(Show/Hide Browsing Column ->)
"I'm bored with Affamarg,"Author's Notes
Gliissara gave him a sideways look.
She was wearing her costume for the dress rehearsal,
including a light cloak with Mayaloi designs.
She shivered; it wasn't warm enough
for Affamarg's late autumn evenings.
Maybe he would go somewhere warm;
the cold was part of what he found tiresome here.
"You've already broken Mother's heart
by going into sciences.
Will you compound that,
deciding to travel away somewhere far?"
"I broke Mother's heart
when I was born," Lalya said darkly,
taking off his coat.
He couldn't let his half-sister shiver,
any more than he could let her walk
alone to her final rehearsals.
"Don't say that," Gliissara said sharply.
"It's not true."
"You look like she wanted me to look,"
Lalya said, knowing it was true,
and wishing it didn't make him jealous.
The iridescence in his sister's glossy hair,
the darkness of her skin -
they were the traits that Gliffana
had coveted for herself,
and thought to settle for
in her children.
Lalya didn't think of it often,
but Affamarg in autumn,
after the colorful leaves
left the trees
made him morose.
"I think I'll travel somewhere older,"
he said stubbornly.
"Faarar, perhaps, or Faajaffug.
I'm tired of all the straight lines here."
Affamarg was only a few dozen years old,
and its planning showed clearly
in its ordered streets and modern buildings.
They made a turn - a perfect ninety degrees -
walked a frigid block while Gliissara tried to convince him
that Affamarg still had something to offer
and came to the gates of the theatre guild,
where other students were arriving to rehearse.
"Don't be a spoilsport," Gliissara hissed at him,
shrugging out of his coat. "If you glower so hard,
you'll make the other students lose their lines,
sure you are a critic from a grayrag."
"I'll sit in the back," Lalya promised with a kiss for luck.
"And keep my glowering to a minimum."
He looked up to find
one of the other students watching them,
light eyes under blond hair
in the most arresting face
that Lalya had ever seen.
Was it jealousy that flickered
across those perfect features?
His sister was a beauty;
she probably attracted all sorts of attention.
Lalya glared at the handsome young man,
until he blushed,
and was unprepared
for how adorably flustered the student looked,
or how that sat in Lalya's stomach.
The rehearsal should have been more boring,
but Lalya was enthralled.
The blond student stole the stage,
taking the little audience for his own,
every time he put a foot in front of the lights.
Lalya barely noticed Gliissara,
with the dialogue he had helped her drill,
and when she found him afterwards,
could not honestly say how she had done.
He mumbled something vague,
and tried not to look too excited,
when she offered to introduce him to the cast.
The other faces didn't matter;
their names blurred into each other
"This is Dini," she finally said,
pretending not to notice her brother's sudden nervousness.
"He'll have his choice of theatres once we're all juniors."
'Dini' was the perfect name,
for such a gorgeous man.
He was pale and as finely shaped as a fashion doll,
and when he smiled at Lalya, he had dimples.
"You don't look much like your sister,"
Dini said shyly.
It was exactly the wrong thing to say...
and yet it was exactly the right thing,
and Lalya gave a hearty laugh,
almost giddy at the spark of interest
in the acting student's gaze.
Lalya didn't care anymore that his hair
lacked the distinctive sheen,
and his skin was a shade too pale
for pure blood.
His mother's disappointment seemed too distant to care,
and the streets of Affamarg
had a perfect kind of symmetry,
when Gliissara finally stole his coat
and dragged him out into the night to walk her home.
"Do you still want to go travel the world?"
she asked slyly, his coat pulled tight around her.
Lalya shook his head and laughed,
letting her enjoy both her gloat and his coat.
Somehow, Affamarg was no longer quite so boring,
nor quite as cold.
Inspired at the March 2013 Muse Fusion, by Deirdre.