Sunlark Siblings

 I leaned back from my chair to have a better look at my sister who sat on a bean bag, a few feet away from my desk. “Hey Devora!” I shouted towards her, cupping my hands in vain.
“Shut up, Sharlay” she replied, without offering a glance-worth attention to my greeting.
“So, you are still playing, right?” I asked. She was busy fiddling with a pea popped from its cover. I assumed she absentmindedly picked it up from the vegetable basket which Mom kept by her side. Eat your carrots, Daisy, she had said. A typical day in our life together. Boring and fun, simultaneously. 

“How about Devora and Sharlay have a sword fight today? Can Devora beat this fierce ruby studded sword?” I spoke, while I braggingly swayed a jelly-red carrot towards her. Daisy was quick in her actions-she grabbed my ruby sword a.k.a. carrot in her fist and analysed it for its imperfections. For a second, I believed that she did have extensive knowledge of edible weapons and ammunitions. Then, she handed my ruby sword back and proceeded to pick a cucumber from the vegetable basket. “Devora prefers emerald” she said, her wide grin revealing two missing molars. 

I settled in my sword fight position which I had apparently imitated from a Shaolin monk in a Discovery documentary. Daisy took her stance as well, probably some pose taught in her evening karate class. 

“For SUNLARK!” we roared our battle cry.
 We charged with our swords (or were they vegetables?) towards each other. Daisy clanked (or whatever onomatopoeia is appropriate for cucumber and carrot hitting each other) her sword against mine while making hee-yaa sounds from her vocal chords. Next few minutes were filled with immense exhilaration and exhaustion (later only applied to me as my opponent threw her cucumber, pardon, emerald sword to my right arm). I fell down with an epic staggering walk. 

“Sharlay, you are bleeding. You have lost your right arm. Surrender!” said Daisy in her rusty-Devora-voice. 
I got up, dusting off non-existent dust from my clothes, as I responded, “Sure, you have won, Princess of Sunlark. I and my army shall withdraw from your grounds at earliest.”
She smiled victoriously and then stared at my perfectly-fine right arm. “Sharlay”, she spoke in a hushed-Devora-voice, “Why do we fight?”
I smiled. “You see,” I said “Sharlay is the Prince of Sunlark. He gets to fight in real battles, which his sister, I mean, the Princess is prohibited from; because she is young and smaallll” 
She grunted something under her breath.
I continued, “Sharlay has fought many battles and lost some of them too...”
“MOST OF THEM!” declared Daisy with a matter-of-fact expression. I chuckled, “okay, so Sharlay loses all his battles with Devora on purpose so that Devora can win as many battles as she can, before stepping into real battles”
“Whatever” replied Daisy, looking at her emerald sword as if appreciating it’s swiftness during our little fight. 

Doorbell rang. Mom was back from work. I stood up to open the door, which can also be counted as a penance for my failure in sword fighting. Daisy tugged to a corner of my shirt and asked, “Shawn, can’t you extend your holidays to stay at home?” 
I shook my head in declination. “Eat your ruby sword, Devora.” I added. 
Daisy puffed up her cheeks and began munching on carrots, while I ran to open the door for our mother. 
I heard Daisy speak in bold-Devora-voice, “Sharlay is my best family member.”

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