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There was nothing Pippa could do but pray as she made her way through the corridors, the hotel walls alerting its residents of her presence as the echo sent the sound of soft footsteps to fill every crevice, from the dining hall up towards their room.
What did she pray for, you might ask. Well, the answer to that was a bit more complicated than it seemed, adopting the features of one nosey, giddy, pesky—
"Oh, Pippa!"
Speak of the devil.
The witch braced herself, plastering a — what she hoped was, at least — polite smile as she gathered the strength to face the cause of her misery.
"Annaise!" Pippa turned around, the loose fabric of her nightdress floundering about in the process. "What a pleasant surprise!"
Definitely not.
Before her stood a woman she hadn't seen in almost thirty years up until last week. The unruly brown curls gathered around her enthusiastic face in a messy yet stylish updo, big grin adorning her hopeful expression. The robes she wore were one of the newest fashion, meticulous embroidery suggesting a high price, the designer marks sown to the cuffs giving away the prestigious brand. The outfit, while stunning, absolutely did not fit in a place like that at such a late hour.
There was something in her eyes, though, that told Pippa exactly why said attire had been chosen in the first place. She also suspected it the same reason of their current encounter.
"I hope I'd catch you there," The woman said with visible fake relief as she approached with a bounce in her step. "We're going to that new expensive place near the city centre. We thought you might want to let lose for a bit, you know, live a little. Care to join us?"
The blonde was doing everything in her power not to snap, while she listened to what seemingly come off as a simple proposition, laid down before her like an insult in disguise. An insult to a woman not able to fight back due to her absence in that conversation. Not to mention the implications of what 'live a little' truly meant and why the idea was presented to her and to her alone. The nerve of some people.
"I'm afraid not, maybe next time." Pippa declined tactfully with every intention to end the discussion there. Her companion, however, had other plans.
"Oh, don't be so stiff," The brunette bumped her hip against her side as she hang her arm around other woman's shoulders, whispering cheerfully. "Come on, I'm sure your girlfriend wouldn't mind."
Lord, give her strength.
"Excuse me but I really need to come back to Hecate." The dismissal wasn't even that cordial but she couldn't really force herself to wait for a response, not caring in the slightest about the outcome such a blatant display of disinterest would guarantee later. She made her way towards her destination, not sparring Annaise any further thought as she heard her curses and huffs growing more distant with each step.
The mugs on the tray clinked together as she rounded the corner, hand steadying the ceramics before liquid had a chance to spill.
Only one corridor left and she'd be finally free of the constant 'Oh, Pippa, you're really successful' or 'Miss Pentangle's really is the best witchery school across the continents' and 'May I say, I always admired your modern perspective on magic. Some people are too set in their ways to understand'. She was exhausted of people craving her attention because of her last name, status or achievements — the same people who later claimed they knew her for their own personal gain.
It didn't matter that that was what this whole gathering was about, not when everyone in their circle treated Hecate like a ghost or a nuisance they had to exclude from activities in fear of the 'fun' being spoilt otherwise. She was invited to the Christmas Reunion out of sheer obligation — she was still their former classmate, too — they both knew it, hence why Pippa specifically requested they share a room together, not wanting to leave her friend isolated for a week.
It shouldn't be a surprise, then, to find out how pissed she was when her request had been denied by the organisers — the very same witches that played up to her any chance they got — with a promise of reevaluation if provided with justifying circumstances of such decision.
Which was how she ended up playing house with her childhood sweetheart. Needless to say, it worked.
They were doing fine for the most part — smile when appropriate, think up some confession story, address themselves differently, link arms in the corridor. Mostly though, they didn't really have to pretend, their friendship already looking like a kind of reserved longing relationship, something that bloomed behind the closed doors, when the prying eyes of gossip couldn't reach them.
It didn't mean she wasn't worried. She certainly was. What if someone found out? What if their improvised tales didn't add up? What if their classmates persistent nature eventually broke their resolve?These all couldn't even measure with the most recent cause for her concern, though, for the aforementioned childhood sweetheart let herself pass out in the middle of dinner earlier in the day, being out for over an hour before she came around, only for an apology to be the first thing that slipped past her lips.
