Being the older sister, half or not, of the hottest girl in town, is by far the most difficult thing Marcella would ever have to do. Forget Math, Bills, and Work. When you're younger sister dates the quarterback of the football team, and is homecoming queen, prom queen, and every other queen, every year it's unimaginably hard. The only two things Marcella and her sister had in common being cars, and their father.
Mikaela Banes.
The name of the beauty queen. The girl who everyone wants to be, who everyone wants to date, and who everyone wants a piece of.
Not Marcella Ottaviani La Cava.
The difference between them was summer and winter.
Mikaela was summer, her beauty warm to match her personality, getting her looks from both parents, her life full of opportunity.
Mikaela had dark chocolate locks that brushed the base of her normally exposed shoulder blades, her sun kissed skin offset by the dark color nicely; bambi eyes the same blue as the sky on a sunny day , that could give an award winning kicked puppy face, framed by thick lashes curling towards her meticulously sculpted brows. Mikaela, thin and willowy with a generous bust that fit her designer clad frame perfectly, her plush lips when not pouting pulled into a grin, showing dimples in her slightly chubby cheeks she'd never lost in her childhood, unlike the rest of her baby fat. The lilting soprano slipping from her lips showing her life in the suburbs of California.
Marcella was winter. Her pale complexion and chilly disposition solely from her mother and the dark past shadowing her every move, the frigid temperature radiating off her pale form matching the darkness.
Marcella held long snowy locks that brushed the alluring curve of her hips hidden by her camouflage uniform, fair skin mostly smooth puckered by scars marring the flesh every so often, ink staining almost all the ivory flesh, a story hidden behind each. Icy azure orbs like the water melting off a glacier lay cloaked with a constant shadow of warning as she surveyed her surroundings constantly, while long lashes, dark but not thick, curved towards her perfectly sculpted brows, that almost always sat contorted into a scowl. The chapped surface of Marcella's voluptuous lips that sat in a frown bellow her straight nose, to match the scowl of her brows, the deep dimples that lay hidden in Marcella's thin cheeks rarely seen. While shorter in stature, not an ounce of fat could be found on her lithe frame, her arms, legs and stomach toned heavily from the constant gym time, working on cars in the shop and her position in the army, her bust still generous enough to be noticed but smaller than her sisters. The coarse accented alto that held no room for question revealing that she had been born somewhere in Italy.
And yet, Mikaela held the award of beauty.
Because she was the one that held a past not nearly as troubling as her older sisters.
At the age of 24 Marcella held a title as Sergeant Major in the Army, protecting her country that she'd spent seven years of her life growing up in.
And the first time in her career she'd taken leave; she gotten dragged into an Alien war.