Rays of Yesterday

➸Chapter Eight: Reticent Amaranthus Caudatus

"Her enchanted hair was the first gold, and still she sits, young while the Earth is old."

. . .

Sylvia tilted her head down slightly left as the brush in her dominant hand glided through her hair. Her bright red eyes carefully studied each thorough brush stroke as a soft tune from her lips filled the bedroom air. Muffled sounds of joint laughter and men's voices from below could still be heard; however, the words from the tune she sang to herself momentarily drew out, along with a sigh at the dread she felt. It was the same old weekend routine, the same old tactics to purposefully make herself as tardy as possible, which consisted of sleeping passed the day times that Hawke considered acceptable and making sure each movement she made was done laggardly. To some relief, however, the dirty blonde could have sworn she overheard the voice of Mister Darlington mention that Lady Aletta North and Grey nor her pitiful maid, Judith, would be attending this time around either.

After Sylvia combed through her hair, her red eyes stared intently at her reflection, face contorting in silent ponder as her slightly dilated pupils remained fixed on the golden ocean flowing behind her back, debating on how to go about styling it. Subconsciously, her right shoulder shrugged as she stuck to a simple, quick hairstyle. Sylvia raised her elbows from her sides, and her ring fingers ran through to part two, even sections to pin in place. Running over the gentle swoop of her helix, Sylvia's ring fingers then sectioned larger parts of her hair, horizontally parting before curving her thumbs underneath the combined heavy strands, soon tilting her head slightly back for easier access to work. But a swift knocking sound interrupted her focus and startled her. The knock came quietly again; then, it was silent. The knock was louder and faster the third time.

Sylvia held her breath as she looked at her bedroom door through the reflection in the mirror. She felt oddly nervous. Not only did she look silly with a large back section of hair temporarily pulled to the front as her left arm was raised high in the air with a chunk curled around her index finger, but she was not sure who it could be at her door. She thought that if it were Hawke, he would have just rudely barged in if she had not answered the first time. Why weren't they speaking? It weirdly made her feel threatened, even at the thought of it being one of the guests in their household; Sylvia felt cornered in a sense.

"Who is there?" She inquired, purposefully altering her voice to sound airier and higher pitched.

"Tvoy brat."

Sylvia felt the muscles in her body ease at the safe familiarity of the male's voice. "My door is open; you can come in." Shortly after granting verbal permission, the wooden door opened, and Hawke's tall figure emerged into Sylvia's bedroom. Sylvia continued fiddling with her hair, twisting and wrapping layers around the base of her right hand's index finger. "Thank you for knocking, as a normal, decent being would do. Keep it up!"

The dirty-blonde man ignored his sister's comment as he carefully shut the door behind him. It reeked of lavender, pink peony, and rat's blood. His hazel eyes glanced around Sylvia's dimly lit bedroom; only four white candles were burning, and the one on her bedside was nearing its end. He then fixed his mortal sight on his younger sister's seated frame sticking two little butterfly pins in the back of her head to secure her hair. Hawke let out a frustrated exhale as he crossed his ivory long-sleeved arms over his chest. "What are you doing? Do you plan to come down anytime soon? We started nearly two hours ago, Sylvia! Two hours!"

Sylvia's dark eyebrows furrowed, and her soft lips frowned. She turned her head slightly over her shoulder, so her crimson eyes could shoot poisoned daggers directly at her brother. "What am I doing? What does it look like I'm doing?" A sarcastic tone left her lips as an immediate, almost natural response, but a wave of guilt soon washed over her.

"I cannot stand this new stalling habit of yours. It's utterly rude!"

Sylvia's arms fall to her sides while her seated posture slouched as a sigh of what could have been defeat released into the air. "Hawke, please, I do not wish to bicker with you. I'm still experiencing terrible fatigue lately, so I have not protested against myself for rest. We are not even supposed to be awake at this ridiculous hour anyway...I dislike you trying to train us to become day walkers, and I know it drains you, too." She grumbled.