A meeting, she repeats with only her mouth, bereft of breath or the sharp, silky notes of her voice. Why the hell would she have called a meeting? There wasn’t even an appropriate numerical equivalent to the word coven yet to call a meeting. What even is the appropriate numerical equivalent, she suddenly wonders, peering down the copse of this aphotic terrain, launching her spent cigarette to the ground. The cinders erupt, fireworking before they begin to dim.
“A meeting? No. It’s like what, two people? Three now? Also, let’s just say for the record that Delyth is, in fact, a really weird name. But she’s useful.” and I might find out just how useful, soon, the super-villain curls inward, glittering with unseen scales.
“I don’t know if there are any other witches in this town, but I do an oracle who thinks she’s not a witch. And Cordelia texted about Billy, who by the way, is the Elijah to my Hannah. Even though I’m… probably more of a Jessa.” she admits.