#yawn.write

[yawningawning]

“Don’t.”

She slaps his outstretched hand away and moves to lift herself up. His face – mask – whatever expression doesn’t change but he makes an amused noise and tilts his head back, lifting it up to meet Tabi’s eyes as she gets back up.

“You told me he was dead,” she spits.

“Evbo?” He says as if he really needs to clarify. “I said I met him a bit ago.”

“You said he was dead!” She repeats, raising her voice.

Clown shrugs. “I asked how you’d feel if he was,” he replies calmly, “And you didn’t answer me properly, might I add.”

“I said you would've done what you had to do and you –! You…” She trails off, taking a breath and averts her focus to the space behind Clown. “... he was here.”

“For the eternal trident like us, I presume? Was it you or that Trident the one that got him earlier?”

She huffs. “That was me.”

“He must be reporting to the other Diamond Swords by now then and likely planning to make a move for either the Bow Civilization or ours and —”

“How are you so sure he’s alive?”

He laughs very lightly. “Same way you do, of course.”

A beat passes, a moment where everything unsaid settles in.

The ‘you said he was dead’ instead of ‘you killed him’.

The ‘that was me’, the ‘how are you so sure he’s alive’ instead of ‘i killed him’, ‘how are you so sure I didn’t kill him’. Kill, kill, kill. Dead, not killed.

She’s relieved he isn’t dead, she was, she shouldn’t be, and there are more pressing issues afoot.

“Come now.” Clown moves along. So easily. Unfazed by the fighting – or, maybe he isn’t but he seems so, Tabi’s never sure with Clown but she seems so. “You're probably low on attacks after that fight, aren’t you? Let’s recuperate and prepare for our next move.”

“Right,” she grunts, following his side. “Right.”

[yawningawning]

It’s empty, the spot in the bed next to her when she wakes up and she frowns. It gets wider as she looks out the window and sees the forest around their home bathe in the morning sun.

With a huff and a groan as she pushes herself up from the bed, she just has to go on with the rest of her day, like the day before and the day before that. She cooks and eats her own breakfast, washes the dishes, does the laundry, and there’s something missing. 

Other than the usual pep in her step and smile on her face and you know, that might be it. It was so easy for her to find the joy in these mundane chores, now she’s sighing as she waters the neglected plants outside the house. She was used to her rain watering them for her.

Maybe she’s just being dramatic over this, it’s not like she’s died or anything but this is the longest she’s been away since they first built this house together. She had told her that she’d be away for a while but if she’d known it would be that long and she’d get like this when she’s not around, she’d ask her to write more letters more frequently. 

Speaking of, another disappointed sigh leaves her lips as she closes the empty mailbox and walks back in her empty home with empty hands.

It’s not utterly agonising and unbearable but it gets pretty close during nights when the lullaby of the pitter patter of rain on the roof is so wistfully absent. It’s dull at most and it’s empty at worst.

And perhaps she is being dramatic.

Perhaps, she just needs to keep going on. What else is there to do other than lay in bed and sulk all day? Washing the dishes isn't that good of a distraction, though and she’s lazily scrubbing the plates when a black cat climbs onto the counter and brushes up on her arm.

She clicks her tongue. “Star, give me a minute, I’m not done yet.”

She softly pushes her aside with her elbow and Star’s eyes narrow at her like she’s committed a crime and she just rolls her eyes. She leaves her bed as Star keeps brushing against her arm and meowing at her.

And then she hears it and her heart skips a beat as the drop of rain hits the roof. She puts the plates down, washing the dishwashing off her hands and shaking them dry as she opens up the window in front of the sink to look up and it really is, it’s raining.

The grin on her face instantly drops when she sees the laundry she hung up earlier getting soaked and she has to quickly scurry outside to save the drying laundry. She groans as she drops the clothes down on the couch and huffs.

“I’m home!”

But just as quick as her excitement died when she had to deal with the laundry, her heart’s soaring again and all at once, she feels warm again even though they’re both soaked from the rain. That ambient peace she’s missed is back.

Shelby laughs when she’s practically jumped by her. “Woah-ho! Someone missed me,” she giggled as she hugged her back, “sorry I didn’t write this week, things got busy.”

“Busy like Supreme Witch business or…?”

“Hah… no.”

“Well, Supreme Witch or not, you’re still the greatest witch you know. You don’t need some big fancy hat to prove that to me.”

“It’s actually a crown.”

“Wait, really? The Supreme Witch gets a crown? Not a really big hat? Aren’t hats a big thing to you witches?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, that is a little odd,” she laughed and her lover in her arms laughed with her.

And it’s warm, and they’re both still wet from the rain, and Star is rubbing against their legs, wrapping her tail around Shelby’s, softly purring, and neither of them would change a thing about any of this.

[yawningawning]

Shelby sees the stars in Katherine’s eyes, and the witch is content. To watch her be so effortlessly impressive. To feel the wind get knocked out of their chest when she smiles at them. To wonder how someone can be so captivating, to be so hopelessly bewitched and mesmerized by everything she is. To value her as if she’s a work of art, to adore her like she’s the moon, sun and the whole sky. They look deep into her pitch-blacks and see more, they see worlds and galaxies they could only dream of, they see places they’ve never been, places she could take them to. They see the stars and more.

Katherine tells her that Shelby’s eyes are a nice shade of yellow, and Shelby is content.

[yawningawning]

[ day 4 - grief/revenge]

There's something off with Prismarina.

There always was, of course. Out of every witch here she seemed the most eager for the title of Supreme Witch and she certainly wasn't above underhanded tactics.

But now, there's something off with her, Cleo swears it. It's been too long since they've last been bothered by her or sensed something coming.

or

Pris, recently free from the demon slash dead sister possession situation tries to rebuild some bridges and Cleo's all too suspicious of every attempt of good will.

@mcyt-yuri-week