three. 

a glimmer of hope

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES wasn't quite sure how the supposed witch had managed to worm her way into his life, but the next thing he knew she was in it and he doubted she'd be leaving anytime soon.

Two weeks had passed since he followed her to the slums and witnessed her magic first hand, proving to him that she was indeed, against all odds, a witch. He hadn't accompanied her to the slums since then, though Maev always offered, yet he still saw her nearly every day. At first, it was the meal left on his doorstep, then they walked together down the street before parting ways in the mornings, and now here he was, standing in front of her apartment door, his human hand raised hesitantly to knock. 

His metal hand was curled gently around the handle of a plastic bag and his eyebrows were furrowed together slightly. It had been so long since he'd initiated any sort of friendship with someone that he couldn't quite remember what was normal and what wasn't. A quick Google search that morning hadn't helped much either.

Maev had always been the one to find him and he was uncertain if he was stepping out of bounds in some way by approaching her first.

Frustration clouded his mind for a moment, he shouldn't be having this much trouble on deciding if he should knock on her door or not. Metal grinded on metal and he realized that he'd subconsciously locked his bionic hand so tightly the plastic had become stuck in the metal grooves of his palm. 

He sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. Why was being normal so difficult?

"James?"

He turned around at the sound of Maev's voice, finding the tall woman standing behind him taking her sunglasses off to see him better in the dim light of the hallway. He lifted his metal arm slightly, causing the plastic bag to swing. He stared at her for a moment before realizing he should explain, "You said you would help me when you first met me. I figured out a way you could do that." 

Maev nodded and brought her key out of her pocket, prompting him to move out her way so she could unlock the door. He followed her in, instantly scanning the new environment for any threats. 

The layout was identical to his with an open room and two doors, one that he assumed led to the bathroom and another to a small closet. The kitchen sprawled out in the corner with an island table in the center, two bar stools underneath it. A multitude of books littered a shelf that leaned against the fridge, a coffee table in front of a couch that was pressed up against another wall. There were barely any material possessions, minus the books, and he frowned as a problem clicked in his head. 

"You don't have a bed."

Maev paused from rummaging through her fridge, looking over her shoulder at him. "Don't need one, I barely sleep."

"Is that a witch thing?"

"It's an insomnia thing." She replied, stacking a few containers in her arms, "How do you feel about soup? It's the only thing I'm good at making."

He shrugged, "Food is food."

Maev nodded and stood up, closing the fridge door with her hip. "Soup it is, feel free to sit down and I'll be over once it's simmering."

James gingerly walked over to the couch, sitting on the edge of it with his back ramrod straight and setting his plastic bag on the floor next to his feet. He tracked Maev's movements, his bionic arm jolting when she brought out a knife to chop up a variety of vegetables. His jaw clenched and, after she put the knife away and seemed more invested in stirring, he busied himself with picking out the flakes of plastic that had gotten stuck in his metal palm.  

Slowly the air warmed and became thick with the smell of spices, his stomach grumbling quietly in response. 

Maev washed her hands in the sink and made her way over to him, opting to sit on the other side of the coffee table instead of next to him on the couch, something that made him relax slightly. "So what's in the bag?"

He leaned forward and dumped the contents onto the coffee table; a simple brown leather journal, some pens, highlighters, news article clippings, and a few pictures. He shifted slightly in his seat, "I read somewhere online that keeping a record helps with memory. But the problem is..." He hesitated, debating on if he should really reveal any vulnerability. 

Maev just waited patiently, taking this opportunity to shrug off her trench coat, letting it pool around her legs. She wore a simple fitted gray t-shirt underneath and his eyes caught on the few pieces of black ink wrapping around her left bicep visible, majority of the design hidden underneath her sleeve. 

He stared at the tattoo for a moment before finally continuing his sentence, "I don't remember much though. Just bits and pieces." 

