“Sion?” Orion’s tense face stared at her, and in just a second he was 19 once more. Those memories were buried in her mind. It only took a single visit from those imps for her to relapse. She hadn’t even seen their faces. She hadn’t even heard their voices. Just the ghost of their presence was enough for her. 

Sion took a frail breath, her body shaking much more than she would have liked

“I’m fine, just a little dazed, it’s the heat and all that.”

Orion’s gaze pierced her, it hurt to lie to him after remembering all of that. All those lies piled upon each other. And it wasn’t even her who was stabbed deepest. It was Orion. Her marred brother. Her brother still had a faint cut from 9 years ago that slithered across his neck. Her brother.

The two stood like that for a minute. Orion, trying to figure out what was wrong with Sion. Sion, trying to find a way to fix what was wrong with Orion. 

“Well, drink some water and get some rest. You look grey.” Sion nodded and retreated to the comfort of her room.

She sat on her favourite plush stool and faced that tinted mirror of hers. The girl that was before her was slightly grey. Still, not enough to be called out on. Her hair was radiant (if you did not take in count her frizz), her eyes were lively (if you didn’t notice her quite visible eye bags), and her outfit was perfect (except a map of wrinkles had overtaken it, but that was fine).

“Positivity isn’t worth the hassle”, Sion admitted to herself. 

♕

Sion wormed herself into the Alantin uniform, the coal jacket clinching to her skin, the seams digging into her arms. 

The debtors had somehow made themselves worse to Sion. They made her late to the Alantin Opening Session. And Sion Estrix was not a person who lightly minded tardiness. Whether it came from others, or herself.

“Orion, get the carriage ready!”Sion cried from the corner of her room, hoping that Orion could hear her plea.

“Do it yourself!”

Sion rolled his eyes at her brother’s reply, her annoyance growing by the second.

“Orion Estrix, if I don’t see that carriage ready in the next 2 minutes I will burn every single one of your constellation maps and I am not bluffing!” This was one of Sion’s most effective strategies with Orion when she needed something from him. His maps were his most precious items, a single scratch and he would go mad.

She would never actually burn his maps, she wasn’t a monster. But the threat of her lighting them on fire worked on Orion more than the actual action. In her mind, it was a win-win situation. 

It only took a second or two for her to hear the rough sound of the carriage wheels rolling out against the grass. Sion grinned. Sometimes, being a bit nasty was the best way to get things done.

She plastered the grim outfit on herself and raced to the carriage. Her flats were terrible for active attire, she almost tripped against the manor’s infinite staircase. Orion had done his part, the carriage was placed on the entrance of the estate, its luxurious self bathing in the stares of commoners and passer-bys. 

Sion leaped into the velvet seating, and the cushioning gave a soft hiss under the sudden weight. 

“Go!”, Sion yelled at the imbecile driver. 

One thing could be said about the House of Estrix, they did not slack off in luxury. The carriage was a state of the art. It could easily fit in at the most grand museums, but the true gem was its functionality. The carriage was a bird against the ground. It glided against the grass and road, it was a driver’s dream.

It was also the best and only way for Sion Estrix to not be tardy for the opening session. Every other second, Sion opened her pocket watch. It was a strange paradox. When an individual is partaking in something excitable, like racing, time would sail by, it’s foul self laughing at your confusion. However, when that same individual is dabbling in humdrum activities, that devious persona will leisurely tread by.

In Sion’s case, time was treading. It was slowly swimming by, grinning at its new playmate. Evil. That was the best way to describe it. 

Sion flicked at her braid, the wind catching her flyaways and creating a tornado on her head. Her trim uniform was brimming with wrinkles and creases. The crest on her coat was tilted, her shoes had a thin coat of mud, and worst of all, her skirt was forming a thin slit across the seam.

So much for her precious first impressions.