The sisters look uncannily alike. All of the stardusted sisters do.
Margot immediately senses all of the familiar love wafting around Amathea. The love they share between each other and their parents washes through the younger sister’s brain like a pastel ocean. She sighs again, barely blinking an eye open as Amathea rests beside her.
“I don’t know that our skin can burn, sister; but I appreciate the concern.”
There’s perhaps a bit of a sarcastic bite at the end of Margot’s sentence; but she is master at crafting her saccharine voice, and even one as skilled as a sibling might not feel her venom.
Amathea might hear it. That family connection thrumming through the pair, almost tangible.
Margot rolls slightly, blinking up at the blue sky. She remembers how blue and vast the world looked against the bright red and dull browns of Pangea, then blinks the gentle memories away.
“Where have you been, Amathea?” she asks. Not probing, not overly curious—certainly careful and always partially interested.
@amathea