A pair of twins were sitting at a bar. In another world this would probably be a good opening for a joke, but while Fernand might have been able to see the hilarity, his uptight brother was less than enthusiastic to be where he was.
“We didn’t come here to party,” Francois sighed unhappily, his tanned face twisted into a tired frown. A drink sat in front of him, but he contented himself in watching the ice melt. Fernand rolled his eyes, leaning back on his elbows as he scanned the room. From their dark corner of the bar, they blended in enough for him to feel at ease. All he had to worry about were his eyes; they burned like melted gold through the shade. Francois was his exact mirror in opposites–hunched and facing away, his eyes down. He didn’t want to draw attention and this was wise.
“Would you relax?” Fernand rolled his eyes and gave a light laugh. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Francois wanted to say that a lot could happen. Someone could notice them, word could get back to the Princess–or worse, the King regent–and they could go to jail. They could be executed. But Fernand had insisted that this place was too dark. No respectable Lician would let themselves be found there. As long as they kept to themselves, who was going to talk? And it wasn’t as if they were (currently) breaking any laws. They’d been in (and come out of) worse situations in the past. Nonetheless Francois remained unconvinced and sour about the whole “fun” adventure.
“You could have at least worn a disguise,” he hissed. Fernand laughed again, but this time it was more of a disbelieving bark.
“Look at you, calling all the shots,” he returned, “if you’re so nervous you should have been the one to put on a disguise! I’m tired of being the one to always do it. It’s not comfortable, as you know. I wouldn’t mind some time to actually be, well, me.”
Francois couldn’t argue against that point. It also made him feel guilty, despite himself. They always switched off when they worked. Sometimes they’d take a week or so before they switched, but Fernand had been stuck playing Edouard for longer than he’d ever been before. It was unfair. Francois had made excuses to stay as he was–and why he’d done it he wasn’t sure. His mind drifted to the Princess, sitting by his side as the poison raced through his system, their hands touching ever-so-lightly when he had visited her in her garden, holding her close in a dance at the opening ball for the school.
When he thought about her, the women who sauntered around the club, their skirts short and hair up high, became invisible. Francois hadn’t even touched his drink but looking down at it, he felt sick. Beside him, Fernand had changed the subject, but Francois hardly heard him talk of the white-haired young man who was attracting women like flies. How he wasn’t leaving any for the rest of them. Francois only started listening when Fernand nudged him with his elbow.
“…but I guess you only have your eyes on one set of legs, don’t you?”
“Shut up,” Francois hissed, “you’re annoying.”
And then he was gone, his form flickering out of existence like a candle’s flame being snuffed. He reappeared on the roof, steadying himself against the ledge that overlooked the rest of the vast city and wondering why Fernand’s words had affected him so terribly. With a sigh he rubbed one hand over his face, suddenly tired. Or maybe he had been tired all night, but hadn’t given himself the chance to notice it. Either way, he wanted to leave. On one hand, Francois didn’t want to completely abandon his brother but on the other…maybe it would be safer. He could go hide in his room where nobody would look for him, and if Fernand ran into anyone they knew, it would be easier to stay in character without explaining why there were two of him.
Still, in comparison to the playful, harmless jab Fernand had made in regards to his feelings, Francois was left rattled. At least it felt nice out here, soothing, in the chilled air. It was nice that it did nothing to remind him of the humid climate he was used to back home. All he could find his mind focusing on was the Princess and he hated himself for it. What was she doing right now? What did it matter? Her hair loose, brushing against her cheeks in the breeze. Irrelevant. Was he really this lost? Francois had never been so obsessed with a job before.
((ooc: AVA okay I really wanted to get this up for you! But I know that it’s awful and probably completely wrong. I know I had a file with notes I was taking for this scene but I couldn’t find it anywhere in my documents and since we don’t often catch each other I had no idea when I’d be able to ask for your help in remembering what was supposed to go down. OTL. So I kind of just…winged it…I think we wanted Francois and Ala to meet on the roof? I remember we were trying to sort of recreate the Art/Malek/Ala interaction from the original rp on Gaia but I really can’t remember what we talked about and I’m so so sorry. I know I’m probably going to have to rewrite the whole thing once we have the chance to talk about it again BUT I hope…it still made you happy to read, regardless. ;u; Something is better than nothing? I love you and I hope you’re doing okay and that you see this ksbdfgsdfg thank you for understanding when I didn’t get it done last weekend; this weekend has been a lot better for me so I’ve been working on this since Friday.))