- Ia -
Talk so pretty but your Heart got Teeth
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.
