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Witch Hazel looked up from her work, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She had only just begun sorting through the various trinkets, sorting them into two piles, one for the broken ones and one for those still intact. The little statue she was holding was missing its head, and as Rosary’s startled exclamation came to an end, Witch Hazel placed it down in the correct section.

How could you? She looked around. Rosary’s belongings were in utter disarray and she was standing amidst it all. It wasn’t a good look. But to admit that she had walked in on it like this and knowing there was only one person in the house inclined towards such behaviour -

“Go away please. I’ll be finished soon.”

It wasn’t as though Witch Hazel was unaffected by her sister’s tears; they cut right down to her core. But there was no point in becoming an emotional mess when there was a task to be done and clearly Rosary had come to the obvious but wrong conclusion.

Now that she thought about it, the fact that Rosary had immediately presumed the worst hurt quite a lot. Surely she would know that her sister would never just take apart her things so callously? Witch Hazel had never shown a penchant for such cruelty.

She flinched back from the fluffy duck. This was the time to deny her involvement but she refused, instead her words came out cold, “Stop crying and think for two seconds”

Rosary’s dramatics had Witch Hazel’s normally very distant temper suddenly ready to snap. She reigned it in with a deep breath and turned her back on her sister, focusing instead on continuing her efforts to clean. Her movements were jerky, finding each object and nearly dropping them.

“Yes,” she said, “our brothers sure.” Repeating Rosary’s line back to her, unable to outright accuse her brothers or reject her involvement but hinting in a deadpan voice. How could her sister even think that Witch Hazel would ever not love her? Would stoop so low?

“I will always love you, so do us both a favour and leave me be.”

“Mmm.”

Witch Hazel hummed the sound, a soft agreement, as she continued to clean. If she wanted to, she could dig deep, pile the guilt onto her sister. But that was the very last thing she desired. “Like I said,” Hazel kept her voice light and cheerful, “this won’t take long. Why don’t you make us some tea until I get this cleaned up?”

It would have been better if Rosary had never seen the mess at all. Hazel had been trying to avoid this scene entirely. Unfortunately here they were.

Hazel cleaned as quickly as she could, leaving the broken pieces for Rosary to decide what she wanted to with, discarding anything too far gone, setting things to rights. It wasn’t perfect but it was good enough. Even if her sister hadn’t found her, it still would have been obvious that something had happened.

She sighed.

Keeping balance was tiring.

Her siblings were at war. Rosary was emotional, easy prey for her brother. They ran each other in circles and Hazel was trying to be loyal to both of them, refusing to take sides. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t fun but it was all she could do for now.

She made her way to the kitchen, settling into the chair next to Rosary’s.

“Smells good,” she chirped. “I love how you brew the tea. It always tastes better when you do it.” She refused to let either of them dwell, pouring both their cups. “And a good cup of tea washes everything bad away. Come on Rose.”

She smiled at her sister, willing her to let it go, to forgive herself.

... to conclusions.

Witch Hazel finished the soft joke in her own mind. It was clever. She laughed, a gentle sound. “Maybe,” she responded, add her own drop of honey, the spoon striking merrily against the side of the cup. “I am hoping history class will give me some tips on diplomacy.” Her own reaction had only made Rosary’s worse, when different words could have helped avoid a confrontation.

Not that it mattered now. It was done. They would move on. Their bond strengthened.