The color violet

'Borderline'

Hela and Agatha finished their meal, with Agatha handling the payment. As they returned home, Agatha slammed the door in frustration, her forehead creased with irritation.

"Damnit!" Agatha mutters, rubbing her temples in frustration.

Hela, arms crossed defensively, hovering near the couch, watching Agatha with a conflicted expression. She is not accustomed to sharing her worries or vulnerabilities; Odin's teachings had drilled the importance of self-reliance into her. But now, with Agatha, it feels different. She feels exposed, vulnerable.

In the tense silence that follows, Hela's mind races, regretting the words she had let slip. She wants to get out of there, she doesn't know if she can completely trust Agatha with that information, but she somewhat does feel like she can trust her (to a degree.) Agatha, ever perceptive, seems to sense her inner turmoil, perhaps aided by her magic.

Clearing her throat, Agatha straightens, exuding confidence. "This may have put a slight dent in my plans, but I won't use it against you, love," she declares, her tone firm yet strangely reassuring. "Unless, of course, I have no other choice." She casually moves to the kitchen table, summoning a glass of wine with her magic.

Hela, eyes narrow, issued a cold warning. "Stay out of my head, witch," she demands, her voice sharp with warning.

Agatha's response is calm, almost disarming. "I'm simply trying to understand you better," she explains, unfazed by Hela's hostility.

Hela scoffs, then takes a more assertive approach. She positions herself behind the chair Agatha is in, placing her arms on both sides and turning it to face her. Agatha's eyes widen as Hela, towering over her, leans down to meet her eye level. Their faces were mere inches apart.

"Don't invade my mind," she warns, her voice low and dangerous. "I'm not in the mood for your games. I let it slide before, but do it again, and I'll make you regret it. I swear on Odin's grave, I'll slit your throat without a second thought." Her eyes burn with a fierce intensity as she holds Agatha's gaze, daring her to defy her warning. The intrusion into her thoughts reminds her of the witches on Asgard, compelled by Odin to delve into her mind and ensure her compliance, making sure she remained a mindless executioner and war weapon. The revelation had cost the life of a young witch, but that was a detail she preferred to ignore.

Agatha, seemingly unfazed, responds with a smirk, "Don't get your panties in a bunch, toots. I'll stop if that's what you want." Her gaze flickers down to Hela's lips before returning to her eyes.

Hela leans back, moving her hair off her shoulder, and says, "Thank you."

"Anything for you, hot stuff," Agatha winks, a suggestive tone in her voice.

Rolling her eyes, Hela takes Agatha's glass of wine and heads to the living room to sit down. Agatha, with her rabbit's cage in her left hand and her hand bag in her right, appears in front of Hela, looking expectant.

"Yes?" Hela raises an eyebrow.

"We'll figure out a plan about your 'soul health' later. Anyways, I didn't pick that outfit for you to just stay inside all day," Agatha chastises. "The day is just now getting started." She turns her attention to her familiar. "Senor Scratchy needs to get out for the day." She coos at the rabbit.