#ft. Sorcha Saintcrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bridgettekingsley · 6 years ago

Text

Title: You Will Be Found

Word Count: 976

Trigger Warnings: drug mention, relapse mention

Summary: Bridgette’s dad is missing, but he’s not the only one who’s lost. When Bridgette tries to find him by scrying, she ends up seeing more about her own path than his. She’s lost, but Sorcha is there to remind her she will be found.

“Even when the dark comes crashing through, when you need a friend to carry you, and when you’re broken on the ground… you will be found.”

Bridgette closed her bedroom door and turned the lock. She was home alone, but it was habit now to lock her door when she felt she needed privacy. Sorcha had a habit of ignoring a closed door and walking in whenever she felt like it. Today, Bridgette needed privacy so she could scry. Carefully, she pulled the mirror from her wall and laid it flat on the ground at the foot of her bed before she centered the smooth black glass bowl her mother had given her as a graduation present on top of it. She grabbed the collected water bottles from her nightstand, most of them only half empty, and used the remaining water to fill the bowl. Maybe it wasn’t the best water to use for scrying, but it would work.

The bowl filled, Bridgette stood and began collecting the other things she’d need to channel her magic. On the windowsill, she had an assortment of crystals. After a moment of contemplation, she chose the medium cut quartz, deciding she needed the balance and focus the crystal would give. From her desk, she grabbed two candles, a smudge stick, and her lighter. Finally, she was ready to begin.

Bridgette first placed the quartz into her bowl of water, taking care to get it centered. She hadn’t used a crystal as focal point for scrying in years, but lately… it was like she was learning to use magic all over again. Next, she stood to turn off her bedroom light before she lit the two pillar candles she’d gathered, checking to be sure she could see their reflections in her bowl. Satisfied, she focused her intentions, took a deep breath, lit the end of her smudge stick and then blew it out, allowing the smoke to cleanse her ritual area and body of any negative emotions and distracting energies before finally snuffing it out.

Bridgette closed her eyes and kneeled in front of her scrying bowl, allowing her open palms to rest lightly on her thighs as she focused on her breathing. The routine was so familiar. Bridgette had done this for years, even when her powers had been bound. The process was meditative and calming and she always felt more centered and in control of herself afterward. Slipping into the necessary trance-like state to scry was as easy as breathing. Opening her eyes when she felt the rush of magic in her body, peaceful and powerful all at once, Bridgette looked into the bowl, allowing the quartz in the bowl to focus her gaze and her thoughts to wander.

Bridgette had never attempted to use divination to locate a lost person before, but it had been a few month since her father had gone missing from town and she was desperate. Her family didn’t talk about it. They hadn’t really talked about Jeremy since her mother had thrown him out of the house nearly fourteen years ago and as far as Bridgette knew, she was the only one who had kept in contact with him. It was a tender spot in her relationship with Dominic. Bridgette adored her older brother, she did, but she loved her dad as well. She just couldn’t come to grips that the man she’d adored and looked up to her whole childhood had been the same man to cause her brother so much pain and grief. So, they didn’t talk about it.

Unfortunately, not talking about it meant Bridgette had no one in her family to talk to about the distress she felt when her father went missing. She’d been so overwhelmed, that before she knew it, she’d been texting Trevor and setting up a place to meet, her latest attempt at sobriety completely forgotten. That had been about four months ago.

As the memory slipped from her mind, other images followed. Forest paths that abruptly ended, water circling the sink drain after the plug has been pulled, small plastic baggies, lines of Pixie Dust. When the images stopped, the feelings began: shame, guilt, anger, loss, lost, adrift, untethered, alone, alone, alone.

With a gasp, Bridgette came out of her trance, falling back to sit on her butt as the ache in her knees made itself known. She was crying. When had she started crying? Shakily, she leaned forward to blow out the candles, casting her room into darkness. She needed to get off the floor, but she couldn't. She didn’t have the energy, couldn’t stop thinking about what had been revealed to her, couldn’t think of anything other than the bone deep loneliness she’d felt.

“Bridge? Are you in there?” Sorcha turned the door handle, only to find it locked. Her knocking shook the door in its frame. Still Bridgette sat, staring unseeingly into the dark water before her. “Bridge? Let me in, dude, come on.” Another knock. Silence. “Bridge, I’m getting the key and I’m coming in okay?” The last time Bridgette had relapsed, she and Sorcha agreed that she could lock her door and Sorcha wouldn’t push it, but only if Bridgette was responsive when she knocked. The room fell silent once more as Sorcha’s footsteps retreated.

“Bridgette? Why the fuck is it dark in here?” Sorcha had returned only moments later, key in hand. Her voice sounded annoyed but the thrum of worry radiating off of her was undeniable. She flipped the light switch and the sudden brightness startled Bridgette into turning to face her. “B, what-” Sorcha cut herself off as she took in the haunted look in Bridgette’s eyes and the tear streaks on her face. “Oh, Bridge….” She moved to sit on the floor next to Bridgette and wrapped the witch up in her arms, running a soothing hand over the back of her head.”It’s okay B, whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re not alone. I’m here” Alone. Alone. Alone?

#self para: you will be found #ft. Sorcha Saintcrow

4 notes · View notes