Fiat justitia ruat caelum

“I think everyone knows of your mother,” Nina chimed in with an amused grin. It was difficult to not recognize the face that sat beside her. They may be strangers, but she knew of Clemence from the reality program her family plummeted through. It was one of the highest-grossing productions outside of Real Housewives. Nina liked to assume she had classy taste, but always held an innate interest in bad reality television. She turned her head, her palm digging into her cheek as she slurped her drink. “I think anything is good content with your mother. Be careful, she might put it on the next episode.” 

“I’m sorry, for that.” She was, genuinely - she knew well enough what it was like to have a horrendous family that overshadowed every holiday with their actions. “With the other holidays coming up, you know you’re always welcome to come to my home.” Whatever she could do to help, to give the girl a safe space to enjoy herself without Clementine and her antics. She listened to Clemence’s explanation, brow furrowing slightly as she thought over the possibilities. Law school was…competitive. Hard. People would do whatever they had to in order to to stay on top. “The simple question, I suppose, is to ask if there are any enemies you’ve made. If there are any people in your classes who you’ve competed with more than others.”

Clemence shrugged. She tried to let her family troubles not be anyone else’s problem but she appreciated the invitation.  “I appreciate it. I might end up taking you up on it someday. Clementine is...just hard to say no to.” Her mother was the most skilled at getting what she wanted.

“Doubtful,” Ryder chuckled, shaking his head. “Just used to it. My dad owns a car shop. I’ve been getting minor burns my whole life.” A shrug followed hers and he smiled softly as she tried to get the sugar off. He nodded when she asked, though. “Yea, all gone,” he said. “Next time, I’ll make sure not to send your pastries flying.” He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know if that makes me feel worse or better. Work that crazy this time of year, huh?”

It didn’t surprise Stella that Clemence had never been to Candle 79. A Vegan restaurant didn’t typically appeal to those who weren’t Vegan. Although, Stella could eat at places that served things other than Vegan food, it was always more convenient to dine at places that did. “I’m so glad that you think so, Clemence, as well as that you accepted my invitation to lunch. I’ve been hoping to better make your acquaintance for awhile now, although… I feel like I already know you.” The warm smile on Stella’s face deepened, forming dimples on her heart shape cheeks. “Clement speaks quite highly of his chère sœur.”

A moment later, the wine and appetizer Stella ordered arrived. The waiter poured them both a glass of the sweet white before promptly disappearing to the back. It was obvious by their open menus that they weren’t ready to order. “Shall we toast? To new relationships, and our health! Because, what are we without either?”

“Are you sure he didn’t tell you embarrassing stories from our childhood? Because I can certainly match him story for story,” Clemence teased. She loved her brother dearly but there was no growing up in their family without their share of embarrassing stories.

“Okay, what is up with this park and angry animals?” she asked, head shaking. “Like is someone feeding them some kind-of chemically enhance bread or something?” Charlie huffed as she plopped down beside Clemence, a soft smile forming as she looked over at the other girl. “When I was a kid there was a pond in London proper we’d go to once a year and there were these swans you could feed. I used to love them. Now, they terrify me. I don’t know what my mum was thinking.” A laugh escaped, although thinking about her mum always made her a bit sad.

“Probably something he didn’t want anyone to know about.” What else could someone be so publicly berated over if not a secret? “I’m pretty sure that’s the face of someone who’s done something ridiculously idiotic and embarrassing.” He tapped his fingers against the counter top, then turned to the stranger. “So, what’s your guess? Affair? Secret child? Investing in bitcoin?”

She smiled at the question, thinking back on the wonderfully loud chaos of Friendsgiving. Her large apartment had felt small and homey, filled with the people that she loved the most that made her feel the best about herself. “It was a really wonderful holiday. Everyone behaved themselves well, everyone had a wonderful time. How was it at the estate?” She asked, sure that the answer probably wouldn’t be the same. She knew how Clementine was as a person, and as far as disapproving parents went, she was one of the best. “But, I’m sure you didn’t call me here to ask about the holiday. What’s happening, Clem?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t call it pain so much as a minor burn,” Ryder said, managing a smile. Although the tea bag did hurt slightly when it hit his neck, Ryder wouldn’t admit as much. “Taken worse. I’ll be just fine.” He smiled at her and then quickly grabbed a napkin from behind him. “You’ve got a bit of powder sugar uh… just below your left eye.” He held out the napkins for her to take.“Did I manage to also ruin your lunch?”

Clemence smirked, a look of confusion crossing her face. “I fail to see a difference,” she said, “But maybe you are made of stronger stuff than me.” She shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed as he held out the napkin. “Oh..thanks.” She swiped at the offending bit of sugar...at least she hoped she did. She couldn’t imagine how it got there. “Did I get it?” She peered at him with hopeful eyes, mentally slapping herself for how ridiculous she must look. “No, I’m just here for coffee, no time to have a lunch to ruin.”

BASILE

Nursing a hangover, Baz hadn’t been able to withstand his mother’s incessant pleas to stay. Even without the splitting headache, he wouldn’t have been able to tell her no. Feeling wanted was like its own kind of drug, and he’d chase that high even if it meant the incoming confrontation that was sure to take place. His leg shook under the table, and his mother reached out to press her hand to his cheek. He stiffened before pulling away, his attention drawn to the sound of Clement’s voice ringing out from the front door.

