Bickering Witches

Emory takes a deep breath and tries the incantation once more. She doesn't care that the circle has lost its magic, because summoning a faemiliar requires a few days of charging, but once the spell is done, the magic is too. Only Emory's summoning spell isn't done because she doesn't see her faemiliar here. Or she doesn't have one. She hates to think it but she refuses to accept it.

She just wants a chance. She wants something to go right for her, for once.

Why is that too much to ask for?

"The orphan witch will never summon a faemiliar." Bexies voice grates against Emory's ears and her blue eyes fly open. The left one twitches.

"I dare you to tell the Priestess that, haha." Her friend, Carrie, replies. Carrie is always there with her, in the sidelines. A cronnie who just wants the approval of their High Priestess. Emory doesn't like to give her attention, she's more of an annoying wasp than anything. Whenever she's alone, Carrie doesn't pay half as much attention to Emory as she does when she's with Bex.

"What, no way!" There's an irritating giggle. Emory turns her head and finds Bexie just on the edge of her outer circle. "You do it!" She's not even looking at Emory, her smile has a sharp edge to it, and she can't help but get angry.

A part of Emory always knew that she won't amount to much with her curse - the back of her shoulder flares with heat, and she winces - but they didn't have to bully her about it. They didn't have to make her feel worse than she already does.

"I bet the reason it doesn't work is because she doesn't have one." Someone else murmurs, and Emory's heart aches. "Her curse must have something to do with it."

Her stomach tightens into knots, could that be why her summons doesn't work? The thought is devastating. She's grown up in this coven, taught that a witches faemiliar is a part of her spirit, to help bring balance to her soul.

Only, she's cursed. How deeply does this curse run? Deep enough to block her connection to her spirit? Deep enough to block her magic? Emory's vision blurs with tears, all she wants is a normal life. Her breath stutters and she glares down at the cement floor in front of her, jaw clenching as her ears begin to ring with everything they have to say about her and her curse.

As if it knows it's being talked about, the burning prickly sensation in Emory's shoulder pulses angrily.

"Did you know that Mavis refuses to touch her?" Bexie smirked, and Emory can feel her entire body flinch. Bex is staring at her, Bexie won't stop staring at her, and suddenly all Emory can focus on is the cold presence at the end of the line.

She knows Mavis is there, deep in her mind, but she forces herself not to focus on Mavis, and only on what was happening in front of her. Emory already embarrassed herself enough earlier. "Whenever they accidentally touch, she calls Emory a freak and immediately washes her hands. She said she wouldn't want to catch her curse by accident."

The worst part, is that Bex is telling the truth. Mavis is the High Priestess' daughter and once Emory's best friend. She's a powerful and promising witch, one who has already summoned her faemiliar, a dirt stick. Not really what they're called, it's actually dirthteik. She once caught the little bugger eating her earth worms and caused her to fail her potion lesson.

Now, Emory is nothing but a spec of dirt underneath Mavis' shoes. She doesn't know what it was that made her dislike Emory so suddenly. One day they were talking about the tarot test that Priestess Promilia would give them, and the next day she was cold and heartless, as if they haven't been friends for five years. It's just another reminder that she is indeed cursed.

"I don't blame her." Carrie snickers, "I think I'll start doing that too. You never know."

"Didn't you get an STD from the wolf shifter across the street? Though, how you even managed to sleep with him in the first place is beyond me. Last I saw, he couldn't stand the sight of you. Did you give him a love potion, Carrie?" Emory snaps back.

"Are you calling me ugly?" Carrie frowns, lifting her hand to her cheek. She looks devastated, as if she can't fathom how anyone would find her unattractive.

Emory scoffs. Out of all of that, she's worried about her unintentionally calling her ugly. Not the fact that she probably assault a werewolf, because let's face it, love potions are a date rape drug.

"Absolutely disgusting," Emory nods. Only she's not talking about Carrie's looks. She admit that Carrie is nice to look at, but that's all she has going for her. She's subpar in her magic, not that Emory has any room to talk, but she has an ugly personality. It's why she and Bex get along so well. "It's why Gregory cheated on you with Mandy." Emory only uses the word cheated because she's kinda loony for thinking they're together when he slept with her one time.

The guilty look on Mandy's face is a dead ringer though. She stands on the other side of Carrie, her mouth open in a gasp as her eyes widen. Oh yeah, she totally slept with Greg.

He is the wolf shifter across the street, he's a frat boy who attends the university in the city, and every weekend Carrie will sneak out of the coven house to stalk him at parties hoping to get in his pants. Only last week, he finally caved. Emory overheard her and Bex talking about her problem.

That same night Emory foumd him and Mandy fucking in the shed out back.

"Looks like you both have Chlamydia." Emory looks at Mandy, "At least it's curable, right?"

Bexie and Carrie gasp, and then Mandy suddenly sobs. There's a snort from down the line. Is that Mavis? Emory resists the urge to look at her. No, she won't give her the satisfaction.

"Why you-" Carrie starts.

"Quiet girls," The loud and stern voice of Priestess Promilia cuts through the basement, a small echo following after her words. "Clearly, this summons has failed."

Emory shoulders drop, her gaze dropping to the floor. Right, clearly. She takes a look around the second circle, no fae came to her call.

"Emory, you shouldn't say mean things about your coven sisters." Priestess Promilia continues, and Emory sighs. Of course she would be the one getting lectured. It's always her in the wrong. "We're a family. Instead, perhaps you should ask them for advice. Maybe Bex can help you summon your faemiliar. She was able to do it, and a powerful one at that."