French Kiss

[Cerise Areli]

 Cerise sat before a large vanity, admiring her reflection. Her emerald green eyes stared back at her, unflinching, pupils dilated from the buzz of magics still lingering through her. It had been a week at least since the last time she'd stolen her brother away, and already the sensation of power was fading from her. She was young still, but potent, and every year that power grew. Ramsey's grew right with hers, and when the two of them were together, there was a certain amplification that occurred that gave them additional strength to keep the strings held over those in court with whom they resided.

She pushed away from the mirror and stood simultaneously, half-turning as she did so. She was faced again with her reflection, and for a moment started. She hadn't heard him come into her room - but then again, she seldom did. Ramsey had made his life's craft out of keeping them hidden and keeping them safe, and in order to do that, one had to learn how to move without making a single sound. His brows perched and his lower lip jutted out just so, the Gallic shrug that the French used to basically mean, "I didn't do it."

"Where have you been?" she asked, her eyes narrowing just enough that he would notice. He would notice even if she moved naught but a lash or a hair, though - they knew eachother like they knew themselves, and in that came the art of reading nuances and subtle gestures that others often miss. She leaned in very suddenly, an aggressive gesture (not that she was a stranger to aggression), and put her nose inches from the center of his sternum. She nearly brushed the dark velvet of his doublet, and jerked back just as suddenly.

"What is that rancid smell? Is that jasmine?" she hissed.

And just like that, his sweet sister turned from his tame little lioness to a great green-eyed dragon of jealousy.

[Ramsey Areli]

Sometimes, Ramsey had to wonder exactly how they'd managed to accomplish quite what they had, while at others, he found it ridiculous to think that they wouldn't, though the difference tended to be exactly how recently Cerise had drawn him into her arms and bed.  Right now, he was wondering, just a little.  The power they'd raised in each other was starting to dull, forcing him to work a bit harder in the field to keep the others in line when fencing (he honestly preferred heavier, more dangerous weapons, but a rapier could also run you through; at least he didn't have to worry about one of the jackasses trying to take off his hand), and making it more difficult to keep the ladies of the court off of his dick when he was walking around minding his business.  Because of the nature of their power, he and Cerise ALWAYS radiated sex appeal and come-get-some, which was one of the reasons he'd made certain she could protect herself, lest someone get too grabby.  When their power was sharper, they could use their influence to make people back off and still leave them with a good, charmed feeling.  Right now, he didn't feel charming, he just felt like a little sibling bonding time was in order, so of course some bitch would have to get in his way.

It was the Lady du Mare, who was attractive enough, but neither rich nor influential.  Usually, the two went hand in hand, but sometimes older families maintained influence even when their cashflow was running into the red.  Her husband was also older than she and obese, so the twins had left both of them wanting; she had probably heard gossip that Ramsey was a 'social' gentleman, but she had no way of knowing his criteria.  All he wanted her to know was that she didn't meet it, but there was that little problem of not upsetting her to avoid her blowing any whistles or starting any rumors that didn't suit the Areli plans.  Now, he wished he'd nailed his sister more recently.  That would have to be remedied.

After a few minutes of polite conversation, during which she was only barely suggestive about her interest and he attempted to play coy and vaguely interested so as not to hurt her feelings, she seemed to gain courage to make a move.  He'd kept walking, and she'd taken up step beside him, so that once they reached an alcove where a scandal could be created, she made every attempt to do so, stepping into it and pulling him along after.  He could have fought, but feelings.  He was 99% sure she missed his eye roll and general irritation on the subject, especially since he covered it up and moment later and went along with the kissing and the light groping.

Once he felt that she would feel sufficiently wanted and satisfied that he would be left with his thoughts lingering on her (he wouldn't), he drew back, faking the effort it took and trying to look affected.  He was a good actor.

"Madame, forgive me, your husband.  We can't," he told her, and then had to endure a few more moments of arguing and sounding desperately conflicted before he stepped out enough to see someone coming, lean and kiss her hand, and leave.  She seemed smug enough, despite not getting all that she wanted, that she didn't argue with a potential witness present, and he could continue to his sister.

