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Kor // author
[pre-roleplay] // category
The Shape of Things to Come
2051-05-24 11:35:56 // time
Kor played: Demona and Psiona
"You can't keep doing this, you know."

The lighter twin had suggested the trip to the park; she had taken her sister's shrug in the spirit intended, and had spread a blanket on the grass, sunscreen on her arms, and a light lunch of cucumber sandwiches and green tea atop the blanket. The park was ideal for this conversation: it had no parents, marking it superior to their home, and no wifi yet, making it superior to just about any other public space. Here, her wayward sister was a captive audience; no elaborate virtual fantasies were at hand for a convenient escape. Instead, blessed, soothing reality surrounded them; chirping birds eyed their lunch as if pondering whether they could carry off a sandwich larger than themselves, and a soft breeze ruffled treetops high above. It was even tolerably warm, for a change.

Hearing her twin's words, Jennifer scowled. She had never meant her family to find out about herr new hobby, her online identity; Sirena had logged into the wrong account by mistake, not realizing her sister had been signed in, and seen an email with far too many explicit details, including the name of the club she'd been banned from and the reason for said ban. At sixteen, she was barely old enough to be let in; but then, Demona was "nineteen" and thus a mature, responsible adult. Jennifer - never, EVER Jenny - had accepted this outing in the hopes that her twin and self-styled keeper would be convinced to leave this alone. The incessant sqwaking of irritating birds made it hard to think; she longed for a volume control. The immutable landscape, the towering pillars of organic matter, the harsh daylight - all this felt like a prison to her. Soon enough she'd be home, safe in a castle of a higher reality - one she could tailor to suit herself.

"Why not," she snapped, scowling over an untouched crustless triangle she had been served against her will from a platter of similar offerings. "Because your precious holy book says so?" She waited for the affirmative, prepared to launch into carefully reasoned arguments about Leveticus and polyester and gay marriage.

"No," replied her twin softly. "Or well, not just that. I personally can't imagine God wanted pain and blood to stand in for love and intimacy, but obviously it does something for you it never could for me, so I doubt I'm meant to understand, exactly. But that's not what I meant."

Jennifer started. That was surprisingly decent for her pious, moralizing twin. She must have been doing some reading - there was no way she had finally discovered reason at this late hour. Keenly aware that the ball was now firmly in Sirena's court, Jennifer begrudgingly asked, "Then why?"

Sirena, noting the untouched sandwich and resolving once more to let the little rudenesses pass, to focus on the larger image, leaned back on her elbows, looking up at the canopy of green to avoid her twin's dark glares. "Because you're hurting people," she began softly. "I don't mean the... you know..." she added, cutting her sister's reply short. "I mean... the deception. They expect one thing and you give another. From what I understand you deny them the safety net. Everyone deserves to feel safe."

"What about me?" snapped her twin angrily. "What do I deserve? They come saying 'hurt me, mistress, do anything', and when I do they cry 'stop, no fair!'. You're a virgin, you have no idea how awful it is to be all worked up and then have them say 'haha, just kidding' and leave."

"That justifies abusing their trust?" Sirena's voice remained soft, calm, yet unyielding, relentless. There would be no victory against her today.

"They could always log off," muttered her sister. "They never do, so they must enjoy it. They just don't want me to."