Chapter Text
Standing at the foot of the basement door was none other than Remilia Scarlet, mistress of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. The girl found herself in her standard daily outfit, a flowing, pink dress. Incomplete without the red accents, of course. A clock read twelve o' seven just along the nearby wall, adding atmosphere to the library itself. Candlelight flickered nearby, and Remilia tapped her foot impatiently. She knocked only a few seconds ago, but her demands could sometimes be bratty.
Not that she'd ever admit it.
In the vampire's hands rested a fancy plate, which cute, teensy cookies resided, the smell of blood and meat appetizing to the mistress. Flandre deserved her food, after all, and Remilia sighed as she reached up to knock the door once more. Usually this was Sakuya's job, but today was a very special day. Flandre's birthday. While a little unnerved by her younger sister, Remilia did like to make sure she didn't forget this festive occasion - besides, it wasn't as bad as she made it out to be. Remilia had plenty of love for her!
"Flandre!" Remilia whisper shouted, careful not to disturb Patchouli across the library. She leaned forward against the door as she spoke, before outright opening the door and stepping in, her voice huffy.
The door creaked open, revealing the light glow of protective magic, preventing only Flandre from leaving. She looked around - and the room was in a state of disarray. First off, the covers were ripped to shreds. Sharing a similar disastrous fate, the pillows were tastelessly scattered on the scarlet carpet, a warning to any plush sensations that the bed should be a home to. Though the bookshelves were mostly intact, a handful of books had been thrown to the wind, resting on the ground as if it was their grave. Many pieces of paper were scribbled over in what looked like a fit of rage, almost torn.
Despite everything, Flandre's room, and the magic warding held. Remilia sighed in relief, as her eyes finally zeroed in on her younger sister, who was sitting on her bed. Flan’s face was buried in her hands, and she seemed shuddery. Oh, this was a bad day. Remilia couldn't help but grimace, feeling a hint of guilt. Maybe she should visit more often, even if it's awkward.
"Flandre, you did not answer me." The older vampire says with a frown, sliding the plate within the confines of the ward but not actively stepping closer. She was already past the first sealing barrier, and had no interest in breaching the second or third. Clearly, no expense was spared in keeping Flandre a prisoner. "I wanted to wish you a happy birthday." Flandre's fingers tense at that, as if she'd been stabbed.
Remilia held her own hands together, balling them as she gently rocked on her heels. "You know that I love you, right?" She speaks, raising her brows, a cocky, bratty smile plastered on her face - with genuine care just underneath. Anyone who knew Remilia well could pick it out. "I always visit on your birthday, and I was thinking of asking Patche to expand the wards. Maybe you'd enjoy some more freedom?"
Flandre's hands agonizingly draw downwards, her nails digging into her skin, as her head slowly turns up. Those piercing red eyes were staring daggers into her older sister and bearing the wrath of a youkai scorned. Flandre’s face was despoiled of joy - her cheeks were hot with a flush, and her eyes were puffy. These were the signs of a notable mixture of sadness and anger, and Remilia tensed. Was this another tantrum incoming? On her birthday? That wouldn't do. Maybe fate could be turned another way.
"My birthday." Flandre started. "Was yesterday." Her eyes, like a pair of shovels, dug into Remilia's very soul - and Remilia could only stare forwards in guilt. The words, icy and calm, were jagged like icicles.
It seems she had forgotten her own sister's birthday, and the realization revealed itself. An uneasy frown settled upon Remilia’s face, her mouth hung agape as she tried not to stammer. "I did forget." She admits, making eye contact. Remilia's face is mournful, regret rampantly running through. "I'm sorry. I do not have an excuse to offer you," She bows her head, before the rest of her form dips alongside the gesture. She wants to double down, she wants to have her way, but this was not okay.
And as the older sister, it’s her job to take care of Flandre. She failed.
"Sister. Thank you for bringing me my food." Flandre spoke, wiping her eyes. She hopped down from her bed, looking judgmentally at Remilia. She picked her plate up from the ground, and placed it on her bed. After everything was put in place, Flandre approached the edge of her barrier, a hand resting on its walls. "I don't forgive you."
Remilia winced, her posture stiffening further, growing distant. Emotional detachment was well on its way. She could feel her own eyes start to grow wet, though she fought tears. She only cried alone - not in front of Flandre, nor Sakuya, nor anyone. "I understand." Her voice is quiet and solemn. "If there is anything I can do, call for a maid." She looks up, her gaze hurt.
Flandre seems to be lost in thought, before excitement slowly bubbled on her face, reaching a broil at a breakneck pace. Where there used to be solemn rage and rancorous sadness, there was something new, and a little scary, at that. "I'll come up with some ideas, sister." She says, leaving Remilia with a smirk. "For now, go away.~" She giggles quietly, as if a lightbulb went off.
With a nod, Remilia turned around, and her wings folded up behind her. Plaintively, she walked through the door, and closed it firmly, a satisfying click escaping its confines. Her face was distant, and she silently strode down the halls, regretful of everything. If only she could redo the past day.
Deep within, she considered ways to make up for this. Her offer of extending the wards was genuine - though maybe a guided walk around the mansion would be healthy...? Maybe more food - or mandatory social interaction, or...
The halls echoed with Remilia’s footsteps, contemplative and slow. The fairy maids avoided her - knowing best that when their mistress was gloomy, she was best left alone.
Alone time would suit her. A taste of the medicine Flandre knows best.