Chapter Text
Agatha stood at the waters edge, a sudden tension creeping its’ way into her being at the sight of Rio’s retreating form. Foreboding. Like she had inadvertently set something into motion, something now outside of her control. She watched as the others each took an instinctual step towards Rio as she passed them, questions falling from their lips that she couldn’t hear from this distance. Each of their faces morphed from curiosity, through concern to land on wariness with an almost comical speed. The air around her remained charged. Like this realm was a reflection of Rio herself. Her emotions. Her power. From the way everyone was reacting, Agatha was sure she wasn’t the only one who could feel it.
Resigned, she wandered towards the group. Her coven. The word was enough to send an involuntary shudder coursing through her. She could have gone the entirety of her existence without the unwanted membership. She could feel its presence; the connection in the recess of her mind. A faint buzzing, like a tiny swarm of bees. Equally as annoying. It seemed that the incantation that had brought them here had forged a coven bond between as well. Highly inconvenient. If she concentrated she would be able to feel each of them. Their own unique signature, a twirling cord of magic. Invisible, yet unbreakable. Well until death that is. Agatha wasn’t about to concentrate on it though. Instead she stopped and took a deep breath, visualizing a wall in her mind. Tall, impenetrable. She concentrated on its construction until the buzzing faded to a dull echo. Satisfied, she continued walking towards the group, sidling up next to Teen, as far away from Jennifer as possible.
Teen looked troubled. The furrow in his brow so severe that his forehead pinched together in a series of wrinkles in stark contrast to his youth. She reaches out and briefly squeezes his forearm. “Buck up kid, the journey has barely started.”
“Are we in trouble Agatha?” He asks, looking up towards Rio. “Danger? Like more than we were ten minutes ago?” They have an audience she realises, the idle chatter of the group dissolving to silence. All eyes on her.
“It’s OK, she gets like this sometimes.” She lies. It falls so easily from her tongue, she briefly wonders if she can convince herself. If only. In truth she had never seen Rio like this. Angry? Yes. Intense? Always. This was different. She couldn’t pin point exactly how, only that it was. Like a superstition, or hair standing up at the back of your neck. That flicker of pain that had flashed across her face at Agatha’s rejection was disarming. It was only there a moment. A split second before Rio had shut her out. Retreating back into her carefully crafted facade. It wasn’t as if she had never rejected Rio before, never yelled at her. Clearly. She spent the last couple of days doing just that. Even when they were together, she would often play cat and mouse. A very bratty mouse that loved to needle a reaction. Rio had taken those instances as she always had; in her stride. Often with a quick witted response and a devilish smirk. This was different. More raw. She had opened something in Rio that she didn’t want to examine. Rio had always waltzed through her existence with the confidence of a being unable to die. Agatha had taken her immortality as invulnerability. Perhaps that was a mistake. Immortality in its simplest form was an inability to die. To survive. Death and injury never scared Rio as it was simply an impossibility. Usually. A flash of black blood dripping from Rio’s nose caused her to frown. In any case, Rio was not scared of it, but emotion? That was different.
She glances over at Rio who is leaning against a stone structure at the top of the hill ahead of them. Her fingers rhythmically clenching and unclenching, a fine almost imperceptible mist of magic emanating from her skin. So subtle that maybe only Agatha could sense it. Taste it in the air. Rio appeared to be struggling with herself in a way Agatha had never seen. In a way that made Agatha’s eyes narrow as she recalled their fight earlier. You don’t know what I did to try—. What had she done? There was no way for her to know; not realistically. Rio wasn’t about to tell her now, wasn’t about to trust her. Not after she told her she didn’t want to see her face. Rio was always treated hard limits with the utmost respect. She had drawn a line in the sand and Rio wouldn’t be the first to cross it. She wouldn’t be so quick to allow Agatha to walk it back either. Teen’s question floated back into focus. Were they in danger? She wanted to say no, but it felt forced. Untruthful. The reality was she didn’t know Rio in this place, didn’t understand the true breadth of her power. She wonders if she ever did. How can someone truly know something so transcendent. That’s what she tells herself. Ignoring the little voice inside that warns maybe she is just so inherently self serving that she didn’t pay attention beyond what Rio could offer her. That thought didn’t sit well with her. There was a time where Rio was everything. Her everything. Surely, it stood to reason that she had truly known her then, if not now. Didn’t it?
