This was pretty good English Literature practice... there you go, I found a good excuse! Anyway, this idea suddenly hit me on the bus subsequent to being in town with friends and I thought it was pretty chill, I know, odd place right? Soooo, there's some background information!
Sarah-Frogs-Brothers-Fan: God, I should turn this into a wrestly match between them, Michael v Dwayne. Haa, sorry I find that fought kinda amusing now, especially with Edgar commentating! :')
Miss-Understood: Well, they are Mierrael! I kinda fell in love with your little nickname for them :'3 Gotta love Karma!
EvilFalconofDoom: They're human, they can do the fluff ;) Not so much fluff in this chapter just to make it up to you! :D
Whovain101: Hehee thank you! David catching them kissing, that would be a funny sight!
Anyway, on with the story! Sorry if they're any mistakes, wrote this one like a day ago and I've had a Theatre Studies essay during that time with NO COFFEE, it does stuff to a person's vocabulary.
No remorse, 'cause I still remember the smile when you tore me apart
~Angels, Within Temptation.
Their thrilled snickers claim the entire cave as their own. At one point, during their immortality materialized on Earth, it was theirs and they were associated with the malevolence enshrouding it like a threatening dust cloud distorted by sinful shadows.
"Sierra just got la-id! Sierra just got la-id!" they both chant joyously, perceiving what happened in my conscious state just under an hour ago as humorous.
To be honest, it's those two who make me laugh more than anything, despite their wish for me to identify everything else as comical. Marko and Paul dawdle out of the grandiose white clouds that conquer even the most evil of souls, their physical symbol of recognition suspending out of their mouths, the silver smoke amid the blank surroundings swirling around the grins creased on their faces. Marko slings his arm around me, offering me a little drag from his cigarette in which I decline as I do not have a propensity to smoke unless I get beyond stressed. Because of the affectionate alleviation earlier, I can withhold nicotine impulses.
"Damn it. I was hoping you'd do smoke tricks. Boohoo, Sierra, you're making me cry!" Marko teasingly weeps before an impetuous semblance of sober-mindedness penetrates through his cool act, his lips moulding into a hard, critical line. "The journey's almost up, babe. Keep on fighting the good fight and you should be alright" That dauntless smirk crawls onto his lips, erasing the aspect of gravity from his entire body. "Hey, that rhymed! Brah, I did something that rhymed!"
"Sweet, dude!" And with that, a lively battle begins. Originating from the abundant high-fives, a scuffle between the two commences. "I'm gonna beat you, Polo!"
"Oh no you ain't, you... erm... you mermaid! Ha! Bet you weren't expecting that insult were you, Paul?" Marko cackles, shoving a bewildered Paul off him as I watch on, my expression reflecting the incomprehension on Paul's face.
"A mermaid? Seriou-" Paul sighs, aggravated and pinching his temples together. "Please tell me you did not, just say that"
"You guys are crazy" I say in a drone mechanical-like voice.
"Sorry, we're dead" Paul comments, smirking at me deviously. I stammer, and to some extent, permit eloquence to enter the perplexed hesitation in my voice. Paul flings his hands up into the air out of defence. "Yes, Sierra, it counts as an excuse! God, the living nowadays" he rashly sighs, irritated but I know it is a pseudo of what he portrays.
Before I can even express my farewells, the sensation of being ascended out of this cherubic world, and back into my own reality of the living...
Thick black eyelashes flickering to the motion of my eyes opening to the formidable illustration of darkness blanketing the cave, the contrast of the once august array of shimmering colours representing such divinity compared to my own eyes view being vast – I am awake. Slender fingers belonging to me skim through my thick locks and a ghost of a smile briefly glides over my lips before falling as I yawn, feeling Michael's tepid breath pouring over my throat with a pleasant tingle. As I am hauled into what I deem a tranquil introduction to the night's unfriendly atmosphere, I adjust the lustrous sheets overlapping each other around my chest, ensuring nothing exhibits itself.
"Oh, good morning to you, too, Sierra" a surly drawl of utter derision mutters blatantly – Delilah. With a quick inhale camouflaging itself as a gasp, I dart my previously unperturbed body upright. Officially, this is the most gauche moment of my life – me sat, practically naked, in front of my elder sister. Her once warming chestnut eyes glimmer under the moonlight exuding whilst they examine me. "I see you had fun while we were gone"
Inelegantly, I shuffle around in this sector of the bed, unremittingly adjusting the bed sheets around my chest and attempting not to wake up Michael who sleeps deeply next to me. Whereas I couldn't feel more discomfited in this situation – my sister sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed watching me – Delilah portrays this role of an injudicious, thoughtless being who finds this all too witty.
