Balance of Darkness

Triste

   Triste liked painting. It was simple, methodical, and you didn't have to be talented for it to be considered art.

   People would usually leave you alone if you were painting, especially if you had mastered the skill of always looking deep in concentration.

   And best of all, you could describe anything you wanted with a set of acrylics and a brush. Without a single syllable leaving your tongue, you could sing an entire symphony of emotion on a canvas. 

   Triste didn't just like painting, they loved painting. It was their favorite pastime, and their parents had even set up a small studio just for them. 

   As Triste's choice rock music flowed out of the speakers on either side of them, they trailed the soft bristles of their brush across the soft canvas. A bold shade of red trailed behind like blood. 

   "Wonderful metaphor," They whispered to no one in particular, smiling at their own morbid nature. 

   Triste looked like your average teenage artist, wearing a white, long sleeved shirt splattered with paints and jeans (also covered in splotches off paints). 

   Their blue bangs hang in front of their eyes, and they had to frequently brush it beneath their ear. 

   Their electric blue eyes were concentrating fiercely on their work, and the smallest distraction drove them crazy- even something as small as having to push their glasses back up.

   "Champagne, cocaine, gasoline," They sang quietly as their brush trailed along the surface of their canvas. Every five minutes they would switch paintbrushes, taking special care to wash each off in a glass of water and letting it dry. 

   "Triste!" Luna shouted, running through the door she managed to open. Triste smiled at their younger sister, who was too young to know any form of hate.

   "Hey Loony," Triste smiled, placing their brush on the bottom of their ease as they stood to meet their younger sibling. "Whatcha up to today?"

   "Mommy wants you!" She shouted in a slightly squeaky voice, ignoring Triste's question. "She's in the food room."

   Triste smiled a little at Luna's cute habit of calling rooms by their main function. The kitchen was the food room, her bedroom was the sleep room, and the library was the sleeping room. 

   Luna did not share Triste's love of reading. 

   "Tell mom I'll be down there in a second," They ordered their sister, picking up their brush once more. "I need to finish this painting."

   Luna once more ran through the door, stumbling as she tripped over the carpet. Triste allowed their self a moment to smile before going back to their work.

   After five minutes of foot tapping and nodding to the beat, Triste took a step back o admire the result of an hour of work. 

   "Not bad," They mused, admiring the swirl of colors. Although Triste love realism, they often did abstract to keep their art style loose. After they washed out their brush, they made their brief journey to the kitchen.

   As a member of the Drachma family, Triste's family was rich. Even though Uncle Jonathan inherited the company, not Triste's father, they still had part of the income. 

   It was their grandfathers wish, as his siblings never got along when one got the company and the other didn't. Apparently they didn't talk until one of them died, and as a result, the one who got the company didn't want the same thing to happen to his sons.

   And despite the fact that even a small fraction of income from the family business was enough to live on, Triste's mother went and bought a branch of banks at an insanely cheap price because it was failing. Through hours upon days of nonstop work, it became a success and brought in more money than Triste could count

   So, in summary, Triste's family was stupid rich. And you could definitely tell by just a short trip down the hallway.

   The carpet was spotless, which was impressive since it was almost a perfect white. This was due to the constant cleaning it endured. The wall was also smooth and clear, although Triste thought that maroon might not have been the best choice of color.

   "Hello mother?" They called, as they entered the kitchen. It was one of the few things servants weren't hired to do, since Triste's father had a love of cooking. As a result, it was outfitted in stainless steel and state of the art cooking utensils.

   "Hello Triste," Their mother greeted, standing next to her husband, who was currently cooking. "Your father and I would like to talk to you."

   "About what?" They asked, although they already knew why they were called in here. It wasn't that hard to figure out.

   "About how you seem to think you don't have a gender," She replied, confirming Triste's suspicions.

   Okay, let's back up. 

   Triste was non-binary, which is a term describing any gender that is not exclusively male or female. It was a hard concept to grasp, but Triste didn't care if people understood. They just wanted people to call them 'they'.

   "I've already explained this to you, mom," Triste groaned, crossing their arms. "I don't care if you think it's dumb or not. Please just call me by gender neutral terms and I will be fine."

   "This is outrageous!" She snapped, causing her husband to almost drop her spatula. "You are my daughter, and I will not refer to you as anything else."

   "I regret telling you anything," Triste sighed. "I thought parents were supposed to be accepting of their children!" 

   "This is a completely different situation!" Their mother shouted over the popping of sizzling meat on the stove. "It's not about me not being accepting, its about you thinking you're thing that you're not! What am I supposed to tell people when they ask if my kid is a boy or a girl? 'They don't have a gender, they identify as non-binary'?"

   "Yes, exactly!" Triste replied, throwing their hands into the air. "Is that so hard to say?"

   "Honey, your mothers just wondering where this idea came from," Her father attempted to calm down the two as he poured the ground beef in a strainer. 

   "Myself!" Triste shouted. "This idea came from myself! I don't care if you don't understand why I think this or what it means to be non-binary, I just want you to act as accepting parents."

   Triste's mother looked like she was about to explode, but instead just closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

   "Your Uncle Jonathan is going to be watching you and Luna when we go on our business trip," She said calmly, regaining her composure. "I expect you to behave as if you were in the company of a potential business partner, and take care of your sister."

   "When are we leaving?" Triste asked, leaving the prior argument behind. 

   "After dinner. You will be at your uncle's house for a week, but we have already had your clothes packed. You can pack an extra bag if you wish."

   Triste nodded and escaped while they still could, sprinting down the hallways. When they entered their room, they slammed the door behind them and leaned up against the wood. 

   "Please let Richard be accepting," They groaned as they started packing.

A/N

If you didn't know, this is a sequel to my earlier book Balance of Light. I would recommend you read that one first, not just because I want more reads, but because it will make this one easier to understand.

Anyways, thanks for reading! Give me your feedback (I always read comments and reply most of the time) and vote if you liked this chapter. I will try to update again soon.

 

Until next time, 

Undertaker