Who: Peony & Kiyoko What: Old acquaintances; never friends Where:Lux & Livre When: Yesterday Rating: Tame Status: Complete
Peony did not have much time these days for pleasure reading, but once in awhile, she still managed to stop by one bookshop or another in the city, even if the books she brought home rarely made it off the shelf where she carefully placed them in hope for a calmer day. They were a testament, in a way, to the idea that someday, calm would come. (Faram would provide; she still believed it, else she would not work so hard.)
Today’s visit to Lux & Livre was almost perfunctory — she doubted she would depart with anything more than a few kind words from Amarilla — but being surrounded by books for even a few moments without the need to research the next likely threat to the city was pleasantly soothing. Or should have been, had she not come across a familiar and very unexpected face on her journey to literary fiction via the small section of the store dedicated to plays and libretti. Peony might have walked right past, but the aisle was narrow and surprise had halted her steps for just exactly long enough for the woman examining a collection of Racime’s works to look up and meet her eyes.
There was nothing to do, then, but to offer a very small, very polite, and very cool smile and an, “Excuse me.”
It was a far better mask of cordiality than Kiyoko Matsudaira managed, sliding the tome back onto the shelf to hold down the anger and hatred that the mere sight of Peony Min evoked in her. Her voice was steady, if not entirely diplomatic, as she said, "I daresay I must," and stepped ever so slightly aside, leaving enough room for her father's favorite to pass, but did not look away.
The slight was noted — for all that Peony was mild-mannered, she was the opposite of oblivious — but the councilor did not choose to comment upon it. Instead she nodded, perfectly courteous, and said, “I wish you a pleasant day, then.”
She walked by feeling the other woman’s eyes following, and suddenly the literary fiction section, in plain sight of this narrow passage, seemed far less appealing. Perhaps she would peruse some spellbooks instead before departing.
It wasn’t discomfort so much as a desire to keep the peace; for reasons that she could only partially understand, her former mentor’s daughter held her in the opposite of esteem.
And so at the edge of the shelf, she turned the corner to continue deeper into the shop, her mind on teenage grudges that never quite resolved themselves in adulthood but instead festered — and also on her father, and her stepmother, and the lessons of distance breeding harmony that Faram seemed intent to impart upon her in any number of unrelated situations.
And yet, no amount of distance could have bred harmonious feelings in Kiyoko's heart, when she could not go a day without hating the memory of all the ways Peony Min had taken her father's time and the pride that was a daughter's birthright. That hatred pulsed in the shadows of the narrow corridor like a living being, and Kiyoko wanted nothing more than to be led by its call. She held herself in check with a thought that had grown inside her entwined with her jealousy: that one day, she would take back what was rightly hers, and Peony Min would not be there to stop her.
She retrieved the volume of Racime's works off the shelf once more and walked toward the register with measured steps. In the maze of books and elongated shadows, they echoed like a promise.