Not wanting to let the pulse linger, Lorelai sat up. Her back felt like a sponge soaked in gore. Her violet hair complemented the pink. The long locks threaded through her fingers, the velvet a complete one-eighty from the frayed ends she expected. Amara had always forced her to cut it, had it torn out, and she assumed it had melted into steel. Yet there it was, untouched, flowing.
She shivered. It was better not to think about it. Then she flicked her attention, her horns like an antenna pointing toward a sobbing voice, the crackle of a hoarse throat.
Cass, taller than Lore remembered, cradled herself. Her ghostly expression wavered between dread and a... smile?
And restless or just wanting to skip the small talk, Lore got up. She attempted to dust herself off, but caked in white and red blood, the pink stuff seemed to resist that idea. She frowned and faced Cass; that scholar might give the least biased information out of everyone.
Not so subtly, Lore hopped over, allowing her step to spring slightly. "So, what happened?" she asked.
However, the titering woman didn't respond, her body starting to rock as some whisper flowed out. Lore wanted to go over and slap some sense into the siren, but was interrupted.
"I could ask you the same," Lucien responded, turning around and shaking the white sludge from his boot. "We have already lost too much while you napped."
Lore licked her fangs. Was he blaming her for this mess? She coiled her finger, the sharp end like a nail ready to hammer into his pretty little skull. But she reconsidered; she would gather more information first and then spill his insides.
"Lost?" Lore Probed.
But he said nothing, his gaze pointing across the room. She huffed. Why was everyone so cryptic? She followed his sight to a bloodied, faceless woman. At first, she failed to recognise who or what it was—the drool of blood, the destroyed chest cavity, the jingle of jewellery on her antlers. Lore knew only one demon so crude and stupid. And she only wished she could have done it herself.
"She deserved it," Cass said.
Cass's gaze briefly locked onto Lore, sending a chill down her spine. An ooze of something dark and creeping, poised to squeeze the life out of her, emanated from Cass of all demons. The siren was nearly a pacifist with everyone except Lore and Cassian—the voice of reason among the Diy siblings.
But now, one wrong word and even Lore worried about what she might do. While the woman was a middling demon, lacking Archdemon power, she was a Neurweaver. And the ability to store or wipe memories wasn't the only concern; mind control and telepathy made her a demoness that could cripple you in your nightmares if she so chose.
"You disagree?" Cass pushed.
Lore smiled, "Disagree? You know full well I only wished to skin the bitch myself, but someone beat me to it." She kicked at the dead Wendigo and looked at Lucien. "You wouldn't know how to resurrect a demon; I have a few last words I want her to hear."
Lucien stiffened, "Lore… this isn't the time for jokes."
"Says you." Lore scoffed, "Last I remember, they never stopped with you; what happened? Did you finally realise you're not funny?"
"That's enough," Lucien snapped, "we don't have time for—"
Lore spread her fingers, reaching the last spark of her reserve. The resulting Gravium radiated a vibrant purple across the slick tiles, illuminating her fanged grin.
"Shut it," Lore ordered,
She flicked up, just a sprinkle to get him to shake. And the Fairy flinched, his fingers snatching his chest, his eyes twisting a loving stare her way.
"What's wrong?" Lore said, "Your core is made of glass, just like the lights."
She moved her finger, and the Voltite gemstones whined in their slots. But this time, she pulled harder, and the fixtures tore away from the steel. The green hue that once echoed down the hall crashed to the tiles, and the glass splinters transformed into magical pixie dust.
Lucien eyed her, the spy, the playboy whore, now as keen as she imagined him. His glare told her one thing: he considered her dangerous. Although she had run out of Gravium now, but she didn't need to tell him that.
She raised her finger and smiled, tensing her arm just enough for him to assume light surging. He would think twice before shouting at her, and for not grovelling like the spineless con man he was.
Then, a variable Lore didn't expect, Cass stood up, her fangs a hiss. The blast of blue came next, and a choke of air shuffled any gasp that attempted to come out. Lore went to comfort her burning lungs but found her arms, no, her entire body, locked in position. And it only got worse as her air pipe began to close, her fangs forcefully sealing any Oxygen away.
"If you keep going," Cass said, "I'll kill you right here."
Then Lore and Lucien gasped as Cass let go, inhaling so deep that Lore thought she had opened a third lung to fill it.
But outside of nearly dying of suffocation, Lore grinned. She glanced up at Cass, almost proud of her tempest, the younger sister who now hardly did more than buzz or chat over Neurite—now commanded with force, unrestrained apathy. Lore was uncertain who the true Cassian of the twins was now, with Cass always opting for the alternative role and following her couple-of-seconds-old sister's shadow.
But… she also wanted to ask if she was okay. However the question wouldn't come out right. Not in this voice. Not with this blood on her boots.
They were not sisters. Not really. But—