Muffled words, pull her out of her train of thought. The others hadn’t stopped talking, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “I don’t know whether I’m terrified of her or want her to fuck me.” Jennifer snarks.
“She is one scary bitch.” Lilia agrees, looking up at the top of the hill. “Enchanting though.”
“Stupidly hot.” Alice concurs.
Agatha can’t help the laugh that bubbles lightly out of her, breaking the tension in the air. “It’s kind of her thing.” She says. They all look at her expectantly, confusion clear. She sighs.
“Ever heard of the phrase dancing with death?” They all nod briskly. “That’s her.” She explains throwing her thumb out in Rio’s direction.
“So we want to be around her because danger is exciting?” Teen offers.
Agatha hums low in her throat. “Not really. Her power is as intimidating as it is seductive. She exudes a natural dominance that you are all simply reacting to. I have yet to see anyone that doesn’t.” She looks to Teen who is looking even more confused. “Regardless of sexual orientation or age.” She offers with a smirk, causing his ears to go pink. “It just manifests differently. More appropriately if you will.” She finishes with a flourish of her hand.
She looks around at their group, each of them wearing varying expressions of worry and apprehension. Agatha can understand it. It is a terrible thing to realise that another person has such influence over your own behavior. Your own reaction; and she wasn’t even doing it deliberately. One could imagine the servitude Rio could indenture from another if she truly wished it. The world was lucky that it simply didn’t interest her. She had once told Agatha that submission without consent was boring. Vanilla even. Anyone with any modicum of power could do that, it wasn’t special. Wasn’t unique or rare. But a deliberate submission, in the face of pride and embarrassment. That was truly beautiful. That was the only submission she was truly interested in, and for over a century there was only one person’s submission she sought.
“She can’t help it any more than you can.” She offers, gaze roaming over the group. “You will get used to it though. Over time, and it won’t color your interactions with her as much.” She attempts a soothing smile, but the tension remains. She must have missed the mark, more glee than compassion. “She normally controls it better though. Otherwise she would never get anything done.” She laughs. Imagining every human Rio encountered throwing themselves on their knees before her as she goes about her business. Begging to be seduced, corrupted.
“So we will stop thinking she is hot as fuck?” Alice asks.
Agatha throws her head back and laughs. “Well no one is blind so probably not, but the longing will pass. As will the fear. If some of you are feeling that too.”
“It’s a bit of a fucked dichotomy to be honest.” Jennifer announces, relaxing her shoulders slightly, feeling more at ease. Agatha nods at her, turning to begin walking up the hill.
“Wait.” Teen says, grabbing her arm seemingly unconsciously. “She doesn’t affect you like that?” She sighs. Of course he would notice that. He was too perceptive.
“Short answer no. Long answer? It’s complicated.” She allows.
She wasn’t as susceptible to Rio’s unconscious influence as others were, she wasn’t sure why. But that didn’t mean she didn’t feel it, like a featherlight brush of fingertips against her skin. A caress. She just didn’t feel it to the extent that it influenced her behaviour. No, that was all Rio. Nothing to do with her powers and everything to do with her. It wasn’t her influence that made her stomach droop in a swarm of butterflies, or blood thrum in her ears. It wasn’t the fact she was death that made her beg. That wasn’t to say Rio couldn’t increase her influence, exert it over Agatha if she so chose. She just rarely did. It simply wasn’t needed. She had on occasion dialed it up to increase the sensations she was creating in Agatha, pushing her ever so slightly past wanting, into a craving that hurt. That burned. She always watched her intently though. Eyes assessing even as they were blown wide with arousal. She didn’t need to think about that though. Uncharacteristically, it was Alice who opened her mouth to inquire further, her orange dipped hair sticking out oddly after being thrown onto the embankment. She was interrupted by a thick fog descending the hilltop, obscuring Rio from view.