She was gonna strangle that woman one day.
"The gall of Annaise Cleveland is scandalous!" The doors opened with a creak as Pippa pushed them softly, quickly setting the tray on the bedside table to work on the lock. "I go to fetch tea for my sick lover and that woman deems it an ideal situation to talk to me about the changes in my school and my curriculum, then proceeds to praise my bravery and innovative worldview. Mind you, the very same journalist who talked to Hellibore about modern magic being an unnecessary investment, the very reason the Council cut off half our funds!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. "And then she invites me to dinner on my own because 'Hecate wouldn't mind'! I'm so done, I swear. Christmas should be a time to relax, not fret over what new exclusion tactics can be used on you."
Hecate listened intently, eyeing the witch as she paced around the room, taking off no-longer-needed garments and undoing the ponytail, before she fell unceremoniously onto the cushions opposite her own. Her friend knew sometimes it was better to let her talk it out before trying to give her a piece of mind.
"Your sick lover?" She mused instead, a teasing note in her tone as she looked upon the two pools of darkness that reflected the candlelight like little fireflies now staring intently at her, a faint blush creeping up the delicate expanse of skin.
"You know what I mean," Pippa rolled her eyes fondly. She sat up, grievances abandoned in favour of nourishing not even her own beverage. "How are you feeling?"
Hecate could only smile shyly as she propped herself up, taking the cup from her girlfriend's outstretched hand. "Better. Still a bit woozy, though." She said, hiding her sigh behind the porcelain in disguise of cooling it down. Not that Pippa didn't notice.
She really thought she could fool her?
"How's the nausea?" She asked instead, choosing to let the subject go for now. There would be many occasions to discuss it further.
"Gone. For now."
"Good."
They stared at each other for a few minutes, drinking tea in silence neither of them wanted to break. Time stood still as they finished the treat, the howling of the wind outside enveloping the room in a comforting hue. They didn't talk, didn't move but didn't feel trapped here either. They just were, together, two women bound by shared history and divided by time for so long they had no wish of ever saying goodbye.
The evening turned into a night and slowly, albeit without hesitation, Pippa took their mugs and set them down back on the tray, the candles blown out with a flick of her wrist, before they both lied stiffly on their assigned sides of the bed, staring at the ceiling in lack of a better thing to do.
The silence got broken by the witch in black nightgown, her pale cheeks still visibly lighter than the pillow even in the dark.
"Do you ever wonder… what our lives would look like had we kept in touch?" Her soft murmur cut through the night in nostalgic melancholy, like a blade through the flesh of a past lover-turned-traitor.
"Yes," Pippa whispered back, the confession hanging heavily over their heads as they caught each other's gazes. "But we're here now, aren't we, Hiccup?"
"We are." She said with certainty both sincere and bold.
They remained quiet as they took the other in. The moonlight shone through the window, blinding the blonde momentarily and illuminating the space in silver slivers. Hecate's black hair was fanned out across the pillow, soft skin white as the sheets, bewitching eyes glinting in the darkness. She wished she could just take her hand, caress her cheek, thumb tracing the worry lines on her forehead, fingers detangling onyx strands, massaging the exhaustion out through her scalp. She wished she could just scoot closer, lay her head on the bony shoulder and count the soothing heartbeats until her breathing evened out in sleep. She wished she could just lean down and—
"You're beautiful, Pipsqueak." Pippa heard her say, the words making her breath hitch as an unwelcome blush creeped up her cheeks.
A fit of giggles interrupts her as a pair of little hands hugs Pippa from behind, a mane of red curls sending tickling sensations down her spine when a small head props itself on her shoulder.
"Hey!" She laughs, catching the slim fingers where they landed on her neck, trying to glimpse at the culprit behind the distraction.
