In MotO 1.1
Fix every wandering though upon
That quarter where all thought is done:
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul
{My Self}.
- A Dialogue of Self and Soul - William Butler Keats -
The sky was bright and clear overhead, but in the distance, the occasional crack of thunder rolled and echoed. Dark clouds towered over the islands; swaths of mist and rain hid the rocky outlines from even the sharpest eyes.
Serena carefully poured steaming tea over two sugar cubes stacked in the middle of a rose-petaled porcelain cup. She motioned with the tea pot toward her brother. He waved her off, staring out at the building waves. She set down the pot with a thud that got his attention.
“I don't know why you are so moody these days.” Serena stared at Juan, her spoon stirring the tea without ever making a sound. “It's that girl, isn't it. Your fiancee. Carol?”
“She's not my fiancee any more, Seri.”
“No? Did you elope when I wasn't paying attention?”
Juan glared at his sister. “Damn it, Serena. No. She's gone. She left me a note saying it was over.”
“Then, may I have Mother's ring back?” She held out her hand.
He turned his gaze back to the sea, defeated. “I can't. I said she's gone, Seri. I can't find her. I've had our people looking for her, I even called in a favor from Ari.”
“Ari Deverdad? Really?” She sipped her tea.
Juan straightened his shoulders. “I'm sorry, Serena. There has been no sign of her for several weeks now. I'm afraid I won't be able to get Mother's ring back.”
“Such a pity. Are you sure you wouldn't like some tea before it gets cold? It's quite good today.”
Juan stood and walked away. Serena smiled, sipped her tea, and pulled the morning paper out from under the napkin where she'd tucked it. She'd always protected Juan, and she always would.