Zero is so damn angry, I can see the hazy rippling waves of mana coming out of her body as she bends down, and touches her toes.
The living room is spacious, and our moves languid.
I follow behind her as she leads me in a series of stretches while Heela watches on.
Heela watches with her tight bun, and a new crisp black uniform.
Her tea cup is tipped every so often as her green eyes roam my limbs.
The stretches start slow, become complicated, and then Zero slows the tempo once more.
It is not an issue, at least for me.
Zero is hateful.
Yet it is a childish hate.
The stuff that breaks toys.
Heela breaks kingdoms.
Priorities.
"That will be all, thank you Echo".
"My lady".
She walks away with steady steps as I rise, and place my hands behind my back.
'Doesn't she have shit to do'? I ask myself as I glance at her empty tea mug.
"What are you thinking"?
"You look like a painting".
