Sarah lays down in the grass, her voice is a warm hum against the subtle breeze. The air seems to carry her voice a little farther to me as I hold my small, leather bound diary on my lap. "Mary," she wonders aloud, "dear Mary, what would you think of me if I lost my power."
It is such a sudden question, and we've only just begun talking. I shake my head, not knowing where this new inquiry has come from. "I suppose I would be surprised of you," I offer, my voice soft. We're talking in our secretive sort of way, on the edge of the great lawn, far away from prying eyes and ears. Her dark hair spreads out around her head, her not having pulled it back as Eugenia had asked her to. "You, who are older than I am, losing your power would be surprising. I know how you value your freedom," I say tentatively.
This doesn't seem to comfort her. "I see. Well, I've been afraid recently," she confides. "Eugenia was complimenting you on your progress the other day, correct?"
"Yes, but-"
She continues. "And she said nothing of me when I couldn't conjure the door again."
"That could have easily been your tiredness that day-"
"And how she smiled and told me it would all be alright. I don't like that. I hate when people speak down to me."
Her eyes, those dark eyes, are no longer looking at me. They are looking above us, to the clouds ever changing in their white forms. "Well, maybe it's just the realms themselves," I try, not wanting to upset her by feeding into her suspicions. "You're very talented," I add.
Sarah snorts shortly, a most unladylike thing. "I am? I don't think so, Mary. I was once." There is something hard in her voice, something I don't like. It's quick, but her eyes seem to narrow at the sky. This time when I look up, I see clouds creating a great misty whale rising from the shifting waters. "It's like rebirth," she comments. "The leviathan rising from the tides of change."
She's beginning to scare me so I agree. "Yes, Sarah. It is."
Her smile shows a slight comfort in the thought. "I wonder what it would be like to be you. You're quiet, soft-spoken. You don't have the ambition that I do."
I want to say something about this, but I know that she's in earnest. I listen. I do as they ask. And we both know that it's true. I look back at her, but her once wry smile is gone. "Are you still my sister, Mary?" Her voice is a whisper. I don't know what she's asking. Of course, we have been sisters since the beginning.
"Yes, Sarah." It's a simple reply but it seems to satisfy her significantly.
Her next words are soft as well, but they're said in such a voice that I don't know exactly how to respond properly. "Would you do anything for me?"
I don't answer but she doesn't look at me at first. It's a painful moment in time when she does, with Sarah and I looking at one another in silent confidence. Her eyes were held by my green ones, and that thin misplaced piece of time ended just as it had started. She doesn't need my reply. We both know what the answer is, and the answer is yes.
