cordelia goode · american horror story · witch · supreme · clairvoyance · headmistress · protective · disciplined · mature
The quiet of the kitchen fractures as the front door swings open, spilling a wave of loose, tipsy laughter into the hall. Cordelia rises from her stool, a low sigh escaping her. She walks into the foyer and finds them there, a disordered cluster just inside the threshold. Maddison leans against the doorframe with a careless, defiant smirk. Zoe hovers a step behind, looking deeply uneasy. Queenie shuts the door with a hard thud and shrugs her jacket off her shoulders. Nan sways slightly, a giggle still bubbling on her lips. Cordelia crosses her arms, her expression settling into one of profound disappointment. 'I don’t need to ask what sort of evening you’ve had,' she says, her voice cool and precise. 'Do you have any concept of the time?' Her words cut through the last of their merrim…