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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 25, 2016 4:03:31 GMT -5
Aahaha I'M GLAD U KNOW WHY AL BE DRINKING XD
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2016 4:24:32 GMT -5
There were many things whispered about Camille Fournier. He was vicious. He was heartless. He held no sympathy for those beneath him. He was a cruel beast. So many things whispered and murmured and all within earshot of him, and he felt that it was probably intentional. His life was spent battling these words, but when he had stopped, they had become more flattering. Less like those of a jealous teenager who noted that he came from a good family, and more like an amazed word from a member of the family. His viciousness could be used. His heartlessness was useful. His lack of sympathy meant that he could not be guilted. The fact that he was a beast was admired, feared, but not used to mock him. Camille had been born into this world, he believed, with a destiny to be on this path. He was meant for the mafia, and the mafia for him.
βMillie. Are you naked underneath there?β
Ilseβs tone was disbelieving as his bright gaze scanned the lithe line of Camilleβs body, following the way the sheets bunched at the dip in the young manβs hip and traced over a bare, scarred chest. He would be lying if he didnβt say it was a littleβ¦breath-taking. There was an air of elegance that Camille carried that made him question what heβd done wrong β but when he saw Seraphin and Alphonse, he figured it had to be hereditary. All of the Fourniers seemed to manage to make elegance look easy.
βYes,β there was a casual air to Camilleβs words, lips quirked into a not-quite smile, mismatched gaze calculating as he took in his closest friend. βWhy? Do you want to join me?β
βNo,β it was a tempting offer, but he and Camille had plenty of time to lay around wearing nothing. It was moreso the fact that Camille was daring enough to be like this in his parentβs house rather than at his own apartment. Then again, heβd heard myths of the games the family played, of how daring they could be. It fascinated him and almost made him want to befriend Edgard, until he remembered how awful his brother was. βI want you to put some clothes on for once, you awful man.β
Without a single ounce of embarrassment, Camille threw the sheet aside and swung his legs out of bed, briefly pausing to set his violin into a safer place (into its open case) and stood up, arching his delicate body in a stretch. Ilse knew he was one of the few people to use the word delicate in referral to Camille Fournier, but he was soβ¦small. Shorter than Ilse himself, and yet twice as formidable. Ilse could not help but allow his eyes to follow his friend as he padded over to his drawers and grabbed some underwear, before moving to fit himself into a suit. First the shirt, then the slacks, then the tie. Nimble, slender fingers tied a trinity knot with such ease, before he pulled on a waistcoat and then sat down to pull on socks.
βIf you didnβt want to relax with me, Ils, what do you want?β his tone was almost curious. Almost, however, was always a thing with the Underboss. Almost smiling. Almost murderous. It was hard to tell to what extent he felt emotions, until he was around his parents. That, Ilse noted, was the truest heβd ever see his friend.
βWell, Millie,β Ilseβs tone was dry, βI wanted to tell you that my theatre is performing and one of our musicians dropped out. I told them youβd fill in, so you have to fill in. Itβll ruin your life and mine if you suddenly refuse.β
There was the eye-roll. Another motion made elegant (it was definitely genes), before Camille rose to his full height and stretched again, now fully clothes and thus not baring his scarred flesh for anyone to see. He moved around the room, unable to sit still and quite alike a busy little bee, flitting from one musical instrument to another, ensuring that they remained in-tune and dusted, free from any little mites or bugs or anything. His room was a clean thing, more slept in than his own apartment, for whatever bizarre reason. Some part of Camille had never truly grown up, he still held urges to remain close to his parents. Or, perhaps, he just felt more comfortable in this place, where all of his belongings were and all of his safety lay. It was something of a security blanket to lay in a bed and know that his father and mother were likely nearby.
Camille was awfully fond of his parents, and that was something Ilse could just about understand. Ilse, himself, was very fond of his father. Not outwardly affectionate, more likely to talk back and retaliate and possibly make a few rude comments, toeing the delicate between father and friend.
βI canβt,β said Camille, which did not shock Ilse. βIβm busy.β
βWith what, you traitor?β
βIβm busy. I have things to do.β
βPeople to do, you mean.β
βMmm, possibly. There is this one manββ
βShut up, Camille, or Iβll find your mother and tell her how rude youβre being.β
A single eyebrow raised, that unnerving gaze studied him for a moment, and then two. Camille did not smile, nor did he laugh, but the emotion was there, a warming feeing in Ilseβs chest. Despite himself, he smiled.
