The Sisters Steely

“Promise me.”  She held up her pinky again. He smiled, looking down at her finger sticking out at him; he found the action endearing, though slightly childish.  “You really take pinky promises seriously, don’t you?” “Promise me.”

“I’m Red.” “No, you aren’t.  Pale, maybe, but –” “What?”  His brows furrowed before he looked down at his arms.  He shook his head.  “No, that’s my name.  Red Clancy.  My real name sounds like a sneeze.”

Have you ever took one look at someone and pitied them from the start? Mahina sat perched on the rooftop with her feet dangling over the edge as she watched him from across the street.  Concealed by the darkness of the evening, she remained unnoticed even while her long black hair whipped around violently in the wind. He ran his long fingers through his tousled hair, ruffling it as he pushed his curly brown locks out of his face before drawing his hand back.  He tucked his hand beneath his arm as he crossed them over his chest.  His intense expression was pulled into a frown, eyebrows knitted together as he stared out of the window at nothing; searching the swaying grass for answers that weren’t there.  He looked paler from where she sat, but perhaps it was from the glint of moonlight shining upon the windowpane he stood behind. Mahina pitied him.  She felt sorry for him; for his vexed expression, laced with grief. He was the last man Daithi Kavanagh was seen with, and he was a bliss.