Heiress - III

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Fleur - Flower

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“Fleur Jean.”

And the day stops just like that with Sal running off and Cerise shouting for her to come back as she heads off to their destination. Sadly enough, in the eyes of the swans, it’s a crazy woman shouting at nothing, and in the eyes of the aurums, it’s a master angered at its escaping hybrid.

Sal shrugs away the negative thoughts, skipping her way towards the entrance of ZM dance academy. If Faradiso was a town of blossoms then Omelaisse would be a city of passion, with drunks driving their way back home and singing their hearts out for their crushed ambitions and kids chasing their life away for dreams before the chance is taken away like a butterfly out of grasp. Sal was lucky, taken in by Cerise’s father before Cerise was even born along with twelve other hollows that paid her no mind as she kept her hopes high to keep dancing.

Was she really happy?

A question left unanswered by herself even during the time she was rescued from death. At least for now she knew she was. With Cerise by her side, a sister not by blood yet a puzzle piece for her empty heart. Cerise was simply her band-aid. A comfort that completely covered up the bruise and took away the misery. For that reason, Sal was grateful, a silent promise to herself that she would never let Cerise feel the same pain she felt. It would come with white lies yes, and agonizing secrets Cerise would yet find out, something that she is compelled to tell her when the time is right, when she would regain her memories.

“Welcome to ZM. How may I help you?” A staff member snaps Sal out of her daze, kind enough to not treat her like a ghost. Sal complies with the conditions given as she registers her name for the audition, a long-awaited challenge ever since she quit her dance group back in Omelaisse.

Everything was going to be okay, maybe even better.

Not.

Dirty looks are sent her way when she tries conversing with a group of aurums, most of them straight up side-eyed her, flinching away in disgust when she comes closer. Squeezing her slim frame to the front crowd in one of the dance studios didn't do her any good either as the few aurums there were much snobbier, not even sparing her a glance.

If it were back in her hometown this would have never happened, she was respected back there despite being part of the discriminated rank. Sal started to detest the move here, her weakness plowing at the tears to fall. She was a positive and outgoing being, seeing her settle quietly in one corner was not something she normally did, and she hated it. Her only biggest insecurity, what she thought would never bother her again had come crawling and attached itself to her chest, pricking at her heart in an attempt to break her. She hated her life, she hated that she was born a fly that only knows how to glow, a being seen and only acknowledged by a small cluster of the world. She wanted to be so much more than just an outcome of an experiment, to be someone known for who she was and what she can do. Omelaisse provided that, and this place was the opposite.

Just as Sal was about to give up finding a crew and going solo and home, a honeyed voice stops her “Omelaisse this, Omelaisse that. Can’t you think of anything better?” Sal looks up to find the same woman who’s been eyeing her from the moment she stepped into the building, an optical illusion she thought was too real. It takes her a good 5 seconds before she realizes it was her, the honey-like woman was referring to. “Please don’t use your abilities on me” Sal pleads, too preoccupied with the thought of failing the audition, surely she could do it on her own?

“I’m June”

Sal didn’t ask.

“Kang Sal” she deadpans, her head floating to the north before she registers that an aurum is actually interested in talking to her. Sal takes the chance, a smile appearing in her features before she sits up in haste, a swan had almost sat on her and she hated that feeling whenever their energies collided.

“Wendy, you took my friend’s seat.” The now shorter female called Wendy mutters a quick sorry before scurrying to move to the other side of the bench, mineral water at hand, and drank in one big gulp. Sal takes a minute to inspect the two of them like some rare artifact, eyes darting between the sweaty Wendy and the Goddess posing on the arm of the bench, arms crossed, and leg lifted.

June looks at her in anticipation, allowing the firefly hybrid to muster enough courage to speak before their presence. “Are you guys in one group?” Sal finally asks, the grin from earlier still plastered on her face like a photo. The next thing June says sends the hollow in regret of her question, one brow raised and a sly smirk forming on her delicate lips. “Not a group, we’re a duo.”

Before Sal could even open her mouth, an announcement rings from the man holding a megaphone, an announcement that makes the hope in her falter. “I repeat, please gather with your groups for the secondary registration. Audition spots will close in five minutes.”

That was it. All the passion was being drained from Sal at this point and she wanted no more than to go home and get drunk on nectar. She should’ve known her dancing career would come to an end, maybe she should have just taken the offer a few years ago, a surgery that cost way too much just to modify her entire being, a change that would have been so helpful at this moment.

June stared, saw the way Sal’s heart was being wrenched tight and she couldn’t help but feel the same. She saw herself, the June before success and she despised it, she wanted to help.

And so she did.

“Ever-brilliant velvet pair back for competition, isn’t it?” A stylish man approaches, feet moving as if he levitated, hips swaying as he hands out a fill-up form to the dancer with ash hair. “Make it three this time around,” June says, her white teeth peeking as she watches the way Sal’s head perks up, a faint glow on her body indicating some type of overwhelming emotion.

For the first time this afternoon, Sal felt warm, the unwelcoming breeze of the unfamiliar town now an ant bite. If the sight was to be seen by someone from far away, it would be a scene out of a drama, friends that meet once again after searching opposite sides of the world for each other.

*

Cerise too would be happy for her best friend if she had witnessed it, unfortunately, she was back at her father’s office, having a hard time trying to explain the way he found Cerise and the oh-so-notorious Fleur Jean inside the elevator.

“I’d appreciate it if you acquaint with my daughter with less tension the next time you come across each other.” Cerise’s father sneers, pacing around the table in a way that he was stumbling of old age. The atmosphere was nothing close to professional, banters, somewhat insults thrown by her father and the model left Cerise red, seated between them.

It continued like that before Jean had to leave for a schedule, but of course, he doesn’t forget to kiss the back of Cerise’s palm like an 80’s fuck boy. Cerise’s father doesn’t let the action pass, throwing a pen square to the latter’s forehead as he leaves.

All is immediately serene (a tiny bit boring Cerise must say) as the next moments are spent with him aligning her office schedule with her academic one.

“Now don’t go bragging to your friends that you’re a ticket to jackpot once you start the semester. I’d want you to handle work and personal stuff professionally.” Cerise scoffed lightly at his remark, taking the ID from his grip that indicates her position in the company. “I’m no troublemaker, quite selfish by the least, with things that involve money.”

He studies her expression, unimpressed. He ushers Cerise to an empty workspace in one corner of the office, pasting a note on the monitor in addition to the documents he dumped on her desk.

Her father, Bane was satisfied with the image of Cerise doing eagerly as told. He grew tired of being locked up in this place for a quarter of his life and he’s glad he can finally retire as soon as Cerise gets the hang of it.

“There’s an urgent call” an interruption given by the woman peeking from the hallway, motioning for the big boss as she tapped her heel impatiently. “I suppose redirecting a call is too much work don’t you agree?” Bane complains, breaking his back as he staggered forward in reluctance.

“Hello?” The voice he hasn’t heard in years spill from the device and he’s all too pleased that he changes his demeanor. “Which one of my daughters is this?” He teases, expecting a sassy reply.

“I’m borrowing someone’s phone so I’ll make it quick-” Sal interjects, panic laced in her tone that it sends an alarm off in his head and his face falls, directing a gaze to the wall that separates Cerise from him. He hears Sal’s breath hitch, hesitating to drop the bad news and it does nothing to get rid of the tension shared through the rotting connection on the phone.

“They followed us”