The Institute

Diamond Curtains

I wasn't entirely sure if I should post this particular sequel now, or wait until I had written another direct sequel following the last in the same time-period. But that could be a bit of a wait, so I decided that it didn't necessarily matter if they weren't necessarily in linear order as long as the time-periods are clearly marked.

This short story is set roughly eight years after the previous story, and is told (mostly) from the point of view of a new character, although several of the characters from the last, Obi, Penny, and Mr. Merryweather feature in this one as well.

Warning: This story has some drug use and a small amount of horror as well, not to mention a bit more language than the last, and is the reason that this series has a Mature rating.

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Diamond Curtains

"How do I look?"

"What?" Clara kept reading, ignoring her little sister who appeared to be leaping up and down next to her armchair.

"Look at me!"

Clara sighed and set the book on her lap. She raised her eyebrows skeptically at the younger girl. Her sister's violently violet and neon-green tutu, and rainbow striped tights made her eyes water. She glanced at her sister's head, which was only slightly less migraine inducing—knotted Fuchsia coloured hair, sparkly cheeks, and purple painted lips.

"Er, erm..." You really wearin' that, Gemma?"

"It's a rave, not work, Clara," her sister moaned.

"Oh, well, in that case—" Clara rolled her eyes. "I mean, come on. We've only just 'ad breakfast, and we're not even meeting Warren till seven tonight."

"So—what're you wearin' then?" asked Gemma defensively.

"Oh, I dunno, just some jeans and my paisley t-shirt I suppose."

"You're hopeless!" Gemma shook her head. "At least let me paint your face a bit."

"Fine!" Clara rolled her eyes again. "But I've got a lot of studying t'do for exams—"

"You've got all weekend for that," Gemma griped, grabbing Clara's hand and pulling her out of the armchair. "We've gotta get you sorted—Maybe a blue streak in your hair—find you something proper to wear."

"You just said face paint!"

"I lied!"

Clara gave in to the force of nature that was her younger sister and left her course-book, Goddesses in Myth and Modern Culture, lying on the threadbare yellow armchair in which she had just been sitting. The day passed by in a blur as Gemma gave her a makeover fit for a rave. For the umpteenth time since her younger sister had joined her in London the moment she had finished secondary school, Clara wondered why she had ever agreed to let Gemma stay with her. Mum and Dad had been all too eager to get Gemma out of the house, and Clara really couldn't blame them; it was very hard to concentrate with Gemma bouncing off the walls.

Still, Gemma's exuberance and bubbly nature was infectious, reminding Clara what she had been missing out on while burying herself in schoolwork for the last few years. By the time Gemma was finished with her, Clara was almost as excited as her little sister, ready to just have a good time and forget about college and exams for a bit.

Clara had electric-blue streaks in her hair as promised, and she was wearing the oddest ensemble of clothing imaginable, including a short, frilly, lime-green skirt, a scarlet bustier which revealed more of her midriff than she was entirely comfortable with, and thigh-high shiny black boots which made her feel a bit like a Dominatrix. The effect was completed with pearlescent azure fingernail polish, glittery rainbow swirls painted on one side of her face, and sparkly silver stars and crescent moons on the other.