aiden tetradore

Lost sight of the man in the mirror
Following a heart of a sinner

Admittedly, the Were-King had thought particularly little of what his sibling's life must consist of - those demands made of royalty simply not considered till this very moment when that soft, exasperated exhale left the fae's lips. How that very action, wordless though it was, held a poignant promise that the day's events would hardly be as lackadaisical as he had so foolishly hoped! His eyebrow rose ever so slightly as he listened astutely to that very schedule so outlined before them. Truly, he found himself almost envying his brother's undead lover, if only for the simple fact that Sebastian was surely spared a great deal of such social responsibilities. Though, he supposed it might too make those engagements all the more taxing if Dorian was frequently required to do them alone. Such thoughts, however, were momentarily pushed aside as Dorian spoke of his own favored past times - gardening. It was, admittedly, a peculiar hobby, considering all that he knew of Matteo's cherished son. He had never anticipated that the boy who so detested bugs might relish in playing in dirt and yet, he supposed it was a likely byproduct of spending hundreds of years trapped without the slightest touch of greenery. Really, Matteo should have brought the boy plants or something with his affinities all those years ago.

His own interest, or lack thereof, within such a hobby was severely limited, however, by his own home's lack of gardens, or even dirt. That frown upon the Italian Monarch's lips, however, prompted a small shrug from the Were-King and yet, he supposed he could understand just the value those plants held for Dorian, to some extent. "I've seen yachts though that put gardens on their top deck. It's not impossible, I suppose." He commented, as if the possibility of it might somehow lessen the disappointment of all that he was apparently being denied. It was that very denial that so seemed to linger upon the forefront of both of their minds and too all that Dorian was often forced to forgo. Tetradore could scarcely imagine such a demanding lifestyle, the Were-King so rarely relenting to the stringent whims of the world, thanks largely to all that was quite simply taken from him without his consent. It was hardly his place, after all, to insist upon how Dorian so chose to live his life, that reason alone prompting the soft cautiousness to his voice as he assured his sibling that he surely deserved a day every now and then to spend as he so saw fit. That small shake of the fae's head, however, caused his eyebrows to furrow and the corner of his lips to turn downward in a small frown.

He could barely imagine such acute attention as that Dorian spoke of. Tetradore himself so often chose to pass unnoticed, the Alpha so well known for his aloofness and decision to so separate himself from the events that surrounded him. As a result, his very presence was often ignored, the man given visible space with the simple exception of those times he demanded that respect that so came with his status. Their lives were so starkly different and yet, Tetradore was more than willing to play that listening ear to his sibling. "Could you not just....set a day and ensure nothing is....planned for that day? Then you don't have to cancel anything and no one would be any wiser?" He inquired, his head tilting to the side as his cheek rested upon his fist and yet, he suppose even that notion too had its drawbacks - if they simply failed to accept any sort of invitation, it too would surely be spoken of just as eagerly. A soft breath left his lips before a subtle, almost teasing simper crossed his features. "You could always just...lie. Course that won't help you when the media finds out but...." Tetradore shrugged and yet...he tried, in his own way, to so lighten what even he could tell stressed Dorian so greatly. For now, however, Dorian seemed all too content to simply wave off that conversation, letting that discussion so shift instead of their shared...Father. The idea of associating Matteo with that word was, admittedly, still a novel concept for him.

Even so, Tetradore was rather inquisitive of that text message Dorian had received. His emerald eyes watched as his sibling pulled out that golden phone, the fae's fingers sliding effortlessly over the screen to pull up that text message. The Were-King leaned forward taking that offered phone only for his gaze to dance over that screen. An audible snort left Tetradore's nose as his finger reached out to tap upon the screen, pulling up the keyboard to craft his own perfect retort. His emerald eyes fluttered upwards towards the Monarch across from him, only to inquire how Dorian might so take to calling someone an 'ass'. He was certain hearing such words from his son would surely craft a far better emotional response from the Frenchman than his own cursing ever did. Matteo was decidedly accustomed to his own foul language, after near twenty years. That glimpse of blatant astonishment upon Dorian's features, however, hardly daunted the Alpha in the slightest. Frankly he suspected Dorian had never considered calling out his father in such a fashion. His shoulders lifted in a vague shrug, "I mean...how would you tell him that he's being.......difficult?" Tetradore inquired, the man having to pause for a notable moment to so consider that emotion he was tempting to convey without his own flowery tendencies, if they could be called that.

That small shake of Dorian's head caused his eyebrow to raise ever so slightly and yet, Tetradore was wholly unprepared for the compliment that so left his siblings lips. Very few, admittedly, found Tetradore an exciting person to be around. He was used to being intimidated, feared even but to be found bold and exciting? Such a concept was altogether novel for the man, prompting him to almost stare blankly at his companion for a moment before his gaze shifted back towards that cellphone in his hands. "Uh...thanks..." That soft chuckle from Dorian's lips hardly helped that fashion in which Tetradore so seemed to be distinctly flustered, and though Dorian was quick to merely brush aside that vague compliment, the fae's continued observance of his similarities to their father hardly helped to ease his own discomfort at those glimpses of approval. He hardly voiced a word, however, on that comparison, thankfully saved by Dorian's insistence that he had an idea for that text message the duo was attempting to craft. His own emerald eyes slowly followed the silver hue of Dorian's glancing down the aisle of the aircraft to the very back of the plane and the closed door beyond. A questioning glance crossed his features though Tetradore said distinctly little of it as the Italian fae's attention turned back towards him, gesturing slightly to that phone the Were-King had in hand.

