empathy

THIRTY-ONE

Jasper's amber eyes fly over the shelves in front of him, books of all sorts and a few pictures placed upon them.  Fairy lights are covering up the chipped wood, pictures are hung up between the shelf and the door and the wall opposite of the shelf is decorated as a sort of book wall, lighter and darker pages of different books serving as wallpaper. A few stuffed animals and even a pair of dolls are on the floor in front of it, next to them a few diaries and an old wooden box.

"What are you doing in here?" Anastasia appears at the door, arms crossed in front of her chest, seemingly hugging herself and her feet not stepping a millimetre across the threshold. "Apologies. I was looking for something to read," he replies, not lying about that. 

By now he has read the books in her room, the books her sister reads or gets read from are mostly fairy tales or Disney stories and nothing he would read. 

Anastasia's eyes stay on him in a scrutinizing manner before a sigh escapes her lips. "It's split up in genres. It starts with classics, detectives and mystery, essays, fantasy, historical, mythology poetry, romance and true crime," she points to the different parts. "Alphabetical order?" Jasper raises a brow, coaxing a hum of agreement from her. 

"Is that you?" he nods at the pictures hanging between the door and the shelves. "Yeah," she nods simply, her eyes on the lower of the two pictures. It shows her when she was a few weeks old in the arms of her mother. The other picture was made the same day, her father is with his back to the camera holding her and Anastasia is looking straight at the camera while her mother is kissing her forehead. 

"You were adorable," Jasper turns to look at her, a teasing smirk on his lips. "What? You're saying I'm not anymore?"  she looks at him, playfully offended. "Like a tigress."

Her eyes narrow at him for a moment before she shakes her head slightly. 

"Here," Anastasia steps into the room, aiming straight for the shelf to pull out a book to hand to him. "An army of dawn. The story starts with operation TORCH, the invasion of Marocco and Algeria by American and British Troops. Biographical information, tactical considerations, eyewitness accounts and a narrative about a too unspoken aspect of World War II," she summarizes. 

"You've read all these books?" he asks astonished. "More or less. I'm missing some romances and poetry," she shrugs before turning to leave the room. "Oh, and uh, thanks for yesterday."

--- -- -

"What ya doing?" Antonina walks up to Anastasia and stands on her tippy toes to look over the counter.

The older girl looks down at her sister and picks her up, swiftly sitting her on the empty space next to the one she's using to cook.

"Cooking," she replies, washing her hand once more to get back to cubing the pancetta in front of her. Antonina watches fascinated as Anastasia cuts the vegetables and lets them stew in a saucepan. "What ya cooking?" she asks curiously. "Lasagne. Bolognese," Anastasia sends her a not so convincing smile. Still, Antonina is too young to decipher the meaning behind it, the lie behind it.

"Help?" she offers.

Anastasia looks around and eventually gets a back of gloves, handing two of them to her sister. "You can stir this alright. But try not to get too close because it will sputter and that tends to hurt," she comments. Quickly showing her how it's done, Anastasia makes sure to keep an eye on her while she finishes up the rest.  

Antonina sits on the counter and watches Emmett attempt to make her some pancakes. Though he is failing miserably. 

"Too much butter," she eventually throws in after coming down from yet another giggle fit. 

Throwing in a few remarks and comments when he tries again. "How do you know all this?" he asks her and adds some melted chocolate to it until she tells him it's enough. "Anastasia. I watch her," Antonina replies shortly. 

"Anastasia cooks?" he raises a brow. He's mildly surprised by this but then again he has seen her with her sister before and really shouldn't be. "Everyday." 

Both of them watch nearly anxiously when he attempts another pancake, both of them grinning when it works. He puts it on a plate for her and adds some chocolate sauce before handing her a fork to try it.

"And?" he questions hopefully. "Chocolately," she grins, her teeth a dark brownish colour and her mouth still stuffed with food. Emmett shakes his head with a chuckle and proceeds to make some more, even making one for himself just so they can make silly faces at each other with their mouths and teeth smudged with chocolate.