So pull me under your weather patterns,
your cold fronts and the rain - don't matter,
because a sunburn's what I needed.
Hurricane (Weather Patterns) \\ Something Corporate
The weatherman had promised rain that evening. For once, he was going to be right. Faye can feel it, the moisture building up in the sky above her, the kind of misty quality to the air. She can even sense the plants preparing for the downfall.
Falling first to her knees and then onto her side, Faye eventually finds herself lying flat on her back with her arms and legs slightly spread. It's after dinner, her mom already locked in her study doing 'principal work' where she would remain for the rest of the night. Faye doesn't mind because the show is about to begin. Grinning at the solid gray sky, Faye greets the churning weather like an old friend. It is her element, afterall. The connection between them is strong. She can feel it humming with power within her bones.
It wasn't that the bound witches had any natural attachment to certain elements of their powers. All six of them could be equal in every field of magic. The fact that Nick had a bit of a fancy for fire, and Adam water, Melissa earth and so on, had everything to do with their preferences. It was simple, like high school students deciding on their extracurricular activities. Which piqued their interest more?
For Faye, her interest in all things Mother Nature had started when she was young. Living by the ocean meant witnessing firsthand what kind of carnage the sea could unleash. She had spent many evenings watching, mesmerized, as the water punched against the sand, the waves further out thrashing against one another as if creatures were wrestling deep down. The sheer force of the wind amazed her, the way lightning bolted a white scar across the sky and how it wept – snow and ice and rain – all upon the sometimes unfortunate civilians below. Tornados ripping away cities, earthquakes igniting tsunamis, hurricanes erasing decades of creation in a single night – it was all extremely fascinating to her. A kind of deadly attraction, if you will, but Faye has always sought anything but safety.
Firemen could put out a house gone aflame, water could be evaporated – but normal humans could not control the weather. It was a phenomenon far out of their reach, something they could only either run or beg mercy from.
There was also the softer, more womanly nature of it all that intrigued Faye. The complex, miraculous process of a seed sprouting into a delicate, green plant, and hundreds upon hundreds of years later, branching out into a tree. Faye was mystified by birth, engrossed in all of the details of hormones and the way a body changes and heals and preservers and all of the incredibly (and vastly underrated) things it can endure and accomplish, and finally, the mysterious end – death.
Nature, to her, was the most outstanding force in the entire universe, and that is way she staked a claim as it were to the element of the weather, of being able to control things like creating – and killing – things at will. It was much more a thrill for Faye to find herself in the calm eye of a storm, feeling the enormity of the world and all of its bizarre functions around her, then to watch things burn or diluting the fire. And her friends didn't argue with her, drawn to their own areas of magic, finding what Faye found in nature in their own preferred elements.
A drum roll of thunder draws Faye from her thoughts. A soft squeal of delight escapes her lips which, since she's alone, she doesn't bother trying to muffle. Here, there is no one to impress, no reputation to uphold. There is just her and the damp grass chilling her flesh and the thick smell of the coming rain filling her lungs. She feels the first drop slam against her thigh, the temperature absorbed by the denim of her jeans, but she is soon rewarded with the rain's cold shower when a dozen more drops fall across her arms, her chest, descending upon her cheeks and nose and her outstretched tongue. It soaks through the dark cotton of her shirt, colliding with her flesh and reverberating waves inside of her.
Faye is laughing aloud in the rain – with the rain – and it is here, cleansed by Mother Nature's tears, that she feels the cleanest, the most pure. Raindrops fall onto her eyelids as they close, sprinkle over her smiling lips, and the power swelling inside of her churns with excitement. It makes her fingertips feel like light bulbs, like she could create her own lightning. Opening her eyes, ignoring the drops that land dangerously close to her pupils, Faye focuses her attention on the smoke-colored clouds. She imagines the sky split by lightning, the blinding white flash like a giant camera. Stirring in her bones, vibrating her skin, is the magic she has been aware of since before she had a memory at all, and with all of the strength she can manage, Faye hurls her sparking hands toward the sky, her back arching off the grass. A loud grunt – almost a scream – tears through her throat as electric pops stutter toward the sky until finally, a brilliant, white bolt cracks the clouds in half, and light blinks on and off.
Her hands fall to her sides. She's smiling, proud, as the rain continues to drench her clothes and skin and deeper still, until her bones are clacking together. Faye stays out there for as long as she can get away with, until she's sure her mother is going to check on her before going to bed herself pretty soon. It's a school night, after all.
Reluctantly, as if departing from a lover, Faye's happiness dwindles as she pushes herself to a stand, body feeling heavier with the water as she makes her way through her back door and into the warmth of her kitchen. The room hums with the sound of her refrigerator. Faye leaves a trail of wet footprints behind her, water dripping from her long tendrils of brunette hair, falling from the tip of her nose, her earlobes. Once in her bedroom, she peels her clothes away, snatches a towel from her connecting bathroom and wraps her hair in it. The smell of the rain clings to her like a natural perfume and Faye breathes it in deeply, making due with its leftover scent even though the real thing streaks her bedroom window. Pulling on dry sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, she is just in time for her mother to knock lightly on the door. "Faye?"
"I'm naked." Faye falls on top of her bed in a similar position to how she was outside.
"You're going to bed soon, right?"
"Yes, Mother dear."
There's a pause in which she thinks her mother has walked away, only for her voice to come back, muffled from the door. "Why is the floor wet?"
Faye unwraps her hair and tosses the towel to the floor. "I was outside."
"Well, for goodness' sake, Faye, you tracked water all through the house."
Faye doesn't say anything. After a few seconds, she can hear her mother's footsteps fade away. Faye rolls on her side and stares out the window, watching the rain beat against the glass. Tomorrow, she'll go back to being too tough, too calloused, fully of snide remarks and rude comments. Tomorrow, she'll be Faye again.
But tonight, she'll just be the rain.
A/N: Faye is my favorite character and I really just wanted to write something in her point of view that didn't have a romantic slant to things. It helps me, as a writer, figure out who Faye is, to me, because by far I think she is the most layered character on the show.
I just have a lot of Faye feelings okay ;-;