Sunday, December 13, 2009

Scrambled Eggs - Take One

The recipe seemed easy. It called for six large eggs, six tablespoons of low-fat milk, and some butter for frying. It also called for three dashes of salt, which caused Brit some concern. Additionally, Ethan was quite sure that black pepper might enhance the flavor. “The book does not say that though,” whispered Brit.

“Cookbooks are guides, Brit. Not Bibles,” replied Ethan. He paused looking over a letter that he was reading. Tapping the paper, he smiled to her. “Unless you are baking. Then you may wish to stick to the recipe as baking is a bit like alchemy. There is an art to it.” Brit puffed her cheeks and looked at the recipe again shifting uncomfortably. Placing his letter aside, he said encouragingly, “You can follow the instructions as they are written. Then we shall assess what to change.”

Brit nodded and found a small bowl. She changed to a larger bowl after adding the fourth egg. Using a fork, she meticulously removed broken bits of shell. “Oh no. I did not heat a large non-stick skillet.” Turning from the bowl of eggs, she fished about for a skillet.

Ethan said, “Maybe reading the entire recipe would be the better plan. Then you would know what to do and in what order it should be done.”

Beaming at him, Brit said, “That’s a way good plan.” She sat at the table and read the book again carefully making pictorial notes on a separate piece of paper. Comparing the notes to the cookbook, she looked up satisfied. Ethan helped her adjust the heat to “medium” after she pointed out there were no markings on the stove. Placing the skillet on the heat, Brit went back to adding the milk. She paused with the salt. “How much is a dash?”

“A dash is…” Ethan rubbed his chin. “Just bounce the shaker three times in the bowl.”

“Is that a dash?” Brit asked.

Ethan gave her another confident smile, “We can add more than take it away. Let us try that for now.” Brit carefully bounced the shaker three times over the bowl. Looking at her notes, he said, “And now, you should beat it vigorously for 2 minutes.” Seeing her hesitation, he motioned what he thought he should do.

“You mean mix them up lots?” She held the bowl peering into it.

Ethan nodded affirmatively, “Indeed. They are called ‘scrambled’. Brit started to stir the eggs after peering up at the clock to keep time. Ethan watched her with a hint of amusement. Brit had been enjoying the small cabin and playing house. Her hair framed her face as she worked. Noting the stove, he picked up a ribbon and walked behind her as she stirred. “When cooking, I wish you to tie your hair back, baby.” He could not help but shudder at the brief thought of what fire could do to both of them.

Ethan helped Brit add the butter to the skillet and watched as she poured in the egg mixture a bit too soon. The sizzle caused her to pause. Using a flat wooden spoon, she started to stir the eggs to the center as it said in the cookbook. Almost immediately clots of yellow egg started to form. Brit’s eyes widened as if she were witnessing magic. She continued to stir until all of the yellowy egg mixture had congealed and the outsides looked wet.


“Brit, it says you should break apart all of the big pieces and flip them over,” Ethan said as he pointed to the line in the book watching as Brit followed his instructions. Brit watched and counted the extra time to cook the eggs before scooping them out onto a plate. Ethan turned off the flame smirking, “And the last line is salt and pepper to taste.”

“What does that mean,” asked Brit.

“It means that you add salt and pepper until it is how you best enjoy it.” Brit nodded and Ethan gestured to the table. Brit nibbled her lower lip realizing she had forgotten to make toast. Ethan chuckled, “It does not matter. You can make toast later as it would be better, I think, than cold eggs.”

Shrugging, Brit grinned as she slid onto her chair and watched as Ethan brought the salt and pepper with him to face her. She ate the eggs slowly sprinkling a few grains of salt and/or pepper with each bite. Finally, she announced, “I like the eggs with salt and a tiny bit of pepper.”

Ethan chuckled and said, “Then we should write that in your book.” He picked up a pencil adding the note as Brit finished her eggs. When she was cleaning up, he asked, “Were the eggs good?”

“They were good, but they were not as good as when other people make them,” Brit replied. Ethan frowned and reread the recipe thinking that Brit had followed it reasonably well. Lisping, Brit said, “They were still yummy.”

Flipping through pages, Ethan said, “I am sure that we can find how to make them as you like them. This is but a start.” He placed the book aside and turned to her as she finished clearing the table. “You are yummy but that does not mean that I do not desire ways to see how I can improve on your perfection.”

