A pocketful of gold and time spent with my peers...
     Who are my peers? My brother, certes, but apart from him, who? How many people can understand who and what we are; we're too powerful for most people, we're too connected to 'other things'. Our fathers understand us, but I don't even think our mother does. But then, mother's a bit self-absorbed, much as I love her. But maybe I'm being unfair...
     I don't know, though - I just don't know. I feel as if I don't know anything. Whatever I've learned, I've forgotten. And you most of all, brawd. I haven't forgotten you, but I feel I don't know you anymore. But it isn't you that's changed, has it? So that means it must be me...
     "Excuse me," Gwilym's being polite tonight rather than gallant. He tips his hat (grey) with its long coal-black and red feather to a plumply pretty witch, who giggles. He allows his gaze to follow her for a moment, but he isn't really seeing her; he's thinking of other things.
     I don't know...
     He is otherwise all in black tonight, save for a blood-red cloak which whirls about his shoulders as he turns a corner and passes through a doorway. A highwayman, save for all that red. The red will be discarded, later, in favour of still more black, a mask added in the best tradition of his father. For now, though, he looks about himself.
     Where are you, brawd...
     I need to find you...
     But more, I need to find myself. Through not fault of yours.

     Where the hell are you going off to in that outfit? Your brother's familiar drawl sounds within your ears. Is there a fancy dress party I don't know about? In the back of The Old Broom -- an old witch and warlock place in the back alleys of Diagon Alley, frequented by the shady, studious, adventurous and those wishing their words not to be heard by the busy-bodies that seem to congregate on the main by-ways of the Magical Corridor -- sits a very differently dressed Iowerth Rhudd Draig.
     He's ready for London. He's wearing dark jeans (not black, simply a dark blue, as dark as the tattoos on his body in fact), a navy pinstriped blazer (no military insignia this time) with grey lines, and a t-shirt that reads: Free Wales, Fuck Off. His hair is cut to be spiky, copper fire going in all sorts of directions and gifted by his father with thick hair that tends to curl but when kept short stands up however he wants it.
     The annoying fuck...
     He waves from where he sits, two tankards of butter beer waiting -- one for you and one for him. And now he's rising. The drinks are on me tonight, brawd. And there he is, just like his father, coming in for a hug, a wrestling grab with one arm around your shoulder as he heads with you to the back corner of the of the pub.
     "Good to see you. So... I hear you're London bound to work with da, among other things." He pats your back, pulling at you again. Affectionate your brother is, but you come from a touchy-feely family.
     It's so good to see you. I can't explain why it is. Maybe it's just understanding something about myself, about realizing who you are to me... and knowing all of that, and how it has changed me, and that I would willingly lay down this life for you.
     Iowerth slides the butter beer tankard to you as he takes a seat across from you. "I'm heading to London, too, at his request. But... not to work. I'm to..." Now he is moving his fingers to make quotation marks, "... observe, pay attention, listen and learn." He rolls his eyes a little as he relaxes back in his chair. I'm not suggesting we share an apartment or anything, but I wanted you to know I'd be there.

     Droll. Very droll. Gwilym makes his way over to you, giving you a bit of a look. I can change clothes, but unlike you, I prefer to blend in to some extent wherever I am. I like to stand out based on my personality more than my clothing.
     But he returns the hug, pounding your back and allowing you to drag him off to drink, his grin a quick flash of mercury before he's looking to mind where he walks. His own hair is in its usual cut - long in front, short in back, threatening his field of vision. He can get away with it here or there or London, it's all the same...
     "I'm headed into London, oes," your brother answers, dropping into a chair as if felled by an axe. "I guess I'll find out then if I'll sink or swim or be thrown into the Seine. I've got a few plans of my own, though." Gwilym shrugs, nonchalant. Why worry? Never let them see you sweat. "We'll see how it goes."
     He takes the tankard before it can end up in his lap, lifting it to his lips after a little salute. "Cheers." And he watches you.
     Not overtly, not rudely, but he is watching you. How have you changed? How has life been for you...
     I know how it's been for me and I just - I don't know. I used to have all the answers, and now I've run out of answers. Not all of them, yet, but I'm running through them. I am emptying myself. I guess...
     I guess I need to become empty, so I can be ready for whatever's next...
     Da's sending you to London, too? There's a flash of surprise, there, jade eyes flickering in reflections of light and shadow; then Gwilym shrugs. He shouldn't be surprised, really. Well, I suppose it'll be a learning experience for us both, then, won't it. I don't really know what he's going to have me do; I'm to be helping him, that's all I know. Which I will. And ... no, probably better we not live together, under the circumstances.
     That last thought was wry in its flavour, and now it's with deliberate lightness. I think you'll have had enough of me for a while. Besides, you have your own life, now. Can't always be riding on my coat tails, now can you! A flash of self-mockery crosses Gwilym's expression, and he pulls a horrible face at you, running his fingers through his hair so it sticks up all over the place : grinning mischief which then settles again into that studied lightness.
     I am playing a part. With my own brother, I am playing a part, and praying he doesn't notice. Because, really, what else can I do? I don't know what to say, or to think. I don't know what I feel. Everything is fallen away and now there's only the part that's left. Thank you, Gwilym adds to you, taking another pull at his drink, letting his gaze travel the room, ...for letting me know. It's always good to know where you'll be, if only so I can keep an eye on you and keep you out of trouble.

