”Don’t stand on my account, brother.” Hiram’s bass sounded just outside the door before the man himself entered. His awareness of blood clues him in on a lot of things beyond just the health of the individual. Welcome or not, Hiram came in, the fire playing off his honey-brown eyes, making them burn gold. He looked his brother over.

Theirs was an interesting relationship. As disengaged as Hiram was from most Eldouir unless they possessed a gift he took fascination in, Ishmael was different. The two were close in age, the oldest of their generation. Though he’d never say it aloud, Ish was an Eldouir Hiram actually valued beyond his magical ability—for a number of reasons.

“Tell me you have wine.” Hiram moved to sit, whether in his own chair or directly beside Ish, it didn’t matter.

Ishmael didn't waste any time he went to a makeshift cabinet and grabbed several bottles one of them matched his brother's eyes in color, he didn't bother with glasses they were men and when Hiram wanted to drink with his little brother Ish always obliged.

Sitting the bottles down Ishmael slide the bottle that matched Hirams one of a kind eyes. He sat silently drinking with Hiram they were the last vestiges of a golden era for the Eldouir, all of them beaten broken and molded to fit Hiram Eldouirs' image....almost. Some Eldouir seemed to play by their own rules still, "is it business or pleasure you go to seek in Lorendale? Brining back the runaways?" he was of course speaking about @myla and Elena Eldouir who didn't return from Arynn Frey.

On the contrary, Hiram and Ishmael and some of the older Eldouirs were the last of an era, beaten and broken by Malachi’s way, the heavy-handed leader of the family that they had been. Not a hair, not a toe, was out of line under his time as head. Hiram had faced years of punishments due to his chaos and rebellion. Now, as head himself, the youngest generation experienced freedom; in fact, and arguably foolish freedom. They were beaten into obedience the way the last head would have had them. By freeing them, so to speak, Hiram had arguably aided in the creation of an Eldouir army that could unseat his authority. But that’s not what they were discussing.

“Not at all.” Hiram said, snatching the bottle, laying little heed to its color, and taking a swig. “Apparently someone there is looking for me.” He bounced his brows.

"hmm," Ishmael stroked his beard before taking a bottle of red wine and also taking a deep drink taking the time to think, "and I guess you don't believe this is some elaborate trap to lure some of us home?" then Ish smirked, "not that it will do them any good, I remember when that big dummy in Coheed tried to that," he whistled mimicking a great fall and then splat, "and while you're away what would you like me to do?"

Hiram grinned heartily at the thought of a trap. It was possible. It also wasn’t promising for them. Hiram was a skulking combatant, and it wasn’t as if he was going alone.

“The same thing I always want you doing, brother.” He said with a chuckle. “Whatever the hell you want.” Hiram only made a habit of telling stupid Eldouirs what to do. Ish could be dumb, sure, but overall he wasn’t a stupid. In fact, some of his orderliness was actually useful to the family. Hiram knew Ish possessed skills he didn’t. Far be it from him to put obstacles in his brother’s way.

For once Ishmael seemed to show a deeper thought process leaning back in his chair really testing his weight of those back legs, "Well I'm going to run Tribute if all of you are going to be gone for an extended stay, the absence of your presence and the Queen's might be noticed," he shrugged and drank from the bottle of wine sitting his chair back down, "What's the first thing you're going to do when you give back?" sure meeting someone but Ishmael liked to think they were going to have a bit of sport, while he wouldn't be participating either way like if he was going he still perhaps wouldn't just cause chaos for chaos sake but he liked to hear about it. Hiram was entertaining, sure he lacked an eye for detail or true order but was he entertaining.

Hiram seemed to be out to drain the bottle as quickly as possible. He was guzzling it as Ishmael spoke, and some even escaped from the corners of his mouth as he opened his trap too quickly to reply.

“Reclaim the estate.” He didn’t know if sobering had been done to their land, but he’d piss all over it, reminding all of Lorendale whose it was. “Then…” he let his eyes wander, clearly making up his response as he sat there, “shed some blood.” He nodded and shrugged, a smug smile on his lips.

Ishmael grinned and then chuckled at his brothers plan for their return visit to Lorendale, "Sounds like a wicked fun time brother," not as messy with the wine as Hiram the big man drank just as heavily from his bottle but when he pulled the bottle from his lips they were a tad bit stained red which didn't fade even as Ish wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his long coat, "I have...one small request..," he looked now at his brother and Hiram would see for a moment a small passing of jealousy and maybe rage, "The farmer...the canary...the Allemeade...," Remiel but he didn't speak the man's name, "his sister, what do you plan to do with them?"

Hiram sunk into his seat, his form lazy, his expression one of satisfaction. Alcohol didn’t get him like it did others. He could force it to, possibly, but he didn’t.

At Ishmael’s inquiry one of Hiram’s brows climbed his forehead.

“I haven’t thought about it.” He said simply, because he’d decided a while back that thinking about the Allemeades was a waste of his time. There wasn’t a single one he didn’t want to kill. All in good time.

“Why?”

Ishmael let a slightly mad cackle escape him, "I wouldn't mind getting to kill one or two of them," and it was as simple as that.

Hiram bounced his brows and nodded his head.

“And I’m sure you will. They’re like cockroaches. One is bound to spring up somewhere it doesn’t belong.” Just another day in the Eldouir house: talking about taking lives as if plucking weeds.

"Good," and that was that on that subject, "and of Arynn Frey...I'm sure your message was sent?"

”Certainly.” Hiram said, clearly unconcerned whether Arynn Frey got the message or not. Was he even sending a message? They were building a wall he didn’t like and he’d torn it down. Things weren’t too complicated with Hiram.

After a pause Hiram used his mostly empty bottle to point towards Ishmael.

“You like Dresmond?” He voice was heavy with drink. “Glad we came?”