"When do they kisssss?" An ecstatic teenager demands, never ending her onslaught on Pippa's neck.
"Not for another month at least," Comes the answer, followed by a string of 'nooo's and theatrical sniffling. Teenagers can be very dramatic, she thinks while turning around to free her hand and check the hour on the adored timepiece sitting on her chest. "But it's a story for another night. Up we get, almost time."
The castle is unusually quiet as they make their way down the ancient corridors made of freezing stone and pure spookiness. The walk towards the main hall feels like a moment and before Pippa knows it, the bouncy, hyperactive child she's been dealing with all night long is gone. Instead there's a deep understanding in her eyes as her body stills, eyes fixated on the massive Christmas Tree standing on the other side of the room.
Living proof of how rapidly loss can change people.
The woman takes a minute to observe the flickering of candles trapped inside the Lanterns of Life, her gaze tracing not-quite-readable from that distance names, the branches bending under the weight of magical crystal fires. There are no presents, not for now at least, yet she can't help it but stare at the place Hecate used to leave them for her in their childhood, knowing on some spiritual level that there is one here, too — just not on their plane of existence.
"Go, look for your light." Pippa encourages the girl, watching her run along the tables and circling the tree, disappearing behind it soon after.
She takes her time as she walks slowly towards their spot that holds so many memories. That place was their safe haven for so many years when they were mere school girls the witch regrets they never had the guts to carry out the tradition after their reunion. The image of Hecate sitting here all alone for thirty winters makes her eyes sting as her unhurried footsteps stop abruptly and she sits on the floor, on the exact same floorboard she used to occupy as a student.
Pippa takes a deep breath, letting silent tears fall as she fishes out a crumpled letter and a piece of parchment, setting them down where her sweetheart always would and smoothing out the paper.
She's sure that wherever her Hiccup is, she waits for those poems with the same anticipation she herself looks out for fourteen past midnight every Christmas Day.
Because wherever she is, she's happy, and that's all Pippa ever wanted.
"Would she like me?" A familiar voice snaps her out of her retrospection.
"Anne," The blonde breathes out, her head following the girl's movement.
"Will I ever meet her?" Another question makes its way out of her mouth as she hesitantly kneels down beside the older woman. In the same place Hecate would occupy.
Looking at the child, she gets reminded of why exactly Ada asked her for mentorship. While from the outside nothing seems familiar, a skilled eye will recognise that hint in her gaze anywhere. The fierce will, the strong stubborn nature, the passion to learn, the reliable memory, and easiness with which she picks up new skills and perspectives — though admits it unwillingly — are so very Hecate it hurts.
That girl relies on her, and Pippa knows she has to show her all the directions and all possible consequences she can find. She won't let another gifted child lose her future. She owes it to her lover to try.
"Miss Pentangle?" Annabelle probes gently, concern written all over her young features.
"You remind me of her," The witch confesses softly, gaze still searching for remnants of the woman she loves. She places her shaking hand on a frail arm and traces reassuring circles on her skin. "And one day, many, many winters from now, you'll see for yourself just how much she adores you."
Anne observes her for a moment, frame trembling slightly, cheeks wet from crying, before a forlorn expression befalls on her face.
"Do you think my mum is waiting, too?" She asks faintly, a whisper so quiet Pippa needs to strain her ears to understand.
When she does, she envelopes her in a hug, the girl's face hidden in the crook of her neck as the blonde rocks them gently, soothing the sudden downpour away.
"Do you remember today's poem's title?" Asks Pippa when the worst of the tears are over. "Etiam in morte…"
"…superest amor."
"Even in death, love survives," She reminds her sweetly, carding her fingers through Anne's hair as the girl fully melts into the embrace. "And your mum will be there for you once it's your time to live amongst the stars. Just like my sweetheart is waiting for me."
There's a moment of silence disrupted only by quiet sniffling, before the arms around her waist tighten significantly. "Thank you, Miss P."
And Pippa can do nothing more but return the force, leaning against the wall. "Anytime, sweetie."