Grabbing her up, he gave her several playful bites until she was giggling while squirming in his hold. Ethan continued until her heart was racing and then he bit deeply and drank several long sips while holding her closely. She melted against him fluidly making him think of the butter in the pan. As he drank, he swore he could taste the pepper. It was seemed like a memory of some dream.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Doing Things Alone

For Brit, the most exciting part of the trip was not the clandestine flight. It was not the elegance of the spectacular Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Munich with the suite that had uncovered windows that faced north allowing her an unobstructed view of the city. Ethan noticed that Brit spent time gazing out of the windows, and she also enjoyed the stretch limo that took them to the most exclusive places each night of their stay. The food was predictably excellent the night that Ethan took Brit to dine on a saddle of Whitford Hill deer smothered in dark chocolate and spice jus. Regardless, neither of those items made as much impact as when they checked out and Ethan accepted keys to the fiery red Mercedes. He held the door for Brit to get in as she stood in the stunned realization that a driver would not be taking them on the second leg of their trip. Ethan smirked, “Are you waiting for sunrise to continue our trip, Brit?”

Giggling, she hopped into the car and slid back against the buttery leather still blinking at him as he adjusted the mirrors. “I didn’t know that you really could drive, Ethan.”

Motioning to her seatbelt, he put his own on as she did. “I am full of talent, baby,” he chuckled with a wink. Turning the key, the car purred. Brit beamed at him. Her bright smile caused him to smile. “Well,” he explained with a wave of his hand. “You did say that we rarely do anything alone once we leave home.” She continued to look at him as she nuzzled a cheek against the leather of the seat. “I suppose I felt that perhaps we should stray from home more on our own.” Tapping his fingers, he mentally went over every aspect of the trip. He had not strayed from home without assistance in a very long time, but the drive would not take more than a few hours and they had all night.

Putting the car in gear, Ethan tapped the gas and the car lurched in fluid motion causing Brit to gasp in gleeful giggles. Her merriment caused Ethan to smile. His smile waivered upon hearing the GPS chirp out directions ‘Turn right’. “Yes, I know,” Ethan responded once and then simply shook his head. “Modern conveniences can be…” Brit looked to him expectantly. “Modern,” he grumbled softly turning as the GPS commanded him to do.

The full moon was high as they drove from the city. Ethan had considered taking a train, but what if it broke down? He relaxed more as the city lights formed a glow behind them. It had been several years since he drove on his own. Ethan had to admit that it felt good to be alone with Brit and not dependent on another. A disturbing thought of a car breakdown or other issue crossed his mind but he pushed it aside. It was simply a short trip, and he desired to give Brit a glimpse of what would be normal for any mortal couple.

As Ethan drove on, Brit played with the buttons on the car. She looked in the glove box and found chocolate. Chewing a piece, she smoothed her lipstick by using the make-up mirror above the visor. Ethan produced a CD of Trans-Siberian Orchestra to Brit who had been playing with the radio and was paused at a song by Flyboy. She inserted the CD and the sounds of “Wizards in Winter” seemed to surround the car. Snow started to fall.

Brit twisted in her seat exposing her thigh so that she could watch the snow swirl behind them. Ethan’s hand slid to the soft warmth of her thigh and lightly touched the bitemarks there. After several moments, he tapped her thigh and said, “Turn around, please. You can help watch where we are going.”

Brit turned to face forward lisping, “But I don’t know where we are going.” The sky continued to sprinkle snow as music played and they raced along in the car. Ethan’s hand stayed on her thigh and Brit watched out of the front window noticing that the road was winding while it carried them higher into the mountains. With the bright moon behind the scattered clouds that dropped snow, the world took on a blue-tinted glow.

Another hour passed and the clouds had thickened giving the air a darker feel. As the elevation climbed, the snow stopped falling. In its place was a slightly foggy glow. “Turn left in .5 kilometers,” said the GPS giving both of them a start. “Turn left in point five kilometers, Ethan,” lisped Brit.

Ethan stopped glowering at the GPS map and grinned. “Thank you, baby.” Turning at the correct point, the car followed a twisting gravel road that seemed to have been carved out of the mountain. The GPS was silent as if it had no more advice to give. “This looks familiar,” said Ethan. Ethan drove for another 10 minutes. Brit was quiet unsure where they were and feeling that the road was growing smaller and smaller.

