Not often I get to visit the Swamp Witch. Even rarer for us to be in the City at the same time. How odd a pair we visually made. I was in my Magus clothes. Felt good to be in them after so long an absence. (Though it really wasn’t an absence, but that is for another post.) But all you saw of them was the enveloping black trench coat. It wasn’t buttoned and hung freely open, but shadows clung to me under it hiding the brilliant white blouse. The Swamp Witch was in layers of delicate white and ivory lace. A lovely dress that only a Southern Woman could wear properly. Her open parasol was tilted just right over her shoulder, and her lace gloves disguised her power well.
As we walked down Mainstreet in the City, most others gave us no mind. You see all sorts of things in the City, after all. But those that allowed bigotry to filter their sight stared at us. This black woman draped in animated shadow and that white woman covered with the purity of grace. How could they walk side by side in peace! I caught the Envoy watching from the window of an establishment. He half smirked at us in warning and acknowledgement. I winked back at him. We weren’t here to start any trouble. We were just two friends catching up with each other.
Those that didn’t see, didn’t bother. Most of those that did see, stayed clear of us. Some even crossed the street to avoid us. An action that irritated both my friend and I. We didn’t fault those that sensed our abilities and avoided us for it. When predators prowl, prey take no chances. It was those that didn’t want to be on the same street as a black woman. Or those that didn’t want to be on the same street as a white woman taking pride in her culture. I didn’t know which of them pissed me off more.
(Seriously, this is a thing I’m seeing in meatspace. Being white is not a fucking crime against humanity for fuck’s sake. Being a white person in the (American) South is not an evil thing. Knock the shit off.)
Our stroll went along delightfully until a man approached us. My dead eye identified the numerous charms and dressings he had covered himself with. My living eye noted the subtle body cues that screamed he wanted nothing to do with me. After greeting us both, he positioned himself on the Swamp Witch’s left, forcing her to look away from me to speak with him.
That’s okay, I got her back. And my shadows have mine. Let’s play.
Neither her nor I are hiding that we are wixen. The lights woven into her lace and the shadows playing on the hems of my coat are unmistakable tells for those that could see. He started by complimenting those lights and attributing them to her beauty. Not waiting for a reaction, he segued into the delicacy of the hands holding the parasol. From there he tried to wax poetic about the lovely pale hue of her skin, and how it showed the purity of her soul.
As he spoke, he tried to apply his hidden charms against her. As each one failed, it broke from its mooring on his person and fell to the ground. Visually, it appeared as if he was shedding dead and dying cockroaches. Both the Swamp Witch and I held our composure and never made mention of them. He took this as a measure of success and doubled his efforts to sweet-talk my friend.
I never understood why someone would try to trick a witch. That’s like putting your hand in a gator’s mouth.
The entertainment became unentertaining. I came from behind her to begin the end of the display. He cruelly glared at me before drawling. “It is a shame you must suffer the stain of shadows, Madame. I know a place where such… things… are prevented from entry. Let us go and continue this in peace.” Aw, hell naw. No he didn’t.
“Well bless your heart. Jesus loves you so.” My friend’s words were sweet as her tea and colder than the bottom of her swamp. I nodded at him, but formally bowed at her, and stepped away and behind the Swamp Witch. Whatever was about to happen, my place was to make sure no one intervenes.
He interpreted my action as submission and yielding. His struggle to hide his smirk was more entertaining than everything else he has done to point. Those bystanders that heard my friend’s reply stiffened and found reasons to leave the immediate area. Across the street, I saw the Envoy sitting at a bench. He was watching us with cold intent. I smiled and nodded at him as well. His eyes narrowed.
He touched her. That’s all it took. She had extended her hand to begin a gesture and he grasped it thinking he would lead her away from me. His eyes widened on contact and a sigh of a whimper escaped him before devolving into a series of clicks from deep in his throat.
I almost felt sorry for him. Having every nerve firing at once is not a pleasant feeling. I was also surprised at the lack of charring on his skin. As his eyes started to roll back into his head, I heard the Envoy cough quietly across the street. I tilted my head at the sound. “Envoy said enough.” I muttered just loud enough for only the Swamp Witch to hear.
She gave no indication that she heard me, but she did pull her hand away from the fool’s inconstant grip. My dead eye saw all the charms on him had exploded like popcorn, and all his dressings of oils and waters had burned splotchy patterns into his spirit. My living eye watched him collapse unconscious onto the sidewalk. He’s going to feel that for a long time.
The Swamp Witch took me by the arm and spoke with a voice as sweet as her tea and as warm as her friendship. “I thought the City would be clean! At least in the swamp, the mud has a purpose.”
As I led her around the twitching body, I remarked, “The City lacks gators to keep the cycle going. Humans have to take over all the roles, and sometimes, they forget.”
I looked behind us and noted faction mages were approaching the downed man with determination. “And sometimes, they’re just late.”
Ahead of us, the Envoy approached bearing roses. He offered a white rose to the Swamp Witch, and a black rose to me. The roses were just roses, an inert gesture. “Good day, Ladies.” We both accepted the roses to be polite, but my friend sniffed her dismay at the offense behind us. The Envoy acknowledged what happened with a smile and a bow. “I thank you for your restraint. The citizens here have differing understandings of peace and harmony. Such are the travails of a cosmopolitan city, after all. How may I make amends?”
I rolled my eyes at the social game. My friend only smiled with diplomacy. “Fools do as fools are. I was not harmed, and his is not long lasting. This time.”
I noted the Envoy was trying to keep our attention forward. Behind me, I heard the sound of a scuffle and a whimper of defiance. My instinct said to leave now before I get entangled in a larger game. “It’s getting late, my friend. And I still have much to do. Would that I continue this pleasure, but…”
She agreed it was time for us to go. We both gave our formal and polite farewells to the Envoy and to each other. We departed separately, each in our own way.