Werifesteria

Chapter 3

      Come the next day, there I was again, walking through those messy pine woods with the brisk, now Autumn air. It was officially the first of October, and no more chilly than the day before. I'd been stuck up on the conversations from yesterday about Bernadette and her sister. I'd wanted to ask more about her childhood and family life in general, but decided it was too soon.

Unlike the previous days where the sun spilled its golden rays over the tops of the trees, leaking into whatever entry it could to touch the forest floor, today was actually rather overcast, the once soft blue skies were now littered in dark grey clouds, threatening to send a storm to strike down our shrine. Which could still probably withstand a strike or two come to think of it... One thing I'd noticed about our shrine was its resilience. It might have been old, cracked, and decaying, but it was still well built and strong despite its external mossy exterior.

I felt a few droplets of rain patter onto my hand as I walked. At first I looked down at my hand, then up at the sky, thunder rumbling as I did so. Of course, I wasn't about to make any false and hopeful assumptions that it was nothing more than a few pellets. And rightfully so, since it began to rain as if for the first time. It honestly felt surreal, as I'd only ever seen such heavy downpour in stereotypical and romantic tragedies. I felt a twinge of frustration at the fact my trench coat in all of its elegant heaviness, was not equipped with a hood. It looked nicer without a hood, don't get me wrong, but it also would've been more convenient to have one... That being said, props to me for forgetting to take an umbrella.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before salvation was well in reach. I noticed the shrine, nearing with every careful pounce as I ran. I probably could've been faster had I not worried so much about tripping and falling. As soon as I got to the beaten shrine, I slipped through the makeshift entrance, still narrow and ragged. I was glad to see Bernadette there as promised, dry. Not damp and out of breath like I was. But then, before I could even greet my dear friend, I took note of another girl. She was a good few inches or so smaller than Bernadette, the same chestnut colored hair but a little less than shoulder length, ruffled and stylishly messy. I had always envied girls and boys who had hair that could just naturally recoil to its former style, no matter how tampered or played with it was.

"Who's this?" I asked Bernadette, still looking at the younger girl. Her face was more round and wearing an expression that screamed chaotic and rebellious. "This is my sister, Connie." Bernadette formally introduced, gesturing to her younger sister who, unlike her, had rich honey brown eyes instead of pale silver. Connie took a proud step forward with her hand out and energetic smile, already overpowering me with her assertive presence, which I assumed was just something that ran in the family. "And you must be Orielle then, hm? That's an odd name..." Connie said, though it didn't sound so much as condescending as simply curious. I let her do the honors of taking my hand which she ferociously shook, earning a slightly worried look from her older sister. "Uh, yes. I'm Orielle. It's a pleasure." I said, forcing a small smile as I returned the handshake in a softer fashion. Connie drew back almost as quickly as she stepped forward, her movements were so much more flamboyant and almost alarmingly sudden. "Ugh, you talk with the same boring formality as Birdie. Let loose a little, would you?" Connie said, playful and slightly sarcastic. "Birdie?" I echoed, to which Bernadette quickly stepped into my frame of view. "That's just a little nickname she made for me." she'd say with a nervous laugh, discreetly pushing her sister away a bit, Connie's reaction was nothing short of silently petty and jokingly offended. She stepped off to the side and plopped herself on one of the old benches, a small creak coming from it as she did, as if threatening to break under her. She seemed no less bothered.

"I thought I'd bring her along for you to meet, considering you were so curious about her." Bernadette said, side eyeing her sister with precaution. "Ooh! Curious about me? To what do I owe such honors?" Connie quickly piped, her voice dripping with so much sarcasm that I honestly couldn't tell if I was annoyed by her constant superficiality, or somewhat charmed by her partially amusing commentary. "Don't let it get to your head, I was just talking about you since it was brought up!" Bernadette said sharply, her tone still holding a sense of softness. I watched the two promptly bicker, my mind fully preoccupied by their personalities. I'd say it was like clashing fire and ice, had they not shared the same fiery passion and assertiveness in their own compatible ways. Bernadette and her passion for poetry, and Connie with her overbearing confidence. Both equally as bold and proud when confronted with their beliefs and ideals despite being otherwise polar opposite. At least, from what I could tell. I also took the moment to take note of their hilariously different styles. Bernadette and her white ruffled poet shirt and black high waisted pants, versus Connie with her copper brown jacket, flannel on the inside and dark blue jeans. Elegance and casualty at its finest.