Naturally, she would be peeved that he wasn't there earlier, and then notice the perfume his attacker had been wearing.  His sister was hardly stupid, though incredibly possessive.  "Cerise, I've missed you, too," he told her, lips quirking up just a bit in amusement at the force of her jealousy, but his amusement only lasted so long.  "I was accosted by the Lady du Mare en route to your room.  Her husband doesn't pay her enough attention, I think."

[Cerise Areli]

 Her lips curled slightly, as though she had brine on her tongue, and for the briefest of moments a row of straight, white teeth flashed - or rather, was bared. Her lips fell shut, pursing just enough for it to be seen that she was angry. She pressed her tongue hard against the backs of her teeth, causing her cheeks to suddenly become that much more defined - as if they needed it. Areli cheekbones were high as it was, and with their golden-blonde hair and green eyes, they were already desired enough.

"Fat cow," she erupted, after the few seconds it took for his nonchalance to annoy her. "Of course he doesn't give her enough attention; nobody would." Cerise was fairly convinced that every other female with whom Ramsey had ever made eye contact was a sow, cow, ass, or some other barnyard animal, and that they had no otherwise redeeming qualities unless they deigned to fall on their knees before her and acknowledge that she were the one true god. Since that was as likely to happen as the sun rising in the west and setting in the east, she remained at odds with most of the females around her.

Of course, that war she had ongoing was mostly in her mind. Cerise truly seemed to believe that if she disliked someone enough, they would simply die. She didn't seem to understand that anger and hatred were twin poisons she drank every day, and it would be ridiculous to assume that her enemies would die by them when it was she who was consuming them. Outward, she was kind, sweet, courteous, and everything else a lovely young woman of the royal party should be. Some did find it a little strange that her brother and she were never far from eachother's reach, but their interests were just different enough that people did not talk. Of course, their Areli influence helped, as well; the magic and natural aura around them radiated complacency, and more importantly, compliance from others. It was easier to believe what someone told you or do what they asked of you with that magical influence massaging your mind.

Despite Ramsey just standing there and letting her rant, which she did freely (anything she could attack the woman over, she said), waving her arms about angrily and slamming down this vial of perfume or that decanter of wine, he would eventually grow tired of her childish envy and step in. Cerise was in the process of ripping through the ribbons on the bodice of her summer gown, having finally chosen a suitable dress for dinner (which was to be served within the hour). She hit a snag when she tugged too fervently at the satiny ribbon, mostly due to her lack of attention while she ranted and generally tried to inspire anger in her twin (which was both very hard and very easy for Cerise to do, depending on where that anger would be directed), and swore.

Suddenly, the storm was over, and she was looking at him with those jewel-toned eyes, mouth twisted into a half-frown and half-smile. "I've ruined my dress," she informed him, lifting her arms to let him see the cat's cradle she'd made of the meters and meters of ribbons the dress maker felt necessary to include in the intricate lacework of her bodice. She wasn't surprised when he smoothly crossed the threshold and bid her to still herself, taking the ribbon in his hands and skillfully working through the miasma of knots she'd made.

She felt a lecture coming on, and when he began, his tone would no doubt be informative, but matter-of-fact, and yet somehow amused at the same time. It was often the way his voice sounded to her, somewhere between a lecture and a smug chastising in which he delighted in how she could do not even the simplest of tasks without him. She could almost hear, "You know," on his tongue, which was how he usually began these rousing speeches. Something about staying out of the eye of their enemies, which Cerise would care more about if she truly believed they were in danger (they were, always, but she had forgotten the longer they were at court, and the more caught up she became in the little game of the thrones she'd learned to play).

It had been fairly recently where she'd done or said something particularly bold to Ramsey and he'd snapped at her so quickly that it had frightened her. They had been sitting on the soft cushion by the large window in her airy room at the keep watching the stars change their arrangements across the night sky, and she had made a dangerous (and thoughtless) remark about how she feared no child of Macht (which their lineage was most certainly not). It was perhaps because she had been so traumatized by watching her parents die before her that she did not recall as well as Ramsey did, but he endlessly reminded her of how easily they could be found if they slipped even a little, and when it really came to his attention that she had become comfortable (and in turn, could become careless), he had not hesitated in the least to remind her of every bloody detail.