     He didn't tell me much, save that he wants us there. He wants us to understand what life is. It's a test, for certes. And there'll be a reward. At least for you there will be. He smiles then. He seems... older somehow. As if something has clicked in him, for him. There is a comfort there, a growing maturity. For me, the same as ever with da. A challenge followed by another challenge. He takes a drink of the beer.
     He is preparing for something. You can see it in his eyes.
     I know... things have been odd between us lately. So... we're going through a growing spurt of ...some kind. He rolls his shoulders. Whatever it'll be I just want you to know that I love you and that I need you in my life. I don't want you to leave me behind, you know. I think that... I look for you, I always look for you in everything that I do. I think it'll always be that way.
     He's getting emotional. Like da, he has to turn and look away, look at the ceiling. He takes another drink. My... being with Tiernan... isn't running away from you. It's... keeping you with me, in a weird way. I just wanted you to know that. And... I want to thank you for helping me.
     There, I have said it. Nothing is hidden from you. Not my heart, not my thoughts. I look at you, and you know it is the truth, that I'm bearing myself to you. I breathe a little harder, nervous at what you might say or do.
     And then I have to fill the space...
     "I will be studying life on the material plane, mostly. Feeling what there is to feel, understanding it beyond the books and histories I've read. I'm looking forward to that. It appeals to my scientific nature."

     You have changed...
     What's happened to you? What's happened to us?
     He looks at you, then looks down at the table as if half expecting to see it gone missing, a vast divide growing between you and himself. You seek to bridge it, but all he sees is the divide. Just ... try to make sure you pass his tests, oes? He's rougher on you, I think, than he is on me.
     Gwilym says that, then downs half his pint, leaning back in his chair. He is uncomfortable with these admissions. Yours and his alike. It isn't your fault, Io ... what I'm dealing with, it's me, not you. It isn't about leaving you behind, not really. More the other way around, in some ways.
     You've grown. I don't think I have. Is this because you fell in love? What is this? Why does it make me afraid?
     You ... don't need someone else to keep me with you, brawd. But ... if he makes you happy, then that is all that matters. I was being selfish and careless, and - well, I only hope I did not hurt your heart too much.
     Now you've got him doing it. Gwilym has to close his eyes, not looking at the ceiling or anything else, emotions running high. You'd think I'd have learned that from watching mum and da and papa, but ... I suppose they're right, and I just am a bit thick. Our family isn't as other families. Why would we be any different?
     He leans forward, tankard set down with a heavy clank, arms folded now on the edge of the table, chin down on his hands as he looks broodily to the table. "I intend to drink, get drunk, and chase a lot of tail, myself. It appeals to my base nature."

