[right][color=lightgray][sub]TIMESTAMP: Late Monday Night[/sub][/color][/right]
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[color=lightgray][indent][indent]Home at last, Anya was dripping wet as she found herself back in her room in the basement of the library. She had quite the day, from having moments with both of her brothers to scouting Lost Souls to see if Jade was safe. After gathering intel from a couple of people, she found out that Jade had left town with her two friends and a Belmonte. This Belmonte, Natalia, spent more time on the southside than at home so it didn’t come across as weird to Anya that Jade knew her. As for the other two, Mordechai and Penelope, Anya knew those were Harley’s closest confidants. Her best friends. 

The fact of the matter was the blonde bombshell wasn’t alone which allowed relief to wash over the Russian woman. Jade was with people and that’s all that mattered. In addition to that, Anya was comforted that Toast girl wouldn’t be around during this storm. Where she was going, she hoped that there was no rain, only stars in the sky. Now it was up to the spirits of this world to watch over the green Gem that captured Anya’s heart. She really did hope Jade was somewhere safe. 

Partly unbuttoning her blouse, having gone through three outfit changes in one day, Anya went to her record player gifted by the Librarian. Grabbing one of her Tchaikovsky records, she began playing [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPw3efunBXw]Waltz of the flowers[/url] from the Nutcracker. While some people might find it weird, the Russian Doll that was Anya Kamensky found peace in ending her work day with classical music, usually that of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff. It was likely because when she was a little girl, she and her mother would sneak into shows at Silverlight Theater and watch the Boston Ballet company perform for their little town. They’d dance to spectacular stories like Swan Lake, Cinderella, Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty and so much more. It was thanks to Madame that the theater was even able to afford performance events from companies that toured in and around the New England area.  

Her wet shirt partly unbuttoned and with little to no rhyme or reason with how she decompressed, Anya went into the small kitchenette area to heat up some Chef Boyardee mini raviolis. This was the best part of her day. Just her, some microwavable food because she didn’t have an oven, and sweet, sweet Tchaikovsky, which allowed her to recall better days before she was forced to make her Father proud. As hard as her childhood was, being lucky enough to get a roll of bread some days, she still recalled it as the most magical time because it was her, it was her mother, and together, they had each other. Before Ivan, before her Father, and before Madame showed her true colors, life was beautiful. 

Life was like a waltz. 

[color=B27070]“Well well.”[/color]

The words were followed by a playful almost childlike giggle that reverberated through Anya’s small home. The door to the tiny bathroom opened up and a hooded figure emerged, holding a small but very sharp blade. A flash of lightning followed with a crack of thunder illuminated the mysterious entrant into the basement lair of the Basilisk. The figure raised their hand into the air, spinning the knife by its handle on their finger like one might spin a basketball. They stood perfectly still and resolute as the weapon turned like the hands of a ticking clock. 

The intruder was the same height as Anya, roughly the same build too; compact but obviously very lethal.

[color=B27070]“Look at you eating like a Queen. Save me a ravioli, would you babe?”[/color]

Not in the mood to play games, Anya pulled out one of many weapons planted in this room. Holding a sidekick .22 caliber revolver, cocking the gun western style, Anya pointed it toward the direction of the dark shadow whose identity was revealed because of lightning and her voice. She continued to eat with her free hand, and as she ate, she asked, [color=56877b]“What you want, Faye?”[/color] If her sister was in town that meant one of two things, their Father had given the Asian Fox a job or she was bored out of her mind and wanted to come and play. That meant she would go out of her way, out of her territory, just to piss Anya off, since there was always something happening in Edenridge. [color=56877b]“You know better to come here. My home.”[/color] Cooly and unbothered, the Basilisk continued to eat her raviolis, as she steadily held the gun toward the silhouette standing in the dark. The only lit part of the basement was the kitchenette area with Anya leaning against the counter. With the added classical music, those who had no idea who these two were would think this scene came straight out of a horror movie. She wasn’t  going to lose her peace because her sister decided to pay her a visit.

