Bance.
All things in the world require bance.
Without the concept of bance, all would fall apart;
And I am one without bance.
'Sister, do you...'
How dare I meet her?
'Do you not want to meet me, sister?'
What right do I have?
'Please, say something, sister...'
What right does this thing have?
Fingertips faltered, quivered, and shook.
One clutched her chest, absorbed in the unfamiliar pain.
The other stood silently, questioning her rights.
Yet both.
Both...
But I want to meet you.
'I would love to speak to you, sister... Talk to you, sister... Ruminate with you, sister...'
But hearts could not speak.
Thoughts could not be magically conveyed.
They could, however, be conveyed through vivid emotions written upon the face.
Through words.
Through action.
...And at that moment, neither took action.
Swaying in this dismal swamp, the twin sisters sunk into their thoughts, their assumptions. Neither could speak up, it's as though they had made a pact;
Till the seat is filled, till she sat upon the opposing chair;
They could not make contact.
A frustrating yet inevitable situation. Two routes that led to two entirely different lives, personalities, and beliefs;
Two opposing, yet entirely aligned, persons.
Can I?
'May I?'
Their grips tightened.
Will you talk?
'May you speak?'
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Both hearts pounded.
The taboo of love;
One, familiar with the horrors.
One, unfamiliar of the very emotion.
Yet.
Please.
'I plead.'
Even with the contradicting horror, anticipation, and love gripping her brain;
Even with the unfamiliar emotion, ticklish insides, and desire melting her heart;
One of them was incapable of taking that step.
It could not allow itself.
But.
The other had taken a different path.
A path of little hesitation, of straightforward intent.
Thus-
Taking a deep breath, piercing through the veil separating them;
"Sister, may you take that step."
Esme shattered it.
The gss, the veil; the suffocating emotions preventing them from moving further;
She turned it upside down.
...Then she saw.
Esme saw.
In slow motion:
The bck-ce gloved hands slowly flying past her face;
The swirling scent rushing into her noise;
The petite body fluttering in from the side;
The table falling over as limbs collided;
Toppling over from her seat, Esme gently nded on the ground as a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her neck, quivering as they held her. The warm press of her sister's body enveloped her own.
Esme giggled with a smile as she spread her arms-
Pomf~
-and smothered her sister back.
Esme dug her face into her sister's neck, embracing the warmth of her precious other's smaller body.
'...She is shaking.'
She was.
Alora's entirety shook with immensity as she held onto her dear sister; the soft touch of her body, the floral, warm scent...
She wanted to take it all, swallow it all;
Make it hers.
Ba-dump.
Yet the instant warning of her heart—the pounding of love and horror—it ceased the thoughts spiralling in her mind.
And, most importantly...
When Esme grasped Alora's neck, she slowly but firmly turned her head towards hers. When she came face to face with the silver white mask, the two eye holes revealed the pristine white eyes...
Esme's golden eyes locked onto Alora's white pair.
"Name, may I know your name, sister...?" Her fingertips slid upwards, towards the gap between the mask and her hidden face.
Csp.
Alora grabbed the slithering fingers, and, in response, her heart almost exploded from the overflowing emotions. The warmth slipping past the bck-ce gloves tickled her body, spreading irregurly towards her lower abdomen.
"D, don't..." Alora uttered, "Don't take it off..."
Esme promptly nodded, with a smile, "Okay."
Then, Esme waited.
Eye-to-eye.
She waited.
For her name.
...
...Then, it came.
"...Alora." She whispered.
Esme's joy flourished, "I'm Esme!" Her heart fluttered with warm emotion. "Your name is wonderful, Alora!"
Hand-in-hand, Esme pulled Alora further into her embrace, sucking in years worth of love in one, succinct moment.
"Alora!" Emse curled her arms behind Alora and dug her fingers into her back, "Alora~!"
And Alora did the same, completely ignoring the warnings firing in the far back of her mind. She pulled her arms downwards and around Esme's waist.
"Esme..."
"Yes! It's me, Esme!"
Alora's soft, quiet voice whispered into Esme's ears, drawing out a burst of ughter.
...Joy.
Nothing but joy and love.
At least.
For one of them.
---
...Hold...
I bit my lips.
...Hold me...
The stickiness within rose.
...Please hold me...
It spread to the tips of my heart.
...67,925,877...
...Can you hold me...?
...Please...?
Esme.
My sweet sister.
Hold me.
Tell me you're okay.
Tell me.
But, as Esme's voice tickled my ears, "How have you been, dear Alora?"
I stiffened.
...What do I say?
