"We'll see you in class, Celestia," Synthena said, trotting past with a peaceful grace as Absynthe led the way. Absynthe glanced in Celestia's direction, smiling, her posture straight and elegant. Her black hair flowed effortlessly in the air as they paced forward in perfect sync.
Celestia stood at her locker, her smile painted on—forced, despite the envy simmering in her eyes. She lifted a hand in farewell, her movements controlled and measured.
Turning back, she placed her extra belongings inside and reached for her indoor shoes. The locker's dim interior framed her face, her eyes calm yet tinged with something—redemption? Hope?
A whisper caught her ears.
"Isn't Absynthe such a model? Did you know she is also at the top of her exams ?"
Two girls, obscured from view, gossiped in hushed admiration.
"I mean, it makes sense, she is the sibling to the famous Sinister Seraphis."
the two girls squeel in excitement,there hearts pumping in joy they both jump together in unison holding each others hands.
Celestia's growing shadow. She exhaled quietly, her expression darkening as she placed her shoes inside the locker.
As Celestia turned to walk away from her locker, a different group of four—two boys, two girls—rushed toward her, their excitement practically vibrating in the air.
"Are you really friends with Seraphis' sister?" one of them blurted, their voices layered, overlapping in breathless curiosity.
They stepped closer, their eyes wide with awe, eager for confirmation. The questions spilled out in fragmented bursts:
"Is it true?""What's she like?""She really is Seraphis' sister, right?"
Their enthusiasm swelled, pressing against Celestia like a tide. She stood at the center of their admiration—a presence, a link to someone greater. But instead of basking in their excitement, something inside her twisted.
Her envy burned in the depths of her chest, growing darker, heavier.She will always be second-best. Her thoughts raced.
The change was sudden, but undeniable. The group's fervor faltered, their eager expressions shifting to hesitant discomfort. They sensed it—the shift in her aura, the unspoken weight pressing between them.
Their expressions twisted, searching for an excuse—any excuse—to escape the uncomfortable shift in atmosphere. But luck favored them.
The school bell rang.
"Time for class! Bye!"
The words spilled out in hurried relief as they quickly stepped back, putting just enough distance between themselves and Celestia before walking off—too fast to be casual, too slow to be a full retreat. It was clear. They wanted to escape the weight of the moment.
Celestia stood motionless, the pressure sinking into her shoulders, dragging them down. Her arms hung limp, fingers barely gripping the strap of her bag, its bottom scraping against the floor.
Desperation flickered within her emerald-green eyes, the jealousy clouding them like a storm barely contained. They glistened—bright, sharp—rage curling tight in her chest. She delivers to herself a twisted smile as if an idea sparked in her mind.
****************************************************************************************
"Well done, Absynthe! You never disappoint," the voice of a male praised as he handed back her test. The crimson letters stood out against the page—A+++—a mark of her precision and success.
"Keep this up, and university will be within your grasp sooner than you think!" He exclaimed with genuine admiration.
Absynthe hugged her papers close, a satisfied warmth settling in her chest. Across from her, Synthena grinned, holding up her own results.
"Look! I got a B+!"
Absynthe nodded approvingly. "Congrats! All your hard work paid off."
Synthena, on the other hand, slumped dramatically over her desk, pressing her face into the cool surface. "Ooooh my goooosh, I never want to do this again!" she wailed.
"Too bad," she groaned, "We've got a few more years of this!" Her exaggerated frustration earned scattered chuckles from nearby students.
A voice called from behind.
"Hey, you two! How'd you do?"
Obsidion strode forward, Travis following beside him.
Before Synthena could answer, Travis smirked. "I bet you failed," he teased, his silver-and-lilac streaked hair falling into his face as he leaned in closer, playfully invading her space.
In immediate protest, Synthena shot up. "How dare you! I did NOT fail!" She crossed her arms, still seated, lifting her chin in playful defiance.
Travis scoffed, turning his nose toward the ceiling. "A clutz like you? I don't believe it."
His arms folded, mockingly biting back at her challenge, but Synthena wouldn't let it slide. She stood, shoving her exam paper into his face.
"Looooook at it. LOOK at it! Do you believe me now?"
Travis, caught off guard, stumbled back, muffled grumbling escaping him. "Ouch! That hurts! Stop it, you little twerp!"
Synthena persisted, laughing triumphantly as she continued pressing the paper into his face.
Absynthe sat with her arms crossed, a smirk playing at her lips as she watched the chaos unfold. Obsidion snickered, and soon, scattered laughter erupted across the classroom.
Even Travis couldn't fully fight back—not when his silver eyes gleamed, reflecting the playful irritation sparking in his mind as he fended off Synthena's relentless attack.
In the back of the classroom, Celestia sat in quiet isolation, her shoulder-length blonde hair styled into a sleek bob. A small, controller-shaped pin secured her locks behind her right ear, though stray strands brushed over her eyes, veiling the smoldering emotions beneath.
The soft gold of her hair contrasted with the sharp focus of her emerald-green eyes, now dulled—clouded by the rage simmering beneath her skin.