Cresting a hilltop, Ethan made a hard right and pulled into a clearing. Other cars were peppered around tree stump guides hinting where one should park. As Ethan cut the engine, a figure emerged from a small cottage and walked toward them. In a language that Brit did not understand, Ethan greeted and the greeting was returned. The cloaked figure nodded to Brit and assisted Ethan to gather luggage from the car.

Brit took Ethan’s hand and followed the person who was helping them to navigate to their lodging. Brit noted that Ethan’s voice seemed relaxed and jovial to the other person’s comments. Turning down the path, Brit exclaimed, “Pretty!” Down the path, small cottages were each lined in Christmas lights.

Turning, the cloaked person said in an accented voice, “Many thanks. Though most visitors will be moving during the day up here. Skiing.” Brit nodded and Ethan motioned to go further. Turning down another line of cottages, the figure stopped at the one on the end. “You can still stay at the lodge, Ethan.”

“My wife and I wish to give seclusion a try,” replied Ethan. The cloaked figure gazed at Brit a moment and nodded before opening the door.

As lights were turned on, Brit broke into a bright smile. The cottage was like a tiny house. It had a small kitchen and bathing room. There was a living room area complete with plush, leather sofa and a cozy throw and fireplace. Ethan grimaced at the fireplace as the figure explained how to ignite it with a touch of a button. The cottage had a queen sized bed with luxurious covers, and every window had foil-lined shudders.

Ethan nodded with satisfaction. “It all looks to be in order, friend.” The two shook hands and the cloaked person left. Turning to Brit, he kissed pulled her to him and kissed her softly. “I’ll bet you are hungry,” he said. She nodded and he grinned impishly, “There should be sustenance in the refrigerator, baby.”

Opening the refrigerator, Brit paused looking over the eggs, milk, cheeses, and assorted vegetables with some meats. “It’s raw ingredients for food.”

Ethan chuckled giving her a small book titled, “You Can Cook!” Brit slowly opened it and read with her lips moving silently. Ethan offered encouragingly, “You said that we rarely did things alone. How hard can this be? I once cooked for myself in the field often.” Ethan picked up an egg and said, “I used to be quite fond of eggs.” Searching for a pan, he motioned her to the book and said, “See if you can find something to do with eggs.”

Thirty minutes later, they left the cottage to travel to the lodge. “Tomorrow, we will spend time with the cookbook,” Ethan assured her. “Tonight. Well, no one cooks the same day of travel.” Brit passed a pretty white wired tree and admired it while Ethan flipped through the book. Tapping it, he said, “Do not order scrambled eggs tonight, Brit. It may be something for you to make tomorrow.” Tucking the book in his pocket, he offered his arm and escorted her to the lodge to ensure that she ate before resting.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Painting 'Mine'

(Taken from RP)
Overlooking the details of her painting left unfinished, Ethan goes over them with a brush though he still lets Brit do most of the coloring. Brit’s head rests on his shoulder as she stands behind him. Her fingers played with the texture of his vest. “Did you ever paint, Ethan?” she asks while her fingers press in a light tickle-touch.

“I was never too much into painting, Brit,” Ethan replied with a shake of his head. “No. Well. Unless you count actual house painting as ‘painting.’ Nothing too artistic, I am afraid.” With a look over his shoulder, he presses his lips to hers and whispers, “You are much better than me in it.”

Brit blinked in surprise, “But…you had no time at all to help paint while we fixed up the shelter.” Ethan grinned impishly at her and her eyes widened which caused her eyes to blink more. “Perhaps we can find your skill when we need to repaint!” she exclaimed with a glance to the walls. The walls looked like they could already use a fresh coat of paint.

Shaking his head, Ethan replied, “It has been many a year since I last had to do that. And I am not so inclined to do that anytime soon. The paint..the way it splatters.” Raising his shoulders a bit, Ethan shrugged, “Definitely not my past time of choice. This is far more acceptable,” he murmured while watching her brush stroke a bit of color from the palate he was holding to the canvas.

Brit nodded in agreement and continued to paint the section she had been working on silently. A bit of shouting could be heard outside, but nothing caused Ethan concern. While he focused on the environmental noise for a moment, Brit selected a clean, new brush. Her fingers neared the palate, but she brushed it instead over the back of his hand. The dry sable bristles drug softly over his skin. Looking down to his hand, he flexed his fingers neither pressing against the brush nor moving his hand away. “Do you like the feeling of the brush against your own skin, Brit?”

