[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]he begins with an outline. and as soon as it starts, she's pulling up a diagram to compare them. the traits he lists are silently compiled in stormy's section of the chart.

by the time he moves to a small portion of history, she's shifting her weight mildly from one foot to the other. the sun and the moon. both sisters are vastly different, really, but there's some correlations, no matter how small they may be. for one, determination seems to a trait picked up by both and worn proudly.

where stormy is light, lydia is dark. the shadow of the flame becomes more apparent as he continues. and subtlety, she shrinks a little despite herself. somehow, her features mirror indifference and she wears it like war paint.

"she sounds..." she pauses, searching her mind for a word to use. in the end, softly and just a tinge bitterly, she settles on "lovely."

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]she blinks once, twice, and finally settles on a look of mild gratitude.

he doesn’t have to tell her about stormy, really. and yet, he wants to. briefly, she sorts through different possible reasons. does he pity her? does he simply just want to help? does he care?

in the end, she settles on no expectations and braces for information.

”if you could,” she murmurs, corners of her lips curling into the beginnings of a smile. ”i’d appreciate it.”

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]a few weeks...

the timeline settles like a rock, dropping into the pit of her stomach. she schools her features into indifference despite the mild reeling her mind does. a few weeks makes a big difference, in the end. it's too much time for her to feel better about finding stormy.

"you could say that," she murmurs softly. the glass is clutched in her hands like a buoy, barely keeping her afloat as she struggles to navigate through this ill-thought plan.

a sigh escapes, then, and she's glancing down at the water.

"i...i don't know," she spares a look in his direction before dragging her eyes back down. ignoring the white knuckles, she presses on. "i'm looking for something, i guess. whether that's seeing her or finding out what i can about her, i can't tell yet."

she can, actually, but it's a matter of holding her cards close to her chest for the time being.

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]”how recent?” she accepts the glass of water with the ghost of a smile, eyes indifferent but cheekbones lifting slightly. it’s cool, refreshing against the anxious sweat clinging to her hands.

maybe if it were recent enough, she can be one step closer to finding stormy. instead, she always falls two steps behind.

”i assumed as much,” she murmurs softly, finally raising the glass to take a dainty sip. it takes a lot to keep her hands from trembling when she lowers it. ”i don’t believe she knew about me, really. i… i saw her picture in the newspaper once before i knew.”

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]she expects questions. well, ones that are different than the casual one he offers. asking if she’d like a drink feels much more mundane than her own. is it simply polite or is it something else?

she keeps a distance between them, even if their bodies aren’t far apart. there’s a plethora of walls up, kept high and guarded closely. she ushers away one guard enough to accept a drink.

”yes,” comes quietly, almost robotic. ”water, thank you.”

while he busies with the fridge, she lets her eyes wander for a moment. the home is quaint, cozy, comforting. definitely not what she expected from a silph. then again, does the entire family actually shit money or is it just FERNANDO SILPH?

”have you seen her recently?” it’s the first of many questions, vague but prying all at once. she lets it linger between them, swirling into silence and then falling to the floor.

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]it’s surprising, really. the willingness to invite her in, to usher her inside under the guise of cold air escaping. she finds trust to be an odd concept, after all.

she is a stranger. he does not know her, does not know what she can do. and perhaps it’s similar to inviting a poltergeist into your home by accident or maybe, just maybe, she’s not as terrible as she feels.

”thank you,” she murmurs, stepping past the threshold of his door and into his house.

he stares and she stares back. chin jutting out a little further, head rising to a position of cold regality. she is not the warmth he knows. no, she’s akin to the winter cold you feel in your bones.

”i have some questions,” she steps a little closer and continues. ”if you could answer them?”

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]she sees when it happens. when realization settles and distrust builds. it's easy to pick up the pieces left behind, to gobble up each one and feed her thoughts, her plans.

and then, like clockwork, the question of the hour. who are you? that's what she's trying to figure out.

"lydia," she murmurs as if it should be known already. it shouldn't, not really. as far as she can tell, her sister never even knew about her. and if she did, she never bothered to look. "i suppose i don't need to tell you what you already know..?"

that stormy is her blood, not his. that she's come for answers to questions she shouldn't care about. there's a list of what she wants to say, really, but she keeps it short, concise.

"i'm here merely because i need something from you."

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]oh... right, the concept that she'd be mistaken for her sister escaped her mind on the way here. well, shit. she's seen a movie about this before but this ain't the parent trap... it'd be easier if she played pretend, if she stepped into the role of stormy and played him like a fiddle. she can't, however, no matter how much she might want to.

she can't because she doesn't know who stormy is. what she likes, how she acts, how she speaks. it's a painful realization.

"um, i i'm not--" she bumbles her way through attempting to explain, cheeks radiating embarrassment. it all sounds stupid, no matter which way her mind tries to spin it.

in the end, she stays at the door, lingering awkwardly like a vampire waiting to be invited in.

"i don't have your number to call," she settles on, the words sounding meek and flat after they leave her tongue. hands ball into fists at her sides and she's staring down at her kitten heels, as if already beating herself up for coming here. and finally, she mumbles it out in a rushed breath. "because i'm not related to you."

MATIAS SILPH

[attr="class","lydia"]

[attr="class","lydia b"]

[attr="class","lydia i"]is this the right house..? google, while extremely helpful in giving her the address of the first silph on her list, has a shitty gps.

she lingers on the front steps. hesitant, unsure, ready to turn around and hightail it out of there. fear has a funny way of coming in at the worst times.

"you can do this," she mumbles under her breath. great, she's giving herself a fucking peptalk at someone's door. nice, great. this is exactly why they didn't pick her. they knew she was meek and small and not at all equipped for this.

fuck it.

a hand rises, knocks delicately, and falls. and when the door opens, she's slipping a look of dignity onto her features. if you're going to look into the lion's den, look in with indifference. after all, silphs smell fear.

MATIAS SILPH