Her hands rested snug between her thighs, fingers curling slightly, tension rippling through her frame. Her shoulders, usually poised, sat stiff and broadened—a silent weight pressing against her as envy swelled in her chest..
****************************************************************************************
"Celestia? Are you coming? We're heading off to lunch now."
Celestia snapped out of her haze of deluded rage, the feeling still present but buried beneath a well-worn mask.
"Oh—yep! I'll catch up!" she replied quickly.
Synthena smiled, nodding. "Okay! We'll see you at the usual place!"
Absynthe stood tall, her presence radiant—graceful, effortless, her aura shining like the stars themselves. As she smiled at Celestia, she spoke with the same composed elegance.
"See you soon, Celestia."
With that, the group wandered off toward their familiar lunch spot—the rooftop, where the view stretched wide, a portrait of beauty and tranquility.
Celestia remained still. Slowly, she pushed herself up from her desk, her hands pressing against the surface with tension hidden in her movements. As she turned, she drifted toward the doorway, lingering far behind.
In her limp arm, she clutched her test. The bold, crimson lettering stared back at her: A-.
Always second best.
Her grip tightened, paper trembling slightly. Her body twitched, frustration simmering beneath her skin, clawing its way up.
Her emerald eyes darkened, clouded with disgrace.
She muttered under her breath, voice sharp with quiet fury.
"It just won't do."
*****************************************************************************
"You knocked this test onto its toes, didn't you, Abby?" Obsidion announced, throwing his left arm over Absynthe's shoulders in praise. His grin was wide, his tone teasing, but his face lingered far too close for comfort.
Absynthe's cheeks flushed—an unusual sight for someone typically composed, one of the most elegant women around. Instead of her usual aggressive shove, she gently pushed him away, a rare moment of restraint.
"Hands off," she muttered, turning her head in the opposite direction, arms crossed, nose tilted toward the ceiling—her face still burning red.
Obsidion laughed, rubbing the back of his head, glancing awkwardly at the ceiling, then down at the floor. His hands sank into his pockets, his own face faintly tinged with color—an uncommon sight for him.
Meanwhile, Travis and Synthena stood side by side, exchanging glances. First at each other, then at Absynthe and Obsidion. Then back again.
They chuckled—at first quietly, then erupted into hysterical laughter, breaking the awkward silence.
Clutching their stomachs, they couldn't hold back, the sheer absurdity of the moment sending them spiraling into amusement.
Obsidion turned, his expression flushed with confusion. "What's so funny?"
Synthena and Travis paused for a second, hunched over from laughing too much, their gazes shifting between Obsidion and each other.
Then, as if the realization hit them all over again, they collapsed into laughter once more, their amusement filling the now lively hallway of students on their break.
The passing students, though keeping a slight distance, giggled as they witnessed the scene, the air charged with lighthearted energy.
Obsidion, still demanding answers, continued yelling in their direction, growing more flustered by the second.
Travis and Synthena, however, refused to respond—leaning fully into their clownish antics, making the moment last as long as possible.
And Absynthe, ever the composed presence, watched with serene amusement, her laughter quiet but genuine—a graceful contrast to the chaos unfolding around her.
****************************************************************************************
In the far distance, unseen and unnoticed, Celestia lingered against the corner of the wall, her body pressed against its surface.
Her nails scraped against her lips—biting at them in quiet desperation, frustration curling deep in her chest.
Her emerald-green eyes, once sharp, now clouded into a murky haze, a deep musky green reflecting the silent storm brewing beneath.
She muttered under her breath, words incoherent—fragments of nonsense slipping past her lips, tangled between resentment and fleeting amusement.
Yet her focus never wavered.
Her glare remained fixed on the Absynthe, burning with an intensity she refused to name.
And as their laughter filled the hallway, her anger swelled—unspoken, but unmistakable.
**************************************************************************************
Celestia approached a small group lingering in the hallway, her presence unnoticed until she was close enough to be seen.
Her emerald-green eyes, once vibrant, now shadowed with veiled anger—hidden beneath an illusion of kindness.
The group before her—known among students as the 'popular girls'—turned, their gazes sharp, assessing.
A girl with a high-pitched, honeyed voice spoke first.
"What do you want, pest?"
Celestia lifted her head from the ground, meeting the girl's stare with a bright, unreadable expression—an outward smile masking something darker beneath.
Another voice followed—masculine, cutting, dismissive.
"Scram. You're not welcome here."
Then a third, deeper but controlled—a tone meant to reinforce the insult rather than deliver it outright.
"Yeah, nerds like you don't belong here."
The words fell effortlessly, part of a routine—a rehearsed cruelty, delivered without hesitation.
Yet Celestia didn't move.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, but her expression remained calm, composed, dangerously steady.
She parted her lips.
"Did you hear—?"
The silence shattered.
Her mouth moved, shaping words no one could hear, yet the effect was undeniable.
A swift, victorious smile curved her lips—a silent power shift, turning their own game against them.
The group stood there, faces obscured, their style the generic perfection of 'popular girl fashion'.
Yet something changed.
Their smiles grew.
Celestia had caught their interest.