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Amani listened attentively, absorbing each syllable that passed from Ayra’s lips, her hands still on her pen interesting, Amani thought to herself as Ayra continued to talk, *‘quite the interesting viewpoint’*Amani smiled.
“Most succumb, you know,” Amani ventured, her voice a blend of lament and admiration as the pen danced between her fingers. “They relinquish their very souls, bowing to the ceaseless tide of conformity.” The pen ceased its ballet, orienting itself towards Arya like a compass needle finding north. “But not you,” she declared, her gaze fixed, the pen now a directed arrow. “Yours is a perspective most singular.”
The sparkle in Amani’s eyes sharpened, mirroring the edge of her thoughts, yet her smile was restrained, as if smiling wider would be doing too much. “England—this patchwork of contradiction and tradition—how could we ever dream of bland uniformity? And even if it were so, what virtue lies in sameness, in the abandonment of one’s own sartorial script?”
Once, they had been what people would call friends, companions in youths whispering secrets and horsing around, the world in their hands- the way a child would normally think. Arya has always been close to Amani’s siblings after all, they treated her like a sister, welcoming her with open arms, and laughing with her. Amani too had laughed with her and played with her, although at first, Amani did not like Arya- no upon their first meeting, she had been quite ‘indifferent’ to Arya, but that had changed as soon as Arya spoke and Amani knew from that moment that she was bound to befriend Arya.
So then what made them fall out? To say it simple, it was the same thing that made Amani like Arya- her unbridled perspective, her opinions or more so her opinions on a certain person that Amani often found herself at disagreement with.
" Flatter will get you everywhere, Amani,"
“Oh, will it now?” Amani replied, her voice laced with equal parts amusement and challenge. Her pen hovered momentarily, as if punctuating her next thoughts. Amani leaned closer, a small smirk on her face, and her eyes glinting with amusement, “But perhaps I’m not aiming to get everywhere,” She leaned back, bringing the pen close to her lips, the tip grazing her lower lip as Amani traced Arya’s sharp features with her eyes, her eyes going from Arya’s brown eyes down, “Just the right places,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry. “And besides, could I truly call myself the fashion police if I only liked the conventional?” Amani said, matching Arya’s playful smirk, “The unconventional has a certain allure, wouldn’t you say?”
With all that, their conversation had shifted to more ‘philosophical’ ones, one’s that were very cryptic and some would have considered strange. “Both, I think it’s both,” Amani began, “I reckon that he fancies himself a puppeteer, pulling strings from behind the scenes and making us play games that he wants to play,” Amani raised her coffee high in the air as if inspecting, “And his daughter, like many parents like to think, is his biggest and favorite puppet. And he hopes we can all be like her, but that is not quite possible now is it?” Amani mused, dropping the coffee back down. Some of us might be Icaruses, but we others are the very sun itself or more like the very fire itself. We are the thing that burns." Amani chuckled, reaching out for her to drink to take a sip. Dropping it down, she picks at her toast, taking a small bite of it.
With a faint smile, Amani raised her drink in a silent toast, “Should we toast then?” Amani questioned, “To transcending limitations,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper “and embracing the full spectrum of non-conformity.”
To Arya’s agreement with Amani’s perspective of success, Amani had responded playfully, a hint of laughter dancing in her eyes. “There is always a certain truth to what I say,” she remarked, her tone lighthearted yet confident. “I might be b*tchy but every now and then I try not to be a liar,” she teased, “Quite glad we can have a similar ground on success,” She winked.
When Arya had asked about Amani’s life, Amani had brought up birds or more so what a little birdie had told her to which Arya had questioned. “There are a lot of things you don’t know of me Sellenova. These days I think I’m fancying myself a bird woman, favorite might be the crows so far- read a book about them and who knew they were so interesting.” Amani grinned, “You know, if you were a bird, I fancy that you would be a raven, another favorite of mine.” She remarked, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was a subtle nod to Arya’s sharp wit and mysterious demeanor, traits that seemed to align with the enigmatic nature of the raven.
Shifting the attention from her and her life, Amani had summoned a napkin with a flick of her wrist and then asked about Arya’s life, intrigued to see just what Arya Leina Sellenova was up to. “Keeping busy, hmm?” Amani echoed, her tone light and teasing. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to keep life interesting. Filling it with secrecy. Care to share any hints of what busy means or has a little birdie also told you to keep quiet?” Amani asked raising a brow.
Just as the conversation was easing itself, their game of chess- sorry their conversation tensed and for a second, Amani had allowed it to stay tensed, until she began to laugh out loud, covering her mouth with her hands. Very funny Amani had said, reaching for her bag, and pulling out a gift. A gift from brother Atticus. Amani watched Arya’s reaction to the unexpected gift, allowing a moment of silence to linger between them. Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk, a rhythmic beat echoing the tempo of her thoughts. One, two, * trois*. she counted, sitting up as she began to speak, a sardonic smile playing on her face . As Arya responded smoothly, her tone carefully neutral, Amani couldn’t suppress a smirk. It was amusing to see Arya play along, maintaining her composed demeanor even as she navigated the intricate verbal sparring match they often engaged in.
“It’s easy,” Amani said leaning in, “If you insist on taking everything with a grain of salt, then don’t think of me as ‘everything’. Think of me as Amani-the one you take as your sweet indulgence” She rubbed her fingertips together, “Or simply remember, I’ve never been just anyone to you—just as you’ve never been to me, even now, in our most tensed of moments.” Amani’s gaze shifted towards Arya’s drink, she grabbed it with one hand, bringing it close to her lips but not at a touching length “Mind if I take a drink?” Amani asked, setting the drink back down, “What’s in it? Smells like chai,” she said, leaning back into her chair. Amani already knew what it was, it was easy to guess but she still felt the need to ask.
At Arya’s next words, Amani could not help but to laugh, her smile wide and genuine. “Oh, I have no doubt you can handle more than just a little bite,” she quipped, a playful glint in her gaze. “But how much do you think you can really handle?” She challenged, raising a brow.
She leaned forward slightly, mirroring Arya’s knowing look. “Indeed, tension does add an exhilarating edge to our interactions,” Amani agreed, looking back at her book then at Arya. “It’s like a dance of minds, each step carefully calculated yet filled with spontaneity.”
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