I only want to make a few chapters with Morgan, you guys! It's weird though every time I start writing, the events of three character's stories pop into my head (at the same time). Lol I guess the AA muses want me to tell their story. I've tried to make the chapter a little longer this time.

Ps: Hey guys I have a new community called "Tell, Pursue, and Perceive the Truth!" It's dedicated to all cannon stories. Please join, submit or subscribe.

Chapter Two: The Winding Hours

"Morgan, what's up with you?" Misty Fey asked her sister outside of the classroom.

"Why! Tell me just why, were you in there with them?"

Misty clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, "Even the aunt of Mystic Morgan's children cannot be in their presence or in the same room"?!! Her voice started to raise an octave.

"Mystic Misty" the force of her voice came down on her sister, "I, do not want my litt_"!

"Oh…SHUT UP, Morgan!"

*Gasp*, She was appalled at her sister's disrespect (and use of modern language).

"Sorry", Misty retorted, "Mystic Morgan"

Morgan raised her hand to slap the soul out of her 26 year old little sister, and Misty was ready to drag her through the mud. But Morgan, suddenly, had a much brighter, less violent and eviler idea.

When I become the headmistress of this house, I shall make sure that you well remember this day. You will loathe the time you spent on this earth!"
Misty gasped, "You….No…You would dare!"

An evil twisted smile rose on her face, "Disrespect me again, and will know my answer". Morgan swiftly turned and contently walked away.

9:00 Am
Morgan looked it the dresser mirror and fixed her hair. She had been waiting her whole life for this day. There was a small picture of her ancestors in traditional Japanese ink wash on the dresser top. In the painting five women were done-up and posed in a graceful manner (one of these women was of course Amy Fey). Morgan molded, shaped, re-molded, and re-shaped until it became the perfect recreation of the third woman's hair style. Mr. Hawthorn sat at the edge of the bed watching his wife start, stop, sigh and simmer on this task. Occasionally she would look at him and give a little smile.

"How are you doing, John dearest?"

"Oh, just fine. But maybe you were right about that traditional male grab. This cummerbund is heh heh, cumbersome."

Mr. Hawthorn had adamantly (but not angrily) refused to wear the century old (and musty) "husband of the master" kimono. Morgan arranged for it to be tailored but, a month ago the stained, brown, course attire disappeared (secretly, John found it and before burning the outfit to a crisp he step, stomped and cursed its creation). Hawthorn was now forced to wear a very fancy tux with a silver silk cummerbund. For an added decorative touch he had the emblem of his company, an ornate glass bottle, embroidered into the center of the fabric.
He also could not leave his "going-to-be-famous" wife out. Hawthorn had brought her an exact replica of the Japanese plum kimono just for this day. It came with a complete with pure and bright amethyst earrings, necklace, bracelets, anklets, and encrusted sandals. Morgan was excited when she saw the whole line. Little did she know that it was not for her, but another perfect opportunity for John and his company to shine. He would now be married to a powerful woman, have powerful money, and people will have a powerful urge to invest in the company stock.

10:00 Am

Misty sat in her room with her head on the dresser. In her out stretched hand was an old picture of mother, Morgan, and herself. She sighed and put the picture back into the drawer. Their mother loved them very much, but it was obvious to everybody that Misty was the sparkle in her eyes. Morgan always hated her for it. She loved her big sister nonetheless and tried to get out of the favoritism.

"I guess it's too late for love but getting some respect some time would be nice." she though.

The sash part of the kimono wiggled just bit. The unborn child that occupied that space bumped and shifted slightly. She smiled but a dark thought fluttered through.

"Respect from Morgan? Yeah right! Not when you have to tell the family about your second pregnancy!"

It had been 7 months since the Master of Kurain died. The news had hit her hard, extremely hard. But being spirit channelers, death was nothing. It was just the next stage over. Anything and everybody could be channeled back into the land of the living, if the soul was willing. Morning was non-existing in the Fey house. Old law kept mediums from summoning previous masters. Only the current master could communicate with the late masters. Misty was sure Morgan never wanted to see their mother again, let alone morn for and comfort her sister. So the desperate girl resorted to desperate things. Her feelings all boiled over by the time she called him. Her ex-husband.

Misty was married at the tender age of 17 to her boyfriend at that time. Why? The answer was simple, she got knocked up (and mama did not play that "live in" mess). Everything seemed fine till he found out that being a male in this village was a kin to being a bucket of spit, (as far as the women were concerned). So he did like a banana and split. He did leave his number in case of emergency. To Misty, at that moment, it was an emergency.

