Prophecy: Tome of Skin

11. Sister, Sister

Qui'hara stood motionless, transfixing her eyes on the woman before her and willing her to speak. Yet Monica was content to say nothing, looking her sister up and down and realizing just how unchanged she remained. The reunion was almost touching, had either one of them still felt something for the other. Though that wasn't completely true. With a small sigh she got up from her seat and took a few steps closer, white eyes to stare heavily at white eyes, and considered what she could possibly say in the moment. Though it had indeed been years since they'd been in one another's presence, they resided in the same city, almost ran in the same circles. They made an effort to intentionally avoid one another, so the question became what she was doing in her apartment.

"There are a million things I could say to you, dearest, but somehow they all seem wrong. Let's lead with this instead-what are you doing here?" Monica finally broke the silence, the act almost somatic.

"You have caused many problems, Zenoya. Now I have come to correct that." Qui'hara did not waste time with the pleasantries that the humans used, that her sister had picked up from living in their world as one of them for too long.

"That name," to hear her old name gave Monica a chill, "it burns my ears. I don't like the sickly rustic taste it leaves on my tongue. I'm not Zenoya, not anymore. I'm not your sister."

"That much is true." The demoness thought their conversation over, and she drew her sword, readying herself for the impending battle. It surprised her when her would be adversary turned away from her, returning to her vanity and sitting once more to stare at herself.

"I know why you're here. It's the little witch, Myrna Mae O'Malley, right? She's all torn up that I took her beloved from her. And that just eats at you, doesn't it? To see her suffer, to see her in pain. I do believe you've fallen in love, and my, so easily. How surprising of you. One might even say human."

"You know not of what you speak, do not hold her name in your mouth again or I will cut it out."

"Come, love, you should remember after all this time that your threats don't frighten me. Especially since we know which one of us has always been the strongest. I only aim to make a point, that perhaps the mighty have fallen. To love is human, we knew nothing of it back home, as children, and when I decided that I didn't want to live my life by the sword, that I wanted to explore the yearning I had inside of me, I became a pariah. Because I wanted to feel the burn inside my chest rather than on my skin I was suddenly the sinner. Look at you know, sister, following in my footsteps."

"We are not the same, you abandoned your people, forsook the ancient teachings, the oath you made! You fight for all that is evil, all we stand against. We are not the same."

"I wasn't always this way, you know that. But when the only family you've ever known turns their back on you, well, it leaves you vulnerable. It makes you trust the first person to come along. What you accuse me of, it is all blasphemy. I never went back on my oath, I never turned away from who we were-you turned away from me, because I dared to be different." Monica giggled, stopping herself from becoming sentimental before standing again. "None of that matters now, because you'll understand. Enjoy it while it lasts, pretty soon you will be the one on the outside looking in."

"Excuses. You try to confuse my mind with games, but I see through it clearly. You are tainted, Zenoya, and I cannot save what has been rotted through." Again Qui'hara readied her weapon, urging her sister to engage her in combat. That was the only way they could fight; to attack her unprovoked would be dishonorable. Monica thought it over, feeling a menagerie of snide comments running through her mind that she could use as barbs. But instead she retrieved her old tribe sword that she always kept close by.