[/nothing that you ain't done|*south)

Misa had never been a morning person.

Obviously she could overcome her night owl tendencies, seeing as she woke up every mouning at four o'clock sharp to go out and do the morning chores, but just because she would rise didn't mean under any circumstances that she'd shine. Artemisa Fei was not one to be trifled with in the morning, unless of course you had a death wish. Sunrise found the petite seventeen year old feeding the horses, occasionally taking a pause in her task to reach up with a flannel shirtsleeve and wipe off the thin sheen of sweat that gradually collected on her forehead. Blowing a damp strand of obsidian hair away from her face, Misa inwardly cursed the impending warm weather. Summer would be here soon, bringing with it endless stretches of unbearably hot and humid days.

Lugging the huge feed bags around exhausted her after a morning full of other chores, but Misa continued to push herself knowing that soon Essence would be up and about to give her some help. Her parents had always seemed to favor their adopted daughter over their biological one, allowing Essence to sleep in while Misa worked herself to the bone, not to mention letting her get away with absolutely everything. She supposed that she should probably be bitter about it, but what was the use of fighting something that would never change? Once the last horse in the stable finally fed and watered, Misa walked outside into the already-warm morning air, leaning up against a fencepost to catch her breath. It was only by chance that she noticed the reflective head of copper hair bobbing away down the street towards town.

Dark eyebrows quirking up in a skeptical gesture, she leaned over to get a closer look. In addition to the brilliant orange shade of the hair, the bouncy gait of the distant figure definitely indicated that it was indeed her sister. Growling irritably, Misa slammed the stable door shut before turning on her heel and setting out after Essence's retreating form. This wasn't the first time her adopted twin had pulled a disappearing act, leaving Misa with a day of chores for two people. Well, not today, because she'd been caught in the act.

Age-abused cowboy boots kicked up little clouds of dust as Misa scrambled up the dirt road after her sister, finally catching up enough to be within earshot. "Hey! Don't even think about it, Essence. Get your ass back to the house and do your chores, because I'm not doing your work for you again."

For being less than two hours apart as far as birthdays go, Misa couldn't help but realized just how different she was from her sister-who-was-not-a-sister. Stark sunshine beat down upon the two figures of girls who both stood at five feet, four inches, but the comparison stopped there. Misa's jet black hair lay long and straight in comparison to her sister's vibrant bob of orange curls, obsidian eyes glaring angrily into blue-gray ones. Essence managed to look more put-together, as always, but Misa acknowledged that her work getup of sensible jeans and a flannel-button up accentuated with messy hair and a sweaty face wasn't exactly her most fashion-forward ensemble.

Still panting a little from her run, Misa pointed a callused finger back in the direction of the farm. "Go. If you don't I'll tell Mom, I swear, and she'll take your guitar again."

((Oh, my. I'm sorry about how long this took. And how awful it is. I'm going to have to play around with her to get a writing style that I like))

((Eh, I'm switching as well))

My eyes narrow to dark slits, arms folding across my torso as I give an irritated huff of air and shake my head at Essence's infamous apathy to stuff that actually needs to get done. She's my sister and I love her, but sometimes I could literally just grab her by the throat and shake her (and I mean that in the most familial, loving way possible). "No. No girls' nights, especially since it's eight o'clock in the morning. But I'll cut you a deal, sis. You go back, and I will help you with your chores. Help you, not do them for you, and I will neglect to tell Mom that I caught you sneaking out again. And in exchange, you cover for me when I skip therapy tomorrow."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of "therapy." We live in a dirt-poor district in a dirt-poor part of the country, and psychiatric help is only available for the rich (like my family), and even then it's not the real deal. My "therapy" consists of sitting in some annoying lady's living room and being expected to sit and talk about my problems until I magically stop having panic attacks. It's a completely pointless waste of time, and I can think of a million better things to do. So I do them, regularly, walking up the road like I'm headed to my next session before sneaking around the back of the house and into the barn so I could saddle up Starr and go riding. The only problem is, Mom caught me last week, so slipping under the radar is going to be a bit harder than usual without help from a certain irritatingly lovable little ginger cherub that I call my sister.

I see how she works, playing our parents like a pair of bongo drums. All it takes is a smile and a request to come hear her new song or help her with her homework, and they practically fall over themselves to get to her. I'm not bitter that Essence gets more attention, I've never really liked the spotlight anyway, but her magnetic charms certainly make it easy for me, the snarky, caustic, pretty-much-unlovable child to get away with all of my illicit adventures. It won't be the first time she's been a diversion.

Smirking flippantly, I stick my hand out for her to shake, a ritual that's been around since we were little. "We got a deal?"