INT - Windgrace Manor; evening
Dorian was fresh in from riding, smelling like horse and booze. It was a post-dinner ride, one oft-repeated of late as his sullenness needed somewhere to trample. Irene did not mind the evening rides, she was glad for the madcap pacing and certainty. The ribbon his twin had tied into his hair was in his pocket, and his long honey locks were wild and wavily tossed behind his back. He'd been moody since Di had gone and gotten her tail, as usual Roesler irked him greatly. He'd been moody long before that, truth be told back and back into true youth. Accustomed to that as his normal state of being, he'd pause once inside to note who was around, pulling his flask from his pocket first, only to remember just how dry it was, tucking that under an arm while he reached into waistcoat pocket for a smoke, and a light. He'd guide his footfalls depending on who was abroad, and amend his surly expression just the same. The butler and maids would get courtesy. His siblings, well, only the gods could tell.
Either way, he had a song he was humming, half still issuing from his lips as he arrived home.
Drystan Windgrace was sitting downstairs near the fireplace, smoking and staring off into space. He had been busy in the last few days, but it seemed like he was busy all the time these days, and now, he just needed to sit, and think and do not much of anything. He did look over though when Dorian walked inside, watching him as he did. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and then finally after a moment, greeted him, "Ahoy there. Have a good ride?" He looked back down at his hands, picking aimlessly at his nails.
Dorian: “I did, yeah, I saw the first firefly I have seen here, then about seventeen more, you ah.... Ahm--” Dorian trailed off as he moved to the sideboard to get a bottle of brandy to make up for his empty flask. He didn’t bother pretending he’d be leaving aught in the decanter, just carried the thing wholesale over to plop down opposite his older brother, offering it over and ashing as he finished, “What about you, have a good ah... things going well with your special friend?” What his brother got from him was a person who decided not to be cagey but instead didn’t want to face whatever was going on upstairs with their sister.
Drystan Windgrace snorted a laugh, "Special friend? Is he imaginary? He's my fiance, his name is Hector. You can say those things you know. There's no bias here like other places might have." He shrugged and took a long draw fro his smoke. "He's been okay, had a bit of a cold, and he's got a lot of work at the Apothecary. ....Unless you meant any other special friends I may have lurking about?" He lifted his brows and leaned forward, to take a swig off the brandy. "oof." He licked at his lips made a little face. "You're going to get drunk off the brandy now? You sure you don't want some whiskey? I have it, upstairs, I think..." He looked around and then did laugh, reaching under the chair and his little stash of "supplies" from the night Niles turned up bloody on the doorsteps. "Here, I've got all kinds of mischief in here, including this!" He pulled up the crystal decanter and pulled the topper, sniffing it. "Ohhh thats better." He took a glug and sat it down on the table between them followed by the rest of the stash.
Dorian buried his response to his inability to say fiancee into the lip of the decanter and straight chugged a few adam’s apple bobbing glugs before setting the thing down on the table. Exhaling the burned sugar heat of it, tossing yellow hair back over his shoulder, he’d watch his brother pull the supply box of stuff from some hidden pocket of reality and stubbing out his smoke, explain, “Just enough to get to sleep, and not start any arguments. That’s the golden amount, really.” Silvery eyes were aflame with unspoken feeling, but he’d turn them quickly from his brother’s face to the bottles upon the table, as if ferociously considering which to pick up next.
Drystan Windgrace leaned forwards and shook his head. "You two still at odds? well..." He took a deep sigh and pulled the bedsheet filled wit potions and morphine and quite a bit of pixie dust along with other things like Special joints roled with some of the fancy powderthan made you so very chilled out. He actually pulled a couple of those out and tossed one AT Dorian, purposefully letting the little thing boink off his cheek into his lap. "THen THAT is all you need. It actually lasts too. Trust me on it." He dropped the little napsack by his feet and frowned some. "You know she came to me. To have a heart to heart. We havent had one like it in many years. SHe talked about Paris. I told her what we did, what I did." He took another drag and held it a moment before speaking, exhaling as he did. "You know that she's scared to death to even make a friend? Did you realize that or had you known?" He lifted his brows at Dorian expectedly.
Dorian looked with curiosity more than covetousness at Drystan’s stash, but when he got a particular preroll tossed to him he’d put it in a pocket, then grab up the brandy again, answering, a snap answer rather than a heartfelt one, “She came to you? She--” He huffed a breath of temper then continued with more measured words than his first choices, “--must it be Roes-- so it is as bad as that. She... finally Drystan we are here and we are free and she’s after some fucking fairy, like the butterfly boy?” The notion that he had to get in line behind the German stringbean hadn’t been his favorite, hadn’t been one he’d allowed himself to really believe. Of course for Dorian there was no consideration of friendship, no half measures considered, just all and nothing. Just the parental lesson, the certainty that anyone who wasn’t kin was after something.