Billowing towards them in thick clouds, Agatha briefly thinks Rio is causing it, but it doesn’t feel like her. It feels foreign, cold; an intrusion. Instinctively linking hands with Teen, she makes her way up the hill, turning to see the others had formed a haphazard chain, gripping onto each other in a single file as they disappeared into the fog. Placing one foot in front of the other she led the group up the hill, blindly swishing her arm out in front of her in the hope it would prevent her stumbling or walking head first into a tree.
“This is such bullshit.” Jennifer yells into the fog. She wasn’t wrong.
The topography is starting to level out, so they must be reaching the top of the hill. Reaching Rio. No sooner had the thought entered her mind, a wild crack of forked green lightening lit up the fog, fracturing it. Throwing her arm up to shield her eyes from the intensity, she could faintly make out the outline of a structure that hadn’t been there before. A gate? As a fog dissipated, she let go of Teen’s hand, reaching up to wipe at both her eyes, clearing the black blotches in her vision. Rio stood hands outstretched, hands glowing faintly with the remnants of magic. She was frowning at— oh what do you know it was a gate. A gleaming silver and black gate stood in stark contrast to their surrounds. Intricately woven threads of metal wrapped around each other in two gentle arches which met in the middle. Fog remained clinging to its edges like hinges, spreading out horizontally blocking their path around. As Agatha walked closer she could make out silver and black leaves adorning its center, interlocking like teeth. An exact replica to the leaves of Rio’s crown.
“Dramatic bitches.” Rio seethed.
“What’s happening?” Lilia asked as their group fanned out next to Rio.
“Their late.” Rio spat, stepping back to lean against the marble structure once more. It was a sculpture of a woman. She wore a long hooded cloak that flowed out around her bare feet. Her delicate hands were outstretched, each holding a torch and a curved dagger. A large dog stood beside her, an olive wreath draped over its neck. Agatha squinted at the statue. Hanging off the hilt of the dagger. A dagger which looked eerily similar to Rio’s, hung a set of keys.
“We are never late. We arrive precisely when we are meant to.” A ghostly voice rasps. Rio’s head snaps towards the sound, causing the rest of the group to follow her gaze. The fog on the right hand side of the gate, began to ripple. A glimmer of silver flowing through the fog as it parted around three women. Dressed in white flowing robes that dragged along the ground in shredded wisps, the women walked forward until they were a few feet away. They stood holding a golden thread among them, curled around their hands, ending in a spindle that hung at the shortest woman’s hips. A pair of silver shears was tied at the side of the woman on the opposite side. A small gasp left the group presumably Teen as they took in the women. Their hair was white, reflecting the colorful hue of the sky above them. They appeared youthful, almost dainty in their features aside from their eyes which were entirely white. They were blind.
“It took you long enough. I wasn’t aware you were able to resist such a call.” Rio drawls. She remained leaning against the sculpture, inspecting invisible dirt under her nails.
“Yes.” The shorter woman spoke, her hands caressing the golden thread as it slipped back and forth through her fingertips. “We are not usually keepers of the road, but Hecate is otherwise indisposed.”
“As you well know.” The woman with the scissors added, causing a muscle in Rio’s jaw to jump as she kicked off from the sculpture.
“Who are they?” Alice whispers, but they hear it.
“We are—.”
“They are the Moirai.” Rio interrupts with a smirk. OK there was definitely some history there. “They have gone by many names. The three sisters, Norns, The Parcae.” She recalls, ticking them off on her fingers. “But you probably know them as the Fates.” The Fates? Weren’t they supposed to be rickety old women who shared a single eye and not a tooth between them? These women were not that. They were ethereal. They had the same countenance of energy as Rio. Otherworldly.
“The Fates. Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos.” Teen lists.
“Well someone has been doing their homework, gold star.” Rio claps.