“I don’t know,” answered Brit after a moment of musing. She pushed her glove down to expose her skin, then focused to trace the light bluish vein under her skin from her wrist to her elbow. Smiling, she peeked up to him as she continued to drag the brush. “It tickles a bit, but,” she whispered, “it is pleasing enough.”

Setting down the used brush in a glass, Ethan selected a fresh, dry brush waiting in a jar. He made sure that his brush was thicker than hers and started to trace up her exposed skin with it. “Tickly is a pleasant feeling,” he repeated and saw his words confirmed in her expression. Brit held very still and giggled feeling the bristles drag over her skin. Leaning to one side, she placed her brush at his earlobe and traced the outer ridge of his ear before dragging the brush down the side of his neck.

Ethan stretched under the brush’s touch and tilted his head to the side. “That yields an interesting feeling, princess. Rather different compared to skin touching skin.” His eyes widened with realization that his skin prickled in response to the tickly touch. “Yes, yes,” he said softly, “it is rather tickly.” Brit smiled at his word “interesting” and continued to play with her brush by dragging it over his skin. She pulled it over the back of his neck and followed with a soft, moist kiss with an open mouth on the curve where his neck joins his body.

A soft moan caused Brit to pause to look at him. Ethan looked the painting up and down before saying, “Maybe we could continue with the painting a bit later and go make ourselves comfortable on the couch to experiment a bit with just brushes.” Placing the palate aside, he directed Brit to the chair not waiting for a response. Ethan really was not asking anyway as his wife’s attention has strayed from the painting.

Brit had started to blow on the wetness her kiss left on his skin and stopped to put away her easel. “That would be more fun than fencing, I think.”

Ethan turned to face her, “What does fencing have to do with anything?” His brow furrowed as he watched her. With a hint of disappointment, he said, “You do not enjoy our fencing lessons too much it seems.” With a soft sigh, Ethan moved to the sofa and sat before motioning her to him. Brit joined him and he selected a spot to drag the brush over her exposed skin having an easier time with her facing him.

Brit watched silently for a moment as she pouted sensing his disappointment. “There are parts of fencing that I like way lots.” He peeked up at her like a schoolboy while brushing bristles against her inner elbow. She stretched her arm to feel the touches almost involuntarily. “Like..when you drug your epee over my body, like a finger, slowly,” she continued with her cheeks pinkening at the memory. Glancing toward him, she found herself caught in his gaze. Smiling shyly, she touched his chest and continued, “And when we fence together, I like that way lots too.” Nodding, she processed to be sure she was correct in her words to him. “It’s like dancing then. But last time, we spent the entire night rotating my wrist and ended up with no time for even one date!” Brit looked shocked that anything could be more important than dating!

Ethan flashed a toothy grin and nodded, “Ah, I see.” So I must ensure that I include epee dragging and dating in our night to make fencing more attractive with the less solo theory.” He shook his head slightly in amusement over her comments as he finds his way up over the swell of her breasts to her throat, then to the side of her neck with the tip of the brush.

Brit nodded affirmatively before losing her thoughts to the feel of the brush. Closing her eyes, she moved to expose her skin. The sensations of the brush caused her heartbeat to quicken and produced a slightly harder throbbing along the length of her aorta. “Oh, yes please,” came the eventual response.

“As you wish then,” Ethan said with a nod of understanding. His lips parted watching her. “I will try to add more actual fencing time and only correct your mistakes when you do them, like the positioning and stance.” He could feel her mood lift regarding fencing. “From what I understand, dating is to become a permanent part of our fencing lessons then. Tis just as well regardless whether we involve the epee in it or not.” He grinned mischievously while finding her pulse with the tip of the brush and circling around the throbbing part of her skin.

His words and promise increased her heartbeat. “Yes,” she whispered stretching under the bristles of the brush. Her warm body felt slightly chilled on the surface, but was warm beneath her skin and where his body insulated hers by touching. Under her skin, a map of blue veins pulsed promising dark crimson should the skin break. Shifting on his lap, her head lay against his shoulder allowing him to touch, trace, and watch as he wishes while she felt completely at ease with the world.

