After the wedding, Ethan and Brit invited others to the Haven to share in a drink and perhaps dance. Changes in the environment of the city caused many to seek shelter shortly after they arrived and prompted the couple to retire to their resting place. Ethan brushed off his mantle as they arrived. He finally had time to thoroughly admire her prettiness in her wedding finery. Her fingers touched his new pendant, which mirrored the one she usually wore, just before kissing him softly. He ran his hand over the exposed skin along her neck and made his way to her locket. Opening it, he looked upon the pictures before beaming at her. “Now, the dress is beautiful, but you cannot stay in it forever,” he said as he tugged one of her gloves moving it slowly down to her elbow tracing the skin beneath prior to removing it.Ethan removed her other glove and told her that everything was perfect about her. Her reflection on the promises exchanged at the church gave way to noticing how his fingers left a trail of gooseflesh on her skin. Walking behind her, he unbuttoned her gown noting that she moved her hair aside. The gown slid off her body along with the layers of petticoats and ribbon-covered hoop, and he placed all neatly aside. She helped remove his bowtie. The rustle of fabric mixed with kisses was the only sound heard. Once his jacket and shirt were gone, Ethan laid Brit on the plush white fur rug in their resting spot and smoothed her Victorian undergown arranging it pleasingly before slowly resuming his caresses of her body between angel-kisses.
The vision of her lying on the rug reminded him of her wedding vow to be buxom and bonny. The latter, he felt, she personified without trying. ‘Buxom’ caused him to smile. With Brit’s petite frame, he could not visualize her being too ample of figure, but the archaic definition of ‘lively, vivacious, and gay’ fit her as did the obsolete definition of ‘obedient, yielding and pliant.’ He crumpled her under gown as he kissed her softly and enjoyed that each kiss was returned. Her senses were enhanced from the shared drink of their mingled blood during the ceremony. Brit’s hand loosened his hair and she enjoyed the way it framed his face. Ethan’s fingers caressed her hair splayed on the ground and pondered what he had learned in his religious studies regarding marriage.
Technically speaking, consummation in the marriage referred to its actual beginning, with an official ceremony of the wedding, witnesses to the event, and a public announcement of the act. In some Western traditions, a marriage was not considered a binding contract until and unless it had been consummated. Within the Catholic Church, a marriage that had not yet been consummated, regardless of the reason could be dissolved by a Pope or could be grounds for annulment. Of course, this involved laws between mortals. Ethan was unsure what exactly cemented the deal when one was such as him.
He refocused on his bride laying half beneath him and bit down on his lower lip creating small puncture wounds on it. Two drops of blood barely pooled and he drug his lip over hers brushing against them. Brit touched his hair and whispered a soft offer, “Bite my lips a little. So you can taste my blood too.” Ethan hinted a smile, and drug the point of his pendant still hanging around his neck to her blood-painted lisps piercing them slightly. She gasped blinking as sudden tears sprung up from the unexpected pain. While the piercing of her lip was not entirely unpleasant, she did not expect the sharpness. As quickly as the pain came, it went. The only lingering reminder of any pain was the star-shaped that her wet lashes had from soaking up the momentary tears.
Seeing the tears, Ethan said softly, “Aww. Tears?” His voice whispered comfortingly, “No, no.” He kissed each eye before smearing her blood to mix with his, and then he kissed her deeply. With each light taste of his blood, Brit's mind became more clear, and it made her feel closer to him.
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Prof. Parker awoke, cold, stiff and alone along the pebbled bank of the river, hidden from view under a stone bridge. Disoriented, he sat up, the warm smile quickly fading as the new reality settled in.
In desperation he had scrambled down from the roof top, partly in search of the white book he had lost; but mostly to avoid the ceremony that he was sure would ensue. He did not know these people. Fightened, unsure, suspect, he continued to lurk in the plentiful shadows of this ruined city. And in that time, some of the residents haunted his dreams.
Through serendipity, luck, or just magnetism, he often found himself seeing the ivory skinned figure with molten hair and lips. In short time, he felt simultaneously protective of her and impotent. He did not understand this world, or his place in it. So, much like in his studies, he observed unobtrusively and from a distance. But these last few days, or was it weeks, he felt the need to stay away. He could not bring himself to view any such joy as a ceremony, not that he had been invited, not that he even existed to members of the party. So he retreated.
In the chill of the evening he would visit her. She was alone, with a box or crayons, humming softly. He would call to her, but with what name? In his dream, it didn't matter. She always rose with excitement and raced into his arms.
Suddenly, they would be transported to a library, or private den and both would don attire fit for royalty. On this night, the hues of the evening made her face glow, and her mossy green eyes never left his. A smile creased across her face and blood red lips. He held her close, and breathed in her scent, an intoxicating vanilla musk...with a hint of orange.
Each night, they would sway to the music in their heads. Each night, they would hold each other closer, tighter. Each night, he would grasp her left hand and kiss it with great respect and honor. But this night, as he reached for her hand, he was met with a blinding light. It was a ring and brilliantly the rays from it would cut into his eyes, burning him like a laser. He put his hands to his eyes, now stinging with tears, and backed away, stumbling to the ground.
He awoke on this day, to the sunrise, cutting through the ridge in the horizon, and shining into his bloodshot and soaked eyes.
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