ѕαναgєѕ

[tetracaine]

She'd not expected this to happen quite so soon. Not as if she hadn't expected it at all, but she'd always resolved that her counterpart would have been a little more resilient than what she put forth--if not just plain bullheaded.


The two were closely related, one had to consider, and by Daisy's all but immaculate sense of logic, many of one's characteristics should reflect in one's identical twin. Was that not how they worked? Two mirroring halves of the same person? In her line of thought, this stood as a perfectly reasonable conjecture. Daisy Griffin thought herself to be both resilient and bullheaded; perfectly capable, she concluded, of handling a little personal stress and financial strain.


Her sister? Eager to disprove this theory.


Of course, Daisy found no necessity in taking into consideration the fact that she'd never had to concern herself with the afflictions of being a single mother, burdened with emotional conflict to the point where unorthodox methods were satisfactory, and all but financially downtrodden. She had an overwhelming sense of confidence that she herself could easily conquer these adversities--which was part of the reason why she'd been so generous to begin with.


That was not to say that offering her twin sister and her child a refuge in her own home was--simple. Living on her own for most of her adult life had been a pleasant experience: the rooms were quiet and orderly, the way she liked them, and no one was around to ask questions or create undesirable noise. She had a job, after all, and she'd found (almost on every occasion, though few and far between, she had guests in her home) that the presence of other human beings caused significant damage to the chaotic beauty of her paintings. This was a hardly tolerable crime.


Truly, guests were parasites, no matter how deeply they thought she cared for them.


Albeit, making herself appear patient and welcoming was no monumental accomplishment. She'd had just as much practice as she'd ever need.


Now she had herself arranged on the front porch of her isolated home, gazing out at the surrounding harlequin forest as if each tree and shrub were an estranged child. The day was dark and heavy with swelling clouds, but her eyes were shielded by a pair of dark sunglasses (The expensive type that people wear to make a scene more than anything. Daisy knew this.), and her pale golden hair draped over one sweater-clad shoulder. Cradled in one slender palm was a glass of Chardonnay (again, the expensive type), blood red against her white flesh. Her expression--though somewhat ambiguous--was most typical when other life dwelled from within her home--lips tight, almost frowning, but not quite. It was just as well; this was just about the most genuine emotion she'd be expressing for God only knew how long.

 

[ValentineIllusion]

Athene wondered what a normal family meeting would be like. How a normal family would act in the situation she was in. She imagined warm, loving parents in a quaint little ranch-styled home, welcoming her and her little girl in with open arms and an open seat by the fire, situated just perfectly in the room to watch TV with them and eat her mother's award winning stew. She imagined Lissa, her daughter, playing with her toys in the den with sunlight streaming in, the view of a happy little suburbia outside with plenty of people Athene could associate with and gossip with and go to book clubs with. She imagined a place where she could get her life back together.


But her parents were dead.


Then she imagined a brother or a sister taking her in to a small city apartment, a smile on their face and a cat at their feet, apologizing over and over for the small space and the only small room they could offer, which she would then say was not a problem at all, because really, it wouldn't be. She imagined Lissa going to a nice little school and Athene would attend PTA meetings there, and she'd find friends to help her get back on her feet and maybe even introduce her to a single man who was always open to a date.


But all she had was Daisy.


Athene looked out the window of the taxi with her eyes narrowed, her head resting on her hand. She didn't want to do this, but she had to do this. A divorce case had ripped practically all her funds from her, and a custody battle over her little daughter reaped all the rest. Getting a job was impossible due to living on disability for epilepsy, but that money was terrible and paid her next to nothing. Her chronic condition prevented her from driving, as well, and hindered her from being normal even further. And then she had Lissa to care for, and while she was a fantastic, wonderful, amazing gift, she was also quite expensive. She needed a roof over her head. Any roof Athene could give her.


Still, she held her close, knowing that her twin sister was no less than cold. Evil, almost. Athene couldn't just walk in with a gift basket of some food as thanks and hugs and kisses all around- she had to come in with a strategy, to protect her, and her daughter. She would fight fire with fire, and as much as she hated it, she was willing to drop down to Daisy's level of lack-of-empathy and lack-of-any other emotion. She could do that.


But as Lissa tugged on her mother's worn hoodie jacket, she couldn't help but look down at the girl with a smile, "Yes, Lissa?"


"Are we there yet?" she whined, having the same amount of patience any six year old would. She inherited her golden hair from her mother and it was cut just above her shoulders, too curly to try and tame. She dressed in pinks and frills and dresses, and compared to Athene's drab yoga pants, tank top and hoodie, it was clear most of her remaining money went towards her daughter. That was fine with Athene. She was most happy when her daughter was happy.


"Almost," Athene mused, but they were pulling into the driveway. It was hard to keep that smile on for her daughter, and she really only said "almost" to deny that they were really there. This was really her last resort. But she didn't let any of that emotion show as she got out of the car, hardly even acknowledging her sister, and unloaded her things from the trunk.

 

[tetracaine]

Daisy removed herself from the sleek mahogany porch swing with deliberate grace, glacially smoothing the hem of her silver sweater over her lap as she traced the vehicle's route with a perceptive eye. This was far from an occasion worthy of making idle impressions--but the little one was new, and of course, it was no fine expression of the manners she'd taught herself so diligently to be aloof in the presence of someone she hadn't seen in--eight years, perhaps? Her features wrinkled as she strained to recollect, but she made certain Athene was too preoccupied to catch a glimpse of this mild misdemeanor.


She is a tall, statuesque women, strongly resembling her sister in the most subdued aspects. Their contradicting wardrobes are the most significant difference Daisy can immediately recognize. Athene is not trashy, no, not her sister, not intentionally; nevertheless, it's difficult--almost painful--for Daisy to picture herself in such loose, thrifty clothing. She'd always made the very best show of her beauty, despite that being the center of attention was something she often loathed with every part of her being. She bites her tongue to resist voicing her thoughts on how worn her sister looks. She won't lie, but she certainly won't invoke a conversation which she has no motivation nor intention to finish.


As she descends the three miniature steps that swath her front porch, she leans around the blockade provided by the glaring taxi cab to seize a brief glimpse of her niece. The girl is no younger than Daisy had expected her to be, and, equally as uninteresting, bears little contrast to her mother. Daisy recognizes a piece of her own mother in the tilt of the child's features, if she squints hard enough. Lissa is a perfect, frothy pink caricature of all three of them--and Daisy isn't quite certain if she's satisfied with this.


But concerning her chaste demeanor, at least, she can assume the little lady knows nothing of her mother's family.


She creeps off the bottom step and swings around the opposite side of the cab, intent on avoiding the little ankle-biter's inevitably grabby hands for as long as she can manage. The asphalt is radiating heat, but she doesn't seem to take notice. There's a ruby smile plastered across his shapely mouth. She wants to greet her own twin as warmly as she would expect herself to be.


"Need any help?" The blond murmurs this over the edge of her glass as it rises to her lips again, eyebrows twitching at the meager belongings Athene has stowed away in the trunk. God knows how many germs she'll be dragging into your house. It's a little tone at the back of her mind, a little twitch of her subconscious that she can't help but agree with. But her mouth never shifts. She smiles and tilts her head and looks her sister up and down, but not in a condescending way. How could she demean someone who had come to her for help? They both already knew Athene had dragged herself low enough--and, if anything, Daisy was satisfied with this.