They brush through the crowd like dancers; feather-light, fluid, weaving. Some of the equines chance a second look their way, mostly the ones who have never seen them before. Or the ones who have seen them a lot. They’re young but not unfamiliar with the court and its citizens, being one themselves since birth.

Ia press forward like a current, steps certain and movements easy. Olympia carries her head high, gilded eyes bright and clear in the early spring sunshine. The markets are busy, and the brush of bodies feels like a performance. Harmonia is humming something beneath her breath. She is almost always singing, or humming. It is the one thing she can enjoy doing without fear of being stared at.

When they had been younger, Olympia had been terribly jealous of it. Now, she has so many other attributes that it doesn’t bother her anymore.

They pause for a moment at a stand of apples, glancing over the options. There aren’t many, and they’ve no doubt been imported from some place other than Novus, but the girls are craving something crunchy and juicy. “G’morning, Ia,” greets the merchant, a gentlemanly fellow old enough to be their father. Looks kind of like him, too.

“Morning,” Ia lilt in response, Olympia too busy looking over the options to pay him much attention. Harmonia offers an apologetic smile to the man, waiting for her sister to make her decision. She lifts a nice, vibrant green apple into the air. Tart, just the way Olympia likes it. “Sister, you know that is not my taste,” Harmonia says gently.

It comes out more like a suggestion. Olympia turns back to the apples with a sharper gaze. It would be simpler for them to share a single apple, but her sister likes them sweeter. “We’ll be getting two, today,” she says finally, also pulling a plump red/yellow one from the displays and handing over a few coins to the merchant. He waves them off with a big smile and a hearty chuckle.

Definitely too much like their father.

They glide back into the flow of moving bodies, making their way out of the market. It’s almost time for Ia’s first performance of the day, and they like to get to the venue early to prepare.

That’s when they bump shoulders with someone, pushing almost roughly through the street. Olympia drops her apple and watches it bounce away, undoubtedly about to be crushed under someone’s hoof. “Excuse you,” she says sharply, the sisters turning toward the intruder upon their perfectly pleasant afternoon.

"Harmonia." | "Olympia."

The equine who bumped into Ia stops and turns, and for a long moment does nothing but stare at them. Olympia's lips twitch upwards into a smirk, one brow raising slightly. Harmonia is about to ask if they are alright but then the painted woman scoops up Olympia's wayward apple from the street, and speaks.

"Warden?" Olympia's eyes brighten, lips curling delightfully. Her lashes flutter in the spring sunshine as Ia take a step closer. "My, you are as… fiery as everyone says you are," she remarks, glancing down at the flames sprouting from the other woman's hooves. Her golden eyes travel, slowly, back up to Morrighan's face, landing upon her own mismatched eyes.

Harmonia clears her throat, a soft, unassuming sound, and glances between the two mares, "Sister, are we going to introduce ourselves or simply have a staring contest?" Olympia signs, as if dearly losing out on a fun game. "If you insist, darling sister," though it is clear she would much rather play a little bit of cat and mouse.

"I am Harmonia," says the blue-eyed one, clear as the sky, "And I am Olympia," says the one with eyes like the freshest of coying honey. "You can call us Ia," their voices weave and blend like a dance or a song, their heads resting gently together.

"We're conjoined twins, if you really are curious to have a word for it." Harmonia is always the one willing to play along, always the one willing to give others what they are looking for. "We're also twice the fun," Olympia quips, eyes glimmering, heart hungering. She is always the one to tease, to toy with. She is the one who always gets from others what she is looking for.

"Harmonia." | "Olympia."

The twins don’t seem fazed by Morrighan’s staring, as rude or unsocially acceptable as it might be. They are used to being watched, looked at, double-taked. Harmonia has learned to tolerate the attention, while Olympia simply thrives off it. If she is a lamp, then the attention is her gasoline, fueling her flame.

“I’m taken, but thanks,” says the Warden, and Ia simply roll a shoulder and take a half step forward. “We don’t mind sharing, obviously,” Harmonia says, smile soft, a gentle laugh drifting past her parted lips.

They are not the jealous type.

Olympia raises a brow, ears catching on the sound of the other woman clearing her throat, “It’s okay, sister… I think she’s just scared.” There is a sinister, almost carnal gleam in her golden eyes as she looks at Morrighan. “Your loss, Warden,” Olympia purrs, tipping her head slightly as if considering, “I’m sure you of all equines know passion is a great way to ignite a flame.”

The next question that the Warden poses causes the twins to look at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Olympia begins to laugh—a clear, musical sound—and settles into a grin sharp and divine.

“My, my, are you losing your touch?” her eyes narrow oh so slightly, one brow raised, and oh she feels like a cat playing with a mouse. “We are born and raised Denoctian,” chimes in Harmonia, glancing between her sister and the Warden. Oh, she is enjoying this far too much.

To be sure, when they were young they spent much time at the seat of Dr. Marose’s desk, but once they were freed from his prying, Ia had become quite at home among the people. Though their particular talents were enjoyed by a wealthier and more exclusive type of customer, and not often done out on the street like other types of performers. “Perhaps you haven’t been looking close enough.”

"Harmonia." | "Olympia."