Ethan settled back into the couch to gain more support as she relaxed against him. He took his time to follow the paths of her veins and arteries that were visible under her pale skin and wondered if she was always so pale. This was how he remembered her, but was it truly so?” Dreamily, he whispered, “I do enjoy our fencing time.” The brush danced over her skin in a specific pattern.

Splaying in his arms and feeling the soft bristles drag over her exposed skin, Brit replied breathily, “I enjoy fencing..when we fence together. And our dancing…and dating…that is nice too.” Readjusting a bit, she let him fully support her body weight and enjoyed the brush dragging over her skin. With a soft whisper, she said, “I like this…”

Looking directly at her, Ethan asked, “Do you now?” He leaned to her to place a soft kiss on her lips as he brought the tip of the brush to her temple down over her cheek then over the lower lip when he broke his kiss. Lower, the brush was drug down her chin and lower to her décolleté as far as he could reach with the brush. Looking up to her again, he grinned a bit impishly as he whispered, “I like this too.”

Lying beneath his brush, Brit returned his kiss. Her gloved fingers caressed his skin and hair. Her lashes on her cheeks resembled sooty fans against her white porcelain skin. As the brush traced her lips, they parted and moisture from her mouth smeared lightly below her bottom lip. As the brush swept beween her breasts, she squirmed ever so slightly even as the moon’s soft light casted shadows on her skin from the brush like a dark finger. “I do like this,” came her soft confession.

Ethan leaned closer again kissing her deeply. Setting the brush aside, he pulled her closer to him deepening the kiss and wrapped his arms around her in a more demanding than protective way. With none near, his hands drug over her body boldly. “Your skin is an amazing canvas. Even with only paint imaginary patterns on it, Brit.” He kissed her again grappling her to him. If one could have looked closely, the last thing he traced on her skin would form the word “mine” before he stood to carry her back to their resting place.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Dressing for Summer

After rising and giving Brit her triad of kisses, Ethan left her in their resting place. Brit pondered their discussion while watching him go. Ethan struggled with ensuring that Brit had mortal experiences and, in such a mindset, he suggested that she select an outfit that pleased her and was fitting with the summertime climate. Then he left her wondering what she should wear.

After unsuccessfully seeking the clothing she had prior to their marriage, she went to the old theatre where she knew some remnants of clothing remained. Sorting through items, she found a small green dress that she thought seemed summery. The skirt had deep green leaves that fell about her hips. The leaf-theme flowed throughout the costume making her look like a wood sprite.

Rosalie was standing outside as Brit left the theatre. “Mon dieu, Brit! But whatever are you wearing?” Brit explained what Ethan had said and what she was trying to find. Rosalie waved a hand exclaiming, “How can he expect you to dress modern if he only purchases frocks from 100 years past?” Muttering, Rosalie continued, “I suppose that Ethan’s years are catching up with him. Insanity is not so uncommon after so many years.”

Brit pouted as she touched the leaves of the dress. “It looks summery. And I like how it flutters when I walk. It will look pretty when dancing, I think.” Swaying side to side to watch the dress flutter, Brit added, “I do not think Ethan is insane. Do you think he will not like this dress?” Brushing her hands over the fabric, Brit confessed, “Besides, I cannot find my clothing from before I married, and there was little to choose from in the theatre.”

“The dress is a costume, Brit. I am certain that it is not what he had on his mind. I tell you what: I will help. Come along!” Rosalie gestured for Brit to follow her to the barber shop where she worked. Once inside, Rosalie took Brit to a closet and pulled three dresses from it. “Look, cherie. Notice the seams of the dress. And the fabric.” Brit compared the costume with the proper garments. She noticed the feel of the cloth and the finished seams. “Proper clothing is meant to be worn and to last for longer than a play. See?”

Brit nodded. Rosalie shuffled her off to try on each dress. Putting on the yellow dress, Brit tugged it up. “I think it is too big,” she lisped. The dress hung on her by the straps. Rosalie agreed. The second dress was blue with lace accents. “Oh, I like this one.” She swayed her hips left to right and watched as the dress flowed with her motion.

“It is trés beautiful on you. Yes, I think it will suit,” said Rosalie. “Come now! We will fix your hair.” Rosalie trimmed Brit’s hair in its usual style after washing it and adding a conditioner that was scented with sandalwood and oranges.

Brit sniffed her conditioner-coated hair. “It smells nothing of the perfume that Ethan bought for me, Rosalie.”

