Ingeminate: to repeat; reiterate.
May 25, 2008
The front door of shell cottage banged open, and two small figures shot out into the emerald green lawn of early summer. Both were dressed in matching yellow sundresses patterned with daisies, long hair wound into bouncing braids. The taller girl's braids shone pinkish gold, and the littler one, trailing behind, had a head of glowing copper, but aside from that, they might be a matching set.
The older girl stopped at the white picket fence that jogged more lazily than a picket fence normally did along the gravel road and turned to face her shadow, hands on hips.
"Dominique," she said patiently.
The little girl mirrored her pose. "Dominique," she said in the same tone.
Her sister (for they could only be sisters) closed her eyes briefly. "You are too big for the shadow game," she said firmly.
"You are too big for the shadow game," Dominique informed her, blue eyes dancing.
"Yes, I realized that years ago."
"Yes, I realized that years ago."
"The older girl shook her head and proceeded to climb over the fence, willowy and graceful even at the age of eight, and set off at a sprint across the ever-vacant road toward the path to the beach some yards away. Dominique, more than a head shorter and much stouter than her sister, had more trouble with the fence, but she determinedly followed.
A handful of other children, all around the older girl's age or older, waited on the rocks at the top of the steep steps carved into the cliff face that led down to the sandy shore.
"Victoire!" one of the little girls heralded excitedly, seeing her approach.
Victoire didn't even slow down as she reached them, but charged on down the steep steps and didn't stop until she'd leapt off the bottom tier onto the baking sand.
"In a hurry?" a boy with curly brown hair who lived down the road a ways asked with amusement when the rest had caught up to her.
Victoire glanced over their shoulders at the vacant stairs.
"Hullo, Sam," she beamed, shifting her bright gaze onto the curly haired boy suddenly. "'lo, Elsie."
"Hullo, Sam. 'lo Elsie."
Victoire jerked her gaze up to the top of the stairs once more to see her little sister scrambling down the steps, panting a little, but watching her every move closely.
It was going to be a long day.
…
"Mum, make her go to her room!"
"Mum, make her go to her room!"
Fleur looked up from the dinner she was gathering on the table as her daughters pushed their way in through the back door, sun kissed and sandy.
"She keeps saying –"
"She keeps saying –"
"- Everything I do –"
" – Everything I do – "
" – And it's driving me mad!"
" – and it's driving me –"
"Alright, alright, zat ees enough!" Fleur cut in, head ringing already.
Victoire crossed her arms and smirked at Dominique.
"Mad," Dominique chirped, finishing the sentence as she mimicked her sister's stance.
"Dominique, ma cherie, go upstairs and clean up, s'il vous plait," Fleur instructed with a gentle sternness that invited no refusals. "Maintenant, love."
Dominique lingered a moment longer, but at last had to bow to defeat and scampered for the steps. At the base of the stairwell, she turned and poked her tongue out at her sister. Victoire threw herself into a chair as the sounds of running water came from the bathroom upstairs.
"Why couldn't I be an only child?" she demanded.
Her mother laughed softly, a pretty, bell-like sound, and moved around the table to smooth Victoire's hair. "'Ave you ever 'eard ze phrase 'imeetation eez ze sincerest form of flattery'?"
A/N: ah, the joys of little sisters, huh? I think, just a tiny bit when they were kids, Dominique was jealous of her sister, or perhaps simply wanted to be more like her. Dominique, being her go-getter self, chose this approach. And also she liked getting on her sister's nerves, because I hear most sisters like to do that from time to time.
Anyway, love you all! Especially those of you who review! :)