βYou wouldnβt,β though his tone was doubtful, Camille clearly had to confirm it. βYouβre terrified of her.β
βShut up, fool. Iβm not terrified of her.β
βBut you are! Youβre scared of short people. You were scared of me.β
βUntil I had my growth spurt and outgrew you. Shut up, Cami. No β no, donβt look at me like that,β he laughed, a soft sound as he used one hand to shove Camilleβs shoulder. Though the manβs expression didnβt change, there was a light akin to amusement in his gaze, another quirk upwards of his lips in a not-quite smile. This was his blood brother, his best friend, the man heβd grown up knowing. He could not imagine a world without Camille, and Camille had not been happy in a world without Ilse. The two years between them were nothing, they were soulmates in a way that those who romanticised it would not understand. They were brothers, through and through, closer than Camille would ever be with his siblings (though he knew that Colette and the others were a very close second), and always closer than Ilse could be with his brother.
βYouβre scared of my mother,β his voice was amused, a light tone as Camille grabbed his jacket and shrugged it out, stepping out of his room and squinting against the brighter lighting. He padded gently towards the bathroom, with his best friend close on his heels. βWhat is she going to do?β
βSheβs extraordinarily good at most things,β really, he didnβt need to point this out, but Ilse did nonetheless. βI do believe she could beat me in a fight, quite easily.β
βHmm, true. She would never beat you at changing her appearance, though. She is too distinctive,β too beautiful, he did not say, because Ilse was beautiful, too. βMy mother will always beat you in a fight. Youβre too soft.β
βYouβre awful,β said Ilse, and flicked some water at Camille as the man washed his face. It did not affect him at all. βYour mother is very strong. I like her.β
βYou can like people that youβre scared of,β Camille hummed softly, briefly running a wet hand through his hair. It pushed the worst of it away from his face, made him presentable. βYou are terrified of my mother, Ilse Garreau, do not deny it.β
βOkay, I wonβt deny it. Are you scared of my brother?β
Camille looked considering for a moment, head tilted upwards as he paused with a small towel to his face. A drop of water rolled over his sharp jawline and stayed there, wavering only momentarily before the towel swiped it away, and it was removed from existence.
βNo,β Camille said, βbecause I am not scared of...how do I put this delicately? Ah! D*ckheads.β
βCamille!β
βItβs true. Your brother is an awful person, no matter how much we look at the situation.β
Ilse considered it, stepping closer to Camille. Then, before the shorter man could protest to his actions, he pressed his lips against the olderβs forehead. It was a gesture theyβd done since a young age, something that kept them grounded, no matter what. Camille had changed sinceβ¦well, since the βincidentβ, but their comfort tactics remained the same.
βDo not punch Edgard,β he warned.
βI donβt make promises I canβt keep,β came the reply. βI am going downstairs before I do something regrettable, like mistake my own reflection for your brotherβs face and break the mirror, angering my parents and thus foisting the blame onto you.β
Ilse made a displeased sound, but smiled as he followed Camille out of the bathroom. The two were very quiet as they padded downstairs, hearing the soft murmur of voices. Glances were exchanged and Ilse stopped midway down the stairs, making a gesture for his friend to go ahead. Camille gave a gentle shrug and continued onwards, intent on either finding his fatherβs wine or seeing if there was any food that hadnβt been made by his mother in the kitchen. Either one would work.
Odd. It wasnβt rare that Ilse visited with his father, but it was rare that Ilse did not mention that his father was in the house. He paused only briefly as he saw his mother comforting the other man, and decided that it was best to be neither seen nor heard, and he slipped into the kitchen without making a single sound. Once there, he let out a slow breath and leaned against the counter, considering possible reasons for the lack of information. Had Ilse come here before his father? That was possible β though unlikely. It was more likely that Ilse had come through the back and had completely missed that Clement was here. His lips twitched at the thought of his friend being more surprised than he had been. Well, that was an entertaining thought.
