Galadari Rubinhart (helvish) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2017-08-15 02:42:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | character: galadari rubinhart, character: gilderoi rubinhart, location: beyond the academy and camden |
Thread: Twins In Conflict
WHO: Galadari and Gilderoi
WHEN: before the start of the school year
WHERE: France, Dordogne
It would not be that hard to track down Gilderoi. His selfies had always featured a landmark that was iconic for the place he was in. But his last selfie had been two weeks ago and since that, Gilderoi had been mum. And that particular selfie was not especially easy to interpret. But it was still all Galadari had to go on. And fortunately, there was only one particular village in the Dordogne that had this particular corner where the Rue de Lafayette and the Rue des Meniers met and, equally fortunately, that corner was on display in Gil’s selfie.
But where to next? The elf stood in the middle of Monbazillac, a small town south of Bergerac. It barely had a supermarket. Galadari went into the boulangerie on a whim and was greeted with a cheery “Bonjour, Gérard!” And within minutes, Galad knew where Gil was.
It was a large, old farmhouse, made from uneven stone. It had a courtyard, flowers full in bloom, a small fountain with dancing water. A small art school, Galad knew after a bit of googling. Summer school in full session, meant for promising artists.
And there, after more than a month of absence, Galadari laid eyes on his brother, in the back of an otherwise empty classroom, cleaning brushes and jars.
As relieving as it was to see his twin again, alive and well, Galad was furious. His steps were light and his hands were balled into fists.
“TYS!” he bellowed, “I’m going to shove that brush through your eyeball.”
Gil turned around, mild surprise gracing his features. While the twins still looked eerily similar, there was something odd about Gil’s appearance. He looked almost dishevelled: his long hair seemed unkempt and he wore a white shirt that was two sizes too large for him. It was speckled with paint stains. And then there were the flipflops.
Gil did not do flip-flops. He either went barefeet or wore stylish shoes. Italian loafers from brands so expensive you had never heard of them, or sturdy, low-cut boots made by German elves when he needed to participate in a hunt or join in revelry. Flip-flops were for hippies.
The elf looked at his twin brother and smiled lazily. His body responded to threat by bracing itself, but Gil did not advance at all. He did not even drop the paint brush. Instead, he said: “Bonjour, Lys. What brings you here?”
Galad came up short as the full appearance of his twin was taken in. He stared for a moment. Gil had always liked his hair short, and the long hair he wore now, even its disheveled state, was more like Galad’s than it had ever been. A stranger, now, had no way of telling them apart. This didn’t bother Galad so much as the footwear. It was a slap in the face.
“What are you-- What is this?” He set a hand on his narrow hip and gestured at all of Gil. “You look like a homeless troll! You are a Rubinhart! And you are coming back with me now.”
Gil looked entirely unimpressed with his brother. He raised an eyebrow and then shook his head as he grabbed a rag from the countertop and started drying the brush. “Non, merci.”
Gil planted his feet wide and regarded his brother pensively. “How did the hunt go?”
That was all Galad could take. His temper had not been good to start with, but it was especially explosive since his brother had left him. Galad’s eyes flashed purple and he leaped at Gil with a growl. Fighting was Galad’s go-to response. Things could be sorted with words later.
He dragged Gil to the ground and wrestled to stay on top, driving his fist into the mirror reflection of his own face.
Gil had been prepared for it, but a summer spent without his brother - and, in fact, without any elves at all - had muted his reflexes. He was dragged to the ground, his nostrils flaring as his brother came out on top. A fight was the last thing he wanted, but his old fighting instincts kicked in when Galadari rammed him in the face. Usually, unspokenly, their faces were off-limits.
Gil flailed and used the palm of his hand to slam against Galadari’s chin and then tried to wrap his other hand around his brother’s neck. He would exert pressure and end this quickly.
Galad struck aside Gil’s hand so roughly that his brother’s nails clawed at his chin and neck, leaving hot tracks. “You should have been there! I waited for you!” Galad continued to speak in their short-form twin-speak, even though Gil had switched. “And here I find you playing the servant? When I promised you money if you needed it? You were never truly cut off from the family, you ungrateful infant!”
Galad’s instincts were honed. It was all he did with his free time since his twin had gone missing. Felicity had made for an excellent sparring partner, though Galad still faulted her for not being Gilderoi. No one could replace someone who knew your every move before you made it.
The Baron drew an elvish knife from somewhere on his person and snagged the tip of it under Gil’s chin, allowing the blade to cut his brother if Gil decided to struggle any more. Galad sneered at him, but hurt was bleeding through the anger. “I waited for you to come join me on the hunt. I waited all night! Like a fool.”
Gil wanted to struggle back, wanted to lash out with accusations and questions. If it were that important for me to come, why did you not ask me? If I am this important to you, why did you not come to find me sooner? But Gil saw the hurt in Galadari’s eyes and he knew he was the cause of it, no matter his intentions.
“I am sorry, my dearest,” Gil murmured, his eyes finding his brother’s, “I did not realize you would be waiting for me. I should have found a way to let you know.”
Galad paused, blinking his pretty eyes at his brother and hesitating with the knife. "You did not realize? Tys, you are my everything. I could not do the Hunt without you. So I didn't." Galad withdrew the point of the knife and stared down at his twin. "I missed you terribly."