Endymion
"How very dare you!" Abby murmured with affectionate annoyance, addressing the bush of yellow roses she was currently harvesting for it's petals. One of the thorns caught her on the pinky, drawing blood.
She sucked the blood from the tiny cut and soon had the bleeding at a stand still. Little cuts and scrapes were nothing new to her. After all, when one was a True Witch with an earth affinity, gardening was a given.
"And most plants worth growing, have thorns." She muttered in a sing-song voice, quoting her mother. She was feeling nervous, and tending to her greenhouse always served to calm her.
It wasn't every day you're outlaw cousin sent a werewolf for you to look after, let alone a Lupus Antiqua of all things. And to send him to Abby of all people!
She was the only person still willing to bend the rules and risk the wrath of the matrons to talk to Amara once in awhile. But Abby had never been a social person. In fact, her innate abilities made being around people...problematic.
Also, she'd never really been around...men. Ever. Abby's coven was women only, and once she'd been removed for her own safety, and the safety of everyone else, she'd only ever seen the women directly related to her since, and occasionally a Matron.
She'd seen men on television of course, and read about them in books. But that didn't exactly prepare one, did it?
And now, there was a very old, very non female, werewolf coming to stay with her. By all accounts werewolves were creatures very ruled by emotion. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem for him or for her. Amara had sent him to her to recuperate.
She bent over and leaned rather precariously to harvest some mint leaves when she felt it.
Rage, betrayal, pain, suffering, loneliness, need. The maelstrom of emotions slammed into her like a hurricane hitting the coast, so much so that she lost her balance and went tumbling over onto her behind; landing unceremoniously in the dirt with a surprised squeak.
She found herself caught in the very intense and very captivating gaze of a large man. She blinked up at him in shock as he stared down at her with...no. She forced herself not to feel what he was feeling.
She needed to remember to rely on facial expressions and body language. It wasn't fair to absorb his emotions or share his mind, especially not without his consent.
If she had to guess, she would think he was both amused and bemused. That made sense. He had no reason to assume his emotional state had been the cause of her clumsiness.
"H-hi." She nearly whispered. He blinked and cocked his head as if he was trying to remember how to reply. He stalked forward and held out his hand for her, to help her up. The courtly gesture made her smile shyly up at him. "Thanks."
She put her hand in his and he pulled her up with almost no effort. And why not? Compared to him she was tiny. It took a full thirty seconds for her to realize she was holding onto his hand longer than she should be. She released his with a blush.
"You have big hands." She blurted out. Oh my God. She thought as mortification made her blush deepen. Of all the things she could have said in that moment she went with what was behind awkward door number one.
His lips quirked up a little at the corners and again she had to force herself not to read him. But she was so curious. He was amused, but was it because he thought she was funny or because he was making fun of her in his head.
"I am Endymion." He introduced himself. She nodded.
"My name is Abby." She said quietly, absorbing the deep tone of his voice. He cocked his head.
"You look nothing like Amara." He pointed out.
"Oh, well, we're distant cousins, like fourth cousins twice removed or something like that. True Witch clans are very interspersed to prevent inbreeding." She bit her lower lip to stop herself from talking. Nobody cared about that. She had a habit of oversharing. Most people found it annoying.
"I know. I used to know several True Witches." He admitted.
"Well, welcome to my mountain." She murmured. "Come with me, and I'll show you the house. How did you know I was out here, anyway?" She wondered, almost as an afterthought.
"I have a very good nose." He stated as he matched her stride out of the greenhouse.
"Yes, it suits you nicely, but.." She swallowed, realizing what he'd meant a second too late. "Sorry, I don't have much of a filter. I tend to just blurt out whatever I think." She admitted.
"It is...endearing." He stated.
"Let's see if you still feel that way after a week." She chuckled. They walked up the path she'd made out of river stones, that led from the greenhouse to the main house.
It was an older ranch style home her coven had built for that last Witch like her that had been born. Her own great Grandmother. It looked it's age but in a well loved sort of way.
The front door stood propped wide open as were all the windows to let in the late summer breezes. The place had no air conditioning so the copious amount of windows remained open most of the summer. Only the screens kept the bugs out.
She paused by the door.
"So, Amara didn't tell me much, just asked me to give you a place to recover and to help you however I could. So I don't know the specifics and I'll do my best to not pry. But I may pick up on things. I apologize in advance if I do that. I can't always help it." She admitted sheepishly.
"I am your opposite, then. I am in my situation because I could help it, and chose not to." He sounded bitter but resigned.
"Well, we should get along then, shouldn't we?" She said brightly.
"Why do you say that?" He asked curiously.
"Nature is all about balance and opposites. If we are opposite, then we should do fine." She shot him a sunny smile and entered the house.
With her back turned, she missed his expression, but she could feel him, and a strange energy tie she hadn't noticed initially that seemed to tie them together.
What was that?
