Meliora - Emanate - 02

[lady_mab]

Lionel Darcy

I was only supposed to take a half day at work. That was the reward for cramming in a last-minute project. But instead, my boss -- ever gracious and giving man that he is -- decided that I had to stay. Something about “a new shipment that needs to be programmed” or whatever. 

Suffice to say, all I heard was “I’m a Lying McLiar pants and you’re going to work a full shift and there won’t be an actual lunch break because these needed to go out yesterday glad to have you on board”. 

Everyone in the store was called in, and we slaved away for the entire day programming a new set of tablets for a summer school class at the university. Why they didn’t think of this sooner, or why they waited until a Friday to ask us to do this, I’ll never know. 

As soon as I’m able to leave, I do. Lia kept the phone for the day, so I sent an email letting her know I am finally on my way home. 

It’s a brief walk through the east side of the city center from where the computer shop is to the train station on the north. I could catch the bus if I wanted to, but after sitting in a cramped back room with ten other programmers, I’m glad for the open space and fresh evening air. There’s not too many people on the streets, either. 

Of course not. It’s a Friday. They all got off work early. 

Once in the station, I find myself staring at the incoming and departing trains. All lines end within the city boundaries. 

What I am here to tell you is that it is not a problem of desire: You cannot leave. 

That’s what yesterday’s email said. 

The trains do not leave the city. The busses do not even leave their district. No one has cars. There is no airport. We are a shrunken, condensed version of what once used to be the Greater London area, fleeing the approaching Thames. 

No one leaves Eminence. 

The approaching train whistle breaks through my thoughts as I jump in surprise. 

Rubbish. That email is absolute shit. There is no way that it’s true, because if it was, someone would have noticed by now. 

I pull my earbuds out of my pocket and flick them on. The heavy sounds are enough to drown out the spiral of thoughts that, for a moment, believed someone calling themselves The Program Manager could be telling the truth. 

My stop is five away from the city center, and it’s no more than a thirty minute ride. Another quick walk from the station to the apartment I share with Liala. The elevator is still not working, so I have to take the stairs up the four flights to reach our floor. 

Feet dragging down the hall, I want nothing more than to just collapse into bed and not think about anything for a good twelve hours. 

So it’s a bitter disappointment when I push open the door and see Rhys sitting at the kitchen table. 

Liala perks up from her spot across from him. “Lio! You’re back!” She slips out of her chair as Rhys twists around. “We were beginning to worry that the food might get cold.” 

“No,” I say automatically, shrugging my computer bag back onto my shoulder after I had started to sling it off. “You didn’t tell me he was coming over.” 

Her blue eyes darken and she stands blocking the rest of the apartment from me. Somehow, even though we’re both the same slight size, she can manage to make herself fill up the entryway. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Lia, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

That’s her plan. She wants to talk to Rhys about the email and she wants to take it as A Serious Thing. 

I wish I had proof to show her that it wasn’t real. Save for that brief moment at the train station, I hadn’t given it any further thought. I need someone to blame that isn’t her, and despite my initial gut instinct, isn’t Rhys. 

“We need to tell him.” 

I drop my voice to a whisper, reaching out for her arm and pulling her into my space so that the conversation can stay between the two of us. “What good will it do? We don’t know if he got an email. We don’t even know what it means to ‘participate’.” 

She rolls her eyes and lets her arms heave in a monumental shrug. “He’s our brother. He’s family. We’ve got to tell him.” 

It’s weak logic. We’re not obligated to do anything because he’s our brother. It’s that line of thinking that we always clash on. 

We’re twins. I hate it when we can’t agree, and yet the biggest issue that we can never find solid ground on is Rhys. 

For his part, our older brother sits silently at the kitchen table. His back is turned to us, so I can’t see what sort of expression he’s making. 

Defeat settles in. I release her arm and let the strap of my bag slip down my shoulder. “Why does this matter so much to you?” I know that if I allow myself to think about it, then I will want to know why there are no trains out of Eminence -- I will want to know how they are keeping us all seemingly ignorant, and how they picked us. 

The fight leaves her expression as soon as it does mine. Her eyes are cast toward our feet and she fidgets beneath my stare. “I want to see Mom and Dad.” 

Guilt, sharp and heavy, explodes in my chest at her words. It’s been five years since we arrived in Eminence from Bainbridge. The three of us, all we had left, packed up and moved to an unfamiliar city when Liala and I were just eleven years old. 

We haven’t been back to see our parents’ graves since then. 

“Alright,” I finally say, words leaving my mouth with an unfamiliar weight. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.” 

She beams, and some of the pressure releases from my chest. Taking my computer bag from me, she flounces back to the kitchen table. 

Rhys looks up from his phone, thin lipped smile of concern in place. “Everything alright?” 

“Fine.” I don’t mean for it to come out as annoyed as it does, but that always tends to be my tone when speaking to him. “We’re fine.” 

Liala frowns at me, though it smooths back into a smile when Rhys turns to her. “You were just talking about work when Lio came home. How is Kaito?” 

He reaches for the containers in the middle of the table, popping the lid off the first one and letting the warm smell of curry waft out. “He sends his regards. He says you should come by and visit, but he also knows I don’t want the two of you hanging out at his bar.” 

“I wouldn’t think about it if we didn’t have to fight him for your attention.” I drop into my seat and reach for one of the containers. 

Liala nudges me in the side with one of her sharp elbows. “We haven’t seen him in awhile!”

Rhys doesn’t respond beyond the slight purse of lips. To him, Kaito is his accounting firm’s client first, and best friend second. His usual line of thought is that ‘Kaito is a terrible influence’, but that would be a lie. 

