I Said I Won't Lose Control - Blog Posts

Irene didn’t answer right away. She rarely did — especially when the questions pressed deeper than the surface. When the words weren’t just about facts or logic, but about identity. About the mess between the lines, the in-betweens no one wanted to name. She stayed quiet, fingers brushing the back of Shiv’s hand like she could trace stability into him. Sage had gone still against her, content and warm, her tiny weight curled like a secret under Irene’s chin. She could feel the raccoon’s small breath rise and fall — steady, grounding. A reminder that even here, even now, someone trusted her without conditions.

Her voice, when it came, was quiet. But there was something dense in it — something worn-in and real, like stones pulled smooth by riverwater.

“I wouldn't say I am —no, I don’t know if I am pretending.”

She didn’t look at Juniper when she said it. Not yet. Her gaze drifted somewhere just past her — unfocused, like she was seeing a place she hadn’t stood in for years. A childhood home that never felt safe. A hallway with too many closed doors. A training field with cold-eyed instructors and no room for mercy.

“That’s not fair.”

It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t defensive. It was just… true, in a way that sat heavy on her tongue.

“I’m a witch.” A pause. A breath. “But that's something I can't admit openly right now. Not to anyone that didn't already know.”

She exhaled through her nose, the sound soft and tired. Not ashamed. Not brave either. Just resigned to the reality of it.

“I’ve always been one. Born with it in my blood, in my bones. I used to think I could choke it down. Tame it. Repress it until it stopped hurting.” Her lips twisted, not quite a smile. “Didn’t work.” Irene reached up absently to push a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture as tired as everything else about her.

“But my father — he was a hunter. So when you say I’m pretending,” she said finally, voice still soft, but anchored now — to the bed beneath her, to Shiv’s pulse under her hand, to all the things she could never say out loud in the halls outside this room — “You’re not wrong, but you’re not right either.”

She looked at Juniper now. Really looked. Her expression was unreadable, not because she was guarding it, but because there was too much written in the lines of it to separate cleanly. Fatigue. Frustration. Certainty and confusion tangled together like thread through the same needle.

“I don’t know what I am. That’s the truth of it. You want honesty? That’s it.”

The words didn’t come like a confession. They didn’t fall out of her like she was unburdening herself. They just were. Like she’d lived with them for so long that saying them out loud didn’t even sting anymore.

“I’m a witch, yes. And I’m the daughter of a hunter. The old kind. The ones who didn’t ask questions, who didn’t flinch when the orders came down, and he loved me, regardless. And I loved him.” Her lips pressed into a line. “So what does that make me?”

She didn’t wait for Juniper to answer. Didn’t expect her to.

“I’ve spent most of my life figuring out how to survive that question without getting myself killed. And I’m still not sure I’ve found the right answer. I walk like a hunter because I need to. I cast like a witch because that’s what I am. And I don’t belong anywhere because of it.”

She leaned back slightly, enough that the line of the spell adjusted again. The shimmer of it tugged in the air, barely visible except in the way her breath shifted to meet its rhythm. Sage didn’t stir, her little paws tucked tight, a low hum of trust vibrating through her chest.

“I’m not playing some long game, Juniper. I don’t have an angle. There’s no infiltration plan or secret witch cabal waiting for me to bring back intel.” Her mouth twitched, just barely. “Though I’m sure some of them would love to think that. Makes for better stories.”

She glanced down again, at Shiv’s hand in hers. Thumb brushing over his knuckles like punctuation.

“We all have our reasons to be here. Some more than others. And if I can use my powers to help them, then why not? Why can't I be a witch in one moment and a hunter at the next? Why can't I care and be both?”

The plate of food was still untouched, but it didn’t feel ignored. Just… postponed. A promise to herself, maybe, that there would be time later. When her hands weren’t full of something fragile.

“I know I’m burning myself down to do this,” she admitted. “You’re not wrong to say it. You’re not wrong to care.” Her voice thinned for a moment, not from lack of conviction, but from the sheer weight of the line she’d been walking. Every day. Every hour. One foot in the light, one foot in the dark. “But it’s not always about what I want. Or what I should. It’s about what I can do. And right now? This is it. This is the only thing that feels like it matters.”

She hesitated then, long enough to let her words settle. To let the moment breathe.

“I’m not asking you to approve of it. I’m not asking you to understand the way I’ve had to twist myself just to survive in a world that would pick me apart no matter which name I wore.” Her baby blues met Juniper’s again — not challenging, just asking, in the simplest way that mattered. “I’m just asking you not to judge me for it and keep it to yourself."

Another breath, thinner now.

“The world isn’t just witches and hunters, good and bad, light and dark. It’s not that simple. You know it’s not.”

Oop she was caught. 

Juniper had the decency to look sheepish. Suddenly very interested in the pile of fries in her palm. She knew Irene worked dream magic. To put it as simply as possible, but now she was wondering if she didn’t have some kind of mind reading as well. A horrifying concept. It was already a mess in Juniper's head, she didn’t need another person mucking it up.

“That’s… not exactly it. There are a lot of reasons to pretend to be human… It’s the hunter part of it I don’t get. You are running yourself ragged Irene. You say he’s done the same- I’ll believe you. Thera seems to put stock in him too. Whatever. The one hunter that can be trusted completely I guess.” She sighed 

“All that I can rationalize somehow in my head… Pretending to be a hunter? I don’t get it. I don’t see the angle.” It was probably her own biases skewing her perception of the situation. But she couldn’t help that. It felt wrong to just sit by while Irene worked herself down to skin and bone. 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. It isn’t my business. I’m also pretty horrified I couldn’t keep my thoughts off my face. I will have to work on that.” She sat up straighter, getting more situated in her chair. 

“I’m just trying to make sure you are aware of your own boundaries Irene, what happens to this spell you are working so hard on if you end up on bedrest as well? It’s not always easy to see the effects our actions are having on us in the moment. You are tired Irene, you are not eating or sleeping enough to maintain this level of spellwork.” It was blunt but she felt it needed to be said. 

It was a talk she had given a couple of times when she was coven head. It was also a talk she needed to receive a couple times. She was deeply familiar with both sides of it. Knowing your boundaries as a witch can be some of the hardest learned lessons. Juniper was still reeling from learning her boundaries had been altered; and still learning how to handle the new influx of power. It was a fresh concept to her and she hated to see someone she was starting to see as a friend come up on the wrong side of that delicate line.