The being now identified as Faye giggled again as she tossed the knife, hard and fast, straight by Anya’s blonde hair until it embedded itself in the wall behind her. Like a bullet from a gun, with a flash from the lightning, the Asian woman shot off across the room. She swiftly jumped into the little dining table set up in the middle of the basement and landed in a crouched position. [color=B27070]“SURPRISE!”[/color] Faye laughed as she took off her hood to reveal her beautiful round face which was covered her the largest Fox’s grin possible. She wrapped her arms around her shins and tilted her head, pressing it against the barrel of Anya’s revolver. [color=B27070]“Why so pouty Annie Wannie?”[/color] Faye said cutely. [color=B27070]“Why you not wanna play with me? I came all this way.”[/color]

Having not flinched when the knife flew by her face, Anya uncocked the revolver, pulled it away from her sister, and slipped it back into the drawer. For once, Faye had read the room and didn’t beg for a sparring match that had a 50/50 chance of one of them dying. Pushing herself off the counter, building distance, the Basilisk went to her mini fridge, opened it, and offered, [color=56877b]“Want drink?”[/color] Ignoring Faye’s childish banter that aimed to get a rise out of her prey, Anya grabbed a can of cherry coke for herself, pulled the tab off with her pointer finger, and took a big chug as she waited for Faye’s answer. One does not simply rile up the Basilisk. It took tomfoolery, dedication, and consistency. Something that Faye was great at, seeing how she knew Anya since they both were six. While it wasn’t working right now, the Fox knew with time, she’d get under Anya’s skin. She always did.

In an instant, Faye’s demeanor changed and she jumped from the table. [color=B27070]“Yeah, sure why not?”[/color] Her tone was much more adult and less child-like. Her posture changed, she became much more relaxed as she walked to the small window that looked up towards the flooded streets above. Why her sister chose to live in such squalor was beyond Faye. All Anya had to do was ask Daddy and he would give her a penthouse or a mansion or anything she really desired. [color=B27070]“You look uncomfortable Anya, want help getting out of those clothes?”[/color] Faye loved to tease, it was the best part of her job. She unzipped her hoodie and let it fall to the floor, revealing her own slightly damp body in a black crop top. [color=B27070]“I don’t miss the days of walking around in body armor all day I will say that.”[/color]

Faye was rewarded with an eye roll when Anya pulled out a Fanta grape can and held it out for her sister to grab. This was how things were with them for years. Faye would tease and Anya would be far too serious to ever entertain. Though, Faye knew what brought the child out of Anya and that was: breakfast. The Basilisk loved her breakfast. Best way to her heart was through pancakes. Or just taking her to Dolly’s. Some people, like Cameron, could not cook for the life of them. 

Making her way to her sister, Faye drank in just how beautiful she was as she took the offered drink. Despite their self-referential way of calling each other sister, Anya and Faye were not biologically related. They had been raised together with many other girls to be the weapons they were. Faye had never hidden the fact that she had wanted Anya, sexually but the Basilisk was the first and so far only person to ever turned down the Kitsune. [color=B27070]“You know, your Mom upstairs is looking great. What sort of diet is she on?”[/color]

[color=56877b]“You think I know?”[/color] Anya placed her can down the counter beside her almost fully eaten supper and walked past the other woman, her arm brushing against Faye’s skin. There wasn’t much room in this kitchenette and here Faye was, giving her no space. [color=56877b]“Maybe tears. This library collects sad people. She loves it.”[/color] Going to her dresser she opened it and pulled out sweats and a tank, [color=56877b]“Need clothes?”[/color]

Faye cocked her eyebrow at the sight of Anya holding sweats. As someone who prided herself on being fashion forward, even when she was lifting throats and cutting out hearts, the Kitsune would not be caught dead in public wearing anything of the sort but if her training for all those years had taught her anything, it was adaptability. Taking the clothes from Anya, Faye began to strip off there and then. She slowly peeled off her top and bottoms, revealing the fact she was not wearing any underwear. Her body was thick but incredibly toned, she did not miss gym day and there were scars from blades and bullets and other devices of torture that were as regular at their father’s place as a tv commercial during the super bowl.

