holding on to things we said we would change. –- erica & grace ( @inxbreakableheaven )
It took a particular kind of pathetic to spend this much of her precious little free time attempting to chase down someone who clearly had just as little spare to breathe, and Erica had quickly surmised as such on the day after her fourth visit to the Thomas family home since her mother’s trial. The anxiety streaking through her system at the mere thought of the impending conversation that absolutely needed to occur between herself and her ex-girlfriend had allowed nausea to settle in the pit of her stomach and an acrid taste to flood her mouth, presenting outwardly as a series of nervous tics, whilst countless thoughts and ideas seemed to race through her mind with no sign of stopping. Looking back now, it was safe to assume that had she had the opportunity to speak then, she’d have blurted out a nonsensical stream of consciousness that may or may not have conveyed the message she had been intending to deliver.
It was the singular time she’d been able to abide Grace’s new shadow– annoying, ever-present and nosy –if only because their presence in that moment had allowed the older woman to renege on her decision to tell the witch exactly how she felt (as if she was currently unaware), for fear of emptying the contents of her stomach all over the floor. Originally, she had been upset at the notion of a punishment, but time had allowed the she-wolf to begrudgingly accept that The Order had every right to inflict one; most ends justified the means, though endangering herself and quite possibly engaging in an act of war was a step too far. Had that day not unfolded exactly the way it did, Natallia never facing consequences was one of many possibilities the Alpha truly didn’t want to imagine.
In the wake of The Order’s agent making a very loud point of ensuring that Grace would spend no time alone with Erica, the she-wolf admittedly hadn’t made another thinly veiled attempt to speak in private with her ex-girlfriend for a week, and even when she finally had plucked up the courage to do so they had been interrupted again. And again, and again, and again– it soon became blatantly clear that the Supreme’s new babysitter could conceive of no earthly reason for the two to ever speak amongst themselves. Perhaps if it had been anyone else, she could have laughed at the unfounded, baseless theories that had been posited as reason to keep the two apart; she might have cared less about the ramifications of doing the opposite. Truth was, though, it was Grace’s reputation and her career as a Supreme that were at risk. One wrong step from the witch or those she surrounded herself with could end it all.
All of this begged the inevitable question: why did she continue to try? Desperation, perhaps? Some sliver of hope she’d been clutching onto? Even the wolf herself didn’t truly have an answer for that, and despite all logic gently suggesting that she give up, the trek from her favourite cafe in town to Grace’s front door had become comfortably routine. Tapping out a lazy rhythm on the wood, Erica then offered a sheepish smile to the witch who answered before making her way through the house to the Supreme’s office. “I come bearing gifts,” she announced as she peeked around the door, mentally bracing for the possibility that the blonde wasn’t alone, or that she happened to be busy. “If it’s a bad time, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Maybe there would come a day when Grace could make a decision that wouldn’t condition her to second-guess herself. An example needed to be made out of her and it came in the form of one of the most annoying people in the history of existence.
She was one of the most outspoken people against Grace’s rise to Supreme and now she had a reason to rub it in her face. Since taking over the coven, Grace had worked her goddamned hardest to prove her wrong, but now she was proven right. It made her seethe.
They should have never promoted you. They were wrong. You’re not fit for this.
All of the things Grace had thought of herself over the years were now vocalized by someone else. Even if Jareth bolstered her by assuring her that she had done an excellent job carrying the coven during the rise of the war, it all threatened to unravel at the newly-instilled self-doubt. She knew she had acted rashly, but had been correct. Despite her normal affinity for peace, she never did well with being given orders and now she didn’t do well with running her orders by people.
Natallia was a danger to everyone’s way of living, her rule on the fast track to dictatorship. Had Grace been incorrect, her punishment would have been worse. It was only the mere fact that she hadn’t waited for The Order to respond. Werewolves being kidnapped from every pack wasn’t going to stand anymore. Not if they didn’t decide to switch species and witches or even vampires being next. Holding true to her belief wasn’t helping her case.
Worst of all, she couldn’t contact anyone outside her side save for her brother, the coven in Montana, or her parents. She couldn’t talk to Erica, to congratulate her on her new leadership, or to see how she felt with everything, no matter how badly she wanted to talk to her.
Grace stood in her office, rifling through papers and grimoires. The knock on her door had green eyes lifting and a relieved smile pulled at her lips. “Always a good time,” she assured when Erica came into view. Linden was thankfully out of sight.
Probably going through a mirror after someone said Bloody Mary three times, Grace thought bitterly.
