Anything and everything after the incident with the Burned One was a blur. You remembered Farah was there and that was the only reason you could surrender control, the reason you could relax.
The next thing you remembered, you were in Farah's rooms, a mug in your hands. You looked around for her, upon realizing you were alone in the sitting room, and suddenly found a Farah-scented quilt draping your shoulders. You pressed the cloth to your nose and inhaled deeply. The brunette sat across from you, holding a cup of her own, and smiled at your reaction to the heaviest blanket in her rooms. "Do you remember what happened?"
You stared at nothing for a time. "I lost control," you whimpered out, "a-fucking-gain."
While Farah couldn't exactly disagree with you, she wasn't sure you'd ever had control over this ability. "I've never seen anything like that before."
In other words, she didn't understand it and couldn't help with it. You burst into hysterical laughter at her statement.
Farah very suddenly set a concerned hand on your knee. "This isn't necessarily a bad thing."
"It's unknown. If starting from scratch was viable, I'd have figured this shit out ages ago."
The Headmistress' free hand held your face. "You didn't know anything about yourself. You're only just discovering yourself. But, and this is the important part, you are not alone."
Looking at the hopeful woman, desperate for you to believe her and hope with her, all you could do is remember how you had been hopeful before and it made zero difference. You couldn't give her anything she wanted or needed from you. You had no hope to show, too much crushed confidence to muster anymore; you were just an anchor. You kept Farah immobilized yet weighed her down just the same. Again. You slowly rose from your seat, and turned toward the door.
Farah stood fast and grabbed your wrist. "Would you... stay?" she asked hesitantly.
You froze, pulled to face her. The woman had a few inches on you so she had to smile down, insecure as she was. "With old enemies re-surfacing, I worry for the few I care for most."
You were awed. How could someone as powerful and mesmerizing claim to care for you? Let alone actually doing so. How could anyone so splendorous have a muscle in her heart engraved for someone so weak and helpless.
Farah laid her head against yours. "Please stay," she whispered as her assiduity of how much better she'd sleep knowing someone was close flooded your brain. She trusted you. She needed someone she trusted. You worried you wouldn't be good enough for her, wouldn't be able to protect her if that was what she needed.
You were, at this point, used to the layout of Farah's brain. What you were not accustomed to was fear plaguing her every thought. Every process in her brain was tainted by a terrified train of hormones trickling between your currently connected minds. Your magic-less eyes angled up to meet her desperate gaze. She was vulnerable too. She was capable of it. That seemed to have slipped your mind. Powerful, strong, confident, she was; practically a goddess, but not quite. Still mostly human. She had weaknesses and downfalls too. Salt water dripped down your cheeks in response to her powerful mind and the feelings behind it. "Farah," you sighed out, deeply affected. Her thumb moved back and forth over your cheek and you knew you were having a sleepover. Connected consciousnesses and all, the brunette smiled and angled her head to capture your lips with hers. She smiled too wide for anything more than a chaste kiss.
"I'll make dinner," she volunteered excitedly.
You laughed at her dramatics. "You know, I do know how to cook."
Farah thought for a moment. "Alright. You'll make dinner." She pulled your arm so you landed in the kitchen. You oriented yourself, all by your lonesome since Farah brought you in and left you.
You'd just found her pots and pans when music floated from the living room. You smiled involuntarily and decided you had to forgive her.
The headmistress waltzed back into the kitchen with an energy you'd never seen her showcase. Still, she erupted in an excited, "Any ideas? If you had something in mind and I don't have what you need, I can obtain just about anything." She eyed you eagerly.
You laughed at just how childish you discovered she could be. "I don't have anything in mind. I didn't know I'd be cooking tonight," you laughed. "I don't even know what you like." You glided backwards, looking in on her pantry. "Besides pasta," you giggled out, examining the boxes and boxes of pasta noodles.
Farah flushed and floundered and stammered.
You smiled faintly, then chose for the evening. You supposed if it was in her suite kitchen, she'd eat it.