After slipping into a pair of black shorts and a fresh tank, Faye returned to the kitchen and grabbed her Fanta Grape, hopping on the counter, she watched gleefully as Anya undressed. Catching a glimpse of her eyes in the mirror, the Fox thought back to days gone by when they were children who shared a room. Whenever Anya was frightened, the two would jump into bed and Faye would hold her, protect her, which usually meant that when Daddy came in the room, it was Faye that took the beating but back then, she would’ve done anything for her sister. 

[color=B27070]“I should probably tell you that you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me and I don’t just mean my fantastic ass, although that’s yours when you want it, I got a job here! Gonna be coaching at the high school!”[/color]

Instead of jumping in glee, Anya unamusingly examined her sister. With gray sweats and an army green tank on, the Basilisk approached Faye in a guarded manner. To add to her suspicions and distrust, she crossed her arms, her snake eyes cold and calculated. When she reached the counter that Faye was crouched on, the blonde woman carefully looked up and observed her counterpart. [color=56877b]“Why? Edenridge is not your place. It’s [i]mine[/i].”[/color] She hissed, with displeasure written all over her face. If there was one thing Anya hated the most it was people, especially her sisters, trying to take over after she earned her place at the top of the pyramid with their father. She didn’t like people touching her belongings, nor taking credit for her efforts, especially not the Kitsune. Edenridge was [i]her[/i] home. Her birthplace. Her place of solace. Her territory. [color=56877b]“I only ask once - [i]why[/i] you here?”[/color]

[color=B27070]“Because I know something you don’t know,”[/color] Faye spoke in sing-song before giggling once again, her face twisting into a fox-like grin as she kicked her legs playfully. Anya hadn’t always been like this. There were times when she was sweet and naive and that was the girl that Faye had loved for nearly twenty years or least, her version of love. It was no secret amongst the sisters that Anya had been their father’s favorite. She was always given the best assignments, she was given more training time, she was placed at his right hand in Edenridge. None of it made sense, especially not to Faye. [color=B27070]“Daddy has something planned, something big. He’s going to need all hands on deck and I want to make sure I’m readily available.”[/color] The Asian woman took a very loud slurp from her can, holding it with two hands. [color=B27070]“Plus it’s just so much fun spending time with my favorite sister.”[/color]

Something was being planned. Their Father was always planning something. This wasn’t something new. The fact that he hadn’t told her yet though, that was new. Was Hyde right? Was she slipping? Losing her touch? Even if she was, this was Faye and Faye was the embodiment of try hard. [color=56877b]“That so,”[/color] Anya snorted, not being able to take the other woman seriously. Grabbing her can of coke, the Basilisk brought it to her lips as sarcasm oozed from her tone, [color=56877b]“H’okay. You come, you wait, he give you approval like you want. It’ll come.”[/color] Faye was so desperate sometimes. It was sad. Anya barely tried and Father still preferred her over the rest of them. 

She knew he was aware of her full potential and the fact that she wasn’t going to waste her energy on every little thing he wanted. Sometimes he needed to be challenged and that’s exactly what Anya did. Challenge him. She wasn’t his doting daughter who would jump when he said how high. No, she was his daughter that found her greatest strengths through her pain and chose to use that as her motivation. So far it’s only benefited him in the end. 

Strength wasn’t obedience. To her, strength was courage. 

Courage to have grace under pressure. To resist fear, master it. Courage wasn’t the absence of fear but the triumph over it. Courage was action in the face of fear, ultimately making her a weapon that had a better read on humans and their emotions. A weapon who took deliberate risks and understood the implications and the consequences that would inevitably come from taking them. A weapon whose heart matched her gun. The best weapons were those who understood others' motives and [i]that’s[/i] why their Father preferred her. 