“Well, Ethan is too set in his ways, no?” She chuckled. “He wished for some change, so we can give him some change. Perhaps he will find he likes things that he has long forgotten or has not yet encountered.” Rosalie brushed out Brit’s hair after giving it a good trim and drying it. “Now, let’s see how we look.”

Brit stood and turned slowly while Rosalie appraised. Rosalie noticed the bite-marks on Brit’s tummy that were visible by the design. “Do you think he will like it?”

Rosalie laughed softly, “But of course he will.” Rosalie mused that Ethan would indeed like that his marks showed on his wife. So arrogant and typical, Rosalie thought. Walking about Brit carefully, Rosalie continued to look over the dress. “A jacket for when you are outside, perhaps. And sandals would be better, but I do not think they are suitable for our city.”

Brit lisped, “I have a pretty jacket that is blue. It’s denim.”

Rosalie nodded approval. “That will be chic, I think…wear it when outside. But when inside…” Rosalie smiled walking to the closet and pulled a jacket from a hanger. “When you walk into a room with Ethan, do this.” Stepping in front of Brit, Rosalie glanced over her shoulder and unbuttoned the jacket from the bottom to the top gliding it off of her shoulders and handed it to Brit.

Brit watched with widened eyes. “Let me try,” she said with a bounce.

Smiling, Rosalie handed Brit the jacket and watched her button it up. Brit practiced unbuttoning it several times without moving. Then she buttoned it again only to step in front of Rosalie. Her eyes met the kindred before letting them lower. Brit’s sooty lashes fanned on her cheekbones as her lips parted while she unbuttoned the jacket and slid it from her shoulders. Taking the jacket, Rosalie smiled with a nod. “He will indeed like your new look.”

Giggling, Brit hugged Rosalie and bounced from the shop. Rosalie watched her leave and marked the items on a bill she would later give to Ethan as they had previously arranged. Tapping the yellowed paper, Rosalie thought of the mortal girl who had captured her ancient friend. “Yes,” she said aloud. “Ethan will love it to the point of discomfort.” With a laugh, she cleaned up the bits of red hair that surrounded the barber chair and prepared for the rest of her evening.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

No Buffing Around

Another movie by Ethan but made in Rappelz as a diversion from studies, work, and other stressors. Please enjoy....srsly. :)

Monday, July 20, 2009

Never Let Me Go

Sunday night found Ethan making his way quickly through the streets. A glance to the church clock told him that he had little time to waste. He nodded greetings to several as he made his way to find Brit in the library. As he passed the Haven, he glimpsed Kylean down the street which caused him to pause. He had wanted to relay information regarding the island resort, but it would have to wait. It was, after all, Sunday night.

It had been years since Sundays held any significance to Ethan. However, in the past year, he had taken to viewing the new episode of True Blood, an American television drama series based on The Southern Vampire Mysteries, with Brit when the show ran its season. In fact, it had become a ritual that Ethan found he enjoyed. Brit was not in the library, but was with Rosalie in her shop.

Rosalie offered him a seat, but Ethan refused. Brit’s soft voice excitedly explained why they could not linger. Rosalie’s asked in astonishment, “You are hooked on a soap opera?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed as his old friend taunted him with her bemused look while feigning interest in Brit’s explanation of the show.

Ethan reminded Brit that they must leave less they not see the show when it was aired. As they left the shop, Ethan paused and turned to Rosalie to say, “How better than to educate my wife about the nature of our kind than to correct media misinformation?” After seeing the wisdom of his words was comprehended Rosalie, he ushered Brit toward their resting place.

Brit was practically drug through the streets as she kept pausing to discuss prior episodes starting with Season one. The show was based that vampires had progressed from monsters to citizens overnight due to the creation of synthetic blood. In the first season, the characters were defined. Brit was fascinated by Sookie, a human telepath who falls in love with a 173 year old vampire. The first season surrounded murders of women who were considered “fang-bangers.” Ethan cringed as he heard his wife say the term.

“A dreadful word, Brit. It’s not one I have heard prior to the creation of this show,” Ethan growled. He did not mention that he would likely gun down anyone who dared to say such a thing within his hearing. Other curiosities emerged from the show. Brit and Ethan had discussed chylders and sires (called makers in the series.) Also there was a storyline regarding addiction of humans to vampiric blood, and even a storyline regarding shape-shifters and werewolves.