The shorter woman steps forward, “I am Clotho, the spinner.” She gestures to the woman beside her, “This is my sister Lachesis; the allotter, and this,” She pauses to incline forward gesturing around Lachesis. “Is our older sister Atropos the inevitable.”
“The inevitable, that is quite the moniker.” Agatha drawls, flicking her gaze to Rio who had moved slightly to angle herself between the women and their group. It was enough to have Agatha take a slight step back and pull Teen with her. If Rio was concerned enough with their safety to posture, she would head that warning. Unlike her for sure, but she was without her purple.
Atropos, inclines her head studying Agatha intently. Her unseeing eyes narrowing. It gave the impression that despite her blindness she had no issue seeing. If anything Agatha felt more observed than she ever had. “I am the maker of all death.”
“I thought Rio was death.” Alice blurts out. Slapping a hand over her mouth to prevent any further outbursts.
“Rio.” Atropos says the name like it is foreign to her. Distasteful even. “Is the personification of death. She represents the natural order of things. She among other things—.” She rolls her wrist slowly as though Rio’s role were insignificant. “Protects the balance of life and death. As well as ferrying the dead to the Underworld of course. She does not decide ones death, that is me. She merely fetches the souls, like a dog.” She says the last word with a smirk.
Rio, doesn’t react outwardly. She remains in place in front of them, seemingly letting the comment slide; but Agatha knew better. She could see the slight straightening of the woman’s spine, shoulder blades drawing together. Her nails biting into the flesh of her palm as she clenches her fists tightly enough to cause injury if she were anyone else. Rio reacted to anger in two ways. She either drew in or lashed out. When lashing out she would strike people down with words, cutting them off at the knees with wit and humor. She could threaten or barb, but it was said with a air of boredom. Like she wasn’t intending on acting on her words. When she was truly angry however, when someone had said or done something to incur the wrath of death herself she fell silent. Her silence was dangerous. It was a last ditch attempt to remain in control of herself. A precarious thread that stood against the cut of another's words, another's actions. Should the thread sever, the consequences were severe. Agatha had only seen it once, when they first met and Rio was spectacularly violent. This Rio. A silent Rio wasn’t just powerful. She was danger personified.
Atropos for her part appears completely unperturbed by Rio’s reaction. “You must be Agatha Harkness.” Agatha looks behind her to see that the rest of her coven had taken a step back from Rio. Maybe she wasn’t the only one aware of the anger radiating off Rio after all. Or perhaps it is the tension rising between the Fates and Rio, making them all acutely aware of their own mortality. Who were they to stand in the path of gods.
“That’s me.” She snarks. Ignoring the pointed tug on her arm from Teen.
It is Clotho who speaks. “No one in history has received such special treatment.” She says with an air of confusion. Like she can’t quite understand something. Agatha can feel the weight of her blind gaze piercing her, searching.
“Special treatment, what special treatment?”
“You didn’t tell her?” Lachesis asks.
“Tell me what?!” Agatha demands.
“All that you did.” Atropos says ignoring the question. “All that you endured.” She spits the last word, like its a sin. “What a waste.”
Fury burns white hot through Agatha, but she realises quickly that the emotion isn’t hers. At least not entirely. Rio is shaking with barely suppressed rage as she glares at Atropos who simply smiles in return. She isn’t sure what would happen if Rio went toe to toe with the Fates. While a small part of her would relish the opportunity to witness such a spectacle, they were here for a reason. These bitches seemed to be the ones in charge of the road, so it stood to reason that they shouldn’t be trifled with. At least not that this moment. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Rio’s intent. A tiny movement of her left foot. Agatha reaches out without thinking, sliding the tips of her fingers along the back of Rio’s dress, finding skin along low cut back. The effect is immediate, even if Rio doesn’t acknowledge the touch. She can see her take a deep persevering breath, her foot stilling.
“We aren’t here to reminisce.” Rio declares. “We seek to walk Hecate’s path. To reclaim what was once lost. Or stolen.”