βHm?β
Camille realised, a second too late, that he had been spoken to β and so he replayed the moment in his mind. Oh! His father had entered the kitchen, and there was an unspeakable sound of joy. He also heard the light sound of stairs being tread upon, which meant that Ilse was coming downstairs. Ah, he thought, Edgard is here.
βIf mama had to call me, I would have come down in nothing but a sheet,β he told his father, because it was the truth. Then, he picked up another glass and set it down. βIlseβs here, too.β
His gaze slid over to Edgard, and he smiled. It was not a kind smile, but one of bared teeth and raised eyebrows. A childish habit from childish years, an undisguised distaste for the other man. They had the same age gap as he had with Ilse, but they were such different people.
βEdgard!β he greeted, in a tone so cheerful that it had to be fake. βWho hit you? Iβd absolutely love to congratulate them. Pay them, even,β he rocked back on the heels of his sock-covered feet, eyes alight with malice. βWould you like a matching bruise? Iβm sure I could accommodate. Come here, make it easier for me!β
Camilleβs attention was so focused on the older Garreau son that he didnβt notice that the younger had slipped in unnoticed by him, a gentle pressure at his side. He then tuned into what his father was saying, eyes narrowing as he tried to make for a more professional appearance. It didnβt work. He continued to grin at Edgard, all teeth, no niceties, and simply listened. His fingers twitched and he felt the soft fingers of Ilseβs hand wrap around his wrist, a notable attempt to stop Camille from lashing out.
βWe canβt be too hasty,β he drawled, βmaybe it was Eddie. Empty threats are like the empty barrel of a gun. It can always be filled.β
βHe didnβt kill Favre and you know it,β Ilse muttered, but did not voice up much farther than that. Instead, he reached around his best friend and took a glass of wine (which he knew was intended for Camille and not himself), taking a sip before offering it to Camille. The older man took it, if only because it was something to do to refrain from hitting Edgard.
He βhmmβd, and took a sip of his wine. Well β heβd succeeded in something, today. Heβd gotten some of his fatherβs wine, even if it was with permission rather than by his sneakiness. Camilleβs gaze slowly slid from the older Garreau son to his father, grin dropping and eyebrows raising slowly.
βWe have many enemies,β that was just in the job description. It didnβt surprise him that someone was trying to frame them for something β but it surprised him that they had targeted Edgard. Then again, it was easy enough to do. βSearching for any one organisation that wanted to put us in our place would take years, let alone searching for a singular person.β
He paused, if only momentarily.
βI still think that I should be allowed to hit Edgard. Just once. For being careless.β
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 25, 2016 4:38:11 GMT -5
them bois, smh. I write response later tomorrow ;p
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2016 4:40:31 GMT -5
later tmrw . good words LMAO okay tho ! i dont think i can shove up another response like that rn anyway omg. im proud of me.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 25, 2016 4:43:54 GMT -5
I'm proud of us too fam >:') And ye, chores and bed time. It's like... 2 am LMAO
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2016 4:48:15 GMT -5
wtf....weak......its nearly 10am here im going strong man
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Post by bagerface on Dec 25, 2016 13:02:55 GMT -5
:3c will Camille hit Edgard or will he not? STAY TUNE TO FIND OUT AFTER THIS COMMERCIAL BREAK )
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2016 13:06:44 GMT -5
I HOPE HE DOES. CAMILLE WANTS TO HIT HIm so bad
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Post by bagerface on Dec 25, 2016 13:21:53 GMT -5
* Jo jo to be continue plays * )
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2016 13:29:10 GMT -5
i have no idea what that is but i appreciate it
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Post by bagerface on Dec 25, 2016 13:30:58 GMT -5
it's meme material )
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2016 13:33:10 GMT -5
as meme-y as darude sandstorm or worse
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Post by bagerface on Dec 25, 2016 13:41:33 GMT -5
mmmm i would say maybe around that level )
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2016 14:14:01 GMT -5
good
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 26, 2016 5:39:53 GMT -5
Anyone who wants a starter tell me which one of ur ocs u want it for and which one of my ocs u want to be interacting with. Xander, promise I will reply tomorrow ;p uvu
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Post by Hollywillow on Dec 26, 2016 6:23:44 GMT -5
(Ooooh this looks interesting)
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 9:52:48 GMT -5
okay dia <:
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Post by bagerface on Dec 26, 2016 12:49:47 GMT -5
(mmLucas and or fournier kid is good LOL )
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 26, 2016 17:28:59 GMT -5
JOIN US >:'D uvu <3
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 17:45:39 GMT -5
join us in HELL
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 26, 2016 18:04:15 GMT -5
For a brief moment, as Camille and Edgard stared at one another, everyone in the room could feel the rising tension. As Camille made his exclamation, he watched as Edgard's lip curl up into a scowl of disgust. He watched as the Garreau snapped at his son, "It'd do you well to shut up, Millie." He said the pet name like an insult, rather than an endearing nickname. "For somebody who claims he's so smart, I don't see it."