She only meant to talk to him about the passing of her mother (She was kind to him when he lived in the manor). Also about the family in general. Soon the conversation spread to other things. How the "old times" were good and how new things came and went. After a few weeks of conversing and reminiscing, the two arranged for a lunch meeting. You know, it was once said that "old flames never die" and one little "I missed you, lead to another "I still think about you".

Now he was out of town and she was left with his "present".

An old clock on the wall ticked and tocked, interrupting the silence. It was now 10:15. Misty still had some time, but not much.

A rumble came from her abdomen. It wasn't the firm kick of a baby or the indication of an empty stomach. She was taken by surprise but Misty knew what was coming next. It had been a while since she became…violently ill. With gusto, she ran like hell to the bathroom and slammed the heavy oak door. Seven minutes later that same door opened as Misty was freshening up.

"Mama, are you dying?!!?!" little Mia tearfully said as she clung to her mother's leg.

"No Mia I'm...alright".

"But…but you sound really bad!"

"No dearie, it's just," she paused, "something that happens from time to time"

Nine year old Mia Fey folded her arms and tilted her head to the side (her long brown hair flowing with her). Misty could tell that the girl knew there was something "off" about the situation. After a few minutes of deep thought, Misty grabbed Mia's hand and led her into the bedroom.

"It was just the right time"

They both sat on the lush queen sized bed in the candle lit room. Misty grabbed a golden lased pillow and leaned on her side to expose her mid section. Mia stationed herself adjacent to her mother's position. Misty took her child's hand and placed it on her belly. The young girl wished to speak but Misty "shhh" her and told her "wait". –Just then- Mia's confused expression turned into a started one. Misty laughed as she felt the little nip.

"What's that?!?!" was Mia's shocked answer.

"Well Mia, it's a new life"

"Nu...life?"

"It's going to be a person, like you"

"Like me?"

Misty tapped these words on Mia's little button nose, "Just…like…you". Suddenly Mia put 2 and 2 together.

"You're gonna have a baby?!"

"Shhh, shhh, keep it down! Yes you're going to be a big sister soon."

Mia jumped up and down with great joy then squeezed Misty tight. "But don't tell anybody ok?" Misty said with a wink. After the shared moment of jubilee Mia sat down.

"So is it a boy or a girl"

Misty froze up "Uhhh….."

12:28 Pm

Iris was dancing around excitedly. The maid girl just delivered the package with the dresses Mr. Hawthorn purchased for the twins. Dahlia was sitting at the play desk drawing a picture.

"Dolwia, Dolwia! Look what daddy gave to us!" She opened the parcel at supersonic speed. Iris, then, gave a squeal that could break glass. Even Dahlia had to turn around to have a "look-see". A mini kimono was laid on the futon. It glowed with a pinkish-purple radiance. On the cuffs and the hymn, delicate deep purple lotus accented the fabric. The last piece, a silver satin sash fell to the floor when she opened it. Iris kept giggling as she tried the merchandise on. She twirled and twirled laughing in pure bliss until she slipped on the forgotten sash. "Offh!" Iris performed a Charlie Brown fall. Dahlia burst with laughter.

"Dolwia, why don't you put on your dress?"

"It's not a dress silly, it's a kahmoto!"

"Hey I'm not silwie!"

"Then you're just dumb", she coldly teased.

Iris stood up teary eyed "Dolwie, that woz mean". Dahlia looked over her shoulder, making her face at a sharp angle, "Then stop being dumb".

After five minutes of awkwardness, Iris decided to spy on her sister's activity. As the small girl came up behind her, Dahlia did not move an inch, nor acknowledge her presence. Iris already, was used to being ignored by her twin, but the content of the crayon picture sparked a reaction. The doodle was nothing but stick figures and scribbles. Only another five year old could understand the random lines spaces and colors (or maybe those who consider themselves to be corsairs of modern and abstract art). Through Iris eyes, we know that the big stick with an uber amount of black scribbles for hair was mommy, Mystic Morgan. The lone horizontal line and sun rays coming from her face (which was a poor excuse for a circle) are indications that she was yelling, really barking orders at what looked like a sea of circles and scribbles. These are people of the household? Dahlia suddenly leaned back and looked up at her twin. She realized that Iris did not know what she was looking at.

"See mama's gonna be a big boss lady soon. We'll be tweated like princesses!"

"But where's me and daddy?"

Dahlia answered without looking at her sister, "I'm gonna add you later".