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You shift uncomfortably under Remilia's gaze when she asks for your name. “Well?” the childlike vampire asks encouragingly.
“Most demons don't actually have names,” you explain after another verbal prod. “Most are referred to by their title or position. I, myself, don't actually have a name, as well.”
Remilia tuts softly and twirls her finger in the air. “Well, we must call you something,” she remarks. “How about . . . Sonja?” You're about to protest being named such, but Remilia continues by explaining why she picked that name for you. “You remind me of a figure skater I saw perform in the 1930s. Not so much your personality, mind, which, let's be honest, leaves much to be desired, but your figure. You're quite slight, like she was. But you have an aura of strength about you that matches hers quite well.” Despite the compliment, your vision still starts to shift blue out of irritation, which prompts Remilia to laugh briefly and haughtily before sighing. “And you really need to work on your temper. I can't have you blowing up on my guests at the smallest slight.”
You calm yourself quickly enough, but something Remilia said sticks out. “Your guests?” you ask, confused. “Doesn't this library belong to Lady Patchouli?”
“The library does, yes,” Remilia says matter-of-factly. “But the mansion the library is housed in belongs to me.” She raises her wrist and absently examines the timepiece on it. “There's one guest, though, that you're permitted to attack, specifically because she won't stop stealing books.” The sound of doors being slammed open startles you, but Remilia just sits there, unperturbed. “In fact, she should be showing up within the hour, if she hasn't already.”
“Is that not her coming through the doors?” you ask.
“The aforementioned guest isn't strong enough to force the doors open like that,” Remilia explains drily. “And besides, she comes in through the skylight. My sister, on the other hand . . . .” Remilia trails off with a smirk and finally gets up from the table. “She's very excitable, and it's about her reading time. No doubt Koakuma or Sakuya has told her of the new resident, and she wants to meet you.”
"Speak of the devil and she shall appear, or so they say,” Koakuma cuts in before either of you can say anything more. “Lady Rem, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of offering the demoness here a pair of your skates.”
As soon as she hears this, a mischievous glint forms in Remilia's eyes. “I don't mind,” she says, looking at you with that mischievous gaze again. “Consider them a welcoming gift, Sonja.” You don't like the way Remilia puts emphasis on your new name, especially given that you haven't had a chance to protest it yet. Still, it's better than being called “Lady” or “Demoness” all the time. Better than nothing. You quietly take the skates from Koakuma as Remilia heads away from the reading table and towards the main doors. While you examine them, Koakuma herself flutters away quietly, leaving you alone in the alcove. Seeing not much else to do, you sit down in the chair and try the skates on. At first, they're a little awkward and heavy on your feet, but once the laces are tied and they're no longer hanging loosely, you notice that the skates actually fit quite well.
With that done, you place the blades flat against the carpet and use the table to pull yourself up. As expected, standing on such narrow surfaces is extremely awkward, at first, and you almost collapse in your efforts to balance on them. Still, you manage, and after only a few minutes of stepping, you're capable and confident enough to try walking without holding on to the table. A few minutes more and you consider yourself ready to try actually skating. Focusing, you kneel and place your hand on the carpet in front of you. A small field of ice starts forming as you spread your power out, but with the control added by placing your hand on the carpet, you make sure that it doesn't spread too far and that no matter where you are on the ice, you'll have something to grasp in case you lose your balance.
Once you're finished, you stand up, but before you get a chance to actually step onto the ice, a red-eyed blonde drops down in front of you with a “Hiya!” Startled, you backpedal, only to trip over the blades of the skates and fall unceremoniously onto your rear.
“You must be the sister I was told about,” you say, annoyed, but keeping your temper under control.
“Yep!” is the blonde's only response. You can't quite see the resemblance between the vampire sisters, but they do, at least, have similar magical auras. “Name's Flandre Scarlet. What's yours?”
Taken aback by the rapid-fire introduction (and the completely asymmetrical ponytail on the side of her head), you only manage to respond “My what?”
Flandre hops off the ice and twirls in midair before landing next to you. “Your name, silly!”
You're about to use the name Remilia gave you, but you decide not to. “I don't have one,” you proclaim.
“Oh?” Flandre lowers her head so it's level with yours and you can see her smirking out of the corner of your eye. “But didn't my sister name you Sonja?” Before you can protest that you didn't actually agree to that name, the energetic vampire blows into your ear and hops backwards, annoying you further. “Don't care, really, if you don't like it. It'd be rude to Remi if I didn't call you that. Anyway, since you're gonna start skating, can I join?”
You stand yourself up and brush yourself off, trying to repair your pride. “With what skates?” you ask, not bothering with the blonde's rapid subject changes. Flandre doesn't answer, instead pointing to what looks like another Flandre carrying a pair of skates similar to your own. The more you watch the lookalike, though, the more it annoys you. Not because of the skates, but rather because the lookalike is prancing, or skipping, rather than walking. Finally, your annoyance comes to a head, and you thrust out your arm, creating a patch of ice underfoot of the lookalike. As soon as it steps onto the ice, the Flandre copy slips and comically struggles to regain its footing before giving up, falling, and throwing the skates up into the air only to be caught by yet another Flandre lookalike, this one floating in midair.
“That wasn't nice,” Flandre says, poking your outstretched arm to regain your attention. “Anyway, what's it gonna be?”
 ”Uh, sure”
 “Absolutely not.”
---- “You can watch, though.”
---- “Go away!”
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