“Or bargained.” Atropos challenges.
“Or manipulated.” Rio retorts.
Lachesis clears her throat. “You spoke the incantation, the first in an eon. The Path must open to you.” She turns to address the whole group. “But to enter, you must make a choice.” She flicks her hand, conjuring a table into existence. The table was simple wood, atop it sat various objects. A rope wrapped in thin chain, a sword, a leather bound book, a gold chalice, a mirror, a lyre and a flower.
“You must each pick a token.” Clotho gestures at the table. “You must carry it with you throughout the path.”
The group takes a tentative step forward when they are interrupted by Lachesis. “Ah ah.” She chastises. “The token you pick must represent what power is to you.”
“Choose wisely.” Clotho implores.
For a breath no one moves. She can feel the anxiety thrumming through the coven bond despite the mental barrier she constructed. It crawls along her skin, causing a slight tremor in her hand, which falls away from Rio’s back as she stalks forward, clearly through with waiting. Rio stands at the table surveying the items closely, before plucking the small flower from the table and returning to the group.
“A flower?” Jen asks, disbelief clearly evident in her voice. Rio just smirks in response, twirling the flower back and forth between her thumb and forefinger.
Jen steps up next, picking up the rope, followed by Alice who takes the sword. Teen scampers up and grabs the book, not making eye contact with the Fates. Lilia spends the most time at the table, drawing the intrigue of Clotho who whispers something to her that Agatha can’t hear. The woman gives the Allotter a small smile and picks up the lyre, taking her place back with the others.
Agatha walks up to the table, holding her head high and her back straight. Impressions matter and she wasn’t about to let these bitches think her weak. Clearly she should have gone first as it’s slim pickings now. A chalice and a mirror. What the fuck was she meant to do with those? How did they represent power to her? Racking her brain for an answer in case it the Fates asked her, she feels herself drawn to the mirror. It’s a small antique. Mirrored glass embedded in a gold oval. Gold and silver strands twist into the handle. AS she looks down into it she is reminded of the day she discovered the true breadth of her power. The day her mother tried and coven tired to murder her. Tied to a stake and helpless she begged for mercy. Pleas that went unanswered as the coven unleashed the might of their power upon her. When they fell, dried up husks of the women they once were she had ran. Ran as far and as fast as her legs could carry her until she collapsed by a river bathed in moonlight. Taking gulps from her hands to quench her thirst she had caught her reflection in its rippled surface. Her eyes had shone brilliant violet. The remnants of her coven’s power dancing within her eyes. It was the first time she had felt truly powerful. Picking up the thin handle she grasps the mirror lightly; stepping back into line.
“Mortals.” Clotho laughs. “You have the oddest idea of power.”
“Indeed.” Rio allows. “No let’s get on with it. We don’t have all day.”
“Once you pass through the gates, there is no going back.” Lachesis warns. “Your success or failure is up to you.”
“For once.” Clotho adds with a chuckle.
“The Path is a contains a series of archways. Eight to be exact. They will test you. Should you make it to the end your prize shall be yours.” Lachesis explains.
“What prize?” Agatha asks.
“A single wish to be granted.” Atropos answers. “But no one has ever made it to the end.” She adds.
“I’m sorry what?!” Jennifer yells.
“We all knew the risk when we agreed to come here.” Alice says vehemently. “We aren’t turning back. We can do this.”
“Such confidence.” Atropos taunts. “I look forward to seeing if I get to cut your cord.” She says, patting the shears hanging from her robe.
Rio stalks forward abruptly, until she is chest to chest with Atropos, her eyes darkening to obsidian. “When what I lost is returned to me. There will be no mercy for you. I don’t care who you are.”
Atropos has the sense to take a small sense back, which makes Rio smile. If the bearing of teeth can be called that. “Let’s not quarrel.” Atropos says, raising her hands up in front of her. “After all, you have already disappointed him beyond imagining.” She smirks, raising her hand and disappearing in a cloud of white smoke before Rio can wrap her hands around her throat. Lachesis follows suit.