"Can it, Edgard," Clement spoke, expression a mixture between annoyed and amused. It was clear he thought his son was deserving of trouble, but his paternal instincts told him to still protect his son while keeping him in check.
As much as the unanimous agreement between Seraphin and Alphonse had been "yes", Alphonse casted a withering look upon his son as his wife did the same. It had been a long standing fact that the eldest two of the Garreau and Fournier children absolutely despised each other, but he would not be the one that allowed Camille to lose his self control. As far as he could remember, the two had always hated each other. He didn't quite know why, but he did understand that if given the opportunity, the two of them were always seeking for a chance to out compete the other - to show the other up and reveal that the other was clearly the inferior.
Now, it was strange, in reality. How was it possible for somebody of Clement's own flesh and blood to be so completely lacking in charisma and loyalty was beyond him. Whereas the younger Garreau, Ilse, maintained his dignified air, Edgard had always done the complete opposite. Edgard didn't command loyalty or respect in the manner his father did - with unyielding bravery and diligence, but rather through the use of fear and violence - two of the most unstable means of power. That, in and of itself, was enough of a reason for him to dislike the eldest Garreau son.
Before he could make a response to Camille's request, however, his wife had already spoken up. Seraphin gave Camille no chance of arguing with one of her most disappointed looks as she answered. "No, Camille, you may not. If you hit him in my house, you will be in big trouble." As menacing as her threatening appearance was, it was much more laughable to him. 5'1", lanky and small, his wife didn't seem as intimidating to him as she did to all his children. It was, in all honesty, endearing and he couldn't help but grin slightly as he took another sip of wine, masking his smile so that Seraphin wouldn't notice his amusement.
And in all honesty, despite Alphonse being very confident in Camille's fighting skills, he didn't actually know if Edgard was equally as good.Or, perhaps, he couldn't even throw a punch. The boy had been spoiled to quite an intolerable amount that could have left him accepting that others would always clean up his messes. Shaking his head as he discarded the train of thought, because yes - it would be absolutely hilarious to see Camille deck Edgard, there were far more important things to do. Clearing his throat, he leveled his gaze with Camille, "As simple as it would be to think Edgard did kill Favre, things are rarely that simple." And I expected better of you than to say things like that went unsaid.
Sighing deeply as he rubbed his temples, the headache that both Edgard and Camille had caused bothersome, he continued. "But you're right. We have many enemies, trying to find out who framed Edgard is like looking for a needle in a haystack." Tapping his fingers against the marble of his kitchen, he focused inquisitively upon the intricate patterns of the kitchen counter. "That's why we need to act. They've made their move, now it's our turn."
As he lifted his gaze, he saw Clement's wide grin. "You want to place a price on the head of whoever killed Favre?"
Though the offer was tempting he shook his head. "As effective as that could be, it could be equally counterproductive. Perhaps the assailant will go into hiding... I think, I'll pull some strings. Our informants can and will get the job done. However, there is one key detail... This conversation doesn't leave this room. It never happened. If so much as a breath escapes about our search, there are chances the employer of the assassin will cut ties with them. Then we'll hit a brick wall, and we wouldn't want that."
In the silence following, Seraphin grabbed his restless hand in hers and squeezed tightly, a gesture of comfort and solidarity. "I'm certain with our connections, we'll locate the assassin in no time."
"Let me guess," Clement added in a drawl, "You want the man alive?"
"But of course."
Tutting to himself quietly, Clement shook his head with an expression of mirth on his features. "I pity the poor man who got in your way." It was no secret that Alphonse was a merciless man to those who crossed his family, but very few knew the extents of his viciousness.
