private with ♔ Amaury Favreau (@Cecily Quinn) date ♔ August 2, 2023 | Favreau château

français ⇆ english

The day was bright and sunny, the rays casting a warm glow on the grounds outside of the château.

Perhaps it was the weather, or maybe it was the fact that she was finally home after the longest month of her life, but Sylvie was in a good mood and she was eager to share it with anyone else in the vicinity. She was unsure of where the rest of her family was; of course, her parents were at work but the château remained eerily quiet for housing four teenagers. Summer camp had been a long and arduous undertaking, and Sylvie was reveling in the fact that it was finally over. She could not quite conceive what pushed her to sign up for it year after year, but here she was, home at last, another successful summer under her belt.

At least she had not been entirely alone in the endeavor. Of course, in her mind, it was almost equivalent, considering that she and her twin brother barely deigned to acknowledge each other for the entire month they spent in the Scottish highlands together. She knew he had spent some time duelling, but she had been so focused on her own sulking and preparation for broom racing that she hadn't even given a thought to what Amaury had been up to. Perhaps if she had taken the time to seek out his company her time at Hogwarts would not have been so dreary.

Whoever had come up with the idea of twin telepathy had certainly not devised the theory from observing the Favreau twins. Sylvie couldn’t think of a less-close pair of twins, or honestly maybe even siblings, than her and Amaury. Was it partially due to their gender difference? Sylvie knew that many twins she was aware of shared that aspect of their identity, perhaps giving them a leg up in the bonding game. Whatever it was, she and her twin brother operated in entirely different fields, not only with their extracurricular activities at school but generally in their lives as well. She loved him, of course, as she loved all of her siblings and her entire family, but if forced to elaborate on the extent of this love for her brother, she would come up empty. Sure there were qualities that he possessed that Sylvie admired — and whether or not she cared to admit it, envied — but coming up with a bulleted list of why she loved her brother seemed almost as difficult as participating in a duel. Which, coincidentally, was Amaury’s passion.

The mix of her good mood and the sheer relief she felt from being home after camping was what had led her to leave the note under her brother’s door before she had ventured out into the gardens. Amaury, it had read, it seems about time we should spend some quality time together. I will be in the gardens enjoying the beautiful day. Come relax and decompress from camping if you wish.

Sylvie and Amaury had no ill intention toward each other, though of course the sibling rivalry ran rampant. She was not sure how much of it was just perceived by herself as the female twin wanting to prove her worth and how much of it was actually there, but she was hoping that extending this olive branch would allow them to open the door to reducing the vast abyss that spanned their nonexistent relationship.

Amaury studied note in his hand, slipped covertly under his door, his name spelled out in his sister's neat, elegant handwriting. A rare instigation of contact from Sylvie, one he could not have predicted nor expected. The two gave each other a wide berth due to a combination of mere sibling rivalry and a deeper-rooted animosity. They had endured a childhood together under the relentless, scrutinous gaze of the Favreau name, and yet, despite their shared experiences, they had grown far and ever apart. There was always some level of compassion, and love, of course-- they were family, after all-- but a constant undertone of bitterness and even envy had tinted their every conversation. Neither could say quite why they could never see eye-to-eye, but alas, the Favreau twins fell into patterns of hostility and distance again and again.

Another glance towards the note. A truce, it suggested, between the two fueding twins. Amaury couldn't fathom under what circumstances. Sure, regardless of his talent of holding a grudge, he had long felt the weight of this war on his psyche, but there had never been a moment to suggest a change of heart from Sylvie. Perhaps she had simply decided it wasn't worth the effort. Perhaps it was a positive mood overcompensating for the nightmare of summer camp, an annual outing that Amaury knew his sister depised just as much as he did. Perhaps she had suffered a near-death experience and was looking to mend ties before it was too late. Nothing was off the table.

He traversed the long corridors of the château in the direction of the gardens, his footsteps echoing in the grand silence. It was often oddly still in the far reaches of the Favreau manor, regardless of the number of staff or family members present. The sheer size of the building left plenty of quiet corners in which to recluse or reflect, and in the long, drawn out moments of Amaury's childhood, he had found them all. He often found himself retreating towards the simplicity of the stillness, the comfort of the quietude. It was not that he was one to shy away from the face of hardship; in fact, he often sought it out: a new spell, a rogue duel, a complex social situation. But it was the moments in between, the moments that left space to breathe, that called for a serenity that was hard to come by elsewhere.

Amaury was leaving the comfort far behind as he neared the center of the château, full of the busiest rooms, en route to where Sylvie would be waiting. It felt almost unnatural to seek her out in this way, without ill-intent and without apprehension. The rare situations in which they played nice with each other were few and far between, and typically not of their own design. But this was new, and hopeful. Like an olive branch extended underneath his door and tucked into his back pocket.

He found Sylvie perched on a bench amongst the roses, back turned to him, sun illuminating her dark hair. Quietly, he took a seat beside her, the note back between his fingers. Hesitant to shatter this tenuous moment of peace between the twins, he spoke not a word, allowing the bees to hum and the breeze to sway the petals in an uncertain silence. Sylvie had instigated this supposed change in heart; it would be up to her to continue it.

private with ♔ Amaury Favreau (@Cecily Quinn) date ♔ August 2, 2023 | Favreau château

français ⇆ english

As she sat on the bench looking out at the vast grounds, Sylvie began contemplating if she had made a mistake.

