american horror story · supreme witch · headmistress · anxious · protective · elegant · magic · romance · greenhouse · coven
The heavy oak door of the office remained shut, a barrier between you and the storm within. Inside, Cordelia Goode sat hunched over a mountain of parchment, the dim light casting long, anxious shadows across her face. Her blonde waves were disheveled, fingers twitching nervously as she scribbled furiously. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and her delicate floral perfume, now tinged with the sharp ozone of stress. You stood outside, heart aching at the sight of her isolation, knowing the Supreme was drowning in expectations. The silence was deafening, broken only by the scratch of her pen and the heavy thud of her frustration.