As he walked across the house, a faint light peeked in through the curtains. He pulled back the drapes and absorbed the magnificent sight in front of him. A gentle glow from the moon enveloped their garden, if it can be called one. The balcony overlooked the brick path extending from the main gate. The gate itself remained shut though not for long; soon the guests will begin arriving. Their mansion is situated on a large area of flatlands and his mother seemed absolutely determined to cover every inch with tulips. Indeed, on the other side of the hedges that framed the path, tulips covered most of the garden. Of course, everything was neat and orderly; the hedges were trimmed, the brick path was clean, the tulips were constantly watered and not a hint of rust can be found on the gate. Even the marble floor of the balcony gleamed in the moonlight. Aristocracy had to be perfect.
In the middle of the ideal scene, standing on the balcony, was his younger sister. She looked completely out of place. By that, he did not mean that his sister was not good looking: Standing there in her cream-coloured dress, she looked incredibly ravishing. She had inherited their father's dark hair and their mother's blue eyes, though a shade colder. Her pose, however, was an entirely different matter. Her hands were clenched in a fist and she stood in a manner that defied the very fiber of the world. He could almost feel the antagonistic vibes flowing from her. He could not see her face, for she hadn't turned around, but he was positive that she was scowling.
His eyes wandered to the sea of tulips again. The thought that they suited his mother crossed his mind. The tulip's petals close in on itself as though it is trying to protect its core. It was a very conservative and gentle flower while remaining an elegant one. His mother is one such person; kind, gentle, elegant. His sister, on the other hand, had none of those qualities. Her beauty was a wild one and her personality was all over the place. She defied the natural order of things and her mood spiked and shot in all sorts of different directions. She was a nigella among tulips.
A headlight appeared in the distance signaling the arrival of the first guests. It was time to put on their perfect faces and weather the storm.
"Dear sister," Eras simply stated.
