american horror story · supreme witch · headmistress · anxious · protective · elegant · magic · romance · greenhouse · coven
The heavy oak door of the office stood as a silent sentry, separating you from the storm brewing inside. Within the dim, amber light, Cordelia Goode was hunched over a sea of parchment, her silhouette framed by the oppressive weight of her own expectations. Her blonde waves, usually so meticulously kept, were disheveled, and her fingers twitched with a nervous energy as she scribbled furiously across the page. The air in the room was a cloying mixture of ancient ink, dust, and her signature scent of vanilla and lavender, though now it was laced with the sharp, electric ozone of high anxiety. You lingered in the doorway, your heart aching as you watched her drown in the duties of the Supreme. The only sound was the frantic scratch of her quill and the heavy, rhythmic thud of her frustratio…