❝This is what I like about photographs. They're proof that once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect.❞
charmed | pre-season one
e. hathaway standalone
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twelve moving forward
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HER DREAMS CONTINUED TO WHISPER HER NAME. Soft, little callings as they lured her to a trap, with her hand nearly touching the knob as if she was in a trance until she snapped out of it, a clear mind again because she could hear the strong voice of her mother proclaiming her name and she turned away from the door. They didn't seize all throughout Christmas break, even though they never came while she was awake again.
She liked to think it was because she had scared away the demon when she adamantly proclaimed that she would not be taken by it, but it was probably because she was easier to influence in her dreams. Still, she wanted to believe that because it made her feel better.
As she agreed to, she told Colleen about the dreams and the woman nodded, accepting them and not saying a word about it. It was probably better considering they had a track record of arguing about certain things, so Colleen's quietness was taken as a sign that she didn't want to fight anymore. Neither did Evanora, honestly.
She was tired of fighting because it was just a losing battle. She'd rather save her energy for something else, like Brian Gilbert and his insistent attempts at getting Maggie to take him back or Prue and her cult. But not Colleen. She was tired of fighting the woman when it was clear she wasn't going away.
But now she wanted to fight her dreams as well, so she stayed awake too late and woke up too early because she was scared that one time her mother wasn't going to call her back to reality and she would open the door and the demon could find her. She didn't want the demon to find her, she wanted to be protected forever even if it was by her mother and not by herself.
In her dreams, at least, because Evanora needed no one to protect her when she was awake. She could do that herself. She was not a weak little girl but a strong woman, just like her mother was. As much as she hated to admit that, her mother was strong, and she had to at least give her that if nothing else.
She raised the sleeve of her sweater, looking down at her arm as her mind fluttered back to Prue for a second. Curiosity bit at her again, but lightly, and she shook her mind away from the girl. She didn't need to know, nor did she actually want to. To stop thinking about it, she rolled her sleeve back down even though her room was much too hot for it.
There was a knock at her door, and Evanora looked up to see the wooden white door and the hook on this back of it which held her purple book bag. "Come in," she said, a bit louder than usual so that Colleen would hear her, and she watched as the knob turned and the whitelighter entered.
"Sleep well?" Colleen asked, having picked up on domestic phrases like this instead of bluntly getting into the reason why she came into her room in the first place. Evanora supposed it was a good thing, made her more likable to neighbors now because she engaged in small talk and didn't look like a stoic bitch all the time. A little annoying for Evanora now though.