Drystan Windgrace paused a good long moment, having been so content to not argue with anyone over anything, but here they were, and there Dorian was, head shoved up his arse, again? Still? "Yes she fucking came to me. And it is nothing like that. Nothing at all. You're a shit as well you know. Assumptions. If you knew anything about anything you'd get over yourself and see the forest for the damn trees." He snuffed, and took a drag off his dwindling smoke, thinking he may need the other anyhow at this rate. He closed his eyes and exhaled softly. "Dorian, I love you. I love you with all of my being and more. I've spent my whole life watching you, helping you, shielding you when I could. But At this point I am done shielding you from the world. Father's dead and now all you have left is his ignorance to bear on your shoulder, large chip it is." He put both feet on the floor, leaning forward with elbows on his thighs, gesticulating. "Dinah is afraid that if she tries to make any sort of friend, she will wind up doing what she did to the butterfly boy. That she can't trust to not, ...up and kill a person because of some ...obsessive intrusive thought enters her mind and she cannot shake it. SHe's afraid she's going to become a monster. That she won't be able to function. Are you listening to me? She asked if I would be able to do the Ritual myself if she were to lose herself to the corruption. She has real fears, and you're here worried if she's trying to bone Niles. Well, She's not, and I have - so what now? You going to kill him cause of me? Course not. For fucks sake Dorian, open your eyes?" He just stares at his little brother, a mixture of disbelief and incredulous sat there.
Dorian snapped up from his chair, ready to storm away and not have this conversation. But the one upstairs wouldn’t be any better so he just leaned down again, plucked up the brandy out of pure stubbornness and chugged several glugs of it before wiping the excess and his vitriol onto his sleeve from his lip while he stood there fuming with temper and brandy. With what he didn’t care to own to, which was fear. And he’d loose a question based on that rather than answering any of the unanswerable, “So... hn... I suppose YOU aren’t worried about any of it? About how fast she’s changing? Any of us are? Half the nights I dream I am running through the fucking stars looking for something to kill, and I know it’s him. I know where he is. I could do it tonight. Solve everyone’s problems. Maybe I will.” More chugging was to be had the decanter wasn’t empty and he felt more fire in his belly than ready to sleep truth be told.
Drystan Windgrace watched as Dorian popped up from his chair, all piss and vinegar. He knew nothing he said would make him happy, but at some point, something has to give. He watched him as he drank, spat out his words, and spoke of dreams and what he thought he'd do. He didn't stand up to meet his brothers stance. "I'm concerned, but it's the island. its the Aether, and its the fact that there are others here that follow the same path we do, believe with hearts and mind what we know to be true as well. The Gods are blessing us as well as testing us. She's changed the most because she's the most in tune with them." He pulled the smoke out of his mouth and left it to die in the ashtray. "Your dreams hm? What about ours? What do you think we dream of? You should know that Dinah likely dreams of the stars as well, and you along side her. I don't care to share mine with you, but what I do know is that we are exactly where we are supposed to be, with the people that are here, and that includes him. You will do no such thing, all you'd do is make a bigger mess of everything and you know it." He grit his jaw and folded his hands together as Dorian drank more.
“You two seem to think so. You fucked him, Drystan?” He grit his shapely angular jaw at that information against the urge to say more and went off pacing a couple bow-legged steps. His gait bent that way due to long years of horse riding, and his mind never went long from the notion that it was his to safeguard the clan, it was what Charles had honed him to an edge to do. Without that voice present all that was left was him, to say, “Even if you did, or SHE did, it doesn’t matter. He is not one of us. It doesn’t matter what he does, even though he’s after something the pair of you do not care to see. You could if you tried, you know. You’re supposed to be the smart ones for gods’ sakes.” The silver of his irises, staring at his brother alit with golden colour from around the angles of time where he stood angry and aflame with wings, ready to flap his way to glorious bad ideas.
Drystan Windgrace took this as his opportunity to stand up slowly, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he did, though they were already folded back. "Yes. Yes I did. Want the details? Just dip your little mind into mine and have a gander. "He is not one of us, no. But that hardly has anything to do with anything. Blake technically isn't one of us. Hunter isn't one of us. ....Delilah. She's not one of us. So they don't matter? 'He waved his hand and shook his head. "Sadly, I think you're right, that maybe I am the smart one. I'm also the only being in this realm of existence that is keeping you alive, so watch your fucking tone. Remember the tarot cards? Was it you that was DInah's King? No, no it wasn't. You should serve your Queen and respect whom you're speaking to." His eyes flashed a warning at Dorian.
