bride and broom; [open starter]
The late afternoon sun was setting quickly, it’s bright lights reflecting off her windows and into her room, giving the entire space a rather angelic glow. It warmed her to her bones and Lennon knew that as soon as the sun was gone from the sky, she’d be ready to pass out in her bed. It was the downfall of her powers, her grandmother had said. Witches could easily influence the elements, but in return, the elements could easily influence them, too. With a gentle sigh, she continued to stitch, her eyes carefully trained onto the needle and thread that rested between her fingertips. It was during these times when the witch could find serenity, where all her worries would seemingly diminish as long as she kept her focus on the design of the latest project. It was usually the only peace that she was able to find in the chaos of New York. It was far more difficult than most people realized, trying to balance school, work, and you social needs, too, but most of all, it was tiresome trying to balance her normality with her paranormal abilities.
Her apartment door flew open abruptly, revealing a dark-haired, fervent eyed beauty. Lennon was startled, letting out a shriek and dropping her hard work to the floor, all the while pricking her finger throughout the process. With a hard glare towards the intruder, she brought her pricked fingers to her lips. Her name was Abigail Noel, the youngest witch in the complex and by far one of the most eccentric people that walked the streets. It was times like these where Lennon felt the need to magically bolt her door so that these occurrences were so frequent.
”Fuck, Gale, seriously?” Lennon snapped.
Abigail’s devilish smile brightened her face momentarily, until it was replaced with a somber look that didn’t suit her wildfire nature. It was surely one of her many escapades that she liked to involve others in. Lennon shook her head, her tendrils of ebony hair following the movement and tickling the skin of her neck. At the ridiculous question, she laughed. “Where the Hell did you actually manage to find that raggedy thing? It looks like something out of those stupid witch movies that they make.”
Abigail breathed in and let out a short sigh in muted rebellion. Her smile faded for a second to make way for a roguish squint. She should've known better than to show off to Lennon. While it was true that she was fond of her, all that fondness went down the drain whenever the scolding came in. Of all of the roommates, she was often the first to call her out on her misbehavior. Now was no exception. This time though, she wasn't about to let her friend prove her wrong, regardless of the fact that she was, in fact, wrong. She was the type of person that would rather die of hypothermia than admit that bringing a jacket to the Antarctica is a good idea. In her mind, an old, rotting broom with possible supernatural origins was a great find, and even if it didn't work, it would certainly tie the living room together to give it the an Addams Family vibe. She crashed back on the couch, slouching over leisurely.
❝ Nice way of completely dodging the question, ass. ❞ She muttered in a deadpan voice while pulling up her feet and dragging them on the fabric to annoy her.
❝ I got it at the flea market on East 67th Street. I was just walking around and I saw this...❞ She started to explain, stopping to take a quick glance at the broom before continuing. Admittedly, now that she got a better look at it, it looked like something found in a dumpster behind a Halloween party.❝ ...Thing. ❞ It was the only real way to describe the object, but she wasted no time regretting her actions before jumping back to the story. ❝ Before I could ask the vendor how much it cost, she was already talking about Valhalla and the coming of the New Age and shit. It was amazing Oh! And she gave me a cookie. Actually wait, she didn't give me a cookie, that was extra. I'm thinking of going back sometime and asking if she's got any witchcraft books. She says she got this broom from her great-grandmother, and that she got it from her great-grandmother and so on and so on. Apparently it goes back to Biblical times! How cool is that? I already named it Jezebel, Jessie for short. ❞ She finished with enthusiastic zeal as she got up again. She grabbed the broom with her left hand and put her right hand on her hip, taking on a firm stance.
❝ I didn't come here for you to judge me for what I do with my cash, though. ❞ She said in a rare moment of seriousness. ❝ I came here to ask how it makes my thighs look, so please limit yourself to that, Miss Priestly. ❞ Then the act came crashing down as she contorted her face into a puppy dog pout. ❝ Be real: Yes or no? ❞
