The silent sisters sat, one to a side and between them their rivalries entwined. And symmetry be damned. One sister sported purple dreadlocks; her fingers folded red paper into 3-dimensional stars. Each point was a sinful seduction, needle-sharp and ready to prick the unwary. She grinned at her shadow, which mimicked her leather-clad movements and imagined throwing her stars. Where would they land–in countries far away or near at hand to trip up the cousin spying on the verge?
Across from her sat her twin, a skirt wearing waif who perched, all prim and proper in her sweater set and pearls, as she worked on her project. She had flat-ironed hair flowing down her back, chemically induced and shiny. She concentrated on her craft and maintained her poise as she traced lacy designs with her exacto knife. Sliding the paper with manicured hands, she smiled at her work.
Keen she was to edge past her goth sister’s productivity and produce snowflakes each unique from the last. Then their father would have to agree that she was the more talented of the three. She spared her sister’s metal-studded face a glare. The girl looked like a pincushion; she had that many piercings and it made her shudder, setting her pearl earrings to swinging.
Of their brother, neither gave a thought. After all, what good could come from a test tube? Everyone knew that creation was an art not a science. It was a craft made with skill not an accident of chemicals and proteins. Well almost everyone. For neither sister had informed their lab-coat wearing brother of that fact.