Eternity Glass

VI: A Metaphor

Fallon slept a little better that night and had no trouble waking up the next morning. However, with how loud the guest was, she'd imagine that no one had any trouble at all. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but at least it didn't sound like a fight.

She took her time in freshening up, admiring the array of casual, yet classy day clothes Kamalita had filled her closet with. Once she decided on a simple high-collared white blouse and retro-looking blue jeans she tied her hair up in a half-knot and headed to the breakfast room.

Expected from a large household, the staff still bustled through the doors, each of them giving her a polite nod in recognition. One elderly gentleman informed her that her share of breakfast had been put to the side and was ready to be warmed if need be. At the very sight of the bacon and French toast, her stomach growled. She plucked a piece of meat from the pile and crammed half of it into her mouth, room temperature be damned.

The chuckle of a certain demigod paused the girl mid-chew. "They say jet-lag makes you hungry, but I didn't think it counted for dimensional travel." Tristan set his book down and took a swig of his coffee before getting up and rinsing the mug. "Have fun on your trip?"

Fallon swallowed the rest of the bacon at the sight of the young man. With his tousled blond hair and form-fitting grey shirt, it took an effort to keep her gaze at eye-level. "It's really like a dream." Her brows furrowed. "Actually, I don't remember a good bit of the first half of it."

"Eh, the mortal brain. If it's too difficult to believe, it'll try to find ways to, well, not believe it. Even if it means blocking it out completely." Tristan shrugged and leaned against the cupboards, a natural model. "You'll get used to it though."

"Do you go back often?" She started preparing a cup of tea, scooping the tea leaves and dropping them straight into the mug instead of using a filter.

"I grew up watching everything from the... big pearly gates." Air quotes around the last three words. "It's not much different, I found."

Fallon raised an eyebrow but didn't push further. Instead, she cast her eyes at the book he'd put down. Sense and Sensibility. "More of an at-home adventurer?"

A true smile finally played at the corner of the romantic's lips. "They're the best kinds," he said.

Finally, another commonality aside from their "divine genetics." Fallon brought up her cousin Yvonne, and how the two could get along with their love of reading. Tristan outright refused when she mentioned that the girl read from a Kindle that was gifted to her on her thirteenth birthday, saying that anyone who preferred electronics over physical copies were the worst types of readers.

"I'd like to read your writing, though." When Fallon nearly killed him with her glare, Tristan added, "You talk in your sleep."

"Maybe when I die, you can—"

"Lita, this isn't what we promised!"

Fallon and Tristan exchanged looks—confused and irritated, respectively—before following the source to the parlor, a room that looked like a smaller version of what Fallon could remember of the Hall of Mirrors when she went with her mother to Versailles.

Kamalita sat elegantly on a single, cushioned armchair, dressed in her signature green color from her silk blouse to the T-strap heels. The woman across from her looked only a little older than Fallon, but she knew better to deduce anything from physical appearance alone what with the amount of shape-shifting going around. Still, the second one looked uncannily familiar with her tight, brown curls, blush pink skin, and sly smirk. It wasn't until the both turned their attention to the new guests that Fallon noticed the unique pair of razor violet eyes.