"Um, yeah" I mutter, quite disturbed at the surrealism enmeshed in this situation.
In two tense seconds, our eyes - hers brimming with smothered laughter, mine impregnated with chagrin – latch onto each other in a ferocious game of mortification and obscurity.
"Dude!" I snap, my mouth suspending from my jaw drastically as I cannot believe how inactive Delilah's reaction to her younger sister being in bed with another man after doing something any older sister would chastise their younger sibling for doing, is, even more so with the moistened striped man's shirt mingling with floral cotton shorts, jet black leather jacket, a pair of stone washed denim jeans and a pale blue shirt congregated onto the floor in a scattered mountain. "Do you, like, you know, mind?" Delilah stares monotonously at me, her eyes barren of the effortless knowledge that this is erroneous and awkward, like she repudiates the moral principality in removing her presence when referring to a situation such as this. "Delilah, you do realise I'm half naked, right?"
I didn't want to enunciate something like that, but those two chestnut eyes sparkled with nothing but content normality, like she has been exposed to this before. With every second of her perching on the end of the bed passing, the more I can feel the red glow of discomfiture invading my cheeks.
"And you do realise if it wasn't for me, Dwayne would have came over and had a peek?" she grumbles ever so conceitedly, extracting satisfaction from her 'honourable' deed of the night. I sniff a few times, inhaling the aroma of musk and iron – blood. "Dinner tonight was some man who is, well, who was getting married tomorrow" A deceitful smirk crawls onto her lips, and from the lack of a quiver, I know she is going to affirm something that will increase the scarlet hue smouldering in my fresh cheeks. "Looks like you and Michael already did the honeymoon part for them"
Oh my God, she did notjust say that. Presently, it is an underestimation to label me as offended. Delilah, my older sister, is not sat in front of me maliciously remarking on what encompasses mine and Michael's relationship whilst discovering some mirth from it. Then, the adverse reality belts me – she is. Inwardly, I groan in displeasure, humiliation etching the wordless declaration combined with a plea for help.
"Oh, c'mon, little sis! Lighten up!" Delilah then hurls something at me, the item aimed at my face and as I open my eyes after instantaneously shutting them hastily as a natural method to avert momentarily blindness or bother, I learn she's thrown a t-shirt where the colourful and slightly damaged sublimation printing of some new wave band Delilah has always favoured, is the most conspicuous part, gleaming from the fading black material. "I don't endorse seeing you naked, Sierra. Nope, I've made my few jokes, so that's me done for the night" she nonchalantly sighs, swivelling around so I can get dressed.
I slip the t-shirt on speedily, ensuring I don't wake up a tranquil Michael doing so. Then, I apprehend something: I want answers. Not my own interpretation – ingenuous answers.
"Why did you leave, Delilah?" I ask.
"You've already asked that one, Sierra"
"I didn't get the answer I required"
"Well, too bad, Sierra!" Delilah explodes, and I immediately respond by pressing my finger to my rosy, full lips, the compression causing me to feel my teeth regardless of the flesh barricading me from touching them, a hiss liberating itself. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake up your precious boyfriend?" she asks ironically, the words masquerading themselves as spits consuming nothing but venom. "Again, too bad, princess. Get used to it"
"No! You're not evading the question this time, Delilah! I want answers – now!" I yell, my ferocious side unleashing itself from the peaceful lair created to veil it. However, nature cannot be hidden once provoked. I take heed of the sharp intake of air – Michael has woken up. Nice going, Sierra.
"Sierra, is everything – shit!" Michael shouts after his drowsy address to me is obliterated due to him viewing Delilah sat on the end of the bed. He shoots up into an upright position, his robust ropes instantly enshrouding me, and scans her for a moment, watching the wicked grin situated on her lips.
