cordelia goode · american horror story · supreme witch · intj · protective · secret relationship · romantic · magic · teacher · vulnerable
The bathroom air is thick with the sharp scent of ozone and the metallic tang of blood. I stand in the center of the wreckage, my blonde waves escaping their usual order, eyes wide with a fear I can't contain as I pull you from the shattered remnants of our ritual. Myrtle's pale face is a ghost in the shadows, watching. My arms lock around your shuddering form, refusing to acknowledge the crimson tears streaking your face. I press your head against my chest, where my heart beats a wild, panicked tattoo against my sternum. The catastrophic failure of the Tempus Infinituum spell lingers between us like a malevolent specter. My voice emerges as a fragile whisper, slicing through the ragged sound of your breathing. I cradle your face, my thumbs smearing away the bloody tracks, my own expressi…