Perhaps she had been swept up in the cheer of good weather and finally being home that she had deliriously decided that extending an olive branch was a good idea. What was the goal of any of this anyway? It wasn't like she expected to magically undo years of growing apart and skip through the gardens hand in hand with her brother.

Fortunately, Sylvie had enough nerve to not abandon her spot on the bench, knowing that if Amaury decided to join her and found no one there, he would know she had bailed. If anything, Sylvie was a woman of her word. The breeze rustled through the gardens, masking the footsteps of the approaching figure who sat down next to Sylvie, a silence settling over the siblings as the breeze continued on its way. It was clear that Amaury was not going to make the first move to speak, which grated Sylvie's nerves slightly. She had already put in the effort to write the letter. Could he not extend the same effort in beginning the conversation? Evidently not.

Men, she thought to herself, actively suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. There were two parts of Sylvie's mind that were wrestling with each other at the moment. One part of her wanted to let her guard down and start a conversation. The other part wanted to sit here stubbornly in silence, waiting to see if he would crack first. Of course, knowing her brother, she knew they would inevitably sit in silence until the sun went down and it was far too chilly to remain outside. She should have come up with a better plan than this. She should have just written it all out in a Howler that yelled at her brother. God, having feelings...and let alone expressing them, was so foreign and uncomfortable for Sylvie that she could only imagine how awkward it would be to say it out loud.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "Belle journée, n'est-ce pas?" Beautiful day, isn't it? Was it lame to automatically default to the weather? Maybe. But it was a safe topic to begin with. Perhaps he would take it from here.

The breeze rustled the leaves around the two as they sat in a tense silence, bringing with it the sweet scent of blossoms. It was a beautiful day, Sylvie was right, but small talk was all they ever did. It seemed an interesting strategy when she was clearly looking for things to change. Amaury looked down, twisting the note through his fingers, looked up at the sky. A lone bumblebee fluttered dizzyingly above their heads. It was a beautiful place, too, to be having such a strained conversation.

It was clear that Sylvie wasn't quite sure why they were here either. It was something of a source of comfort to Amaury, that they both came to the garden in search of a conversation neither of them had ever quite considered. Even if he was inclined to start it, he wasn't even sure of the words he would use. How do you casually say, hey, sorry I've been an asshole to you for ten years instead of being your twin, wanna just forgive and forget? He was all too aware of the fact that one misstep could cause this moment to stretch and snap, and they might never get it back. He was almost tempted to just hurry the inevitable and walk away now, to make it less awkward for both of them.

He took a breath and read the note once more. "It seems about time we should spend some quality time together." Hesitating, he put the note down on the bench between the two of them, and gathered his thoughts.

"Just say what you came here to say, Sylvie," he finally replied, watching the bee land delicately on a hibiscus bloom. She wrote the note for a reason, and if she couldn't put it into words, then maybe she needed to think about it a little harder. He knew she was uncomfortable too, but he was committed to seeing this through, and he refused to shy away from this interaction that she instigated. At least she hadn't stood him up; she had the guts to be here waiting when he arrived, and he had the nerve to actually show up and find her here. That was a promising step in the right direction.

private with ♔ Amaury Favreau (@Cecily Quinn) date ♔ August 2, 2023 | Favreau château

français ⇆ english

"Just say what you came here to say, Sylvie."

The words pierced through the air like a knife, cutting through the bright day and landing squarely in Sylvie's chest. She wasn't sure what the issue was entirely. She had always prided herself on being an eloquent person, always equipped with a witty line or knowledgeable remark for any conversation she found herself in. Of course, the issue was that none of those conversations revolved around Sylvie having to grapple with her feelings. She was quite the brazen person, never backing down from a fight, but going head to head with the tangled web of emotion inside of her was something Sylvie had always shied away from.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bench, trying not to let her brother see how uneasy this was making her feel. Unfortunately, she was heavily aware of the irony of this endeavor. The entire purpose of this meeting was to try to build a bridge between the siblings, not reinforce the walls that had so long kept them apart. How could they begin to become closer if she couldn't even express discomfort in front of him? Sylvie's gaze fixated on a nearby bumblebee as it explored the vibrant leaf of a hibiscus flower. How much simpler life would be if she were a bumblebee, she thought. Alas, she could not will herself out of this conversation, and she was not about to let her stupid fear keep her from having this conversation.

Keeping her eyes attached to the bumblebee, Sylvie cleared her throat. "Perhaps I've gone mad," she began. "All of that time in the Scottish highlands. I don't know about you, but it was quite a dreadful experience for me." She dared a quick glance in her brother's direction, wondering how he was taking in the information. "I couldn't help but notice the camaraderie amongst many of my cabinmates. It made me wonder...perhaps...if the experience might have been better if I had not had a comrade myself?"

She wondered what her enemies would think in this moment: Sylvie sitting on a bench, admitting to her estranged sibling that she truly had no friends. It was quite pitiful, which pained Sylvie, and she was glad that there was no one else around.