The not so relaxing nap is plagued by several events in the life of the «Mirror ».
There is no defined chronological order in any of the mories, and since they are recorded from his relative perspective. It is difficult to analyze them with absolute partiality.
{What a martyrdom. This won’t happen every day. Or will it?}.
I sit up in the hard edge of the bed, hearing a firm knocking on the door.
The sun hasn’t risen yet, but i can see the sky brightening through the window’s glass.
{Who could be searching for so early?. «This» idiot has no friends}.
"I’m going to enter. You better not be asleep, or naked Little Brother. If so, i’ll incinerate your tiny testicles". The feminine voice is serious and haughty, arrogant and scornful even.
The doorknob is surrounded by a purple energetic hue, twisting down and unlocking the entrance with a strong pulling motion as if soone had opened the door from the interior.
The rose fragrance of a Virgin fills my nostrils, seeing the «Motivation» that ignited this quirk in the «Mirror ». His Elder Sister.
{I understand he learned this illusory sll ability, to prove his Relative wasn’t wronged by «Supposedly Bandits» during an ambush in which she lost part of her beauty. What cost her the engagent, new marriage proposals, and any other suitor wanting to court her}.
The Maiden wears the sa type of burgundy scaled organic bodysuit i obtained a few hours ago.
Her long indigo hair is shaved on the left side, a direct repercussion of the ambush she went through.
But this is less noticeable as the remarked bones on her attractive sharp face, having a slight tweak in the upper thick rosaceous lip, twitching with irritation as she clearly woke up earlier of what she is accustod to.
"I’m here as you wanted Little Brother. What do you want to talk about?". She ogles up an down. Satisfied with the eye-fest she has with my strong ripped fra.
{I have no idea what «He» wanted to discuss with her. I couldn’t see what was written, or the content in letter he sent to her}
"Vestaria...". I pronounce, imdiately realizing my mistake, seeing she suddenly loses her dazed ntal reverie, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, and having more than a bit of struggle.
The door is slamd and locked with a wave of purple energy, the sudden change in her attitude cos with an accusation that is issued like an actual proclamation. "You are not my Little Brother".
The disbelief and grudge exudes from her tone. The relationship they had may not be the greatest and closest. In fact, they hadn’t seen each other in almost three years, but the «Mirror » continues being her relative.
Sothing i can’t truly relate, as i don’t have siblings or more Family. My Mother, and then my Father, were all i ever had.
"I am not". I confess earnestly. Seeing and sensing how furious is Vestaria. What inspires a stingy pinch that burns in my chest, right in the blue rhombus of the bodysuit.
The lilac eyes of Vestaria have narrow constricted pupils, like a reptile. Expected, considering the scales in the fashion style of her clothes, or the doberman ears i saw on the «Barking Bitch». But is the glint glowing in her irises, what swaps her attitude.
"What did you do?...". She asks. I was about to answer. But her eyes are not directly on , if not glued at the rhombus in my chest.
She almost sobs, her hardened expression softening and cracking with whatever she is sighting or hearing, reaching absentmindedly for the bright blue figure in the middle of my pectorals.
The light emitted by the rhombus is deford into a coarse face like silhouette of the «Mirror ».
She is wrecked by it, tears flowing from her lilac eyes, rolling salty droplets down her skin, staining her cheeks as she bursts in a dejected and disconsolate cry.
The fierce beastly aristocrat that entered in the room is nowhere to be seen. Replaced by a vulnerable maiden, whose knees buckle, leaning on by accident, holding onto my shoulder to stand straight.
The mont roots within her own emotions, her knees weaver again, sitting next to , avoiding her physical collapse. But her ntal state is not as resilient.
Or so i had misunderstood, because seconds later, Vestaria looks at my chest with a cute playful pout. "You are an idiot".
{Can she talk to the dead?. It wouldn’t be strange in this world. Right?... , Or the «Mirror » didn’t die?}.
Vestaria removes her hand from my chest, cleaning the trail of tears from her asymtrical bone cheeks, glaring at with mixed emotions. "How did you kill my Little Brother?".
"I beat him with my bare hands. His face ended as a mushy puree".
She blinks, astonished, though i can’t pinpoint about what part.
{It was my frankness?. Or the detached tone towards taking the live of others?}
"Are you always this upfront?".
"I believe so. Even before the old man taught ...".
"You better not talk like that about «Our» «Venerable Father», or you will get in deep troubles...".
"I’ll have it present Vestaria".
"Don’t call like that. Only my Husband and those who rised , have the privilege of pronouncing my na. «Elder Sister» will do just fine for now".
"I’m not calling you that". I state resolutely with extre seriousness. "My mother only had , i’ll not staining her legacy. «Vessa», or Vestaria. You are a Bombshell. We are not blood related. We can marry each other. I know you are into . Or you think that your glare was dissimulated and concealed enough to not be noticed by ?".
She blinks, her cheeks flushing dimly, and not for the previous cries.
{The «Mirror » suggested this to her?!. I don’t know how to feel about that. Am i being manipulated?. How far «He» foresee?. How can i be sure of going through my own path?}.
"Do what you want. My Little Brother was the sa...". She grunts deviating her sight.
"Since I have your permission...". I grab her chin, forcing her to face , and with no prior warning, i capture her soft thick lips, kissing her.
Vestaria is stupefied with the abrupt intimate contact between our mouths. Her breath is agitated, and her posture turns stiffer, not knowing how to react, her hands panicking and struggling, whether for inexperience, hesitation or curiosity. I really don’t care.
It was obvious this shock. The ritocratic society of Clamour City is in a dium and mixed developnt between the upper royalty, the industrial revolution, and the beginnings of the modern age, plus magic.
Which cos along with certain traditions and customs that may look outdated for soone like . Although. I can take full advantage of this dissonant disparity...
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