EXT - Between buildings near the docks; day
Dorian had followed the tall neighbour of his around now for some time. Today though, he'd caught a chance to do what he knew he should not, but also had to. So it was that he jogged around ahead of the taller man and made himself ready to do what he planned. He'd intended to pop out and pull the guy bodily by a lapel into the shadows between buildings, and growl the urbane leanings of his upper crust English accented voice quietly to inform the man, "We are overdue for a talk, Mr. Roesler." It was a risk, of course intercepting the man thus, but it was neutral ground, the elder twin figured.
Once there he'd step up into the other's personal space, but drop his grasp. Wide silver eyes burned with a smouldering unlight, the sort that came from the burnishing of several lifetimes woven through strange arcane angles producing the blond, heap of curls and compunction in front of the other.
Niles Roesler: If Roesler had any suspicions about the elder twin's plans he did not show it. He made no efforts to change course or turn into a building for security, instead wandering along his chosen path from the pier with a casual sort of disregard for the blonde dancer's ominous lurking. Even when Dorian lurched out to grab him by the lapel Roesler's face twisted into a look of surprise, eyebrows raising above shock-parted lips. His eyes, though. Behind the round spectacles those tri-color irises met the intense burn of Dorian's silver gaze with something like satisfaction - like an expectation surpassed, a wish granted. He seemed... pleased by the outburst, enamored by the change that came to the young man's features.
"It seems we are," he said quietly, tilting his head to let the shadows play across his face. Dorian was stronger than he was without a doubt but he offered no struggle and did not respond in kind after Dorian released him. Roesler merely straightened out his vest and shirt and lifted a hand to remove his glasses so he could fold them neatly into his breast pocket. "What sort of things shall we discuss here, away from the prying eyes of your kin, hm?" There was a tingle, a subtle vibration in the Aether around them as Roesler reached telepathically to search the area for any hidden things that might be ready to jump him at Dorian's behest.
Dorian had nothing beaming from him other than a raging tangle of unsettled feelings where the other man was concerned. Ones he'd been desperately trying to govern. Dorian did not try to read anyone often, nor even to guard his own loud feelings half the time. The governance he did allow for was shown by a deep breath taken and a half-step back, while bright fervor danced in silvery irises. The Englishman actually huffed out that breath, and tried to start reasonably, without even pointing at Roesler, though his hands were loosely clutched, not quite fists, "I am glad you have befriended my sister. She is a bright point in this world, deserving of every and any thing she desires. Be it you, or swimming in the coves under the stars. But you know the rest, do you not?" By the end his smile had curved into more than half a snarl.
He did not want to have to say threats, he figured the rest of what was unsaid could be accounted for by brotherly love in all its shared cultural implications. Even for those who perhaps did not love their sisters quite so much, nor so long.
Niles Roesler took a step further into the little alley, humming thoughtfully as he regarded the man and his barely-kept control. His eyes slid down to settle on the fists and for a moment there was the slightest little push of encouragement, seemingly from nowhere unless Dorian really wanted to go delving telepathically. Would it really be so bad to punch Niles? He didn't even have his glasses on... surely he'd recover. But the little urging flickered away, silencing itself so quickly it could easily be construed as an intrusive thought, in and out without a second's notice.
Dorian's phrasing put a little twitch of a smile on his face. "If I didn't knopw better, Dorian... I'd assume you waylaid me here to threaten my well-being in the event I did something to harm your dear sister," he said, sounding appalled. Roesler paced in the little space they shared, tucked in the shadows of the buildings. Meandering footsteps brought him closer to Dorian and he paused, tilting his head to look at the man. "Miss Dinah is a lovely woman and I will indulge her so long as she wishes to keep my company. It's honestly unfortunate that doing so puts us so starkly at odds... or rather, places me in the eye of your displeasure. Is there nothing to be done about that, Dorian?"
Dorian stared up into the tall man's face and he imagined punching him, smashing a fist into that well-shaped jaw. It silenced him, and made him close both hands into proper fists. The desire to do so saw him step toward Niles again, a place he did not want to be, because that just emphasized the height disparity, so that he had to tip his blonde head up. He'd short out at the man's question, not knowing how to take it. What it meant. Splitting the difference, Dorian let loose enough to aim a pair of fingers at Niles' chest to give him a little shove. This came out of him before he could manage words. In the following moment, he followed up with a derisive snuffle, "Displeasure? You harmed her already. And you got her to ask you to do so. That sort of cunning makes you dangerous, even more than the long tall shadow of your name in this town. I am watching you. Do not slip up. And stop looking at me like I am something to bloody study." He'd meant to keep himself even toned but he'd gone to hissing by the end, and angered by how calm Roesler was.
Niles Roesler took the shove with his fingers with a little 'uff!' and a minute step back. He furrowed his brow and put a hand over the spot Dorian had poked at, feigning more hurt than was warranted. "There's little cunning in offering a dear friend an invitation to dinner... even if that dinner has a premise most parties do not. She felt no pain and she was mended after the fact, Dorian. But yes, I suppose you are right." His hand dipped into his pocket and when it pulled out again a short knife was in it, a dark wooden handle and the beginnings of a jet black blade disappearing into a leather sheath. He offered the thing hilt-first to Dorian. "Would you rather equal the harm? Return the favor, so to speak? Would it comfort you to visit the same hurt on me?"
