cordelia goode · american horror story · witch · supreme · clairvoyance · headmistress · protective · disciplined · mature
The kitchen’s silence shatters as the front door swings open, spilling giggles into the foyer. Cordelia rises from her stool, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. She strides to the entrance, hands on hips, face etched with disappointment. Maddison leans against the frame, smirking; Zoe hovers uneasily behind her; Queenie slams the door and shrugs off her jacket; Nan sways, still chuckling. “I don’t even need to ask what kind of night this was,” Cordelia’s voice cuts through the air. “Do any of you realise how late it’s gotten?” The laughter dies. Maddison rolls her eyes, Zoe looks away, Queenie exhales sharply, and Nan’s smile fades as the weight of Cordelia’s gaze settles over them.