     Yes, he is rougher on me. None of you will ever know how much. These... tattoos. They are marks, physical marks of my passing his tests. He tries to drown me, but I fight to live. And for fighting, I get another fight, and for standing, I get his love. And in the end...
     ...In the end, the son will have to replace the father...
     He loves you very much. He loves me too, Iowerth quickly adds, ...but it is a ...tough love. Now, it is a tough love. Not so when the two of you were small. When you were small, the great da would scoop you both up for adventures. Hugging was mandatory, music, nothing but rewards. He was so mighty, so strong. I will never be that mighty, he thought back then. Now, he understands that making him mighty like that is his father's legacy to him.
     I'm not leaving you. We're going to walk different paths from time to time. But... brother... that isn't the end of us, yeah? You know that, right? We will walk in these... circles... always diverting, but always returning. His hand traces out a celtic-styled pattern on the wood of the table. Please don't think that. Others will come and go for both of us. You know this. But we will always be here for one another. Always.
     He reaches forward with his hand to clasp your own, his other covering it. A pat of his hand and then he stis back. He takes a swallow of the beer, red-faced with his own emotion. You're not thick, Gwilym, and they don't think that. You're brilliant. Crafty. Smarter than I am, because you have life smarts as well as book smarts. Sure, I know more about Aristotle, maybe. He laughs suddenly, realizing he doesn't know that that's true. Okay, I know more about sailing than you do, but that's it. Don't doubt yourself. I shouldn't tease you about it. It's just... because you are so suave and confident... I had to find something to rib you about.
     "I hear London is good for the base nature. Anything you want, it has." He has been there fairly frequently. But then you and he have done your share of sneaking around -- both separate and together. Just... be careful. It's also full of great darkness. But...you know the shadows better than I do. I just know that the... depths of it can grab the ankles like the worst sort of mud.
     "Maybe we should start on the getting drunk part tonight," he barks a laugh, like father like son. And... he makes me happy. He makes me crazy, but I am happy when I'm with him. So, it's like you... only not you. Obviously. I wouldn't want to fuck you. Regardless of how our parents act, I am not attracted to my own family! He makes a very visible shudder and chuckles as he sits back with the tankard. He looks into the cup. I did follow your advice. You were right, brawd. I offered him a position, first courtier in the Court of the Crescent Moon. If things work out and I like him and he's not evil, he winks periwinkle to you, ...which you will continue to check out, I trust. I will make him my chamberlain. One day. Should it last. Should it not, then he will be reassigned. I'm going to be treading lightly with da when in London. I'm... taking Tiernan with me...

     I'm not confident. He admits it to you gruffly, not looking at you. He looks up, almost sullen for a moment before the charm reasserts itself, and his arm twines around the waist of a serving girl. "Hello, there, dearie! You look just like a girl I once knew - wouldn't happen to be you, would it? No? Well, my friend here and I're very thirsty, so if you could just make a pitcher arrive, and maybe some of that delicious-smelling bread and cheese..."
     A coin is waved before the girl's fascinated eyes, and with a giggle, she snatches the gold and vanishes with her apron strings sailing out behind her. Gwilym looks satisfied that this will result in the fulfillment of his present base desires, settling back. But his thoughts to you are still serious - still gruff.
     I know how to twist and turn at people, that's all. Confident? Hells, brawd, I'm constantly searching mother's alleys a dozen times over to make sure I haven't forgotten anything, wondering if this will be the night that they catch up to me. I am a great fake. People just ... like to be liked.
     He shrugs. It is true. That is all there is to it. It is exhausting, sometimes, but I can't take the silence the way you can. I need noise. When I can't take noise anymore, then I'll go somewhere to brood. But I get enough of that skulking on rooftops.
     He slouches back down in his chair, shifting. He is so uncomfortable in his skin, just now. "London's good for a lot of things," he cracks. "That's certainly one of them." Maybe that's what I need right now. To get down in the mud. I don't know, Io. I really don't.
     He shakes his head with a little sigh, sinking down in his seat. "Getting drunk sounds good," Gwilym agrees easily. "The more, the better, right?" He runs a hand back through his hair again, opening his eyes to look at you.
     If he makes you happy, that's all that matters, Io. Look at our parents. I ... am happy for you. I will try not to resent your happiness. I will try not to be jealous of it, of you, or of him. He'll try. He's not making any promises. And he falls quiet as you continue, a stillness from his side of the table.
     You are ... doing many things, aren't you?
     I see. A long silence which lasts through the return of the serving girl, the pitcher, the cheese, the bread. He flirts with her as naturally as breathing, patting her hip and offering her a smile. But inside, there is stillness.
     I don't know what to tell you, Gwilym tells you finally, his jade glance moving over you and then back down to the bread, the pitcher. He smiles a little, leaning forward so his hair falls in his eyes. Be careful, I suppose. Papa's ... he cares about you. I've done what I can, to steer him away from truth, but ... be happy, I guess. I don't know. What is it you want, Io?
     He is withdrawing into himself. There are the little signs of it, the link between you open (as only twins can be open to, with one another), but he is withdrawing. For him, he is being quiet...