They had slept in separate rooms that night for the first time in a very long time, and despite his terse apology the next day, there had been a certain tenseness between them that Cerise's little jealous snit did nothing to ease. If she had not suddenly relented after realizing she was more than likely in need of some scissors with which to cut her dress off, she may have been on the path for a sharp cuff. It was a long way before it was considered improper to hit a woman (and besides, she'd hit him before and it had stung just as much - though, oddly, while he had more physical strength and could bruise her tender cheek, she could wound his heart with a vicious open-handed slap all the same). No, Ramsey definitely wasn't afraid to slap his sister, lover or no, and he certainly wasn't afraid of her mood swings. He didn't like to admit it, but he could be just as prone when he felt contrary.

[Ramsey Areli]

Three, two....one. 

He'd been waiting for it, for her to declare just how much of her anger she was willing to display, and then there it was in a rant that rose very quickly from silence to her screaming and pulling at her dress.  Ramsey witnessed it patiently, letting her insult the woman he'd had no interest in to begin with, waiting while she worked her jealousy and hatred out of her system, and for the most part, he didn't mind.  The Areli twins were above these ridiculous humans, they knew it and some of the humans even seemed to, though that only made the golden duo more desirable.  They would rule this house in the end because they deserved to, but they weren't the only ones that were more than human, and that was one thing that Cerise forgot which Ramsey never did.  He didn't humor the menfolk here with swordplay because he enjoyed their company; he wanted to be sharp, to be the best, because defending himself and his sister required the best. 

Eventually, they would come.

Perhaps Cerise wouldn't so soon forget again, but the danger of complacency had been revealed to Ramsey and so he was tending to it.  He allowed her the room to have her tantrum because there was no harm in it here and now, but they both had parts to play, and screwing them up simply wasn't an option.  He waited until she'd calmed down and realized the mess she'd made of her gown to step forward, surprisingly unaffected by her obvious anger; he learned long ago that if he could avoid meeting her fire with his own in such a manner, they got more accomplished faster.  It didn't mean he was always immune, since there was nobody on the planet that could drive him to such blind fury as his sister, but he could also weather her storm like no one else.  This was a time to endure, as she worked herself out of the fit without much assistance from him, which was for the best.  He'd never been the sort to coddle his sister through her angry patches, and comfort was for grief and sadness; they were the same in that they wanted attention when they were furious, but they didn't respect some simpering fool trying to appease them.  Neither would be that for the other, not ever.

"You've almost ruined your dress.  Be still," he told her, a bit amused himself at the sudden switch with her realization that, without him, she'd be taking scissors to the thing and then having to choose a new one with very little time remaining to her.  He stepped forward without the slightest hesitation to work out some of the knots she'd put in the ribbon, getting far closer to a lady who was in disarray than any gentleman of the court should have, and he didn't care.  They had never progressed entirely from that dynamic where he took care of her and provided for her, despite the two of them growing into adults who should marry.  Being her male guardian actually forced him to consider potential husbands for her by their society's standards, but he only did it for show.  Just as she raged out at the thought of Lady du Mare pawing at him, he couldn't tolerate the idea of some man taking her to his bed every night, of some other man owning her.  It was going to be a problem soon.

"You know," he started, and it was up in the air whether he realized that she'd been waiting for those two words out of his mouth, since he smirked at her and gave her a look that might have suggested that he was aware, but he still hadn't avoided them, so maybe not.  "I dislike the so-called lords and ladies of the court as much as you do, but it's all for a purpose.  Keep your head, Cerise, and I will keep us safe.  The peasants here are becoming more aggressive, so remaining in favor with the nobility is our best chance at ensuring safe haven.  Unless you want to pack up and run?  Donatien Leone took up with his family and a few other nobles just this afternoon."

What he didn't say was that Donatien was dead, and so was most or all of his family (there were rumors that his son wasn't among the dead, but to Ramsey, that meant that the young man had either been taken for further torment and so that his head could be on display the next time there was a riot, or that the woman who'd been so very interested in him had made her move) and many of the others who had fled their homes in the city.  There had been break-ins and looting of noble properties scaring some of those who visited the court, but didn't live there, and none of the results had been pleasant.  Ramsey could keep his sister safe, but risking the flight from Versailles when there were so many recent failures just seemed foolish. 

