Work Text:
The spirits are particularly unsettled tonight.
With good reason too. A storm has been brewing for the past few days and is slowly coming to pass over town. Thunder rolls in with a booming crescendo. The trees sway with a rigor that could very well shake away a devil that chose to find its home in them, hissing with the whistling wind at its violent eviction. A cottage by the edge of town is filled with the echoes of the outside’s heavy downpour.
But Amanda does not hear it. All that takes her focus are the anxious whispers of loved ones long passed. She’s taking a little longer to commune with them, every single soul rushing and eager to make it through the door that has been opened tonight. She hears their worried cries, urging her to pass on belated messages of warning to their families in town, to prepare for the oncoming storm.
She reassures them that the town hall had made everyone aware. She tells them of how she walked through the town square that day, and how every single person with whom she held conversation was thorough in their preparations, waiting with bated breath for the storm to pass.
Slowly, the whispers hush, and her return to consciousness is met with water dripping onto her face.
Her roof is leaking.
She fetches a bucket and leaves it right under the leak to catch the trickling water, hoping against hope that it would suffice for the night. The windows and doors are firmly shut, reinforced with as many planks of wood as she had in stock, steering any chances for this storm to leave her home in disarray. She tucks away her shop’s display - all her crystals, tarot cards, and herbs - all into boxes kept under floorboards.
It should be good for now, she’ll deal with the lapses in her judgment come morning.
With a gentle breath, the flame of her lamp sways and is extinguished, leaving her ready to turn in for the night.
She wakes to a rapping on her door. It’s almost soft enough for her to wonder if she heard anything to begin with. It’s still dark out and the rain pours down incessantly. It’s that combined with the comfort of her bed that nearly lulls her back to sleep, the sound of knocking for her to consider as just one of the many weird noises one would hear at night.
She’s jolted awake once more as the rapping becomes a banging that booms through her little home. Who in their right mind could be calling at such an hour and under such horrendous weather, she doesn’t know.
It dawns on her then that whoever could be knocking might be stuck in the storm, and with the ghastly visions she had seen for this storm at the back of her mind, she gathers all her willpower to get up.
The door bangs again, this time accompanied by a familiar voice calling out her name.
“Amanda!”
Something about it fills her with excitement, her heartbeat picking up its pace at the sound.
She’s here.
Immediately, she gets up and scrambles to find her matches to relight her lamp. Meandering through her room, she gathers all her spare rags and a washcloth. Finding her way through her home in darkness, she opens the door to the familiar visage of a woman - soaking wet and shivering, much like a pathetic animal.
Amanda nearly melts at the sight, but not before she breaks into a flurry of worry.
“Angela,” She hurriedly pulls her in and shuts the door, sheltering her from the raging elements of the outside. “What are you doing here? Were you not warned?”
“No, I just got back to town.” Angela shakily responds as she eagerly takes the washcloth from Amanda’s hands, unfolding and wrapping it around her shoulders to catch the rivulets of water falling down her hair. Amanda takes another cloth, gently patting the top of her head dry.
“The caravan carrying the troupe broke down so we all went our separate ways to find our way back because the group was too big. I was with Chanse for a while, and then I lost him when it started storming. Realized I was near your cottage and I thought, hey, why not?” she hastily recalls.
“Well, it’s a good thing you found yourself here…” Amanda’s mind starts wandering to a dark place. Would she have had a place to stay had she not found her? How long would she have gone without shelter? Would the spirits have known if something happened to her? And how soon would they have told her? She says none of this aloud. “Goodness knows what would’ve happened to you otherwise.” she says instead.
Almost as if she can read her mind, Angela gives her the warmest smile and grabs Amanda’s hands to stop her fussing. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m alive.”
Amanda is brought back to the present moment, and she sees Angela’s face – glowing by the light of her lamp, a tender look in her eyes. It puts her at ease. She lets out a gentle exhale, and resumes the motions of patting dry the water droplets running down her face.
“How about Chanse?” Amanda finally has the mind to ask about Angela’s performance partner. “Do you have any idea if he’s safe?”
“I think so, at least I hope he is…” She says, biting her lip in worry as she turns her gaze back to the stoop of Amanda’s home, a shut door blocking its view. “He’s really good at finding his way out of these things. We agreed to meet at the town square tomorrow morning if we ended up separated.”
She senses how anxious she is, and offers her only the best assurance she could. “I’ll speak to the spirits tonight. Hopefully, his ancestors can find him somewhere in town.”
“Really?” She lights up. It’s in this moment that Amanda knows that she’d do anything to look out for Angela, and everything and everyone she’s ever loved.
Amanda simply nods.
“Thank you.” she says softly.
“It’s no bother.” She gives her a smile and hands her the cloth she’s been using to dry her off. “I’ll start a fire too. Please, make yourself comfortable while I get you a change of clothes.”
The shift Amanda lends her is a little too big on Angela. She’s practically swimming in it. Angela tells her just as much as she sets up the fire, and despite the anxiety of not knowing where Chanse was, manages to lightly make fun of how tall she is.
Amanda makes a fake exasperated noise and teases her back. “Do you want a place to stay or not?”
“Noooooo…I’m sorry. You’re amazing.” she immediately surrenders, innocently smiling as her brown eyes adorably bug out while she makes her plea.
