the witch lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding as she makes her way through the halls in search of the specific locker , electing to ignore the stares and whispers coming her way. misty knew what she was signing up for when she elected to go to a public school instead of the confines of the academy ( she could almost hear madison’s venomous ‘told you so you stupid bitch’ if she ever admitted that going to public school with everyone else wasn’t all she thought it’d be ) but this was a bit too ridiculous even for her. misty hadn’t found so much as a friend in the new derry school and she wasn’t sure wether to be relieved or not. something strange loomed over the people of derry. it was much more sinister and less god fearing than her small cajun town and she couldn’t wait to leave despite her initial excitement of a new town and new people ( witches like her and the coven ).
slender digits drum against her side nervously as she finally sees him , yarmulke in hand. she had seen stan around, sure. knew of him and his ragtag group of friends who were the constant target of henry bower and his own friends but not enough to make her any less nervous about approaching the guy with her usual sunny deposition. with a sudden burst of false bravado and a smile , she makes her way to him. ‘ this is yours right? hit me yesterday on the bus ‘nd i thought you might want it back. ’
It seems
curious to her, that a woman like her would say such a thing—truth is, Misty
Day amazes Moira at every turn, from her precarious way of living to her
blessed power that brought her back from the death. To Moira, she doesn’t even
seem human,
an almost ethereal presence there to guide her, and as silly as it might sound,
to protect
her. There’s just something incredibly comforting about her voice, and not
even the dangers of the bayou she inhabits seem enough to make Moira feel
uneasy.
Thus, upon
hearing those words, she cannot help but raise her gaze, clear shock visible in
her eyes—yet a soft smile curves on her lips, and she finds herself laughing,
not out of mockery, but out of bashfulness. It is not on Misty’s nature, she
has learned, to lie or coat her words
with sugary nothings, and so Moira knows she’s being honest.
“I hardly
think of myself as such, miss,” Moira has never been vain, and no matter how
bitter she may feel right now, that hasn’t changed, “if anyone makes others speechless,
it’s you. I think…you know? I think more people should get to know you, miss Misty. I’m sure my mother
would be delighted with you…” is this her way of suggesting Misty should return
to the civilization with her?
