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femslashficlets2020-06-02 11:44 pm
hipsquare) wrote in femslashficlets2020-06-02 11:44 pm
Entry tags:
[CHALLENGE 263] drink it all away [She-Ra]
Title: drink it all away
Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Pairing: Shadow Weaver/Castaspella
Rating: T
Prompt: 263 - 'like'
Word Count: 980
Summary: Castaspella goes looking for Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver is drinking alone and slightly tipsy. Castaspella somehow ends up joining her.
Why was Castaspella in charge of keeping an eye on Shadow Weaver ever since she came to the rebel camp? Well, actually, Castaspella knew the reason. It was because Micah had been taken by Horde Prime, and it was Micah’s job before it was hers.
Castaspella ached for her brother, and reminded herself not to be selfish. Shadow Weaver had hurt Micah so much more than she did her. That’s what she’d always been told, what she’d always stuck by… and yet when she was near Shadow Weaver, she could not help but feel that anger fester.
Castaspella checked everywhere for Shadow Weaver. She was always here, or there, and never stayed in one place for too long a time. It was no wonder. Nobody actually wanted her around, naturally. A traitorous witch belonged nowhere.
After what felt like forever and a day, Castaspella stumbled upon Shadow Weaver in one of the more isolated tenses. Dark, covered by twisted tree branches. She smacked some of the branches out of the way and slipped inside through the entrance.
“There you are,” Castaspella said accusingly. “Don’t you know I’ve been looking everywhere for you?” She huffed. “Whatever made you think hiding out in the farthest tent from camp was a good idea?”
“I wonder,” Shadow Weaver replied dryly, as if to say, ‘isn’t it obvious?’
Castaspella blinked once in disbelief.
Shadow Weaver’s words were slightly slurred. A little slovenly, even. Castaspella nearly exploded just at the tone of her voice. She was drunk. Surely. Or at least tipsy.
“Are you — are you actually drunk?!”
That was the appropriate reaction, wasn’t it? Castaspella stepped forward and hovered over Shadow Weaver’s crouched body, that of which was sat on a log made from wood. It was smooth, and not at all thorny.
“Not drunk, no,” Shadow Weaver said, playing with the near-empty wine glass between her fingers casually. “Well. Not yet, at least,” she added in what Castaspella could only assume to be a poor attempt at humor.
Fire could have bursted from Castaspella’s ears.
“Oh. Oh, you have to be kidding me! At a time like this?!” She nearly yelled down at the (irritatingly) unbothered woman. “We are supposed to travel to Mystacor — together, if I have to remind you of the plans we made! So why. Are you. Drinking?!” Castaspella stomped her foot like a child, and in doing so, she stepped on her own robe and almost tripped into Shadow Weaver.
Shadow Weaver effortlessly raised her free hand and caught Castaspella with magic, preventing the accident with expert reflexes.
“Let me… unhand me!” Castaspella hissed, red-faced, feeling the dark magic embrace her body. “Unhand me from this wicked spell immediately!”
Shadow Weaver did not do as Castaspella demanded. At least not as quickly as Castaspella wanted. Instead, she used her magic to set Castaspella down right next to her, plopping her onto her bottom gracefully.
Castaspella was frazzled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She breathed raggedly, turning to Shadow Weaver with huge, wild eyes, her mouth twisted in rage.
“You—!!!”
Castaspella lunged at her, but Shadow Weaver put the hand that held her glass to her chest and stopped her. Castaspella’s eyes hardened, and she fumed as she stared at Shadow Weaver from the side.
“It would not be wise to start a physical altercation with me. I’ve done nothing to provoke you, Castaspella. You’ve riled yourself up for no good reason,” Shadow Weaver stretched her words out leisurely. It sounded like she didn't give the slightest care, which really only served to infuriate Castaspella more. That — and Shadow Weaver was irritatingly right that she’d really done nothing to warrant Castaspella’s reactions. “Relax."
Castaspella took one final second to look closely at Shadow Weaver’s mask before she settled down and crossed her arms. Practically pouting as a child would, she looked away.
“... Then, I’ll leave. Sober up, and then we’ll go to Mystacor when it’s safe,” Castaspella said, bending her knees slightly to lift her body up.
“Wait. Please, Castaspella,” Shadow Weaver spoke. “Do you like wine?”
Castaspella laughed in disbelief, but for one reason or another, she didn’t actually get up. “You want me to drink with you? Seriously.”
“Do entertain me, won't you? I've nothing else going on."
Castaspella frowned deeply at Shadow Weaver. Anger bubbled inside her, alongside another emotion she could not pinpoint exactly.
“You know that you’re alone for a fair reason... Light Spinner,” is what Castaspella finally said after delay.
Shadow Weaver gave a laugh. A laugh that startled Castaspella. It was a genuine laugh that came from the stomach, hearty in nature. Shadow Weaver even tilted her head back as she laughed, the wine in her glass swishing around in place.
Castaspella could do nothing but sit there, uncomfortable and feeling… strange.
Finally, she spoke up, voice quieter than it’d been in the last few minutes. “What’s so funny?”
“I haven’t been addressed by that name in years,” Shadow Weaver said once her laughter settled. She tilted her chin down at her glass, at the liquid that still swayed slightly. She then looked at Castaspella and tilted her head. “Is that how you see me?”
The uneasy feeling in Casta’s stomach festered. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she ached. Why had she addressed Shadow Weaver by her old name? She wasn’t that woman anymore — she hadn’t been for a very long time.
It seemed Castaspella had a bit to sort out on her end.
“Hand me the wine,” Castaspella said after she semi-gained her bearings.
With a delighted hum, Shadow Weaver reached over, another glass flitting between her fingers as she transferred it over to Castaspella’s hand. It was then followed by a bottle of wine.