Ethan beamed as he could not have asked for a better conversation focus than the show – even if he did have to endure the horrific accent representing the good people of Bon Temps, Louisiana. Season two had several overlapping plots. Bill, Sookie’s immortal lover, had been forced to turn a teenager. A new creature had emerged: a maenad named Mary Ann, whose actions allowed Ethan to discuss mythological stories of these creatures. The church group, The Fellowship of the Sun, opened the door for Ethan to discuss prejudicial ideas and religious zealots.

Once they had settled, Ethan set up his laptop that allowed the show to stream. Brit snuggled in his lap. It was hard for her to wait until the show was over to start asking questions. He knew they would likely review bits and pieces of the show over the following week. Brit wriggled excitedly as Sookie explained to Bill, “You’re different. You’re not like them. You have a heart whether it beats or not.” Ethan struggled not to groan at the campy dialog.

His inward groan changed to a grin at Brit’s happy squeak when Sookie told Bill, “I want you. In every which way. I just want you.” Turning to Ethan, Brit lisped, “I know what she means.” Ethan’s eyes widened and he tilted his head to look at her with big eyes that blinked as hers often did. Brit kissed him softly and returned to watching the show.

A sleepy rendition of “Never Let me Go” played while Sookie and Bill shared an intimate moment. It was not the Curtis Mayfield version and Ethan tried to place whether he had heard it before. Ethan stood pulling Brit to her feet. As the credits rolled, Ethan pulled Brit to him and danced slowly and lazily. Prior to resting, he had patiently responded to each of her questions before kissing her hand softly. Turning her hand gently, he felt her press her wrist to his lips. Keeping his eyes on hers, he bit into her succulent flesh and drank slowly from her wrist.

As they rested, Ethan briefly wondered whether the show might tell more of Erik, the Sheriff of Area 5’s turning or of his sire.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwlHExxp5XM

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Body & Blood

Ethan struggled with the shortened days. The summer before found him frustrated at not having enough time with his new wife. This summer, Ethan found that little had changed to sooth the frustration. Brit recognized that his mood had soured with the limited night that summer provided. After a trip to the library and several conversations with her husband, she convinced him that shortened nights should not prove troublesome. It was nothing that a little travel south could not cure.

Rosalie voiced her concerns to Ethan and cautioned that it was wiser to stay where one knows. Others told Ethan that exploration of new places was a perk given to those such as him. What was the point in immortality if one never tried new things? After a few quick inquiries, Brit and Ethan journeyed to a small island not terribly far from Christmas Island. Ethan had the best assurance that the island’s resort would be quite understanding of his nature. In fact, he was told, it catered to those like him.

On the plane, Brit read tourist information regarding Christmas Island. “It’s not the final destination, Brit. Merely a stopover,” explained Ethan as he bundled her a bit to keep her warm. It was not a comfortable trip for Ethan as they ventured further and further from places that were more familiar to him. Also, the trip took them far from his support network. Ethan struggled to recall the last time he felt so disconnected.

For all his worry, the flight was thankfully uneventful. Brit slept restfully on the trip and often used his body as her mattress. Her warmth was comforting to him. The transfer to the power boat transport was also uneventful. On that transport, Ethan nodded to one of several other kindred on-board. Someone he did not know well, but Ethan had seen Geoffrey enough times to feel more at ease. But then, as they checked in, Geoffrey asked, “So many have wondered when you might tire of your mortal, old boy. No one would imagine this is how you would demonstrate it.”

Ethan’s eyes flashed at the words, but Brit’s appearance at his side kept him from addressing the comments. Geoffrey looked uncomfortably confused and quickly moved away. A quick surveillance told Ethan that Brit was attracting the wrong kind of attention. Pulling her to him, he wrapped his cloak about pressing her against him. When he was very sure that she was simply melting into his embrace, his fangs and crimson eyes warned others there that Brit was his in all ways and was not to be touched. Upon arrival, Ethan ignored all and steered Brit for the dock.

His auspex and domination skills encouraged others to move quickly to get him settled into their private bungalow. When they were alone, Ethan checked the place carefully for any potential breach of security. Finding none, he relaxed. Brit followed him. Watching as he meticulously went through his checks and then as the mist warded the room. “I thought this was a safe place for you, Ethan.”