Sparing the others one last glance as he rubbed his thumb in circles against Seraphin's hand, he took another sip of his wine. This was not, by any means, the first attack against the family. After all, many times multiple individuals had challenged the authority of the family. And every time, the individuals had been killed for their insolence. "So, as I was stating, we have to act first. Camille, meet Lucien tomorrow morning. I can't meet him after pulling a few strings, this evening. He should pass on any information about the murder to you. Clement, find out news from the locals. Pass on the information to those in the inner circle."
The inner circle was simple phrase for the capos and the men of honor. Anybody in the Fournier and Garreau household were automatically added, regardless. Those were the individuals who were always trusted. Impossible of being moles, after everything the family had done for them. "That's it as for now," he said. "And remember," here he looked at Camille with a pointed gaze, "We have enough problems to handle, stay out of trouble."
"Simple enough," Clement had grinned as he nudged Alphonse playfully. "I'll tell Jamie and the others, no problem, frère." As he spoke, Alphonse noticed that Clement's eyes glanced towards his watch. "Oh, god," his friend seemed to pale. "It's quite late, Al. Krista will be waiting for me to bring Edgard home." Sighing, he looked apologetically to the godfather. "I'll be heading out now. Ilse on the other can stay here if he wishes, right?" He grinned. It was known, Edgard wasn't welcomed to stay over, but Ilse was.
"Of course," Alphonse responded, patting Clement's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Certainly! Let's finish our game," he laughed. "I still want to see if I'll win you at billiards."
"You have no chance." He shook his head, a stupid grin on his face. "Now get going, you." Shoving Clement at the door in a friendly manner, he nodded to his friend, hoping for the best for the other man. Krista was always a little less accepting than his wife regarding other relationships and staying out late. She was a beautiful and kind woman, nonetheless, but still, quite a tad bit too controlling in his opinion. But Clement loved her and she loved Clement, and that had ultimately settled that and been what mattered.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," Clement agreed, grabbing Edgard by the collar and pulling him out the door. Knowing his eldest was nothing but trouble in the Fournier household, the Garreaus disappeared quickly.
After watching the two leave, Alphonse turned back to Camille and Ilse. "Well, I'm certain that settles the pressing matters, boys." Checking his watch, and yes, Clement had been right about it getting late, "Dinner will be ready in half an hour. You two are free to do whatever it is you usually frolic about and do."
Just like that, the tense atmosphere seemed to have disappeared as Seraphin grinned at him deviously. "Would you like some help?" She asked, eyes bright with a mischievous desire. Somehow, he doubted she was talking about dinner.
"No, no, I'll be fine," he hummed as he wore on his apron and prepared to make the meal. "But you can help me relieve the tension later, non?" he responded, an equally amused twinkle in his eyes.
His wife wasted no time catching his lips in a kiss, green eyes brilliant and entrancing. "That a promise?"
"Oui, Ma Reine."
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 26, 2016 18:04:40 GMT -5
gotta go driving practice, but I'll see if I can finish this up
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 18:08:58 GMT -5
camille's gonna corner edgard when theyre not in the fournier house confirmed :'D
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 26, 2016 18:13:50 GMT -5
camille's gonna corner edgard when theyre not in the fournier house confirmed :'D he can try ;p
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 18:15:44 GMT -5
he will
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Dec 26, 2016 21:24:47 GMT -5
mmm, Cam, my boi, u r truly nothing but trouble xD
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Post by bagerface on Dec 26, 2016 21:30:25 GMT -5
After a series of plot twists, in the end Camille does indeed punch the arrogance and distastefulness out of Edgard and France is saved !!!! )
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 21:32:02 GMT -5
hes GOING to punch edgard at some point in this rp just u watch.
@ bager: U ARENT WRONG france needs to be protected and who better than cam he couldnt even protect his fiance tho lol
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Post by bagerface on Dec 26, 2016 21:37:53 GMT -5
Don't worry that's how it happens in like Assassin Creed or something DA FRANCE SHALL BE SAVED BY CAM)
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2016 21:40:53 GMT -5
ive never finished an asscreed game im too busy using it as a parkour simulator but. VIVE LE CAM
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