“Remember you cannot pass through an arch during nightfall. The consequences are quite severe.” Clotho calls, raising her hand and disappearing.
A metal creaking echoes through the air as the silver and black leaves adorning the gate unfurl, pulling the two sides outward. “That looks like our cue.” Agatha says, taking a step forward, before a hand shoots out and grabs her arm.
“Not right now it isn’t.” Rio says, but she isn’t looking at her. She is looking at the sky, which has turned sudden streaks of copper and red. Dusk. “We should make camp here and start tomorrow.” Rio declares. Dropping Agatha’s arm as if burned.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about making a camp.” Jennifer concedes. Something little miss perfect couldn’t accomplish. Astonishing.
“Well don’t look at me.” Alice says.
“Do I look like the kind of person who does manual labor?” Teen responds.
“I was a part of a traveling caravan once, many moons ago, but I didn’t spend much time outside. I was too busy tucked away with a genie to notice.”
“Lilia!” Jennifer laughs, scandalized.
“Well, I don’t know the first thing about camp—.” Agatha goes to respond, her mouth falling open. At the base of the hill where they were so unceremoniously thrown upon the bank, stood three tents in a semi circle. A large fire pit sat in the center surrounded by logs. Rio, who had clearly no patience for the group was already sitting on a log, her legs propped up against the trunk of a nearby willow.
“Race you down!” Teen declares, taking off at a sprint. Followed by Alice. Jennifer and Lilia continued down the hill at a gentle pace, Agatha trailing behind. Her mind was wandering. She couldn’t help but ponder what the Fates had said. What special treatment were they referring to? Surely not him. What Rio did wasn’t special treatment. She just took. Everything. What about enduring? What did Rio endure? How was it a waste? Why didn’t Rio tell her? She could answer the last one. Because you hid behind the Dark Hold her inner voice whispered. So many questions. She needed to try and get Rio alone, which would prove harder than normal after their little spat. Not an entirely accurate recollection of the circumstances, but Agatha wasn’t about to admit the brevity of their fight. If words neither of them could take back. Words she didn’t want to take back.
Taking a seat on the log opposite Rio, she listened as Teen enthusiastically recounted their Fate filled interaction.
“—and what was with the judgement, mortals so odd!” He parrots, causing Rio to snort.
“If they are right about one thing they are right about that.”
“What does that mean. You chose a flower.” Jennifer accuses. “And all the options were still available.”
Rio plucks the flower out of her crown, twirling it lightly between her fingers. “This is a Death Lilly.” She says. “If ingested, it has enough toxin to kill a hundred men.” She looks at Jennifer, eyebrow raising. “You picked a rope.”
“A rope is a symbol of power.” She defends.
“Is it?”
“Ropes bind, a person bound is without power.” She explains. “I should know, it’s how they stole my magic.” She adds.
Rio simply chuckles. “Humans have such a narrow view of power. It is why you are often all so mundane.” She drawls. Agatha bites her lip to keep herself from laughing. After their altercation with the Fates, Rio was clearly in a baiting mood.
“If you were bound you would understand.” Jennifer says sulkily.
“Show me then.” Rio states simply. Flicking her wrist and conjuring a length of black rope. She beckons Jennifer with a crook of her finger. Everyone falls silent, leaning over their knees as Jennifer walks cautiously over to where Rio has spun around to face her on the log.
Holding her hand out to Jennifer, she places the length of rope in her hand. “Take this and make two loops on each end. Slip knots if you can.” She instructs. She waits patiently, legs crossed while Jennifer works the rope into two loops at the end. Once completed, Rio holds up her hands for Jennifer to slide the loops over her wrist.
“Secure them tight, so I can’t move.” Jennifer tugs on the end of each slip knot, causing it to pull taut against Rio’s wrists. “Good.” Rio praises, eyes locking with Agatha over the fire, its reflection shimmering in Rio’s emerald gaze. Agatha lets out a tiny breath as realization flows over her. Realization on what point Rio is about to make. The way she is going to make it.
