaking about how money wasn’t an issue, but Freya wasn’t really paying attention to that. No. Her sense of deja vu had wiggled it’s way back into her mind, and she stared blatantly at the woman’s mouth. The voice that resonated from Delilah was oddly welcoming and alluring. Freya studied the form of her lips, and the way the words flew almost like whispers. Her mind began to wander again. This time, her mind wandered to an image of two women embracing on a high seacliff, somewhere. Their heads were entwined together, in a way that might be classified as provocative. She was overcome with an overwhelming scent of sandalwood and salt. and the overpowering scents of salt.


“...Tell me everything.” Delilah finished, and laid her hands out on the table in preparation. Freya adjusted the way she was sitting, so that her legs sat over the front of the chair. She could feel her cheeks had reddened in color. A quick smile and murmur of apology was all she granted. She didn’t understand what just happened, and she definitely was not about to tell a random stranger what she saw. She filed this one away as a self-reminder to put down the damn romance novels.


She'd been reading too much of that lately, anyways.


“Mmkay.” Freya offered a smile, and leaned forward to study Delilah’s hands. “We’ll do an oversight first.” She smiled, and pushed away any laminated papers or documents on the table. “Your palm has three major lines. You’ve got the life line, the heart line, and the wisdom line. We will start there, with the basics, and go from there to see what we can find.” Freya offered a smile, before she took a good look at what she was working with.


"Uh..." Freya stammered.


Delilah had no life line. There wasn’t a single indicative line on either the right or left hand. Freya tilted her head, curiously, and tapped her fingers on the table. “Well, let’s see. This is quite unusual.” She admitted, as she looked up towards her bookcase, which had housed a few of the books she’d studied on palm-reading. She thought about getting up and looking a few things up. She’d read where people didn’t have a life line. It was an extreme rarity, and it often meant something… but she couldn’t remember what. She didn’t want to appear like a complete novice to this woman though, and to be completely honestly--she wasn’t. Freya had been doing palm readings since high school. She felt confident she knew what she normally needed to know. How many people didn't have life-lines?


Ugh.


“You have no life line.” She said to Delilah, as she sat back in her chair--looking quite taken-back. “It’s not normal." She stopped, and then blushed a bit. "That doesn't mean you're not normal!" She corrected, as she heard Grim make a hacking noise behind Delilah. "Uhh..I’ve read about people who’ve never had one, but I can’t quite remember what it means.” She chewed her bottom lip inwardly, and then leaned forward again like an eager student wanting to know more. “If you don’t mind..” she started, as she reached forward to Delilah’s hand.


A single touch of her fingers to Delilah’s, and Freya’s world evaporated around her. Her living room turned into a spinning vortex of colors. Silver sparks flew around the ceiling in an aurora of gold and white. Blue lights crystallized around them, almost like a protective barrier. Orange fire hung onto each lamp, as the bulbs exploded one-by-one in the house. Darkness overcame the room, but the magic of color stayed behind. It made Delilah look mystified; fae-like.


A loud hissing noise rose from the window, where Grimalkin stood on all foor legs. His eyes glowed a supernatural amber color, and he stared intently at the back of Delilah’s head. Freya swore she seen his lips turn into the silhouette of a smile, but she dismissed it as the cat hissed again with a loud “MEOW” skidding off from his post into the kitchen.


Freya immediately took her hand away, and jumped over the back of her chair to put it between the two of them. “What was that?” She asked, as her living room began taking normal shape. “What are you?” She demanded, like a frightened child. Freya’s head instantly began pounding, and a wave of intense nausea was coming on. “Wh..what happened?” She whispered, more to herself now. She could feel her heart beat raising a mile-a-minute. She could feel her head tunnel-visioning into nothing. Looking down at her hands, a soft glow of green pulsated. “..I….” she lolled her head back, as her nailed bit deep into the chair, to hold her weight. “..I don’t feel…”


“It’s alrigh’ lass.” Freya heard, as she looked down at her feet. There, was Grimalkin in all his cat-like shape. He apparently got over being a scary-cat fast.


Wait. He was...talking..?


“..Wha..?” She began, but Grimalkin had awaited her to faint. He moved only slightly away, licked his front left paw as her body fell to the ground. He sighed in a pitiful way, and smacked his paw against Freya's cheek a few times. She was out. “Now look whattcha done, lass.” Grimalkin scoffed, a heavy masculine voice sounding from the house-cat. He looked up at Delilah with his wide know-it-all eyes. “She wasn’t suppose ta’ see you. Ye always come aroun’, they told me. Ye ain’t ‘uppose to be ‘ere.” He said, rather dementedly with a chuckle. "..Funny thin' that. I had a feelin'." The cat's head swiveled around to Freya, his tail swishing as he pawed at his master's face again. "Well. Best get her on the couch, fore she goes hurtin' 'erself 'gain."





Grimalkin starred sheepishly at Delilah. "Obviously I can' do 'et. I'm a cat."