What he also didn't say, what he shouldn't need to say, was that the peasants and the French political climate wasn't optimal, but they weren't the only threat.  There were the Vidas, and while there was a slight chance that they'd let the Areli twins go, Ramsey wasn't buying it.  He remembered his parents arguing about leaving their home before they were attacked, and he remembered his father saying that word had been received of other family members being slaughtered.  It wasn't just an attack meant for their parents, of that he was certain, and so he wouldn't grow complacent thinking that the threat had passed. 

[Cerise Areli]

 As he helped her out of the spider's web that had become her dress, she sighed, the sound escaping angrily through her nose. She was frustrated, but when was she not? Honeyed mead and her brother's magic were the only things that could amuse her as of late, and neither were things she was allowed to have in excess. She had been sitting for too long in the company of the lazy lords and ladies of the court, though, and from that bad habits had been learned - lust, avarice, envy, gluttony, sloth, wrath... sins of the Christian god (or so they told her).

The most detrimental habit, though, was her pride. She was too proud (too proud, but too lazy in terms of her proactive concern for her safety), and just as her casual remarks about how the Vidas could do her no true harm had incensed her brother, her look of doubt as he told her that there were things happening outside of the castle that she'd need to worry about surely did not please him. When he said they'd have to run again, something that she knew but didn't seem to really take into account when she said or did things, she just stayed silent.

She didn't like to think of it in terms of having to run, because then she felt as though she would simply exist only to be afraid. She didn't want her every action to be craven, and she certainly did not want to bend to the will of others just to stay alive. She would rather die. Perhaps the problem was that she had become too focused on the fact that she refused to be bullied, and so purposely drew attention to herself as a means to sate her own ego. It didn't help that their power grew every day, bit by bit.

"No, I don't want to run," she said, and her words were full of malice - not towards him, but the idea of running. "What of the peasants? It isn't like we can do anything about them. We have nothing to do with the royal family and their own bad decisions, so they should leave us out of it." She didn't take into account that the peasants, much like the Vidas, cared not if you were a child or an adult (a member of the royal family or just a wealthy merchant who happened to be lord or lady of some little sliver of an island here or there); they would hate you all the same, and kill you if they could.

But the look Ramsey gave her as she vocalized her ignorance on the matter was deadly; a mixture of both surprise at what had just come out of her mouth, and anger at her incessant need to try and prove that she was every bit as tough as him by acting like she didn't care what happened around her. It must have been how she saw Ramsey, he might realize (then, or later). She saw him as though he were an unfeeling creature who would slit the throats of all and any in their path. It didn't occur to her that the reason he did what he did was because he feared for their safety. She thought he simply enjoyed it, or that it was a part of being a man who had skills with a weapon.

[Ramsey Areli]

The truth was more harsh than anything Ramsey would have thought of his lovely sister, but that didn't change the fact that she was picking up terrible habits, and that he saw it happening.  The problem was that it was ridiculously hypocritical of him to lecture her about most of them if he had similar problems.  The difference was that he was exercising more control over his sins, his transgressions smart where it mattered and resisted where it would cause them harm.  He was greedy enough to be here in the first place, playing at nobility and working their way through the ranks in the court until they were favored by the royal family as they were, envious enough to take what wasn't supposed to be his from those that had it, and as for sloth?  He'd been complacent, lazy enough that he hadn't read the climate for what it was sooner and gotten his sister to safety.  Lust and wrath were favorites of his, visited on a regular basis, but pride was ever the tricky one.

Ramsey was prideful, make no mistake, but it took him in a different direction than it did his sister.  He wasn't blind to the dangers around them, ever focused on keeping them both alive and cared for, yet he felt that he was above the completely non-magical humans surrounding him.  Their lives were so mind-numbingly dull that they made up issues to amuse themselves, and were he not concerned with Cerise's comfort, he would consider making a game of killing them just to see how long it would take them to snap out of their monotony.  It seemed as though the French peasants were going to beat him to it, though the problem with that was that he and his sister were being lumped in with the nobility, and she didn't seem to realize the danger.

