i t is hard to be a woman
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@suppressedelia
i t is hard to be a woman
"Our coven mourns. After facing so many trials, defending ourselves against onslaught. Forging enemies into friends. The witches of Miss Robichaux’s Academy have fought for their lives, and won."
American Horror Story: Coven
When witches don’t fight, we burn.
There was something about New Orleans, a piece of her soul rested here. From the time Anna Leigh had retrieved her and brought her to Miss Robichaux’s, her roots had been planted and were not so easily undone. In the most tumultuous of times, she’d sought it for comfort and was where she’d left her pre-teen daughter when she could no longer manage the duties mothering called for. A single glance in a mirror— through a cocaine and bourbon haze— had brought her spiral to a screeching halt. Her investments in scientific cures would not stay the age creeping up on her features, or the eventual decline and loss of her powers to a younger witch. Death was coming with every passing day. It was for that reason Fiona had chosen to return to Louisiana, to seek solace in what little she had left. Her answer left crimson lips with a usual coating of sarcasm, whatever truth to her words would lay indecipherable.
❝Visiting my only daughter— — what other reason would I have to brave the humidity this far south?❞
She could remember it clearly, the last time her mother had graced her with her presence. But this time was different, she was different and Cordelia would have been a fool not to have noticed. But her mother's affairs were of no business to her, and she had long ago stopped trying to care so much. The barest raise of her brow, and she was once again back to work, all but ignoring what ever the Supreme so chose to do. She wasn't an idiot, she knew Fiona's reasonings for such an impromptu visit had little to do with Cordelia. They rarely, if ever, did.
"Since when was I above the well being of your hair, mother? - -- -how long do you intend to stay?"
Were it not for the years of experience, she m i g h t have considered Fiona's return born out of realisation, concern and, dare she say it, care. But Cordelia knew better. Cordelia had learned a long time ago that unless you were Fiona Goode, Fiona Goode didn't care. Indifference thinned her lips as her gaze flickered upon the image of her mother, strong and beautiful and positively bleeding power.
And she sighed.
"What are you doing here, Fiona?"
When are you gonna die, and stop ruining my life?
ahscoven presenting ep01: bitchcraft