High & Mighty

The plane was silent. Everyone was processing their defeat, the death of a newblood, Ptolemus letting her live. Mare's hateful glare was too much for Evangeline. She didn't want to face any of them. So what if her brother went easy on her? So what if Ellyn was determined to bring 'Oliverara' back to their side? Her sister was stuck in Maven's clutches, her brother and lover were off killing innocents, and she was disguised as a General with terrible fashion taste! That trumped whatever bad day they were having! Except maybe Cal with his dead father, betraying brother, and evil step-mom, but she was still second on the misery wheel! Farley was in the back of the plane toying with the dials on an old TV built into the wall. The radio signals eluded the antennae on it so the only noises coming out were squeals followed by static. Evangeline already had a headache, and the constant noise wasn't helping. Farley flipped the dial again and another high pitch hit Evangeline's ears. It was the last straw. Evangeline pulled the dial off the TV and buried it into the wall.

"We're all in a bad mood Samos," Farley sighed. "You need to find an alternate way to express that." She went over and started trying to pry the dial out of the wall.

"I'm sorry," Evangeline whispered. "I just wasn't raised to lose." The dial popped out of the wall with a flick of her finger. Farley nodded in thanks.

She approached Evangeline and held the dial out. It was flattened and crushed. "Mind straightening it out? I think I was close to finding something." Evangeline just nodded and soon the dial was twisting itself back into shape. It detached itself from Farley's hand and locked back onto the TV. Farley nodded again.

"I'll help you," Evangeline said. She joined Farley at the screen and watched the Red spin the dial back and forth. The sound was still bothersome, but counting the cracks on the glass and dust flecks on the set made things less unbearable. Finally, Farley's frustration showed itself and she spun the dial back over to shut the screen off. Instead the dial locked right before the end and a picture came to life. A woman decorated in leaves, flowers, branches, and moss sat in a fancy chair with a glittering smile. Farley grimaced.

"What is that thing?"

"Greenwarden," Evangeline explained. "Some like to wear nature on them to remind the people around of their power. Like Burners and their flamemakers or a Samos adorned in metal." She shrugged. "It's a Silver thing I guess."

"Must be, because as Reds we have no power." Farley gave Evangeline an uncomfortable side eye. She went to turn the TV off when Evangeline saw her. There, dressed up like a royal pet, was Oliverara.

She sat across from the reporter with poise and elegance. Elegance! Her sister? Elegant? Never! Oliverara was all dirt and blood and war, not fancy ballgowns and, holy crap were those her shoes?! Oliverara was tottering around in her favorite pair of stilettos? Evangeline looked down at her own pair of mud coated boots. The baggy pants and stiff jacket and hard belt. This wasn't her. And that fancy, makeup coated, princess on screen wasn't Oliverara either.

A wave of homesickness swept over Evangeline. Her stomach boiled and twisted. Was she sick? Yes, of this charade! Oliverara should be here! Covered in mud and bruises and sweating her ass off! Oliverara should be the one tired and wet and cold, being forced to run through the woods and watch people get hung like animals. Evangeline should be in Whitefire with the nice clothes and food and reporters dotting over how beautiful she looked. That was her role! Her life! Not Oliverara's. Oliverara's life was lies, deceit, anger, hatred, being Red. Evangeline was not a Red. Evangeline didn't deserve to be here. She didn't deserve to think about why her brother had refused to arrest her. She didn't deserve to ponder about where they would land a stolen jet. Or if she'd even live to see her lover again. This was what a Red should worry about! A Red like Oliverara. A Silver should worry about what dress to wear to a gala, or how to organize the flowers on a terrace for a gathering. A Silver should worry about-

"-how's preparations for the big day coming along?" The reporter on screen chirped the question so happily that Evangeline almost wanted to answer. Instead her sister did. With that fake smile, and fake face, and fake clothes, and fake life that she'd stolen. Why couldn't Oliverara just stay as herself? Why'd she have to dress up like Evangeline? If she never had done that, this wouldn't be happening! Oliverara had always been jealous of her; of her life; of her blood.

"That's what this is," Evangeline hissed. "This is revenge, for me being a Silver." Farley looked at her cautiously.

"Samos, calm down. What's revenge? What are you talking about?"

Evangeline snapped the TV off. "Don't you see it? My sister, my red freak of a sister, stole the life I've worked so hard to make perfect, so she could escape the hell that is life as a Red!" Evangeline hurled her arm back and let a punch fly at the TV screen. It shattered in a sparkling array of glass, Silver blood adorning the edges. Evangeline didn't even flinch. "Well no more, that, that bitch, won't get away with taking what's mine!" She knocked Farley's arm as the Red reached for her. Shade, Cal, and Mare were all staring at her with wide eyes.

"I'm going to make her pay," Evangeline seethed. "She can't do this to me! She can't take everything! She doesn't deserve it, I do!" Evangeline curled the metal of the plane around her. It screamed, the same way she'd make Oliverara scream. "I built that life, and I can make it crumble at her feet."