“Allow me,” Shadow Weaver said, sounding rather pleased with herself.
Castaspella could do nothing but hold out her glass.
Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Pairing: Shadow Weaver/Castaspella
Rating: T
Prompt: 263 - 'like'
Word Count: 980
Summary: Castaspella goes looking for Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver is drinking alone and slightly tipsy. Castaspella somehow ends up joining her.
Why was Castaspella in charge of keeping an eye on Shadow Weaver ever since she came to the rebel camp? Well, actually, Castaspella knew the reason. It was because Micah had been taken by Horde Prime, and it was Micah’s job before it was hers.
Castaspella ached for her brother, and reminded herself not to be selfish. Shadow Weaver had hurt Micah so much more than she did her. That’s what she’d always been told, what she’d always stuck by… and yet when she was near Shadow Weaver, she could not help but feel that anger fester.
Castaspella checked everywhere for Shadow Weaver. She was always here, or there, and never stayed in one place for too long a time. It was no wonder. Nobody actually wanted her around, naturally. A traitorous witch belonged nowhere.
After what felt like forever and a day, Castaspella stumbled upon Shadow Weaver in one of the more isolated tenses. Dark, covered by twisted tree branches. She smacked some of the branches out of the way and slipped inside through the entrance.
“There you are,” Castaspella said accusingly. “Don’t you know I’ve been looking everywhere for you?” She huffed. “Whatever made you think hiding out in the farthest tent from camp was a good idea?”
“I wonder,” Shadow Weaver replied dryly, as if to say, ‘isn’t it obvious?’
Castaspella blinked once in disbelief.
Shadow Weaver’s words were slightly slurred. A little slovenly, even. Castaspella nearly exploded just at the tone of her voice. She was drunk. Surely. Or at least tipsy.
“Are you — are you actually drunk?!”
That was the appropriate reaction, wasn’t it? Castaspella stepped forward and hovered over Shadow Weaver’s crouched body, that of which was sat on a log made from wood. It was smooth, and not at all thorny.
“Not drunk, no,” Shadow Weaver said, playing with the near-empty wine glass between her fingers casually. “Well. Not yet, at least,” she added in what Castaspella could only assume to be a poor attempt at humor.
Fire could have bursted from Castaspella’s ears.
“Oh. Oh, you have to be kidding me! At a time like this?!” She nearly yelled down at the (irritatingly) unbothered woman. “We are supposed to travel to Mystacor — together, if I have to remind you of the plans we made! So why. Are you. Drinking?!” Castaspella stomped her foot like a child, and in doing so, she stepped on her own robe and almost tripped into Shadow Weaver.
Shadow Weaver effortlessly raised her free hand and caught Castaspella with magic, preventing the accident with expert reflexes.
“Let me… unhand me!” Castaspella hissed, red-faced, feeling the dark magic embrace her body. “Unhand me from this wicked spell immediately!”
Shadow Weaver did not do as Castaspella demanded. At least not as quickly as Castaspella wanted. Instead, she used her magic to set Castaspella down right next to her, plopping her onto her bottom gracefully.
Castaspella was frazzled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She breathed raggedly, turning to Shadow Weaver with huge, wild eyes, her mouth twisted in rage.
“You—!!!”
Castaspella lunged at her, but Shadow Weaver put the hand that held her glass to her chest and stopped her. Castaspella’s eyes hardened, and she fumed as she stared at Shadow Weaver from the side.
“It would not be wise to start a physical altercation with me. I’ve done nothing to provoke you, Castaspella. You’ve riled yourself up for no good reason,” Shadow Weaver stretched her words out leisurely. It sounded like she didn't give the slightest care, which really only served to infuriate Castaspella more. That — and Shadow Weaver was irritatingly right that she’d really done nothing to warrant Castaspella’s reactions. “Relax."
Castaspella took one final second to look closely at Shadow Weaver’s mask before she settled down and crossed her arms. Practically pouting as a child would, she looked away.
“... Then, I’ll leave. Sober up, and then we’ll go to Mystacor when it’s safe,” Castaspella said, bending her knees slightly to lift her body up.
“Wait. Please, Castaspella,” Shadow Weaver spoke. “Do you like wine?”
Castaspella laughed in disbelief, but for one reason or another, she didn’t actually get up. “You want me to drink with you? Seriously.”
“Do entertain me, won't you? I've nothing else going on."
Castaspella frowned deeply at Shadow Weaver. Anger bubbled inside her, alongside another emotion she could not pinpoint exactly.
“You know that you’re alone for a fair reason... Light Spinner,” is what Castaspella finally said after delay.
Shadow Weaver gave a laugh. A laugh that startled Castaspella. It was a genuine laugh that came from the stomach, hearty in nature. Shadow Weaver even tilted her head back as she laughed, the wine in her glass swishing around in place.
Castaspella could do nothing but sit there, uncomfortable and feeling… strange.
Finally, she spoke up, voice quieter than it’d been in the last few minutes. “What’s so funny?”
“I haven’t been addressed by that name in years,” Shadow Weaver said once her laughter settled. She tilted her chin down at her glass, at the liquid that still swayed slightly. She then looked at Castaspella and tilted her head. “Is that how you see me?”
The uneasy feeling in Casta’s stomach festered. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she ached. Why had she addressed Shadow Weaver by her old name? She wasn’t that woman anymore — she hadn’t been for a very long time.
It seemed Castaspella had a bit to sort out on her end.
“Hand me the wine,” Castaspella said after she semi-gained her bearings.
With a delighted hum, Shadow Weaver reached over, another glass flitting between her fingers as she transferred it over to Castaspella’s hand. It was then followed by a bottle of wine.
“Allow me,” Shadow Weaver said, sounding rather pleased with herself.
Castaspella could do nothing but hold out her glass.