Sibling's Quarrel Pt 2 - Orenda

I suck in a deep breath, grateful to no longer hear the sounds of my brother’s extracurricular activities. I walk across the champagne marble floors of our grand bathroom, the light of the moon shining through the windows that line the walls, bouncing off every marble surface and illuminating the room with an ethereal glow. I slip out of my shoes, discard my dress and panties and step into the vast glass shower. When I say ‘vast’ I mean it. This shower could easily fit thirty people, though I dare not put the idea in my brother’s head. I do not need to come home to a shower orgy.

When our creator and father figure, the God Jartre, was generous enough to conjure a home for my brother and me, we both requested a ridiculously large bathroom and shower. We did this because we both liked the idea of being able to bathe in our bird forms. Think of it like birds enjoying a bird bath, except the birds in this scenario are fifteen feet tall at full height.

I walk over to the marble column at the far end and turn one of the handles, prompting water to spout from the shower head. I lay my hands against the column and lean my head back, allowing the heat of the water to sink deep into my skin, washing away the crawling sensation that lingers on my flesh. How it feels to encounter the eyti is difficult to explain. It’s like feeling something sticky latched to your skin, but simultaneously, it crawls against your skin as it attempts to burrow into your flesh. It almost makes you want to tear your flesh off or burn the frigid chill away. I wish I could tell you that after thousands of years on this Earth that I’ve gotten used to it, but that’s not the case. You just learn to live with it. But I can truthfully say, it became much easier to live with when hot showers were invented.

I continue to let the scalding water ease the tension in my muscles and warm up my body, and after enough time passes I turn off the water and wring out my hair. Stepping out of the shower I grab my bathrobe from off the wall and put it on, wrapping it tightly around myself. I grab my towel and wrap my hair up in it, then gather my clothes off the floor and make my way across the hall, entering my bedroom. I hit the dial on the wall, turning on one set of lights by the window in the far corner of my room and dimming them down. I walk over to my bed and seeing the clock on the nightstand, realise it’s just after 3 am. Ugh, I really hope this doesn’t mean Ayawamat’s friends are staying over.

I toss my clothes on the bed then free my fair from the towel and give my long locks a final rub of the towel before tossing it with my clothes. I collect a hair tie from beside the bed and walk over to my sitting area. I step up onto the low platform and plop down on the long floor sofa, stretching my legs out. I reach over, picking up my brush and brushing through my hair as I stare out the window, begging my thoughts not to run away with me. Lately, I’ve thrown myself into my duties more than ever just in an attempt to stop my mind from wandering and focusing on the one person I don’t want to think about right now, but it’s hard not to think about that which your soul yearns for.

I plait my fair and sit back, picking up one of my books from the low coffee table and allow myself to focus on the words written on the page. I don’t get a chance to do that for very long when there’s a tapping at my door.

“Come in,” I call out as I turn the page.

I hear my bedroom door open and glance over as Ayawamat pads across the timber floors. At least he’s wearing sweatpants. He lowers himself, sitting opposite me on the floor sofa, stretching out his legs until his feet touch mine. He brushes his toes against the soles of my feet, tickling me. With a smile on my face and my eyes on my book, I smack his foot with mine.

“So, what were their names this time?” I ask absentmindedly.

“Um…well her name was Charlotte…or was it Carlotta? Colette?” I peer up from my book to see the deep look of concentration and confusion on my brother’s face, his rainbow irises shine bright like prisms in the dark of my room while the light of the room illuminates the sweat coating his copper skin. He runs his fingers through his long, dark brown hair, a dishevelled mess from his debauch activities. “And his name was…Darren? Dan? Daniel?”

“You’re pathetic,” I remark incredulously, placing my book down in front of me. “It’s bad enough I have to come home to your little ménage à trois and see my brother in positions I don’t ever wish to see him in and have yet seen him in far more times than I’d like to count, but you bring these humans to our home and can’t even give them the courtesy of remembering their names.”

“It’s not that deep, Orenda…well, I was pretty deep,” he says with a cocky smirk. I instantly gag at the innuendo. Fucking gross. He chuckles at my revulsion and kicks my foot, “Lighten up, sis. Might do you some good to see some action. And why did you put emphasis on them being human?”

“Because I don’t think it’s wise that all your hookups are human. You’re not human, Aya,” I remind him.

“Neither are you,” he retorts. “Look, humans don’t come with animais, at least not the majority anyway, and I don’t like feeling vulnerable around other supernaturals,” he huffs, crossing his bulging biceps over his muscular chest.

“So that’s what it’s about? You feel fragile around other supernaturals? Even though you have the ability to strike them down with lightning.”

“Hey, I don’t need to be getting railed by some sanguidae only for him to snap my spine in the process or lose control and drain me dry and eat my heart. Maybe if Jartre hadn’t decided to make our human forms so human, I would feel differently,” he shrugs.