     Why are you pulling back. What are you afraid of? It is a sudden thought shared. Quiet but succinct, just like his gaze. What is this... this anger in you, or fear or whatever the fuck it is. What's driving it, Gwilym? You fight yourself...
     You withdraw into yourself, but he follows you. Leaning in, he does not relent. Periwinkle sparkles in the green. He will follow you as your papa follows him. Until you face him and stand.
     I will worry about papa later. For now, I am worried about you. I will tell him I'm bisexual and deal with the fall-out myself. You don't need to get into that battle. Iowerth holds his tankard in his hands, surrounding it as he looks over it to you. I'm not asking you to tell me anything. You don't like him. If it's just ....you not knowing who or what you are or who or what you are to me and resenting him... that's one thing. I can accept that. If there's a reason you don't like him that I should know about, then you need to tell me. If you don't like how he looks, then you should just admit it, but shrinking back whenever I mention him... this I don't know what to do with. I don't know what to think when you do that. Or maybe it has nothing to do with him, but it only seems to happen when he's mentioned...
     Finally, he sits back. He glances to the girl. Yes, he can admire the female flesh. In fact, he likes it. I don't know what you mean... what do I want? What do I want with what? He's looking into his ever-emptying tankard. He could use another drink.
     "Our parents are... strange. I don't understand how they negotiate ... that. All of it. I don't want that kind of complication in my life. And yet." He stops, he looks to you. I have a complicated affair of my own. You'd think I'd know better. He smirks now at himself and at you. "We're a fuckin' pair, you know that. We're so fucking neurotic. We could fill reams of psychiatric analysis."
     He laughs suddenly, warmly, richly. Iowerth turns in his chair, "Bring one of your loveliest friends," he calls out to the waitress. Fortunately, there are two girls who work here. Lovely enough, as it were.
     Well, brawd... I'm not sure what to tell you about confidence. I guess I'm surprised. You always seemed more confident than I could ever be. Particularly with women. You're so ... cavalier. Me? Bookish, a bit shy really. I've always looked up to you. I wish I could be like you are, how you seemed to move in the world. Maybe we're both better than we think. Maybe we're just our own worst critics...

     You don't have to tell him anything, I'm not afraid of that! But he is afraid. He's just admitted it, even though he didn't intend to, and now he flinches. A moment sooner, and he could have prevented it - but it's been said, and once uttered, it can't be summoned back. And you receive a glower for it.
     I don't know what I think of him, Io, alright? It isn't him. I haven't seen anything which indicates to me any reason why you should not be with him. His mother is a nasty thing, but he is nothing like his mother. Will it last? I don't know. Will he break your heart, or you his? Again, I don't know - and you wouldn't thank me for telling you even if I did know, would you?
     Jade eyes regard you, then look away. You are looking at female flesh more than he is, right now. He is seeing ... something else. I don't know what I think of him. I don't know what to think, Io. I'm trying to be happy for you and ... to feel anything, I suppose. You know I love you; you are my brother. There is noone in the world to whom I am closer. I will never be this close to anyone. And, if we were not brothers, ** he admits it, I don't know that you could be this close to me. I don't let people in, Io.
     He stands up, unclasping his cloak and letting it slip from his shoulders. You envy me for how charming I can be, for how confident I am, because if I know a man five minutes I can call him my bosom companion. It is ... only a trick of memory and friendliness, Io. It's done with smoke and mirrors; light and shadows. It means nothing. For all my bonhomie, I am as alone as you.
     Gwilym offers you a brief smile, and briefly, his eyes meet yours, and he looks away. Only, you're not alone anymore, are you? Ah, well... you shouldn't listen to me. I'm full of shite tonight. How did we get on this topic?
     "Our parents manage," Gwilym drawls to you, reaching for the bread and tearing off a chunk. "They managed to have us, didn't they?" And there is another sensitive topic. You see him flinch just slightly. You are managing to trample, cat-like, on all those spots tonight. Let's just ... get drunk and not worry about it. Things will happen however they happen, right?