The look he gave her was absolutely incredulous at first, just not believing that she could be so oblivious as to the danger around them, and then some of that wrath shone through as some new, harsh truth made itself known.  "My beautiful, beloved sister, should we survive this country and its people, I have things to teach you that I've obviously been lax on," he told her, his tone deceptively light for all of the irritation and disbelief that went with it; they had never been safe at court, nobody was.  He wouldn't realize for many years that she saw him as being 'tough' and was trying to behave like he did by refusing to seem as though she cared about what was going on around them, like she was unfeeling and enjoyed the suffering of the humans., so for now, he was just surprised and upset by it.  The truth here was that Ramsey felt a lot about their situation and the people around him, and while he wasn't the type to get too broken up about killing a man to save them (he'd been broken of that rather traumatically when he'd had to kill the Vida man who was there to kill them after their parents), he didn't take great enjoyment out of the pain or death, and he didn't have much more to gain from it other than survival, usually.  He was no blood witch or necromancer who stood to grow more powerful with the mess or death of his opponents, and actually, gained power better if they were alive and sated.  It was a very different kind of magic, but it didn't stop him from killing should the need arise.  He was afraid that the need was about to arise, and fast.

Yes, Ramsey Areli was afraid.  He didn't behave like a gibbering moron when he was scared, but that didn't change the fact that he was afraid for their safety as events went on outside of their control.  "Whether we had any control over the choices the Royal family made or not, we have their favor, and we look the part of nobility.  These peasants won't hesitate long enough to ask us if we were involved in the decisions that they dislike.  They'll kill us right along with the rest if they can, just like the Leones."

No, he didn't act like he was afraid, exuding calm confidence the entire way, like he had everything under control and they were going to survive, and to a point, that was the truth.  He was making plans, had been concerned with exits from the palace, but that didn't change the fact that many things could go wrong.  "I'd like for you to stay close to me, at least within eyesight whenever possible for a little while."

He had a bad feeling.

[Cerise Areli]

 She could tell by his body language that he was losing patience with her; his words were severe enough, to the point where they did translate some of that fear, but not as heavily as he would have wanted to impact her into minding him more thoroughly. Instead of being properly admonished, however, she merely reached out, grabbing at him by the bottom of his doublet and yanking him in close to her.

"What things could you possibly have been lax on?" she asked, stepping into him so much that she pushed him back against the tall, rigid wooden post that made up one corner of her bed. It was clear she had no head for listening to him lecture her at the moment; she acknowledged and understood what he was saying, yes, but she no longer wanted to discuss it.

"I promise, my beloved brother, I will stay as close to you as I possibly can," she swore smoothly, her right hand releasing his shirt to spider over to his hip, spreading open and coming to rest at the curvature of his lower back. Her left hand walked up on two fingers, and she caught his verdant eyes with her own. Cerise smiled slyly, but her smile froze as he stopped her climbing fingers just as they reached his perfectly structured jaw, upon which a fine layer of stubble had grown.

"Ramsey!" she protested, her tone irritated that he'd cut her little seduction short. He was clearly not playing with her, and so she sighed, yanking back at her own hand (which only forced him to clamp down on her wrist - they were rough with eachother often enough that it didn't frighten her, though) only to find he would not release it.

"I promise, I will mind my tongue and be more aware of whose presence I am in for the next few weeks, or however long I need to. I shall stay faithfully by your side as often as is possible, but you must promise me that we will not become prisoners in our own home," she said, her voice softening at the end.

"I want only you, my dearheart," she swore, finding that his grip on her hand had lessened. She took that opportunity to run her nails against the underside of his chin with all the softness of a dragonfly's wings, and she smiled much more genuinely as she saw his eyes lid every so slightly. "If that means we must leave, then we simply must leave. I only wish that we could stop running for once, and build a home, and lives, together."

Cerise could be eloquent when she wanted. It just so happened now was one of those times - that and she had no desire to see Ramsey incensed during the dining with the rest of the nobility. The tension between the Areli twins was pure energy when you put them across from eachother at a table, and if they weren't careful they could effect the rest of the people in the room. Better to diffuse that now, the best way she knew how. Of course, standing there in naught but her dressing gown didn't hurt, either.