Chapter Text
Jeanne scrolled through her phone nonchalantly, gently placing her cup of tea down, excitement bubbling up inside of her as she could feel a gentle tug on her magic. Her face calm as she was ready to jump up, instead she turned her eyes upward, Cereza leaning over her phone and reading her screen, a shit-eating grin greeting her. Jeanne bit her tongue back as those stormy eyes in front of her betrayed the front Cereza was attempting to put on. Soft and warm, if she had all the time in the world she would want nothing more than to drown in Cereza's gaze.
"Surely my favorite French person isn't cheating on me?" Cereza's teasing voice was full of mirth as she pointed at the coincidental appearance of a British woman appearing on her timeline. Jeanne cracked a subtle smile in return.
"I would never, you could never find another French person as tolerable as me and I could never find another British person with even one percent of your class, my love." Jeanne returned the same shit-eating grin, Cereza just laughing in response as she pulled a chair over. Jeanne allowed herself a moment to peer over Cereza's outfit, it was not only very different from her usual haute couture styles, but was in fact a normal outfit. A simple pair of jeans, a pink off the shoulder sweater, her long black hair flowing freely, and as impossibly keen of Cereza, the perfect pair of mulberry heels. Of course, she absolutely killed the look, but Jeanne was defintely biased and believed that Cereza could pull off any look.
"If you're going to stare I sug-"
Jeanne blinked.
She was gone.
Jeanne's heart sank as she stood up from the wraught iron chair she sat in.
A simple, purple butterfly basked in the sunlight. It radiated an incredible amount of magic, and just as Jeanne reached for it, it fluttered off. Leaving her alone.
And without Cereza once more.
"-gest taking a picture." Cereza's smug voice turned into confusion as she looked around.
Jeanne was gone.
And wherever she was, it certainly wasn't a nice little café in New York City as she could feel magic yank and pull at her, a sensation she's not all that used to feeling. Looking around, it was most certainly Vigrid. When? No clue, yet witches walked around. She was sure of them being witches as they wore a very modern version of the training uniforms, she could tell some of them leered at her.
So she definitely wasn't welcome, that or her outfit was not acceptable.
"The outsider has escaped again!"
It was certainly her.
Something raised the hair on her neck, she lept into the air, the beautiful and ancient wrought iron table and chairs below let out a gut sickening crunch. Chains of magic wrapped around them, upon realizing the patio furniture was not their target they shot after her. Muscle memory took control over her body as she twisted in the air, swiftly dodging the seeking chains.
Landing on her feet like a cat she took in the scene around her, 2 witches wielded the chains, their eyes aglow as they manipulated the chains. Said chains morbidly similar to the ones her mother wore. A small crowd of witches encircled the scene, some with pure shock painted on their faces. Cereza straightened up, simply smacking the chains away as they neared.
"This is certainly no way to greet a fellow witch," Cereza started as her hair began to twist and flow around her. Her hair shredded the clothing she wore, it took shape, a familiar feeling of her old catsuit wrapped around her. She grinned as she flipped her hair with her hands, Scarborough Fair fitting comfortably in her hands. Ribbons fluttered about in the wind as she watched the chains target her once more. "At least I get to have a little fun then."
She jumped up, easily avoiding the chains. Quickly taking aim, she fired Scarborough Fair, the chains immediately snapping from her expert targeting. Upon landing again, she opened her mouth to gloat, instead a wail of pain escaped as a chain quickly wrapped itself around her midsection and electricity coursed through her. She turned to the wielder of the chain.
Jeanne.