Dorian was freaked out by the offer, but that didn't stop him considering something so freely offered. Something he'd imagined doing more than he would care to imagine. The harbour was right there to drop the body in. He lifted a hand to reach for the strange proffered weapon, unto a hand hovering over it while he looked into the dark eyes. But at the very last moment, the Englishman shook his head and took back his hand to himself, took a half step back. "Wha--" He was bewildered and heard his sister's voice pulling him back, "No. I do not know what you are about. You--" Even he was not so dumb as to take up someone on such an offer, sorely tempted as he'd been. It was a confusion to his impulses.
It was emasculating to have experienced what he did that day. Chained and fainting. So much so that he'd not even bring that up, because that would mean living it aloud rather than just the burning self-loathing over it. And his twin had sanctioned that too. It had driven Dorian to this distraction, and following up with trying to make sense of this whole encounter he'd started, "I am not sure comfort is destined between us. Nor pleasure. I am not Hansel."
Niles Roesler pulled the dagger away once Dorian took his hand back. Back into his pocket it went and soon Roesler was moving to rest his back to one of the walls and cross his arms. "I do not see you as Hansel," he replied with an upward gesture of his hand. "And I am no witch." He rested his hand on his own chest again, drumming fingers against the fabric of his vest. "But if you are resolved to view me as some kind of monster, so be it. I will not force any fondness from you, I bear too much respect for you and your sister, and your family as a whole." There was the slight hint that he was referring to his own psychic abilities there... but he didn't elaborate, leaving Dorian to come to his own conclusions as to how the man might force certain feelings.
Dorian tore both hands through his hair and grunted stultified anger. He'd remark without schooling himself, "Godsdamnit! This would be easier if you were not so bloody reasonable all of the time, Mr. Roesler. Nor courteous. I could well and truly hate you. Be convinced of the monster at the center of the tale." It took everything in him not to mention the legless boy that had come to his house. And the dim one in the family did not register psychic disturbances. For him it was a secret way he talked to his sister, his brother on the outside. Untrained, restrained, illuminating the nebulous mass of his aura like heat lightning, and he'd growl again, "Just, forgive me the intrusion and ah. Ahm-- God grant you good morrow."
The fists went clenched again. He hated coming off like some sort of brute and arse, but there had been no way around it. Losing a composure contest to a... a... Roesler. He'd make a courtly bow, and when he rose again hold up both hands as if to show he'd every plan to not engage in
Dorian: fisticuffs.
Niles Roesler: It took immense amounts of patience and well-praticed poise for Roesler not to react to his outburst... or give any psychic inclination of the amusement he felt at seeing the man so undone. Roesler sighed as Dorian clenched his fists, shaking his head. "...the tale. If you mean the rumors - there are plenty. And I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific if you'd like me to accept or reject them as truth."
But Dorian was huffing, bowing to excuse himself. The two raised hands get a glance each and he nearly lets the elder twin walk away before calling after him. "Dorian. Do you fence?" he asked.
Dorian had an almost literal cloud of vexation over his head as he stalked blindly away. He was already turning his thoughts to how to not bring this up to DInah. He'd probably covered for it by wishing Niles a good day and apologizi-- The memory of the ring of unsheathing steel punctuated the parting shot to the shorter and fairer man's ears. He'd halt, spin on his heel, and his mouth opened up to a great broad grin. This under eyes that were alight with bad and ill-formed, ill-conceived ideas, "Of course I do. Well, I fight, with a saber. What, you do? With those willow-branches for arms?" It'd be hard not to see the hungering for a fight possibly fulfilled, nor to hear it in the mockery he'd leveled in his bouncing back and forth between civility and the other thing.
Niles Roesler finally allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "For sport, Dorian... I do. Though I suppose a more... true to life match could be arranged. I was hoping to offer you a chance to vent some of your obvious frustrations." He tilted his head and nodded upwards. "There is a fencing club at the Academy. If saber is your choice of weapon, saber it shall be. Your sister could watch, if you like. As could anyone else you'd bring to such a thing." The comment about his arms won Dorian a little chuckle. "There's something to be said about reach," is all he said.
Dorian canted his head to one side, looking Niles up and down again, as if evaluating him in a new way. He'd not comment on the parameters, but instantly replied, "I am afraid we must now that you have brought it up. For sport. First blood. I should like that very much. Send me word of when you are free from your usual butchery to attempt to tilt at a more lively target, hm?" He was nearly leering at the possibility to test himself against the man in a forum that even Dinah could not protest. It was not the gladsome smile of a happy-go-lucky young man which the elder Windgrace twin usually tried to project.
Niles Roesler smiled sinuously. He stepped to Dorian and extended a hand. "Soon. Sport... and first blood," he said. If Dorian shook his hand he was given for the first little glance behind the Glamour that hid so many of the true details of Roesler's appearance. Scars seared over the backs of his hands almost like a lightning strike. A vicious bitemark sat on the side of his face just above the jaw. That red that dashed through his eyes WAS blood and it moved, almost swimming through the blues and greens of his irises.
Dorian reached out his hand and took hold of Roesler's. He did not falter when blasted with the conception of the man's true form. When something other than tall German showed itself to be in those deep eyes usually obscured by glasses. His own half-unhinged smile only broadened. He'd nod his acceptance of those terms and keep his troublesome tongue behind his teeth.
New to needing glamour, his was fixed in place largely by self-conception. But the discerning sight might see otherwise. A flare of electrum through the eyes, the impression of wings like no angel would possess. Deadly pallor. Ultimately as he moved back first, glad to take his leave in earnest, he'd remark, "Looking forward to seeing you then, Roesler."