I asked myself;
But the answer is all too clear.
"W, well... I'm doing well..."
I spewed nothing but lies.
"Haha~! Me too!"
Stinging pains shredded my innards, pulling and tearing apart the ventricles of my heart as unstoppable palpitations crashed my system.
Good...
I'm gd...
I'm happy...
Drip.
The usual cold liquid trickled from my eyes, running below the mask I had hurriedly put on and onto Esme's shoulder.
See...
I'm crying with joy...
Drip.
Esme's arms tightened their grip, pulling me closer than ever before.
"There~ There~" Her tender, sweet fingers danced through my scalp and across my bzing golden hair, "No need to cry~"
Warm.
So warm.
Her fingers.
Her voice.
Her heart.
...It was worth it.
"O-kay." My hastily put-together vocal cords cracked as sniffles mingled along the voice, revealing my messy state.
"Hehe~"
Tickling my exposed neck, Esme gnced aside at the table I had accidentally toppled over in my manic state, "Look at the mess you made, you naughty girl~"
Esme said.
And I heard.
Those words.
Familiar.
Terrifyingly familiar.
...And innocent.
...A normal thing to say.
...A perfectly humane sentence.
In spite of that, I-
I-
I uttered.
As a matter of factly.
As though it was to be expected.
As though it were normal.
Even though I knew.
I understood.
How could I not?
Yet still.
I stated:
"Punishment. I deserve punishment."
Hoarsely cold words swept away the warmth surrounding the terrace.
...And I betedly swept my hands over where my mouth would normally be. Instead, only the cold touch of the mask returned through my gloved fingers. My attempt at locking that dastardly thing from uttering any more unnecessary words was an utter mess.
A long silence overtook us.
And, still in Esme's embrace, with my eyes locked onto her sideways-facing face...
I awaited.
Frigidly.
In fear, fear that she would suddenly hate me, accuse me, despise me-
"Sister, Alora..."
Her eyes slowly turned towards me; the profile of her face, the baby-soft skin, perfectly curled, lightly plump lips and slight blush on her white skin...
It faced me.
In return, I received the golden gaze of the one they called the Pure One.
...And she-
Thud!
I winced back from the abrupt pain crossing past the mask and into my forehead. A stinging impact of red revealed itself on both of our foreheads, and my mouth smacked open like a dumb fish.
"Receiving punishment over a small mess is not okay, so never repeat those words, understood?"
And I found myself reflexively nodding at her stern, unwavering voice;
"Okay." My soft voice lingered off as a shining smile blossomed on her face in response.
"Hehe~!"
Esme grabbed my gloved hands and suddenly pulled me up to my feet as I broke out of my stupor, and, standing face-to-face...
I'm shorter.
I came to an unfortunate realisation that I'm shorter by at least 5cm, perhaps closer to 10cm.
"Cute!" And Esme also seemed to realise that as she raised her hand, Squish~, and began comparing our heights with the ft side of her palm.
Yet hearing her say that:
She called me cute.
That's all my messed-up brain could compute at that moment. The mere fact that she called me cute threw me into an irresistible high of fluttering ecstasy.
I was once again reminded of a certain horror;
A horror I knew of yet vehemently tried to deny over these few years.
I love her.
Romantically, sexually:
I absolutely love her.
And my mind accepted it with no difficulty, as though it were natural.
...I can see the same emotion in her eyes.
It's clear as day; she still loves me.
Yet, something is also different.
Something I can recognise, yet she cannot; a fact that once again reminded me of what should be vile, what should be disgusting, what should lock me behind bars for an eternity;
She has no idea she's in love, she might not even know what love is.
Absentmindedly listening to Esme compare our heights and jokingly tease me about this difference, I was even further reminded of the horrifying truth;
Of my existence;
Yet my heart denies it.
It cannot fathom this emotion to be disgusting—wrong;
I can't.
If I act on this emotion, I'd be taking full advantage of her; I can mould her, make her mine, gaze upon her scintilting skin all night long and, and, and-!
I can devour her, ensve her; ravage her-
Biting down on my gums:
But I can't.
I shouldn't.
Because I understand that this is meant to be wrong, even though I cannot accept it; even though going against these emotions evokes the same sensation as acting as though oxygen is fatal instead of vital to my existence—I cannot.
However.
There is another reason.
A reason separate from the basic principle of right and wrong that has been long lost from my brain—a rationale that renders the possibility of acting upon the emotions null.
One that does not act against my intrinsic desire for her, love for her.
And that is because:
This creature cannot defile her.
This tainted puppet must not.
...Precisely because I love her.
