Mutilated love

Athame (Part 2) (CultLeader!Reader)

Two days have past since that night, but it felt like eternities. He used to spend hours and hours on end in a depression induced hibernation, days passing him by so easily. Until a whole week had escaped him. Now every minute was busy-- not in reality-- but in his mind. Busy with Her.

He had refrained from contacting her for as long as he could, as to not scare her away with his desperation.

Spurred by the fear that she would treat his call the same way she treated their conversation, at the end of that night: dismissive and fractional irritation at his overstayed welcome, he didn't contact her once. But in the end he couldn't get through two whole days, without coming to a final battle where his fear fought his desire. He stared at the series of numbers on his phone above the fatal green phone icon as desire won; and the button was tapped.

His heart raced at a runners pace, as the soft ringing repeated itself 3 times before being cut off by--

"Hello?"

"Uhh.. Hi," he blurted quickly, knowing if he hesitated to speak and second guessed himself he would stutter and end up hanging up out of humiliation.

"Who is this?"

"Ummm," Only now did he remember that he never told her his name. "I'm the guy at your bar.. on uh-" He glanced at his alarm and did the math. It was Sunday today so that night was Friday. "Friday."

She laughed, a deep sound not in pitch but dimension, with so many layers it resembled an orchestra. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, a lot of people come to my bar, especially on Friday."

The last thing he wanted to do was remind him that he was the one who kept her much later than she was required, but he couldn't think of anything else, so he scrambled fruitlessly for another description.

"You... Uh. You told me about your beliefs-- your religion,"

"My... Oh! Now I remember," Her tone became familiar and cheeky, coming to the borderline of seductive. But her assured himself it was just his delusional desperation. Regardless, his whole body relaxed as her tone guaranteed she was not inconvenienced or bothered by his call. "I was beginning to think you had lost my number."

"No no I just.. Didn't want to... want to bother you, you're probably a lot more busy than I am,"

"Yes, you are right, I am busy a lot. But you my dear are a specific exception I am willing to make time for. Call me whenever you wish. I may not have my phone with me at all times, or I may not be able to pick up, but if I am able: I will," she says.

"O-Okay..."

"Did you want to talk?"

Shit. He didn't actually plan this far. He was convinced that all he needed was her voice, and now that he had it- he was struggling for a reason to keep it. Of course she had to keep it brief, she couldn't waste time working as a pseudo therapist as charity.

"Well... I wanted to ask you more about your religion," He said quickly.

A light huff of laughter preceded her next fateful words, "If you want to know about that, you should come to me in person. Such things do not deserve to be hastily extended over a wire."

"Oh yes of course, I'm sorry," he spluttered. "Is that an invitation?"

"Yes love, the warmest of invitations." Click.

The sharp note sung that she had hung up immediately after those words.

After a moment, he sprung up- and proceeded to get ready- adding in more steps to his routine and giving more effort than he had ever put into his appearance before. He had to be perfect, and a stark difference from his previous appearance.