“Fine, I guess you can stay.” She responds dryly as she rolls her eyes, getting back to setting up the fire and hanging a pot of water over it.
Amanda tells her that she can use it to help herself to a cup of tea. Angela thanks her again, and settles into a comfortable sitting position by the fire.
Once Angela has settled in, Amanda starts to set up a corner of the room for her ritual. She unboxes all the components she hid away in her floorboards to prepare to talk to the dead.
With Angela around, Amanda remembers how freaked out she was the first time she saw her mid-ritual – palms open on her lap, eyes wide and focused on no specific point – almost catatonic. She had come back to reality back then, with Angela sobbing by her side in an absolute panic. It took a while to convince her that she was okay, that this was her normal.
“So you just talk to the dead when you get like that.”
“Yes.”
“You could talk to my dead family? Find out what they think of me?”
“Yes, but I’d only do it if you asked. Sometimes they don’t say much. A lot of them just want to be near the world of the living.”
There’s a pregnant pause as Amanda watches her process everything. She finds amusement in the emotional journey that plays out on her face, until she settles into a nod and all tension has left her body.
She shrugs. “I guess that’s cool.”
“It’s just my life.” she laughs.
“Hey,” Angela reaches across the table to lightly lay her hand atop hers, “Your life is cool.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
She smiles at the memory as she begins the ritual. Angela has seen her like this many times now. Amanda would even say she’s grown accustomed to it, barely batting an eye when it does happen.
The next few minutes are spent searching for a spirit who knew Chanse. There aren’t too many of them to wade through this time, many of them having dispersed after her earlier communion. In turn, an energy comes back to her not too long after.
She thanks the spirit, and the sight of Angela all cozied up with a blanket by the fire comes back into full view. Angela is looking at her, watching her in anticipation.
Through the small cracks of her window, lightning briefly flashes and thunder rolls.
Amanda gives her a small smile. “He’s okay.”
“Oh, thank god.” Angela lets out a huge sigh of relief. “Where is he?”
“Not far from here, I sensed somewhere near Tommy and Arasha’s.”
“That’s great news.” She responds as she rubs a hand over temples, and runs her fingers through her hair, willing away the residual stress of not knowing her best friend’s whereabouts. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” she says as she gets up from her seat to pack away her setup once more.
“Well, now that’s all sorted,” Angela remarks once everything has settled. “Care to join me?”
She motions to the spot next to hers.
The fortune teller fondly shakes her head and crosses her arms in mock annoyance. “Last I checked, this was my home.”
Angela giggles. “And I’m letting you use it so,” Angela waves a hand and beckons her.
Amanda relents and joins her. Angela immediately sidles up to her and leans against her side. Amanda responds in kind, wrapping an arm around her to draw her close.
“You know I’m so happy I met you” Angela says softly. Her voice is light, but earnest. “Who knows where I’d be right now if I didn’t know you lived here.”
“You know, I still would’ve opened the door for you even if I didn’t know you, right?”
“Yeah, but it just makes it so much better that I know you,” she insists “And how kind and lovely you are. It makes this…not so bad.”
“Yeah?” she questions and Angela hums. “Well, you’ve been making things a whole lot better for me since you accidentally found yourself here that one night.”
Angela lets out another giggle. “Thought you were a gift shop” she mutters.
Amanda joins her in glee.
“How was the caravan?” Amanda asks “Made any new fans?”
“Ha! If I did, I wouldn’t know.” Angela looks wistful as she says it. “I never stay long enough for them to remember my name.”
“Hey, you make an impact.” Amanda gently nudges her with her shoulder. “I watched you one time, and remember it well.”
Angela meets her eye for a brief moment, but turns back to face the dancing flames before her. “Yeah well…it doesn’t beat performing at home where you know people will love you even if you fuck up.”
“Maybe that is true.” Amanda concedes.
“It is,” she responds. She’s looking back at Amanda now, as if she knows. Her eyes gleam bright by the firelight, so full of a warmth and affection that pulls Amanda deeper in.
She forces herself to look away before she sinks into it, readjusting the scarf wrapped around her shoulders. “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too,” she says with half a yawn, and Amanda feels Angela’s arms wrap around her tighter.
Silence befalls the room and Amanda is left with her own thoughts.
With all the places she has been, this is where Amanda feels the most alive. She’s grown to love the town, the forest where she makes her daily treks, and the people who’ve welcomed her with open arms. She pictures a life where she’d finally stay, where she’d hang all her scarves, no longer anticipating her next move.
And this is it.
More than all that, she sees this life with Angela by her side - the woman who taught her to embrace the part of her that occupies the living world more fully than she has ever done before. Angela has shown her how much beauty is in everyday life – through her laughter, through her art, and through her songs.
With Angela, she feels much more than a medium between worlds, more than a town’s counsel for times of trouble. She’s just Amanda.
“Angela?” she calls out. Every ounce of courage she's had in her life fills Amanda up in the moment - just to tell her just how much she means to her, and in truth – just how much she loves her.
She hears no reply, only the gentle vibration of Angela’s snoring on her sleeve.
The fire softly roars. The rain pours.
Some other time, then. Amanda thinks to herself as she wills herself to sleep.