Dorian: || There it was. The truth he cared not for, but believed; and while not exactly cowed, he did take a moment to close his eyes, take a breath and consider his next move. Rather than push his luck any further he pulled forth a false and tight smile to settle upon his lips. When his voice issued again it was softer, almost a mockery of politeness. He'd reply, "Excuse me, my liege. I stand ready to follow orders."
A heelclick followed, and salute, crisp, naval. That all wound its way up into his posture which went rigid, and he'd bark, "If there's nothing else tonight, SIR!" Clearly he was thinking of trying his odds aloft if this is how things were going with his elder brother. Hide behind formality, why yes he could.
Drystan Windgrace sighed and rolled his eyes, tongue flicking over his eyetooth. "Don't do this shit Dorian, You aren't a child anymore." He shook his head side to side. "We are at wit's end with you and this ... obsession you have. What's it gonna take hm? To shake you free from it? For you to admit you MIGHT have been wrong? No one is asking you to like the man, you can avoid him and call him names behind his back all you like." He lifted his hand and pointed at Dorian, emphasizing each word that came next. "You will fucking leave Niles Roesler alone. You want orders to follow? There. Your first. Will you fail? Do you care?: He shook his shoulders upwards. "I don't even know anymore Dorian."
Dorian fumed without any new understanding nor knowledge nor peace falling upon him. He’d not answer, he’d not plead his case with Drystan anymore than he did with Charles. He felt his brother knew better. Knew more. Yet still had chosen a stranger. He stood at attention and made clear his intentions, though none of them were allowed to be his own, “I shall leave Niles Roesler alone.” He’d turn then and head into the kitchen to rifle through the larder to find something to destroy with his teeth though he wanted nothing. Only he hadn’t been dismissed so he couldn’t very well leave the floor. He had to give his elder the chance to demonstrate further revulsion over the abortion he was, sure Dinah and Drystan could be happy if he’d never been born. Though he’d said nothing further, though he’d not traipsed nor trespassed into his brother’s recollections of Roesler, he’d closed himself off from either sibling, ready above all else to seek solace in his room alone.
Drystan Windgrace shrugged at him. "I am truly sorry that we are failures in your eyes, that we are so dumb and blind and playing at being fools. But it is good to know how you really feel about her. About me. She's a possession, and you ...you think whatever you want to think about me. I've stop caring." He leaned over and took up the decanter, and whatever else of his and toss it into the sheet, and then bunch it up to make so he could carry the whole lot off. One potion rolled out, a beautiful silvery tincture, iridescent. He picked it up and held the little bag of stuff in the other. "Here. This ...wont do me any good. Maybe you can use it. Elixir of Life. I've got a thriving one on this island already and Dinah is becoming more herself than she ever has been and more in touch with the Gods. So here. Drink hearty, and it will rejuvenate your life's spirit, or at least give you a chance to get one." He rolled it between his fingers, watching it shimmer and move within the glass. He stepped forward, right in front of his brother, close enough that their chests nearly met. He took the via and slipped it into the front vest pocket, and patted it. If his brother was going to play games, that was fine. He was tired of them. He took a moment to look down into his brother's eyes, sighing through his nose and shaking his head as he began to step away.
Dorian stood mutely as he bit back denials of what his brother had to say, having stood to face him, and putting down a box of biscuits. His jaw worked with the effort but stone grey eyes wouldn't budge. There had been a moment where he nearly punched his brother right in his Charles looking face but he put the impulse back where it belonged. Until Drystan did that bit with vial and dismissively stepped away. That was when he hauled off and squarely shoved his departing brother with both hands. It wasn't full force but it was an invitation. To the clenched fists and electrum fire of frustrated rage. Same as remarking, "And Maman said I sound like him, pfffff." He could push buttons right back.
Drystan Windgrace was shoved and he took a few hurried steps back to catch his balance, arms out, bag dangling from his hand. He paused before he stood upright and shook himself off, cracking his neck and tossing the hair out of his eyes. He looked at Dorian in disbelief. "Oh we've come to this now, hm?" He shook his head again, "You're gonna have to try harder than that little brother. And Mother coddled you, yet stood by Father when he'd beat you bloody. So I don't really give a shit about what Mother had to say about who sounding like whom. He was both our Father, and we both hated him as much. I know you aren't a dullard so stop acting like one." He turned again, not taking the bait, but the heat coming off his skin and his claws and fangs had appeared as his glamour failed.
Dorian felt about half an inch tall when his brother replied. And instead of spoiling for a fight at home, Dorian did what he was better at. He slammed the pantry door after about facing his brother, then marched past him out the front door. It'd slam behind him and he'd stalk around the side of the house before taking off in a few flaps. The eye-bearing wings weren't really the mechanism of flight so much as the veins of aether that fed them.
Despite the fit of pique, Drystan could easily learn that his brother had returned home as he'd done so through the front door, bathed and then gone straight to his own room, without even dissembling nor skulking near his twin's door.