*
Dinner must've been halfway good, at least. Farah went back for thirds while you struggled with choking down what you'd made yourself and scooped onto your own plate. You suspected it had been a ploy to get you to open up or something like that because that was what ended up happening. You talked while she ate. In return, however, she chose the post-meal movie. Her favorite, you discovered, was a First World thriller, It Eats In the Dark, which she could watch anytime and, if she could get away with it, every time. You ended up practically on Farah's lap, hiding in her magical hair.
Farah tried not to let it distract her, something easier said than done since she knew all the words and every jump scare. It got much easier once you declared you would be the girl who would end up befriending 'it'. After that, it was her only goal to see your reaction. You were indignant. And you tried to renege your declaration. Farah denied that.
After the movie, you and Farah cleaned the kitchen and went to bed. It was sweetly domestic, while painfully reminiscent of your only Home. Sleeping arrangements were a point of contention. You wanted to sleep on the floor or the couch or somewhere not Farah's bed.
Farah insisted it was fine.
Truthfully, it was incredibly easy for Farah to get you to sleep with her. Platonically that is. Not that you liked her platonically; you liked her way more than platonically. You just wanted to sleep platonically. And you did! It was the waking up part you struggled with.
You jolted awake in a cold terror sweat. The air filled with your curse and you sat up. You yanked Farah's blanket back and you threw yourself from the bed. You were nearly 2 steps away from the bed when a hand closed around your wrist. You were jerked back abruptly and it hurt your shoulder. You whined at the sensation as you tumbled back on top of the mattress. "Farah, Farah, let me go!" you yelped in fear. You tried to get away, lessen the chances of inflicting the same harm you'd done to Alma.
"No," Farah retorted. "No." She held you again. "Running away isn't productive. It won't help with your control," she tried to encourage you.
You wrenched your arm free of her grasp and stood. "There is no controlling this!" you yelped. The woman rose after you, looking far too put together who just woke up; she held her hands out peacefully, and her eyes didn't change color. The mist didn't dissipate like usual and you threaded your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp anxiously. "I hate it. I hate it. I hate it!" Your frayed senses were overtaken by a floral perfume and strong arms enclosing you. She was like your personal fireplace, warmth radiating from her every inch of flesh. "Tell me you can get rid of it. Tell me- tell me. Please get it out of me," you whispered into her, your voice bubbling with your despondent pleas.
"I ca- I can't. But I promise you- I promise you will learn to live with this," she vowed to her trusting mate. She cupped the smaller fairy's face.
You shook your head and leaned into her. The taller woman rubbed your back in firm circles. While you were in hysterics, all Farah could muster was the relief that you found comfort in her and allowed it. Eventually, you drifted off to a sleep more peaceful than Farah had ever known you to have.
The bond between two mind fairies was a deep and heady one. Whether the fairies knew it or not, they shared an intense connection. Just the exhaustion weighing your mind down into the midnight tar brought Farah back to sleep. You both slept in peace.
*
Your entire life, you woke up cold. Either in a cold sweat or the sun hadn't come up yet. So waking up warm was... unfamiliar, and it was a sign that something was wrong. You couldn't make your body move in the alarm you knew you should have. As if in that midnight tar still, you tried to merely blink awake. The sun was bright so it had been up for some time. You moved your weight backwards and managed to roll onto your back. Farah laid up that way, propped up on her side. She smiled too wide, too proud. You were indignant again. "Pretty sure we're late."
Farah tilted her head to see around your arm covering your yawn. "I called in. We're fine."
You blinked slowly. "Great. I'm responsible for two absences within my first week.
Farah dragged her knuckles down your face. "it was my choice."
Your fingers curled into her shirt. "You can go, you know. I can still make the last few."
Farah smiled softly. "I'm not going... anywhere," she responded genuinely.
Despite the downpour of feelings clouding your judgement, making you believe she needed to go and you were just burdening her with your needs and insomnia, you were somehow able to accept her words, her warmth, and her comfort. You melted into her arms. You laid your head on her shoulder and slowly drifted back to sleep.