His every muscle tensed, hands balling into fists as the sound of footsteps grew closer. He hadn’t looked upon his brother’s face– the one identical to the vision he cursed every time he looked into a mirror– in more than a decade. The loud clatter of the dish on the table reverberated through the house like a bomb. Cerulean pools glared in his direction from across the room, though they would never actually land on Baz himself. He dug his fingernails so sharply into his skin he was surprised he hadn’t yet drawn blood. The walls felt as if they were inching closer, pressing in on him, and his heart clanged a little faster in his chest.

He stood quickly from where he sat at the table, adrenaline propelling him into action, the chair protesting the sudden movement with a screech, and let his mask fall into place, a carefully crafted piece of armor that he’d worn so long it had become a second skin. A smirk teased at the corners of his mouth, and he crossed his arms casually over his chest. The hurled words landed in every weak spot Clement intended them to, felt their sharp teeth pierce straight through the armor into the flesh beneath. He opened his mouth, poised to hurl his own string of words right back– a sick game of volleyball he’d been playing his entire life– when a knock sounded from the door.

He deflated a little as Clement turned away to look towards the door and stiffened immediately as he turned back, the hatred still burning like fire in his brothers eyes. He held that gaze with his own just as sharp until Clemence suddenly appeared in the entryway. He faltered a little upon seeing her face again for the first time in nearly twelve years. She’d been but fourteen when they’d sent him away, and she had remained that little girl in his mind until right now. He almost smiled at her, a picture of innocence, free from the guilt that threatened to drag him down beneath the water. But as she inched herself closer to Clement, the wall shot back up with a resounding click as the lock slid back into place. Of course she would be on Clement’s side. He had every fucking thing and Baz’s anger returned in a sudden gust of fiery rage. His smirk fully bloomed across his face as he surveyed the scene before him. “Ah, well isn’t this nice? One big happy family.” He cut his gaze back to his brother, eyes glinting, begging him to come and take a swing. He welcomed it– wanted it– and made a disapproving clucking sound. “Petit frère, I do hope your better half will be joining us today. Stella was her name, wasn’t it?” He let his eyes burn into his brother’s a moment, beckoning him forward, daring him to take the bait. “She’s so… friendly. Really knows how to give a proper welcome home.”

@clement-coste​

Clement wanted to pull Clemence closer, like a security blanket, and a reminder of what his imagined idea of a good family was. He wanted to root himself to her, and yet like some twisted funhouse mirror, his twin addressed him. Clements’s heart cracked and ached, and his face reddened with every single word that pulled from his lips. Their mother watched it unfold as if it was a natural disaster a long time coming. Dangerous and inevitable. Clem’s knuckles paled, and his nostrils flared.

Clemence gripped the back of a chair, an effort to keep from letting his fist impact against his brother’s jaw. Looking at him, he tasted only saltwater and betrayal; words had no place on his tongue when there was so much history and a ghost between them. After a long pause, Clementine raised her brows and cleared her throat only to have Clement cut her off by jabbing a finger through the air in Basile’s direction. “Don’t you ever go near her again you can’t really afford another funeral.” Clement scolded, shoving the chair against the table, prompting a scoff from their mother, who seemed more delighted than worried.

“Are you both quite done posturing and pissing all over one another, or can we drink and eat a meal without scarring one another?”

Clement looked to his mother, his sister, and back to Basile, “I lost my appetite the moment I saw him- why are you even here? Did you blow through your trust fund? Some sensor tell you I had another girl around for you to fuck and murder?” Clement was wild-eyed as he gestured towards the door, “Your a few years too late for the ex-wife, but I have a feeling you’d found a way to fuck that up for me too, wouldn’t you brother?”

Clementine rolled her eyes and looked to Clemence for help as if she had the answers in her to fix the turmoil and pain between her brothers. Clementine herself was growing weary and bored by the exchange. “If I had known you lot would be so cruel to one another, I’d have let your father have you three for this asinine Holiday.”

@clemence-arrington​

"Maman, please,” Clemence shot back in a hiss, there was too much to decipher without to listening to her dramatics. Why her mother looked at her like she could help was ludicrous.

Clemence moved, reaching out to clutch Clement’s bicep. “Clem, stop...just stop...” she pleaded, squeezing his arm before taking a couple steps toward Basile, eyes raking over the mirror image of Clement.  No one had any really good explanation for his departure. Clementine had talked in circles and her father had refused to discuss it other than Basile was away at school. But that didn’t account for his absence from her adult life. Did he not care to know her? Tears welled in her eyes as she looked from Basil back to Clement. What had happened to make them hate each other so viciously? And why had no one thought she’d deserved to know? Her own anger welled up and spilled over into hot angry tears.

Looking from person to person and knowing that the answers wouldn’t be ones she wanted to hear, Clemence fled the dining room. Running up the stairs, she hoped to god her old room had been put back to rights after the last party. 

@livvylcc

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Clemence: What is an acceptable amount of time spent trying to remove a heel from a street grate. 

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@clement-coste