“Now take your rope and tie it around the one securing my wrists.” Rio instructs, waiting again as Jennifer does as she is told. Satisfied with her work Jennifer looks up.
“Stand back” Jennifer does.
“Walk back until there is no slack in the rope, until I have no choice but to follow.” Jennifer walks back, the rope pulling taught between them with a little tug that sends a shiver shooting down Agatha’s spine. Rio stands up slowly, her dress sliding down her legs in a caress.
“Good you can drop the rope now.”
Rio takes her seat again. Making no attempt to free herself.
“Now. I am bound and you are not.” She reasons. “Assuming we are both human with no additional abilities. Who has the power?”
“Me.” Jennifer responds.
“Are you sure?” Rio challenges.
“Yes. You are tied up.”
“But why am I tied up?”
“Because you—.” Jennifer pauses with a frown. “Because you told me to.”
“Because I told you to.” Rio echoes. “And if I told you to release me would you?”
“Yes.” Jennifer responds instantly and Rio smirks.
“So if I am the one who told you to restrain me and you would release me as soon as I instructed you to, am I not the one with the power. Not you?” She questions, eyes burning in the firelight. It makes Agatha want to rub her thighs together as heat builds in between her legs.
“Y—yes.” Jennifer concedes.
“Than what does that tell you about power?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Rio murmurs. She lifts her gaze to the others across the fire, who all shake their head at her.
“It does not always belong to the one you expect.” Agatha says without realizing. Rio’s eyes snap to hers and her heart stutters in her chest. She sneaks her tongue out to wet her lips and Rio tracks the movement. When did it get so hot out here? She takes in a shaky breath before continuing.
“Exactly.” Rio says. “If I take someones power, they are left powerless. But if they relinquish it, they do not lose that power. They are simply entrusting me with it, but it can be reclaimed at any moment.”
Rio looks to Jen, breaking their eye contact. “Before, you thought you had power, but you didn’t. You assumed that me being bound meant I was the one without power, but you were incorrect. This.” She gestures to her still tied hands, “Was entirely of my doing. My instruction.” Her eyes slide to Agatha, “My participation.” Jesus Christ. Agatha clenches her teeth. A memory being called forward. You have the power to stop this at any time Agatha, but you don’t want to.
“Without my participation, you would have been unable to restrain me.” Entrusting me with your body is a beautiful thing Agatha.
“So mortals see power as things, and you see it as people?” Jennifer reasons, but Agatha isn’t listening. She is caught in Rio’s gaze. Drowning again. A familiar tension coiling low within her. A tension she hadn’t felt in a long time. She wanted to crawl away from it and embrace it all at the same time. It was burning her up inside and all from a look and some pretty words. It wasn’t the words though. It was the memories those words evoked in her. The memory of Rio. Of her. Of them. It was too much. After all that had happened between them and their recent fight, she couldn’t do this. Shouldn’t.
“Hmm not really.” Rio hums. “Power is neutral. It can be used by us and against us. That is what makes it so interesting. It is so often that the one that thinks they have it, simply don’t.” She murmurs.
“Like the flower.” Teen intrudes, breaking the moment. “It is small. Fragile even, but has the most potential for harm. You wouldn’t expect that though. Such a small thing.”
Rio’s eyes sparkle as they shift to Teen a genuine smile stretching across her face. “Exactly. It isn’t about the rope. It never was. Power can come from the most unexpected places.”
Her eyes flick about the group, “you should all remember that when we walk the path.” They all nos in agreement.
“Well” Rio says, snapping her fingers, causing the rope to unravel. Falling uselessly at her feet. “It has been a long day you all should get some rest.”
Standing up Rio stretches and walks out towards the lake, shoulder brushing Agatha, perched on the edge of the log closest to the water. A thrum of energy tingles where there skin touched. Branded. Rio pauses momentarily, but doesn’t look at her. “Te Veo.”
Agatha let’s put a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Fuck. This was going to be a long trip.