10-22-2012, 02:39 PM
/touches pretty table/
Sebastian was looking at Marstholomew, as he had dubbed the dual-coloured male, with a very dubious expression on his face. He was an artist, trained to notice tiny details, and from what he could see, Mars and Bartholomew were identical in every way. The only differences between them was Mars' extra tattoos. And his hair length too, Sebastian supposed. Though Bart's hair would likely be that long by now as well. It was entirely possible that Bart could have gotten new tattoos in the time since they had met, too.
The Italian frowned at the mention of the abusive mother, furrowing his brow. That was terrible. Sebastian could hardly imagine such a thing; his mother hadn't been around as often as he might like, and she could get terribly distracted, but only in the very most serious of situations had she ever struck her own children. Like the time when Rosa had nearly sliced her brother's eye out, or when Leonardo had accidentally pushed a little too hard and knocked him off a tree. Even then, her anger was quick to cool.
That didn't mean he bought it, though. He chose not to comment for a moment, stepping closer and peering at the scar sceptically. He had noticed that scar on Bart's torso, though he had forgotten to question it. It was identical. Sebastian doubted that a drunken woman could carve the same word on skin in precisely the same shape.
"Mm-hmm," he hummed doubtfully. Ignoring the horse, Sebastian stepped up beside Mars, looking him over critically and circling him slowly. Scars on face. Scars on upper arm. Scar on nose. Scars on left wrist. Smallest finger was brown. Same tattoos on his wrists. Peeking at his legs, Sebastian discovered the identical cuts on his ankles. Checking his back, Sebastian discovered the same scar again. The artisan rolled his eyes and sauntered back to Mars' side, looking up at him with a clear "Are you shitting me?" look on his face.
"So," he began, voice oozing sarcasm, "you expect me to believe that you have precisely identical scars all over your body, identical fur patterns, identical tattoos except for the triangles and Latin on your chest, the same scent, the same piercings, identical everything, and yet you are not the same person?" Sebastian raised both eyebrows. "And if you do expect me to believe that, can you guarantee me that if I were to meet Bartholomew again, he wouldn't mysteriously have those tattoos he supposedly doesn't have? Ah, and can I expect to never see you two in the same place?"
Perhaps to less attentive eyes, Mars' different accent and personality would have convinced them. But Sebastian's eagle-like gaze missed nothing, particularly anything he had been so intimately acquainted with.
Sebastian was looking at Marstholomew, as he had dubbed the dual-coloured male, with a very dubious expression on his face. He was an artist, trained to notice tiny details, and from what he could see, Mars and Bartholomew were identical in every way. The only differences between them was Mars' extra tattoos. And his hair length too, Sebastian supposed. Though Bart's hair would likely be that long by now as well. It was entirely possible that Bart could have gotten new tattoos in the time since they had met, too.
The Italian frowned at the mention of the abusive mother, furrowing his brow. That was terrible. Sebastian could hardly imagine such a thing; his mother hadn't been around as often as he might like, and she could get terribly distracted, but only in the very most serious of situations had she ever struck her own children. Like the time when Rosa had nearly sliced her brother's eye out, or when Leonardo had accidentally pushed a little too hard and knocked him off a tree. Even then, her anger was quick to cool.
That didn't mean he bought it, though. He chose not to comment for a moment, stepping closer and peering at the scar sceptically. He had noticed that scar on Bart's torso, though he had forgotten to question it. It was identical. Sebastian doubted that a drunken woman could carve the same word on skin in precisely the same shape.
"Mm-hmm," he hummed doubtfully. Ignoring the horse, Sebastian stepped up beside Mars, looking him over critically and circling him slowly. Scars on face. Scars on upper arm. Scar on nose. Scars on left wrist. Smallest finger was brown. Same tattoos on his wrists. Peeking at his legs, Sebastian discovered the identical cuts on his ankles. Checking his back, Sebastian discovered the same scar again. The artisan rolled his eyes and sauntered back to Mars' side, looking up at him with a clear "Are you shitting me?" look on his face.
"So," he began, voice oozing sarcasm, "you expect me to believe that you have precisely identical scars all over your body, identical fur patterns, identical tattoos except for the triangles and Latin on your chest, the same scent, the same piercings, identical everything, and yet you are not the same person?" Sebastian raised both eyebrows. "And if you do expect me to believe that, can you guarantee me that if I were to meet Bartholomew again, he wouldn't mysteriously have those tattoos he supposedly doesn't have? Ah, and can I expect to never see you two in the same place?"
Perhaps to less attentive eyes, Mars' different accent and personality would have convinced them. But Sebastian's eagle-like gaze missed nothing, particularly anything he had been so intimately acquainted with.