Demon saved by The Devil I Cassandra Dimitrescu

Drug. Narcotic. Aphrodisiac.

I want to leave it in the past, she said and yet, there was a ring on the nightstand and a small, already open, heart-shaped necklace with a woman's photo inside.

I want to leave it in the past, she said, and yet, every night her eyes water whenever memories overwhelmed her mind.

I want to leave it the past, she said and yet, she fights her own heart, broken and dry from the lack of any affection, from opening up to anyone.

I want to leave it in the past, she said and yet, her mind refuse to let go of the woman she once loved with all her heart.

Black eyes scanned the photo of her wife with tears. Fingertips lingered on woman's cheek with so much care that her own body trembled. The hum in the air was much quieter, flat, and sad than the one in the bathroom or the one in the woods.

It was different. To watch her face every day in the black and white photo and see so much resemblance of her features in Cassandra. To only hear her whispers in memories and hear her name being said by someone else than Zână herself. She buried the woman and yet, she felt like she came back from the dead since Cassandra appeared in her life.

Or she didn't and Pădurii only thought so, from being so obsessively in love with her that she looked for every resemblance in Dimitrescu. Like she refused to accept the fact that she might be in love with someone else than her wife. Even when that 'love' was a simple needy for any kind of affection from anyone willing to do so.

Zână didn't know what to think about the whole situation. Was she that lonely? That she fell in love with a stranger? Was Cassandra even a stranger anymore? Or she just wanted to be close to someone, so hard that her mind started to mistreat that need for love? Or maybe Gods decided, once more, that it was time for her to take a different turn in her path. That they felt so much pity that they decided to practically send someone to her life and hope for the best? Or maybe, just maybe, it truly was meant to be?

With a sigh she sat on her bed, putting back the necklace on the nightstand gently. Turning her head towards the ceiling she blinked until the tears vanished from her eyes, at the same time black sand hid in her pupils. She watched green veins that overcame most of the ceiling, wrapping themselves around the chandelier, which to witch's memory never been lighten up. She preferred the light of candles on shelves and furniture than the ones high on the ceiling, as the effort to just light it up was too much for Zână.

When the world around her evolved, she decided to remain the same. If it wasn't for Miranda and, at that time, her new Lord Heisenberg, she wouldn't have any power in her home. Not that she would complain about it. But the blonde managed to convince her to finally agree, and thanks to that she had electricity in her kitchen, just for the oven and fridge, however, Miranda said that it was a big improvement.

Karl was also the only man that visited her home and left it alive. But still, Zână wasn't very fond of him. They had very little in common, even the gender of people they were fond of, which at first surprised the witch. Well, the way he casually admitted it. The white-haired woman thought that, well, he was a man and maybe the world changed, even a little as she had to hide her preferences for women, while he has just woven these words in conversation like he was talking about the weather. Only then she relaxed to the point that she stopped watching him so carefully. Of course, he made a lot more improvement in the witch's home, but he didn't add anything she didn't approve of.