Hey! I've been going through my old files and cleaning them out, so this is part of a slew of updates. I can't imagine people still are reading this, and this writing is several years old, but posting makes me feel accomplished so …

(Carly is the alchemist and Sydney got to be an architect)

Second sister:

Sydney basked in the crowd like a cat in the sun, soaking in their compliments and letting them fill her ego.

There was the president of the board, the co-chairman of the company, and the soon-to-be curator of this soon-to-be gallery. They walked around the room, their sparkling wives on their arms, illuminated by the lights that Sydney had so painstakingly placed.

There was her sister Carly, flirting with several executives, the same lights giving the golden lily on her cheek a shimmer. And there was her mother, working the crowd quite nicely herself.

Over by the staircase was where her father had been just an hour before. He'd left when his ex-wife had made her appearance.

Even Zoe had made an appearance—trailing after their father, sure, but she'd been there. Everything was perfect.

Sydney sipped her champagne, standing alone for only a moment before she was approached.

"So, you designed this place." The man admired the room, his green eyes sweeping its contours. The building on the whole was a bit more modern than she liked, but she'd managed to hide elements of her beloved classical style in the sharp, clean lines.

"Yes." That single word housed so much pride. Sydney looked about the room again, repressing a Cheshire grin.

"I like it." He said. "Can I get a tour, Ms. Architect?"

"Ms. Sage, actually," Sydney was reluctant to leave the main lobby, as that was where most of the people were, but she couldn't resist the chance to show off the rest of her creation. Especially not to someone so obviously interested in her work. He wasn't just making small talk, and that decided things for her.

She beckoned him to the staircase, stepping around the spot her father had stood, and led him up the slightly curving incline and onto the next level.

From there, it was a bit of a labyrinth. The halls transformed into rooms which then blended into new hallways. This continuous effect was purposeful.

She showed the man, Adrian was his name, the main route that most viewers would take. She gave a brief narration, pointing out features she was particularly fond of.

Adrian paused in a room close to the exit. "This is 5-A, right?"

"It is." Sydney trailed her fingers along the wall affectionately. She confided in him, "This room is my favorite."

Adrian grinned. "It's mine."

"Yours?" Sydney was momentarily confused. This room was hers.

"This is where my paintings are going." He explained. "5-A."

Oh, now she understood. The soon-to-be curator had said he'd already gotten to work. This must've been what he meant. "Really? What's your style?"

Adrian shrugged. "Sort of a mix of things, really. Mostly abstract."

Oh. She fought of a tinge of disappointment. She'd never been able to grasp nonobjective art, and she'd hoped this room would go to someone with a more rational portfolio.

"What, you don't like abstract?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling a bit.

"No, I do," Sydney protested, surprised. She was, in her own opinion, very good at separating her face from her emotions.

Adrian gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"I just… I'm not all that good at understanding it, is all." Sydney shrugged, begging the flames in her cheeks to cool down.

Adrian gave her another easy grin. "Well, I'll have to show you the ropes sometime."

Sydney nodded, though she wasn't sure anyone could make her see and comprehend such non-objective things as abstract paintings. "Okay."

"Fear not, Adrian Ivashkov will have you turned on to his gallery in no time."

Sydney gave a slight start at his name. It rang a bell, somehow. Had she heard of him before? She didn't think so. But…

She motioned toward the next room, sending him a slight smile.

What was it about his name? What was—oh. Oh, no. Ivashkov was a royal Moroi family, but he couldn't be one of them. He was so easy going and funny and smiling.

His smile. She snuck a look and realized his smile was a bit odd. It didn't fit his laugh. He seemed like the kind of person who would smile real wide and open. But, in reality, his bottom lip never moved…

He certainly fit the physical generalities that applied to most vampires. He was tall, and he was pale. Very pale. She'd initially contributed it to the northern climate, but now she wasn't so sure.

Except, he couldn't be. Moroi were soulless, evil creatures. This man was flippant and drank champagne with his pinky slightly raised.

"Where do these stairs go?" Adrian peered up a dimly lit corridor.

"The roof." Sydney answered, still thinking over the potential inhumanness of this man. It took her a moment to register his movements.

"Hey, wait, we can't just go up like that." She said, climbing the steps after him.

"Why not? This party is meant to show off the museum. It is my firm opinion that the view is a crucial part of a building's beauty."

The red light of the glowing EXIT sign played off his cheekbones and shadowed his eyes. It may have been her newfound paranoia, but he looked slightly…ominous.

The moment was broken when a blast of cool night air slapped her face and sent her skirt flapping. Sydney propped the door open with a pop can the construction workers had left behind and scurried after Adrian.

"Look, Sydney." He said, dangerously close to the edge.

"Adrian, you shouldn't stand so close."

Her words slid off his back, and he remained focused on the view in front of him. "You know what I would do, if I were going to paint this?"

"Why don't we go back downstairs and you can tell me there?" Sydney offered.

"Glitter." Adrian said. "I don't usually like glitter paints, but for this view I would make an exception. It would be the only way to…"

He trailed off, and just took it all in with wide eyes.

Sydney gave up and stepped a bit nearer, turning her eyes to the city. It was pretty, the way the lights were winking out from windows and streetlamps, but she couldn't find what had him so captivated.

She turned back, finding that his eyes were now fastened on her. Her breath whooshed out, sucked away by the intensity in his gaze.

"You say you don't understand abstract, but you're a bit like one yourself." He said, stepping a tiny bit closer. "The background is yellow. But a dark kind of yellow, one that smolders. Around the yellow there are these little purple bursts, kind of like flowers. All over. There were threads of red, a bit deeper, back when we were walking through 5-A." He studied her again for a moment. "So bright. You shine so bright against this glittering city. I'd paint you, too."

She shivered.

"I'm cold. Let's go back downstairs." The words came out in a whisper. For some reason, though, the quiet got through to him in a way her strict commands hadn't.

"You're scared." He shook his head. "Sorry. I got kind of carried away, didn't I?"

He gave her a smile—a smile that didn't reveal his teeth—and she smiled back, relieved he'd stopped doing that thing with his eyes. The thing that told her he really saw her.

She led him back down inside, finishing the tour with relative haste.

"Come and see my gallery sometime," Adrian said.

"I will." Sydney promised.

She still wasn't sure whether or not he was a vampire, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she didn't think he was.

He just… he wasn't evil.

He was certainly crazy, though.