baba yaga breaks into darling's house

It’s a nice afternoon.

“Nice afternoon,” Darling says, peering past checkered curtain-framed windows. Darkened clouds congregate on the horizon, the rumbling footsteps of thunder and roaring amongst the trees announce a telltale storm.

It’s a nice afternoon, perfect to kick one’s feet up, maybe enjoy a cup of hot cocoa or milk tea beside a fireplace with a book. Which Darling plans to do exactly that. He sincerely doubts that anyone would come looking for him for anything carpentry related or otherwise. Perhaps after the storm for repairs, however, was another story. Safe to say that his afternoon would be within the comfort of the four walls of his quaint little home. And he’d enjoy it!

The kettle on his stove prattles away, whistling hot steam as Darling rummages through his messy drawers and cupboards for something of use. They’re all somewhere in his pantry alright, they just seemed to grow legs and move around themselves! Aha! There’s the dark choc—

A knock at the door.

Darling shakes his head. He’s imagining things. It was gentle enough that he probably didn’t hear that right. No one’s so daft enough to venture out with so obvious warning of an overhead storm, right? Right?!

A set of knocks, a little more irate and frantic this time. Removing his oven mittens, he made for the front door and looked through the peephole. 

Circe.

The blonde woman is staring straight at him through the looking glass insistently.

The immediate reaction of refusal to open the door was visceral. “Nope, nah-uh. No way, not happening. Goodbye witch! I don’t see you. At all.” Pretending not to have seen his unwanted guest, Darling throws himself into the kitchen, purposefully clanging pots and pans around. 

More knocking, loud and clear enough this time. Wouldn’t have been imagining it even if he tried.

“Busy, alright!” Darling hollers, before hearing the lock of his home click. Circe breezes right in, as if she hadn’t just broken into his house. 

“Darling! Pleasure,” the witch croons, sitting herself in Darling’s worn and much-loved armchair. “I need a favour.”

Darling rolls his eyes, turning off his stove before leaning on his kitchen table with arms crossed his chest. “What.”

“The hostility, darling!” Circe tuts. “I require your aid. I need to banish this....storm.”

“I want this storm. I’ve made plans. I’m making hot cocoa and pastries. You’re on your own. Bye!” Darling had made his way across the room, ready to usher Circe out.

“And I don’t! Come now Darling, lend your aid to a helpless little lady!” Circe got up, batting her eyelashes and placing a dainty hand on Darling’s arm. Despite his insistence and rush to get her out of his abode, he’s still gentle while walking her to the door.

“Don’t be selfish, other people might want to enjoy the rain too. Oh, and save the crap! We both know you’re far from a helpless little lady!” Darling opens the door, pointed.

Circe doesn’t budge, eyes narrowing as she looks up to meet Darling’s gaze. “I won't deny that. If my garden gets blown to shreds, or so help me, I will be hexing you!”

Darling’s life flashes before his eyes, clearly traumatised from the last time he refused to help the forest witch. “Fine. Gonna cost you a pretty penny.”

“Deal!” Circe cheers sweetly. “I’ve got those specimens you’ve been scouring for.”

Darling clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Wait here.” 

The tall man goes back into the house, trying to rummage through unorganised cabinets, once again. He emerges a couple minutes later, glass jar full of saltwater, thistle, heather, and black pepper in hand. “Take this,” he shoves the jar unceremoniously in Circe’s direction. “Bury it underground. Say your incantations or whatever. Or don’t, I don’t care. Protective storm ward. Watcher forbid I make a spell to ward you off from my property!”

Circe inspects the spell jar, clearly pleased with herself for obtaining the upper hand in their usual banters this time. “Could have just said you had something like this all this time! Though would it kill you to make your spells look at least a bit presentable? It’s not like you’re an amateur!”

“Bye! Get out!”

The witch laughs, blowing the spell-making carpenter a kiss. Darling shuts the door behind her. Hard. He breathes a sigh of relief before getting back to what he was trying to do before.

Darling dips his fried pastries into his hot cocoa, relishing on the sweet and greasy goodness in front of the fireplace, the rain smattering relentlessly on the glass panes of his window. 

It's a nice evening, barring the interruption of his afternoon off.

Circe's garden had been warded from the storm, after all. Though the thought of giving her a storm-calling jar had crossed his mind too.