She nodded thoughtfully before talking, choosing her words carefully, "The mind is a finicky thing, James. I can help draw forth memories but only if you have an anchor of sorts, a specific goal in mind." The witch went quiet, pursing her lips slightly, "There are ways to repair the mind," she began softly, "but these ways require a lot of ancient rules to be followed and a very particular ritual to take place that isn't something to take lightly."

James curled and uncurled his fingers, watching Maev intently. He'd been trained to pick up on any nerves, no matter how slightly, and could tell this offer was something she was nervous about extending, which meant it was either dangerous or could cost her a lot. 

"What's the catch?" He asked, his voice lower than normal.

Maev exhaled loudly, shaking her head slightly in amusement, "Nothing slips past you, does it?" She ran a hand through her black hair, her gaze settling on the items on the coffee table. "Ah, how do I explain this? I guess I should start with the basics and work up from there..." She sprawled her hands out on the coffee table, silver rings glinting in the dying sunlight filtering through the windows. 

She took them off, three in total, and laid them facing him allowing him to see the faint etchings in the metal. "Elemental," she murmured as she moved the first ring forward so he could see the draping vines curling around a symbol, "who's represented by the earth, the first and last element all witches see." She pushed the next ring forward, a deer antler with small crystals and bones dangling from strings attached to it, "Bone, who's represented by her namesake."

Maev gently ran a finger over the final ring, twin moons resting on it, set in a way that they were the reflection of the other, "And finally, Blood, who's represented by the crescent moon to remind all of the power that runs through our veins."

She then stacked the three rings on top of each other, "Together they create the basics of all spells that witches learn. However, rarely can witches wield anything other than the elements, so the Bone and Blood are solely represented by the Sister Three, a set of witch triplets that are born every century or so. Together they make up the Barebone Coven and act as the bridge between my kind, and your kind. On rare occasions, they can also act as an authoritative unit, like your political leaders, but that's rare. 

Anyways, the Sister Three are the ones who review requests for Ranju, or as you would say, the Protected.

The Protected are a select few humans who are allowed into the inner workings of our world and can learn about it without hindrance, and as such, are able to receive healings that regular humans cannot because of the ancient laws. Each Ranju is sworn in by a witch, who is then in charge of their safety and helps guide them in our world if they'd like. The rituals required to help you, to truly help you, are only available to witches and the Ranju. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The lengthy explanation hung in the air and he sat there, letting it sink in. "So you're saying, in order for you to heal my memory, I'd need to become a—" he frowned, trying to remember the name she'd spoken.

"Ranju," the foreign word rolled easily off her tongue, "and know that you don't have to learn about my world if you don't wish. The Ranju were originally created so spouses of witches could learn about our world in great details, you have no obligation to do so. The only reason for you to become one is so I can access the spells needed, otherwise the most I can do is draw forth a few memories depending on how strong your connection is to them."

Maev gathered her rings and slipped them back on, the Elemental and Bone going on her right hand; the first on her ring finger, the second on her pointer finger. The third on, Blood, went on her left hand on the middle finger.

"And in order to become one, those Sister Three have to approve it?" Getting a nod from her, he leaned back slightly, "How long would that take?"

Maev shrugged, "For a normal witch? Months, maybe even years. For me? A few hours and they'll be sick of me whining about it, enough so the other two will give me their votes."

Understanding crashed over him like a tidal wave, "You're the third sister, the Blood Witch."

She winced and smiled grimly at the title, "The very one, I'm afraid."

He curled and uncurled his fingers once more, a habit he'd never been able to shake off. "I need to think about this before I give you my decision."

Maev nodded, looking a bit relieved that he hadn't jumped in head first, "I understand. Feel free to take as much time as you'd like, don't rush. I can still help you with your journal to the best of my abilities if you'd like." A timer dinged, causing both to startle. 

Maev stood up, "Before I start digging around in your brain, let's eat."

let me know what you think :)

if you're confused about any of the witch stuff just let me know and i'll try to clear it up!