He opened his own bar and dance club at nineteen. How much of it staying in business is due to my brother being his accountant is unknown, but it has been five years -- and he’s well on his way to start a second. 

“Lio,” she scolds without any real frustration behind it. 

He finishes setting out the food and passes around the plastic cutlery. His silence is rather uncharacteristic. There has been no scolding of my inability to clean up my computer equipment, or telling Liala that she’s looking better than the last time he saw her.

Granted, he could have gotten that out of the way before I came home. There’s something in his demeanor, however, that makes me want to push. 

“Everything okay?” I ask, and he looks at me in surprise. 

Wire rimmed glasses aren’t enough to disguise the tired circles under his eyes. He’s been overworking himself again, to make sure that Liala and I can live on our own. “I texted you yesterday because… Well, I received an email--” 

Liala’s fork clatters from her hand.  “You got one of those, too?” 

It’s a bit of a leap to assume that he received the same email from that line alone. Only there is something unsettling in his expression that clearly says she’s right on the money. 

“I deleted the message after reading it. I wasn’t certain that the two of you would have received one, so I didn’t want to bother.” Rhys sets his spoon back into his untouched food. “I didn’t even want to think about leaving Eminence without you two.”

A small, guilty flutter sprouts in my stomach, but I’ve perfected the art of ignoring it. “Well? What do you think about the email? It’s obviously a fake, isn’t it?” 

He releases a heavy sigh. Sometimes I forget that he’s only ten years older than us. Our brother, not our parent, even though he has to play both roles. “I don’t know. We don’t know who is behind this so called game, and we don’t know what sort of intention they have with releasing this email.” 

Liala practically bounces in her seat. “Are we going to sign up, then? Since we both received an email, that means we both can.” 

“What,” Rhys snorts. “All three of us?” 

“Yes,” Liala says at the same time I say, “No.” 

Rhys’ brow quirks as he glances between the two of us. “You haven’t discussed this?” 

“Lionel was convinced that it’s fake--”

“I’m still pretty certain--” 

“And I wanted to wait to see if you got one before pushing the topic.” Liala twists her fork between her fingers. “Now that we know you have…” She casts a glance in my direction. 

My mouth curls into a frown and my fingers tap out an agitated rhythm on the tabletop. “The email was sent to our joint account.” 

“So?” 

“That means it was meant for someone named Lianel Lions, not Lionel or Liala Darcy.” 

“That’s one email address, Lio. You’d think that they would do more searches than that if they’re selecting us for a game like this--” 

I cut her off and hold up a finger. “First, remember the prince from another country discussion yesterday? What sort of research do you think he might have done?” 

She opens her mouth to argue back, but I keep on talking. “Secondly, it was originally a backup account meant to keep track of shit like who sells our contact information--” 

“Hold on.” 

I choke on the rest of my words as soon as Rhys speaks. He doesn’t have to raise his voice or make any sort of gesture. The anger coats every word. 

Liala, for her part, sits silent at my side. 

“What makes you think that it’s this character of yours that got invited?” 

At this point, it’s a matter of spite towards Rhys. “I transferred the cellphone to that name and I opened a saving account--” 

Obviously the wrong answer, but I knew that before saying it. A part of me just wants to poke at Rhys. 

He responds in kind. If he had feathers, they would be ruffled to twice his size by now. 

However, it’s Liala’s small sound that gets Rhys and I to drop the argument. “So it is Lianel Lions who is invited…” 

I don’t trust myself to rein in the bitter frustration, even in her direction. My hand flops vaguely on the table. “Yeah?” 

“You created one person when there are two of us.” 

To my surprise, Rhys has nothing to add. His hazel eyes merely flit between the two of us. 

Something comes loose in my chest and slips down to the pit of my stomach. “Lianel was the one that was invited.” 

“So?” Her eyes flash in anger and I’m reminded that just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we have to be similar. I thought I was looking out for her, but she’s not on the same page. “Because I can’t get a job? Because I spent months in the hospital when we first got here?” 

“Liala--” Rhys tries to get in a word, but it’s not enough to stop her. 

“You can’t just go and decide things like that for the both of us! I’m your sister, not your other half.” 

I flinch back at her words, and I can hear the gasp that catches in her throat as she realizes what she said. She’s right, of course: I’ve spent so long trying to be the other part of her. The strong one, to make up for the fact that she was born small and weak and barely breathing. Problems that have stuck with her for sixteen years. 

“It’s not--” There is nothing I can think to say that might make it better, so I trail off and make another vague gesture with my hand. 

Rhys breathes and pinches the bridge of his nose. There are two red crescents from his glasses. “If the email was sent to a joint account, then you both can’t participate. They’ll be expecting one person, not two.” 

“Yes, we can.” Liala grits her teeth in determination. “We look similar enough. And if Lio was reckless enough to make Lianel so all encompassing, then I will participate as well.” 

“I don’t--” I start, but she pins me with a glare. I can only admit defeat by holding up my hands. “Okay, fine. We will go to this dumb meeting and see if what this ‘Program Manager’ has to say makes any fucking sense.”

Done with the conversation, I grab my spoon and take a scoop of the curry to my mouth. 

A few seconds pass before Rhys cocks an eyebrow and asks, “What is with the look on your face?” 

It takes a considerable amount of effort to swallow. “It’s gotten really cold.” 

He laughs, which isn’t the reaction I’m expecting from him. Seconds later, Lia joins in even though she is rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. I just look between the two of them, feeling like I’ve missed whatever joke set them off. 

All the same, the tension breaks and we’re back to being three siblings sitting awkwardly around the tiny kitchen table.