"A letter....?" He inquired, that particular choice of a word so prompt the smallest glimpses of dread within the man. What had he gotten himself into if a text message was to be as long as a letter?! "Okay...." The Alpha muttered, his voice near cautiously trailing off as his attention remained astutely stationed upon the Monarch himself. He was hardly prepared for those words that Dorian offered him, however, and for a moment that near blank stare returned to the Alpha's features. That glance alone so quickly chasing off that small grin of pride that graced Dorian's lips as the King inquired as to what was 'wrong'. "Do you seriously start each text with 'Dear Matteo'?" He inquired, glancing down at the phone in his hands to flick that screen upwards. For a moment his gaze traced vaguely over those previous texts, only to confirm that which he had begun to question. "Dear God, you do. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tetradore hardly expected a response to his own mumbled inquiry as his fingers moved quickly across that keyboard, making some effort to craft a text message that held all of Dorian's peculiar intricacies while glossing over that exact wording that his brother had so used. In fact, Tetradore was near purposeful to include that near dreaded word, that final text message reading:

'Dear Matteo,
I wish to inform you that your text message is unsatisfactory and has brought me discord. It is inappropriate to refer to my brother in such a fashion. You are very unhelpful and I believe my brother is correct to call you...an ass.'

His brother's worry, however, was brushed off with his own muttered reassurance, "It's fine Dorian." He stated simply as his fingers flew quickly across the keyboard, only to press that send button. A small glimpse of satisfaction crossed his features as he watched that message go through, only to return that phone back to the fae King's hands. Tetradore watched as Dorian's gaze drifted over the screen, clearly glancing over that message he had sent and yet, before the Monarch could so chastise him for that use of words, Tetradore was quick to shift that conversation back to those questions that had lingered so potently upon Dorian's mind. His explanation of those gaming consoles, however, were cut strikingly short by the simple remembrance that Dorian likely had little idea of what he was speaking of, particularly his own feelings upon FIFA and the very clear following that sporting game had. Really, why play a sports videogame when he could just go outside and play the actual fucking game!? His own thoughts upon that series, however, was distracted by that sudden glimpse of understanding from the fae King as Dorian so inquired after games like Monopoly. "Uhh...yeah...like that." Tetradore responded, his voice simply trailing off as he listened to how violent Matteo and Alexander seemed to get over Risk. "What the fuck happened....?" He inquired, altogether baffled how a bloody board game could produce such a creation in such usually composed men to prompt the destruction of a rug.

That conversation of board games, however, quickly deviated only at the mention of Dorian's own husband. Admittedly, Matteo and himself had spoken distinctly little of the vampire, the Frenchman often choosing not to discuss those complicated topics of his own issues and feelings, if only for just how the despondency of Tetradore's life so tended to monopolize their very relationship. It was distinctly....selfish of the Were-King, the man distinctly aware of that very fact now that he so dwelled upon it. Perhaps he should not rely upon Matteo so much to fix things. His contemplation of that very thing, however, was momentarily pushed aside as Dorian expressed his own concerns for that...strained relationship between his husband and his father. Tetradore's head shook ever so slightly and yet he was hardly willing to not entertain the notion. "It would make sense with what he said at dinner I suppose. I can ask him about it, if you'd like?" At the very least, he knew easily how to navigate those waters of Matteo's attempt to brush off such questions with vagueness, the Were-King so often calling the Fae out on his attempts to side-step those matters in which he often chose not to speak of.

For now, however, Tetradore so attempted to direct that conversation back towards his sibling and those hobbies Dorian took such an interest within, particularly when he was well assured the Monarch knew so little of those distinctly few things in life that Tetradore tended to prefer instead. The very mention of paint seemed to draw that warm grin to Dorian's features as the fae insisted that he quite adored painting anything. He watched as Dorian pulled out a crayon from his pocket as the man turned towards the table between them. "Uh....you know that's not....paint...right?" He inquired, his eyebrow rising skeptically as he reached for that mug of hot chocolate, simply removing it from the table to further allow the King that canvas to work. Tetradore watched as that flower was so beautifully drawn upon the wooden surface before a light tap of Dorian's finger saw those petals fill with color. His gaze widened ever so slightly as he glanced up as his sibling only for Dorian to reach forward and pluck that flower from the table itself, the plant seemingly real as it left its vertible canvas. Slowly, he put his own hot chocolate down only to take that offered flower, his fingers inquisitively running over the petals as he studied the very realism of the object in his hands. That soft inquiry of what he thought, however, caused his gaze to shift upwards. "Have you ever tried to draw a car...? I mean...if you did would it actually work?"