she's worse

25

"No, I just... It's nothing." She shook her head with a shaken smile. Her hands come to her front, intertwining her fingers into each other, pulling on them, picking at her nails, scratching the inside of her hand.

"Spit it out, Asteria. It's clearly nothing if you're all shaken."

"I don't want that. What everyone knows I have. I'd rather let the Geoffrey company and legacy burn down than take over it. My hardworking. My own company was created to get out of the family, not as incentive to get more than what I bargained for as middle child. How do you expect me, one person, to break a centuries old cycle of the classism embedded into this place? You killed my mother. You think one murder can break a generational cycle? No, you have to let this place burn down completely, not literally though. You can't change this place; you can only start from scratch from here." But does that really work? In theory it's wonderful.

"And how many people do you think can afford that?" I asked her. "You break this place down and you lead people to starvation and homelessness. You're thinking so far ahead. You see the issue is the system, we all do, but how does that get handled? To rebuild means to allow people to starve, it means that other countries might drop trade with us. Will the other nations even come to our aid. We're so isolated from our neighbors outside the trade, who cares? How badly could cutting us off affect them when there are so many other places offering the same thing?"

"I never said what I said should be implemented. The difference in you and me is that I try to speak in an ideal manner, whereas you do so in a realistic manner. But if everything is done according to the realistic, where do the new ideas come from. Without optimism and idealism, you can't have progression."

Without optimism and idealism, you can't have progression. Fuck.

"With optimism and idealism you are looking at what could be instead of what can be attained. They allow for great long-term goals, but not everything can be implemented." She took a step closer to me. The girl was nearly half a foot shorter than me, but she stood over me as she was standing and I was sitting at the edge of the bed.

"We can both be right and we can both be wrong."

"There's not right and wrong in anything philosophical. There's just ideas and their ability to thrive." She was so close to me. She was bent down so our eyes were leveled. Her head was tilted, as though she couldn't get enough of looking at me. Her stare was intense.   Less than a second later, she broke out of her thought and took a step back.

"We're meeting with your sister tomorrow. Thalia Mara." I felt nauseas at the mention of her. "She's not coming here, so you're coming with me. Be ready before eight." Her sharp eyes relaxed to their resting doe shape. Her deep brown eyes held the warmth of a brown leather journal cover. "You'll be okay alone?" She asked me. Now, it was my turn to narrow my eyes at her.

"You didn't ask me that before you saw the scars," I pointed out and she nodded.

"I know, but you have photographic memory. Scars lead to memories and memories conjure dreams and nightmares. Your memory is arguably a curse, Selene," She said it with a raised brow. She never raised her right brow. Only her left.

"Well, in that case, you must be real glad to know you don't have to play nanny and watch over me. I deal with it. I don't wake up when I get them, My eyes are glued close. So no, if that's what you're wondering, we won't have the perfect cliche moment where you save me from my nightmares like you did at that dinner. You are not my savior. You are an ally." Her face dropped and I should've been too tired to feel bad, but I did feel bad.