Anya was the Basilisk who saw everything, knew more about people then they knew about themselves. Anya knew the people of Edenridge while Faye only knew herself, seeking pleasure and power in other’s pain. A true sadist. But to hurt someone, really hurt them, not just dangle their life by a thread, you needed to understand their heart. Something Faye would never learn. As good of a killer her sister was, amazing actually, extremely heartless, Faye was still too selfish to be exactly what their Father needed. She loved the game of blood too much to be more than just a tool. At the end of the day, Faye was replaceable. Anya was not.

Walking away from her sister, Anya found herself slumped on her sofa, finishing her soda (placing it on the coffee table when she was done) and going back to enjoying her music. She no longer was interested in entertaining the Kitsune. It wasn’t her job. It never would be. The truth of the matter was their bond wasn’t real. It was all superficial. Two girls forced together, growing in trauma. How romantic. In time they went their separate ways in their pursuits and now everytime Anya saw her sister it felt like they were playing house. All pretend. What she had with Faye wasn’t anything like what she had with Mika. One tried to convince herself that she cared, while the other cared with all his heart. Anya was too tired for this shit. Leaning her head back, staring up at the ceiling, the Russian woman yawned, [color=56877b]“Hope it works out. All you want in the palm of hands. Sounds like perfect dream.”[/color]

Faye scrunched up her face; she was not getting the reaction out of Anya that she had hoped. But that was ok. It had always been like this. The blonde had always been the most natural of her sisters. It had taken Anya a lot longer to lose what a normal person would call their humanity but once she did, she was unstoppable. Everything became effortless whilst Faye and the rest had to fight and claw and torture each other to even get Daddy to look at them. It was infuriating. 

What Anya didn’t know was that Faye had done her research. She loved history and learning about it. Imagine her surprise when she figured out that Anya, unlike most of her siblings, still had family left, real family. Unlike Faye who had tried to track down her family once only to find she was born to be a slave, a debt passed around like a blank cheque until somebody cashed it in. Imagine her surprise when she saw the petite assassin having a cute breakfast with a beautiful girl and looking at her in the way that Faye had always dreamed that Anya would look at her. That was the moment that she knew how all this would end. Maybe not today or tomorrow but one day, it would end with the Basilisk versus the Kitsune. 

After polishing off her drink, Faye made her way over to the couch that her sister had placed herself on and climbed onto it. She pulled the blanket off the floor and covered both of their legs with it before she snuggled up to Anya, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close, like they were children once again. [color=B27070]“Remember what Matron used to say. Dreams are simply there to ease us into death. I don’t dream anymore.”[/color] She leaned forward and kissed the assassin's cheek softly before stroking her straw coloured hair. [color=B27070]“Rest my little treacle, you’ve had a busy day. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning before I leave.”[/color]

As frustrating as Faye could be, she was here and even if what they had wasn’t a real bond, not like real sisters, it was nice to not be alone for once. There were no words left for Anya to say so instead she held Faye close, shut her eyes, and traced gentle circles on the other woman’s soft skin. She didn’t trust Faye. Then again, she doubted Faye trusted her. That was the unfortunate reality of being born in darkness and made for it. They weren’t meant to be trusted. They weren’t meant to be loved. They weren’t meant to love. 

Faye. Her. They were creatures of the night. Mika was not. He could walk into the light if he wanted to. It was clear he wanted to. They couldn’t because the dark was all they knew and would ever know. Perhaps that part of their bond was real. They understood each other better than they understood anyone else. They understood the world they lived in. They understood both the little girl and the woman in their beloved counterpart. They understood each other. That’s just how it was when you were a child of the Garden and the daughter of a King in a chess game no one knew existed. 

The Invisible Hand. Their Father. The Shark.

Intertwined together and fated to know one another. Tied by trauma. Tied by obligation. Tied by… love? 

The Basilisk and The Kitsune. 

Not all stories had a happy ending.
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