Dearly beloved (weekend freewrite)

The red liquid looked like blood. But she couldn't be sure – and who was blood in a glass on the table?
Besides, Rayanne argued, in her head, if one does indeed have blood in a glass, of any kind, does it really matter if they store it on the table, rather than in the freezer?
She wasn't sure what to do and she could feel the old woman's eyes burrowing into her neck. The more time passed, the more uneasy Rayanne became. It'd be rude not to drink it. The woman had, after all, asked if she'd like some refreshment and she'd said yes, so how could she now not drink it?

The old woman who claimed to be her grandmother, was waiting, and Rayanne felt that she might blow up if she didn't do something. Anything, so she closed her eyes and downed three thirds of the glass in one big gulp.
It was surprisingly good and she felt a dull ache inside herself. She wanted more, although she felt it'd be weird to ask, so did not.
'Ah, I knew you were the one,' the old woman crooned. 'Only my granddaughter could, indeed, drink that! And with such appetite for it! I'm quite pleased.'
Rayanne knew she looked puzzled, yet she didn't know how or rather, what to ask. It all seemed so clear to the old woman.
So, she sat silent and wondered – not for the first time – why exactly she'd come here. After all, she'd spent all of her life without knowing anything about her ancestry. Why should she care now?

'Hugo loved flowers and everyone knew this,' the old woman said, in lieu of explanation. 'He was such a patient man. Hugo, of course, was my first husband. He would've been your grandfather, now that I think about it. But he died. Hugo was weak. He was a good man, but he was not strong. And a good man who isn't strong means nothing. But he was a gentle, caring man and he always made this for me. I could've made it myself, of course, but I lacked the patience. Such a patient man, my Hugo.'
Rayanne only stared at the thick, red liquid in her glass that seemed to be filling up again, as if by magic.
'It takes time, you know, you have to wait for the mice to drain properly, through their mouths. I always thought a good slash across the belly would be just as effective, but it never tasted the same. And Hugo always added bits, here and there, a little musk, a dash of sunflower. He always knew his way around flowers, if not with much else.'
'Mice?' Rayanne asked, swallowing in vain.
'But of course, it is mice blood you're drinking, after all! What else does it look like?'
There was the beginning of a snap, in the old woman's voice, not quite angry, but enough to warn you not to press the matter any further.
'Nobody outside the family could bear his drinks, though. Too much flavor, they said. People are always like that, picky. Your mother, of course, liked them. She liked them a great deal. I think they reminded her of Hugo, although she never met him, of course. I think he spent a lot of time with her, after he passed. The daughter he never had. But she grew to hate them, eventually, and then she was gone.'
'You never looked for her?' Rayanne asks.
'At first,' the woman replies, after a long silence, 'I expected her to come back. A foolish idea, but still, I never thought she'd stay away. She was always so talented, even at a young age, I always expected her to come back after she ran away. But,' she sighs, 'your mother is a very stubborn woman. Very headstrong. If she said she would not be a witch, then she'd live all her life making sure she wasn't.'
'Was,' Rayanne corrects her grandmother. She can't help herself, she's been trying so hard to remember this, herself, that she has to talk about her mother in the past tense, now.
'Silly. Do you think just because your mother is dead, she isn't stubborn? I assure you, she's a force to be reckoned with, even on the other side.'
And there is a glint of something akin to pride in the old witch's eye.

'Crying is bliss and bliss is madness,' the old woman said, as if this tied everything together. 'You must not allow yourself to grow mad, little one.'
And for the first time, she touches her granddaughter, patting her shoulder. She speaks as if they've known each other for ages. Because, in the witch's mind, they have. She has watched over this granddaughter of hers, this young woman with pierced ears and eyes so painfully strange, ever since she was born. From afar, it is true, she's known of her existence, but not her face, which is why she had the slight air of doubt hanging about the place when the young woman first called her. Rayanne had sounded very unhappy on the phone and very weak. Trying to sound strong, but soft on the inside, and the old witch couldn't be sure she really was her flesh and blood. But now, after drinking one of Hugo's old beverages, there was no doubt to be had.
There was a young witch in the house.

'I know you mourn your mother, but you must force that pain into something better, you must allow it to drive you. To push you. And you must never show this pain to anyone, because if they see it, then they know your weakness.'
'Did you cry when Mom...you know..' Rayanne asks.
'No,' the old woman shakes her head. 'I didn't shed a single tear when your mother ran away, although all was not as it should be. I kept that hurt well away from the rest of the world and I channeled it into my work, I wove my spells with screams of loss and pain. And now, you're here, and there is, in you, such potential. And all is as it should be, again. But it's late, and you must be tired after your journey, why don't we talk in the morning?'
And Rayanne does indeed feel very tired. She has come a long way to meet this woman. She wasn't planning on spending the night, but she crashes on the old woman's couch that night, without a clue that she's been present in every spell, every dream, every potion, every nightmare that the old witch has given birth to.
A young witch was promised. A young witch must now find her way.

Weekend freewrite hosted by the ever-wonderful @mariannewest. Do head over to her blog and show her some love, as she is the awesome leader of our freewriting band. Who knows, maybe even join in the fun yourself!

Thank you for reading,

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