The Salem Witch and the Sorceress of New Orleans

Whispers of the Eye

SONG: Mystery by Jesse Jo Stark

*

The morning light filtered through the tall, arched windows of Rio's New Orleans home, casting warm, golden hues across the polished wood floors. Their new home was a grand cottage, perched at the edge of the Bayou, surrounded by overgrown vines and ancient oak trees draped in Spanish moss. It was a place that radiated Rio's energy - wild, uncontainable, yet undeniably beautiful. The house itself felt powerful. It felt alive, as though it breathed with the rhythm of the city and swamps beyond, a perfect reflection of the women who called it home.

Agatha stood in the sunroom, her fingers delicately tracing a pattern in the air as she muttered an incantation. The morning was filled with the scents of damp Earth and the fragrant herbs hanging from the rafters, drying in the humid southern air. A faint shimmer of light pulsed at her fingertips, and the wilted plants before her perked up, their leaves brightening with new life.

"Do you have to do that every day?" Rio's voice, thick with sleep, drifted into the room from the doorway. She stood leaning against the frame, her hair, wild, falling over her bare shoulders, a loose cotton shirt hanging off her like she couldn't be bothered to care.

Agatha smiled but didn't turn around. "You've made it clear you're not going to take care of them. I'd hate to see them die."

"They wouldn't die. They'd just get a little... wild, like everything else around here." Rio's smirk was evident in her voice, and Agatha finally glanced over her shoulder, unable to suppress her own smile.

Rio sauntered over, barefoot, her movements languid and unhurried. She wrapped her arms around Agatha from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck. "You know you love it here. The chaos suits you."

"Chaos? Hardly," Agatha leaned back into her, letting herself enjoy the warmth of Rio's body. "It's a miracle I haven't been driven mad by your complete lack of order."

"And yet, my love," Rio murmured, lips brushing against her ear, "You're still here."

Agatha turned in Rio's arms, facing her, their bodies pressed together. "I am," she exhaled deeply, softly, her eyes tracing the curve of Rio's mouth. "Though I'm not entirely sure why."

Rio's grin spread wider, lazy, as if she had all the time in the world to answer. "Maybe because you like what I bring to the table. And it's not just the house."

Agatha gave a small laugh, her fingers trailing up Rio's arm. "Perhaps. But there are days I miss having a little control, a little more structure."

"Structure," Rio scoffed playfully, motioning around them. "This is structure. My kind of structure. Just because it's not your version of order doesn't mean it's chaos." She gave a mock-serious look and squeezed Agatha tighter. " And besides, you need a bit of my 'chaos'. It's good for you."

Agatha's lips quirked upward, but she didn't argue. It was true. In this beautiful house, in Rio's beautiful world, Agatha had found something unexpected - a release from the constant need to control everything around her. But that didn't mean she was about to let Rio off the hook completely.

"Speaking of structure," Agatha said, slipping out of Rio's arms. "We have a lesson today. You promised."

Rio groaned dramatically and flopped onto the nearby velvet chaise lounge, tossing an arm over her eyes in exaggerated despair. "You never let me sleep in!"

"You need a little bit of discipline," Agatha said, her tone light but firm, she slowly dropped to her knees before Rio, her fingers tracing her thigh. "Your magic is so powerful, Rio. Wild magic can thrive on emotion and control. Imagine what it could do if you could direct it."