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"Harry, my darling sister, look at me. You're not even looking."
Ianthe's voice grated on Harrow's nerves. She was focused on the mirror, trying to get her paint right. A practice which, historically, Ianthe had not had much patience for before. "If you call me that again, I will strangle you with your own horrible arm. I can see you in the mirror, you look fine."
"Which one?" Ianthe asked, obviously trying to be annoying. "Harry? Or my sister?"
"Both." Harrow was not in the mood tonight. Dinners with the rest of their new family were awful. "You have a sister, and thankfully, I am not her. You can call me Harrowhark or Nonagesimus, but you cannot call me Harry."
Apparently ignoring every sign to the contrary, Ianthe walked in to her room like she was welcome there. Ignoring the fact that they spent most nights together these days, she should have known she wasn't. Harrow was not eager for another "makeover" experience. "Oh, but Harry, you are my sister now," she said, trailing gilded bone fingers across Harrow's shoulderblades. "Like it or not. And what's not to like? I already have lots of experience being a sister. I'm the best damn sister anyone's ever had."
Harrow sighed deeply, leaning into the touch in spite of herself. It was comforting, and one she was getting used to. "I wouldn't know. I am an only child. What do you want, Tridentarius?" She set aside her paint to look up at the other girl, really taking in her appearance for the first time that night.
Ianthe was wearing a white and gold suit, tailored to her body in a way that nothing she'd worn since arriving on the Mithraeum had been. The jacket, white trimmed with gold, was layered and left mostly open over a top that was sheer from the collarbone down to her rather low neckline and lace where it wasn't. The pants were tight and high waisted and cut from the same fabric as the jacket, and hugged her in a way that made it hard for Harrow to look away. "I wanted you to see my outfit," Ianthe said, smugly watching Harrow take it in. "What do you think? Handsome, right? I miss getting ready with Corona, you know. We used to gossip and compliment each other, and sometimes she'd demand I do her hair or her makeup for her."
Harrow watched her pose, grateful that at least she'd already gotten most of her paint on. That meant that there wasn't really a way for her blush to show. The comparisons to Coronabeth were ignored. "You do look very handsome," she said, and then quickly went back to her paint.
The other girl lingered, looking satisfied by the compliment. "I wish you'd let me give you a makeover again. I have more ideas. I could make you look pretty, if you wanted. Or whatever you prefer."
"I prefer," Harrow said quietly, "to look like the Reverend Daughter."
"Well, you're certainly good at that. But if you ever wanted to try something else…" Ianthe wrapped the bone arm around her shoulders, leaning down in a way that let Harrow get a glimpse of her cleavage through the sheer fabric in the mirror. "I promise I'd make it fun. We could do it on a night when we're alone if you'd like. Just you and me, perhaps a little wine, and some clothes and makeup."
When she put it like that, Harrow had to admit that it didn't sound so bad. If it was like the only other night she'd agreed to share a little wine with Ianthe in the confines of her room so that she didn't have to look at those truly horrid paintings, then it might even be fun. She frowned in thought, adding the last couple of lines with a stick of black paint while Ianthe watched silently. Waiting. Finally, she set the stick aside and turned her face toward Ianthe's. "Fine."
"Really?" Ianthe sounded surprised and delighted. She looked like she wanted to go for a kiss on the cheek, but decided against it last second. It wouldn't do to turn up to dinner with paint on her mouth.
"Yes, really. Fine. Tonight, after dinner. We'll meet in here, but you're bringing the wine." Harrow stood, grabbing her robe. Ianthe grabbed it before she could, wrapping it around her with careful hands. Harrow accepted this treatment, gathering up the fabric, and followed her sister lyctor out into the hallway.
One way or another, tonight would be interesting.