So Elijah had left Rebekah and Niklaus behind, now that was something Aaron wasn’t expecting to happen so soon, but perhaps he should have. Didn’t Elijah left Kol to die after all while he chased the skirts of that doppelganger? For a moment Aaron wondered if that was the reason for his brother to be in Paris, the Original from whom all doppelgangers borrowed a face… He felt oddly protective, as much as he had been the last one of them to meet Tatia, he was there with her now, not Elijah, and they had no need of him, thank you very much.
"I thought I’d give you guys some time to get used to the idea of me on your own, see the world and whatnot." Aaron shrugged his shoulders, he would bite his tongue before telling Elijah exactly what had brought him to the lights capital of the world. “I like it here so far, people are nice.” It was what he offered, running yet again his fingers through thick black fur, comforting himself with the motion more than the dog itself.
Honesty was never a trait within the family.
Details never slipped his eye. Honed over the years, the ability to seek out lies had served him well on many occasions. Humans had readily riled pulses, and the fluctuating rhythm of a vampire’s heart beat was even easier to detect. Elijah knows Aaron withholds the truth, but curiosity can wait. He’s never attempted anything without planning before, unlike his half-brother’s methods.
The Original’s eyes fall to the dog where Aaron’s hand was, every movement analysed discreetly in the matter of mere moments, any little tick, unmissed and committed to memory. He shifts his weight — not a sign of hesitation, but a grand show of leisure; the blonde’s attempt at small talk and misdirection, rendered thus inconsequential.
"You are lying to my face." It was a simple question he had asked — and dishonesty he does not take lightly. No mercy is found in his words, yet his lips purse briefly after a moment. "You’re searching for acceptance into the family, aren’t you? How am I to give you that if I cannot even trust you?"
It’s a rare occasion for Aaron to find himself outside in Paris, but it happened from time to time. Staying in Tatia’s house as he was, he thought himself more useful in taking on small errands, going to the market when needed and, like today, taking d’Artagnan to the veterinary as Tatia worried about her business.
Their appointment had ended with no hitches and Aaron found himself enjoying the sunny afternoon, the Bernese at his heels as he roamed through the busy streets of Paris. He certainly didnt expect to find, or better, to be found, by one of his siblings, Elijah the last one he would even expect to do it. Turning around to the call he frowned hesitantly before opening a small smile, jogging in a very human rhythm towards the other Original.
"Elijah… I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you either." Aaron did his best not to sound uneasy, his hand tightening on the leash as the dog started barking at his brother. “Chut, d’Artagnan. Ce n`est pas grave... Elijah is okay.” His smile was softer as he looked down at his loyal companion, a calming hand running over the Bernese’s head. “What exactly brings you to Paris?”
Unimpressive, how the animal could alienate the wolfish scent of his nature from the light mask of cologne he wore. He’s unfazed by the bark from the level of his knees, his gaze never breaching from the eldest brother, deceptively young in his mortal visage. Aaron was a character he had yet to trust, as with the ruck of supernatural beings that had served him for centuries and counting. This, the bond of blood that tied his utmost, yet secret loyalty to Niklaus and Rebekah — now disputed in the revelation of one man’s existence. A shot of spittle in the face of a thousand years. Elijah refused to accept Aaron as family. Not yet; not now; and likely, not even soon.
Cordial is his tongue, as is tall his mien, howbeit the momentary tightening of lips.
"I believe a change in air is necessary. Niklaus and Rebekah can handle their own affairs in New Orleans," he nods, courteous to the bone. His eyes, however, are another story. "And what brings you?" Assaying swiftly, he surmises from the French commands that Aaron had been residing in France for a time.
On the streets of Paris he roams, less of the armpit of civilisation his brother had chosen to build a mansion in, to settle down and leave so quickly, setting the stage on which his brothers were killed. A route he had failed to foresee. Paris was no form of nepenthe, Elijah did not seek comfort. He locked, buried, his loathsome, sometimes tragic past he swealed shut and walked away from, always moving onward. The riverside in Rue de Rivoli served just that purpose.
A flash of blonde catches his quick eye, and he recognises the man with ease. Surprises found him in many forms — not all of which he could call his brother.
"Aaron," he greets evenly, a hand slips into his pocket while his head tilts a fracture to the left. "I did not expect to see you here."
Not as much as one might think.
Is that so? Because one might also say you are loosing your touch with reality…