The sun had already tucked itself in for the night, leaving the sky draped in a cozy blanket of twilight, when Seraphine decided it was the perfect ti to bestow yet another Ethos lesson upon Clara.
The garden, vast and serene, bore witness to their training—or, rather, to Clara's increasingly creative thods of nearly toppling over.
Seraphine moved with the grace of a swan on a still lake. Clara, on the other hand, was more like a particularly determined duckling attempting to mimic her moves with a 50/50 chance of success or spectacular failure.
From the sidelines, Calix and Mariella observed with the careful attentiveness of spectators at a high-stakes cody act.
It wasn't that they doubted Seraphine's ability to teach. Oh, she was plenty skilled, but Mariella was firmly convinced that if left alone, Clara might either break a bone, break Seraphine, or, worst of all, develop an inconvenient admiration for the so-called saintess.
And that, Mariella simply could not allow.
"You've got to be kidding ," she muttered darkly as Clara tripped over air for the third ti.
Calix, offered a small smile. "She'll get it. Eventually."
"We should've stayed inside. I should've—"
"Let them be, Mariella. Besides, if sothing does happen, we'll be right here."
Before Mariella could retort, Seraphine's lilting voice cut through the crisp night air. "Focus, Clara. Control your movents. Don't rush—"
Clara, of course, imdiately rushed.
The result? A spectacularly mistid lunge that ended with her practically tackling Seraphine to the ground.
A flurry of tangled limbs, ruffled skirts, and a most undignified "oof" later, Clara found herself sprawled atop Seraphine, her face a shade of red that could put a sunset to sha.
Mariella nearly combusted on the spot.
"Oops," Clara mumbled, her voice sheepish.
Seraphine chuckled, brushing herself off as she stood up. "You really need to work on your balance, Clara. And your timing."
"Sorry," Clara said again, pushing herself up and glancing over at Mariella, who was watching intently. "I'm just… really trying to impress lady savior."
"Maybe try impressing yourself first," Mariella snapped, only to be stopped mid-stride as Calix gently placed a hand on her arm.
"Let them be," he said, his tone as soft as a lullaby. "Clara's getting there."
"I don't like it, though."
The simring tension between Clara and Mariella continued to bubble like a pot left unattended on the stove.
By the ti training had ended and they all trudged back inside, it was rather heavy between the two, though whether it was from lingering irritation or sothing far more complicated was up for debate.
Dinner preparation soon beca their battleground.
Clara chopped vegetables with a little too much enthusiasm, and Mariella stirred the soup with the precise fury of soone venting all their grievances on a helpless broth.
And yet, despite the occasional passive-aggressive glance, or perhaps because of them, there was sothing oddly familiar, oddly them about it.
They'd been through too much together to let a bit of petty bickering change that.
"I never really had much of a family, you know? Just… ." She paused, her eyes growing distant, as if staring into the void of her tragic backstory. "I was orphaned as a baby. Lost my parents in so kind of accident. Never found out exactly what happened."
Mariella, casually butchering a carrot with the finesse of a seasoned executioner, responded without much thought. "Ohhh, so that's why you're so clingy. You don't know how to be independent."
There was a mont of stillness.
The spoon creaked ominously under the pressure. "What did you just say?"
Mariella blinked, suddenly aware that she had possibly, just possibly, made an error. "Uh. I ant… in a totally non-insulting, supportive, and um... deeply philosophical way?"
"You have no idea what it's like to be alone. To have no one care about you." She turned sharply back to the stove, her stirring now so aggressive that the soup looked like it might file a complaint.
Mariella, for once, was at a loss for words. She wasn't exactly known for handling emotions that weren't useful. Feelings were things to be disciplined, compartntalized, thrown into a neat little box and never spoken of again.
Unfortunately, guilt was currently kicking down the door of that box.
With a sigh, she set the knife down and crossed her arms. "Okay, fine. I didn't an to upset you. That was a really bad choice of words." A beat. Then, awkwardly, she added, "I'm just jealous...."
"Huh?"
"I am only with lady Seraphine because I am... alone. I am a widow. Much like how you're an orphan, I have no family either..."
"O-Oh.." Clara winced. "I... didn't know..."
"But I think we both know we have another one thing in common." She paused, glancing at Seraphine's direction in the other room. "We both like her."
"What? What are you—"
"So that makes us rivals, right?"
"You're right," Mariella finally admitted, her voice quiet but firm. "But she's mine."
"Oh, really? We'll see about that."
Their argunt dissolved into laughter, and before long, dinner was ready.
All four of them gathered around the table, the air light and easy once more.
Seraphine and Calix shared an amused glance as Clara and Mariella bickered over who would sit next to Seraphine.
Just as one of them was about to triumphantly claim the chair, Mariella yanked Clara back with the force of soone defending their last slice of cake. What followed was a chaotic ga of tug-of-war, complete with dramatic shoving, flailing limbs, and increasingly unhinged determination.
"I'm the one who gets to sit next to her!" Mariella declared, attempting to muscle her way forward.
"No, I am!" Clara shot back, equally stubborn, digging her heels into the floor like a mule refusing to move.
The situation escalated at an alarming rate. Mariella, never one to back down from a fight, snatched up a knife. Clara, completely unbothered, simply activated her Ethos, golden light flaring around her.
Seraphine, who had been enjoying the show from the sidelines, finally shrieked, jumping to her feet. "H-Hey! I thought you two were getting along!" She hesitated, eyes darting between the shimring light shield and the very real knife. "Actually, never mind! Violence is a valid form of communication! Just, uh… don't get blood on the furniture!"
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