Footsteps clacked against the concrete sidewalk as a woman with mocha skin walked through a suburban area. A phone was held against her ear whilst listening to the rambling on the other end. Her bright red eyes darted before they landed on a brick house. She tossed her braided white hair back, then walked up to it.
“I’m just sayin’, Cyra, the Connors are gone for a week! The police force is down by their sheriff while he’s out on vacation with his boys. It is a prime opportunity for a stressless seven-day hunt!” a feminine voice spoke as Cyra opened the door with a silver key. Once she heard the success indicated by the click, she opened the door.
“Layla, I am just saying to think about this ahead of time,” Cyra responded as she snagged mail from the Connors’ mailbox, then trudged her way in. “Lucian is a sharp old man. Elios isn’t related to him; however, he is also smart and hard to distract. Once they see the case going on, by the end of the week we’ll have human law enforcement on our tails again.”
Layla hummed. “What is Atlas then, chopped liver?”
Cyra answered, “No, he’s easy to distract. All I need to do is bring up something embarrassing, he’ll crawl away and boom! Not an issue. For someone raised by a sheriff, he is quite the non-confrontational sort.”
Layla answered while Cyra moved the letters onto an oak coffee table in the living room, then made her way towards the door. However, a picture on the fireplace caught her eye.
Layla added, “Doesn’t mean Atlas isn’t a threat to a way of life himself, Cyra. ’Sides, you like him, don’tcha? Why not trick him into a ritual? Then we’d have someone on the inside—you’d have your loverboy.”
Cyra sighed. “I don’t even know if he likes me back, Layla. I don’t even know if he swings this way. You know the saying humans have, right?”
Layla picked up a framed photo off the fireplace. It had a small Atlas wearing a wolf hoodie, picking on a shorter Elios who looked grumpy, and Lucian Connor with hands placed on top of his boys' heads with a smile in front of the house.
Layla told Cyra, “Madame, my lady, princess—that is a human joke. Atlas is easily embarrassed by you ’cause he likes you. No one has made him flustered like that! I’d be more worried if you were in love with Elios—it’ll be fine. Just confess. Date a little. Then trick him into our home, and we make him one of us, aye?”
Cyra sighed. “Oh, if only it was that easy. Maybe when they get back from that festival, I’ll confess. Ya know, Atlas and Elios looked cute as kids. It is difficult to imagine Elios is the ray of sunshine one today.”
“CYRA, SEND A PICTURE,” Layla demanded over the phone. Cyra snapped a picture of it, and as she heard the aww, she put down the frame. She closed the door, locking it.
“Oh Cyra, I am so glad they trusted you with the mail for the week~ but we do have a meeting in an hour to discuss hunting schedules for the week, yeah?”
Cyra shrugged. “Fair, fair. Just remember the sheriff isn’t our only concern.”
Cyra stuffed her phone into the pocket of her green plaid jacket before walking away. The warm wind blew weakly, then died. The weak wind would transition into cooler weather as attention focused back in Theylasen.
Atlas and Elios explored the small town of Diresdale. While Atlas translated the map, Elios placed his efforts into researching the festivities for the night.
“Besides the constellation show, it is essentially a fair,” Elios said with a shrug. “Mini games, rides—the works.”
Atlas beamed. “Sounds like a blast! I can’t wait to play some games.” He hummed. “But even more so, I can’t wait to see the constellations—Aneia, Moelunae, and Desifra—we can’t see those at all in Maerahwin! I can’t wait to draw them on my charter!”
Elios nodded. “I can guess. I can assume anyone has guessed—with that constellation sweater of yours.”
Atlas playfully smacked Elios upside the head. They laughed, then Elios unfortunately tripped and bumped into someone. He looked up.
“I’m sorry—no, I am not sorry,” he stammered bluntly.
Orion sighed, then ruffled Elios’s hair. Confusion sprawled across his face. “I would be more concerned if you scratched your face. The fabric of my clothing is rough.”
Elios snorted. “Yeah, I think I have carpet burn. Such a dedicated costume—why are you in Diresdale again? There was no mention of a cosplay show.”
Meanwhile, Atlas hid behind Elios. Between the brothers, he wasn’t the social one. Even though Orion was rude, Atlas knew Elios well.
Orion wasn’t gonna stand a chance with that persona for long. However, Atlas noted he still acted like he did. “I’ll have you know this clothing is normal where I come from!”
“Is it? Because you have a similar accent to us!” Elios retorted. Atlas held his hands up, about to attempt to calm them down before being shot the mean glare.
Orion huffed. “Doesn’t mean we are from the same area!”
Elios stuck his tongue out, then got distracted by a flower display nearby. “Hey Atlas, look! They’ve got some native flowers from our hometown.”
The pair walked up to the booth. “Hyacinths…” Elios said, amazed.
Atlas looked around. “And matured dandelions… oh look, marigolds—rosemary. Red roses—wait, oh no, red roses.”
Atlas instantly pulled Elios away as he sneezed. A voice piped up behind them, making both the boys groan. Orion asked, “And what is wrong with roses? They are flowers of love.”
“Then I am allergic to love,” was Elios’s remark.
Orion frowned. “Then perhaps a red carnation would make a great substitute, huh?” he said thoughtfully.
Elios shrugged. “Maybe if I had someone who liked me like that. Otherwise, I just like flowers. They are fun to draw and paint.”
Orion inquired, “What about animals?”
Elios nodded. “Also fun, even calming. But you couldn’t pay me to paint a person.” That got a chuckle out of Orion.
At first, Atlas was confused. Then smiled and nodded.
Bingo. He knew it.
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