[it takes that one solid motion—of yennefer bringing their joined hands closer to her chest—for the emotional vault within wanda to burst open. her expression pinches, lips a thin line as she stirs it to the side, trying to keep her face from betraying her. yet her eyes display what she tries to hide, unblinking, growing blurry and damp with the words curtailed in such a gentle, tender tone.

agatha had taught her so much in those few, short instances, but the witch had wanted to destroy her magically-made family, force wanda to give up her powers, and to label her as a harbringer of destruction.

why could it not have been like this, when she had been at her lowest—when she had needed it the most?]

Sometimes I wish I never had them.

[—her powers.

to live a normal life, like a normal person, to the best of her ability, despite the circumstances. she hates that separation, between herself and ‘normal’, and knows that it will never be. knowing that she doesn’t have to be alone does help.]

I wish this had been what I found when another witch found out about me. [she glances up, eyes green and wet, but not a single tear falls.] I feel like there is so much that I could still learn about being a witch.