𝕭𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖓 ✧ American Horror Story

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓: 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

✧

Ophelia found herself nestled amidst the sprawling forms of Tate and Elliot, their bodies radiating warmth as she stirred awake. Slowly rousing from the embrace of their shared heat, the girl lifted her head groggily, her gaze shifting first to Elliot's serene visage and then to Tate's peaceful slumber. Limbs intertwined in a harmonious tangle, some draping over her form, while others found refuge beneath her legs, creating an intimate tableau accentuated by their gentle snores.

With a contented smile gracing her lips, Ophelia delicately and unhurriedly disentangled herself from the embrace of their sleeping forms, her movements both purposeful and tender. Slipping out of the bed with a soft grace, she left the warmth of their presence behind, entering the world beyond her dreamscape.

Ophelia stretched languidly, her body arching gracefully as a yawn escaped her lips, a prelude to the new day that awaited her. Her journey led her from the bedroom's cocooned comfort to the sanctuary of the bathroom, where her intentions turned to a different form of rejuvenation. Standing before the inviting expanse of the tub, she coaxed the shower to life, its cascading streams gradually gaining heat until they reached the perfect temperature. With practiced movements, Ophelia shed her clothes, revealing her vulnerability to the soothing allure of the water's embrace. Stepping beneath the warm torrent, she surrendered herself to its tender caress, the sensation akin to a cleansing ritual, as if the fervent flow was purging not only the sweat and grime but also the hidden burdens of her past.

For those fleeting moments, the worries that had plagued her mind seemed to dissolve, leaving her free from the weight of her troubles. It was a respite, a stolen interlude where the tempest of her thoughts was silenced, and tranquility enveloped her like a gentle embrace. The first true sense of unadulterated restfulness since her arrival in this house graced her, a testament to the solace that the waters of the shower provided.

Yet, the fleeting calm was not destined to endure, as her reverie gave way to a cascade of somber musings. Like a shadow cast across her mind, the knowledge that her closest friends were now dead, bound to the very fabric of the house, loomed over her. She pondered the moments when they had silently observed her, invisible spectators to her life, an intrusion that paradoxically stirred a sense of longing within her. As unconventional as it seemed, the idea of their silent watchfulness tugged at her psyche. Despite the trespass upon her privacy, an odd yearning emerged – a desire to be seen, to be acknowledged by those who were no longer confined by the mortal realm.

Having been thoroughly cleansed by the invigorating stream of water, Ophelia emerged from the shower, her dew-kissed skin enveloped in the embrace of a plush towel. She deftly wrapped it around herself, securing both her body and the damp tendrils of her hair. With purposeful poise, she approached the mirror, her reflection a testament to her newfound freshness, and diligently attended to the ritual of toothbrush and paste.

Upon completing her bathroom interlude, Ophelia returned to her room, greeted by an unexpected yet heartwarming sight. Tate and Elliot, ensconced in the folds of her bed, engaged in a morning dialogue that felt like a tranquil symphony. Their voices, still slightly muffled by the remnants of slumber, ceased abruptly as they turned their gaze towards her, twin smiles gracing their features.

"Good morning," Ophelia greeted with a simple yet genuine elegance, her movements fluid as she navigated toward her dresser. A fresh pair of underwear and bra were procured, her actions imbued with a natural grace that bespoke a profound comfort within her own skin.

"Mornin'," acknowledged Elliot with a subtle nod, his hand instinctively rubbing away the traces of sleep from his eyes.

The morning greetings continued as Tate, shaking off the last remnants of drowsiness, yawned and queried, "How'd you sleep?"