"Have a good time, Mikey? Bet that's just what you needed to relieve some of that stress. Deary me, Michael, is that all you want Sierra for?" Delilah tuts, wagging a slender finger at Michael in order to intimidate him in an immature chiding. "I hope it isn't, otherwise we're going to be having words. That's what a good sister like me would do anyway"
"You, a good sister?" Michael chuckles, finding her mockery disguised as 'truth' more than entertaining. As for me, I can't help but to laugh quietly at her statement, but I ensure it is audible enough for her to hear me. "As for what you say about me, I don't think you can even begin to comprehend what Sierra and I have. In fact, I'll be surprised if you even know what love is. So you claim I'm using her, despite me coming all this way to ensure she's safe? That's a little hypocritical considering you're the so-called good sister participating in a revenge where people, sorry, monsters are using her"
"You do realise Mom and Dad have the whole family over?" Delilah abruptly exclaims. "I see they aren't as high as they used to be. Who knew that you disappearing would make Edgar and Alan's lives better, huh?" Now she's crossed the line.
"Ha! Please tell me you aren't being serious? How the hell does any of this make our – oh, sorry, let me rephrase that one – my brother's lives better?" I growl. After this confrontation where I directly address her with no chances for her to even articulate a vowel, she won't have the courage to incite me again. Ever. "It doesn't, it only contributes to half the shit they're facing already. And you have the imprudent audacity to deem yourself as a good sister? From someone who is your biological sister, a.k.a, me, I advise you think again on that one, Delilah, because all you're doing is making yourself even more pitiable than you already are"
Commenting on myself and insulting a component in my personality or how my appearance is perceived by others doesn't bother me. Get my family embroiled in something intended to be impertinent, and there is a price to forfeit. I skim Delilah's body sat there on the end of the bed like she governs the area. Though I don't enjoy confessing it, I know who owns this cave, and it certainly isn't her. Toxins depicting the hatred I feel towards her endeavours not to leak out of my eyes as they trail vituperatively along the creature of the night who I loathe, a fact I am exultant to admit.
"I want my goddamn answer, Delilah. You've got three seconds – go"
She has qualms. One second. She will answer me. Two seconds. She has no choice. I have no choice.
Three.
"They lured me in" Finally, I have the declaration of guilt from her lips. "Made me feel loved, no mindfucks, but they made me feel wanted. They still do. I know I was a part of their revenge, and to be honest, Sierra, I didn't care after lamenting for about a day. I was the parent to you, Edgar and Alan. Mom and Dad didn't care about me, just like they didn't care about you. The only reason you're here is for the revenge, like me. That, and something else I can't tell you about"
What? There is something else I am here for, and as Delilah initiates her proud walk, shunning Michael and I with her alacrity to depart being too incensing for my liking, I nearly leap out of the bed. If it wasn't for Michael maintaining a sturdy harness around me, I would have ran interrogating her.
"Delilah!" I call, my voice never succumbing to the wavering of desperation. Sluggishly, she rotates around and before I can ascertain she is doing it merely to exasperate me, I discern the sun rising from its night time ashes as the hours of darkness have been subjugated, only for a day of torture to be reborn.
Sierra, your time is running out.
Mortality. Truth.
Sanity.
"What other reason is there, Delilah?" For a second, my crystal blue orbs flicker with beseeches. Unwillingly, of course.
I thought this was over.
"Did you know Mom got back in contact with her sister? Yeah, she isn't an only child like she told us. Guess our parent's lied a lot, huh?" I ache to scream at her. "David's promised me wedding cake from our meal's wedding! Oh yeah, and he wants you guys to sleep out here tonight" She shrugs slothfully. "Don't ask me! Nobody tells me nothing around here. 'Part from that one thing"
The desire is enormously pungent that not even I know how I'm enduring the seething urge. She leaves. Back to her pit of darkness. Where the demons of the night sleep.
I turn to Michael and just retreat from this lunacy, my head sheltering in his masses of dark curls, feeling his hand move smoothly around my waist, tugging me closer to his radiating warmth. It feels like home.
"Can we go back to sleep now?" I murmur, teasing his loose ringlets with my nose, jaded of this narrative constructed by David many years prior to today. It persists to subsist.
"Only for about ten minutes, baby" he replies. I furrow my groomed brow, the words captivating me, but not ingesting the implications.
"What do you mean?" I ask, my mind aroused by inquisitiveness.
Michael pauses, his head hurriedly gyrating in order to peer through the small fissures in the ancient rock ceiling. At first, it bemuses me, but then I apprehend what he is doing as the sun gloats its beauty that only full mortals can gaze at, the ones who escape a human life willingly or unwillingly being punished as it metamorphoses into our Medusa. He's got a plan.
"We're getting out of here, angel – today"