Grinning to Brit, Ethan said, “One can never be too careful, baby.” He picked up a resort brochure to leaf through. Brit bounced over excited about being in a new place and lay against him to hear what the resort had to offer. Ethan’s muscles began to tense as he looked through the week’s events.

Upon hearing nothing, Brit peeked up to see Ethan’s jaw muscle clench. “Is it not a good place for you to be?”

Placing a hand on her hair, he pulled her against him kissing her hair. “It’s a splendid place for kindred to play,” he replied tensely.

Brit tapped her toes. “Then.” She processed and he heard the soft sound of her shoes touching rhythmically. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Puffing her cheeks, she lisped, “I don’t understand.”

Over the next few days, Brit realized she was the lone mortal guest on the island. Other mortals were there as servants or sustenance. As such, the mortal diet was largely vegetarian. Soy products flavored with cayenne or pineapple and other such things that might give favorable flavor to their blood. “Unacceptable,” snarled Ethan into the phone one evening as Brit was waking. He quickly ended the phone call seeing she had risen.

That night, Brit and Ethan were moved far from the main resort into another bungalow by a ghoul that served the resort. Ethan told him, “I wish not to be disturbed except to be brought what I request in the manner that I desire.” The servant efficiently did his work and then bid his leave nearly running down the path. Brit glimpsed the frightened ghoul’s wonder of how such a mix-up could have occurred. Food was brought for Brit. Eggs and cheese had been added to the grains and fruits available. Once the delivery was made, the familiar black mist rose around the perimeter of the bungalow.

Brit did not question why they did not engage in activities at the resort or why they did not go dancing at the main house or dine there. On the third night, Brit woke to Ethan once again on the phone. Food had arrived again along with a scrawny native girl who looked dazed and already drained. “I did not request the item carrying the basket,” snarled Ethan to the person on the other side of the phone as he glared at the cowering girl. “And are you quite sure a transport remains unavailable this week?” As Brit walked closer, the girl weakly held out her hand to Brit as if to try to warn Brit away.

Before Brit could touch her, a man arrived full of apology and escorted the girl away. “She’s almost perished, I think,” Brit lisped as she watched them leave. Ethan closed his eyes a moment. In Brit’s mind, she was not accusing him nor was she damning anyone. There was simply sadness that the girl may be harmed. In the distance, a scream was heard. Walking toward the door, Brit watched toward the forest. Shouts and laughter followed sounding much like a nocturnal fox hunt.

“Sometimes the predator within seeks callous sport with some, Brit,” Ethan said softly. Glimpsing her thoughts, he shook his head. “A bit like our chase games, but with a more permanent ending.” Moving behind her, he pulled her again to him and was very aware of her response realizing he almost expected her to pull from him.

Brit’s hand reached for his and pulled it around her. “You never hid what you are from me, Ethan.” He did not respond as she repeated his own words back to him. “I’ve been chased by you. It is different when you are chased by one who loves you.” He wrapped her closer to him. “I’ve been chased by those who cared nothing for me.” Silence stayed in the air. “It is different,” she said in a whispered voice.

Ethan could not bear the thought of anyone touching her. Forcing the thoughts from his mind, he kissed her hair before saying, “I will always protect you, baby. You are mine in the eyes of man and God. Blessed by Him. My kind understand claims. None shall ever harm you.”


Turning, he motioned to the door and the black mist flowed into the crevices of the doors and windows. “Magic,” whispered Brit. Her voice was soft and seemed almost sultry. He brushed his lips over her neck following the pulse line and wondered whether she would ever become cognoscente of the seductive quality of her voice. He pulled her to the settee before dragging his fangs over her throat. “I want to share in both body and blood.”

Ethan paused wondering if she knew how her words could be interpreted. Turning, Brit cupped his jaw to kiss him lightly before repeating, “I want to share in both body and blood, Ethan.” Shifting her slightly, he caressed her cheek before pulling her closer and tasted her pineapple-laced blood.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Summer Alternatives

Brit watched the street from the vantage point of the upstairs window just outside of their resting place. The sun was setting, she noted as she watched the street below. As the sky grew darker, she heard the door behind her open followed by the sound of familiar footsteps. Strong arms embraced her and she felt soft kisses on her temple before she turned to kiss Ethan’s lips. “Good evening, princess,” murmured Ethan.

Smiling, Brit replied, “Good evening, Ethan.” Quiet followed. Brit had acclimated to the quiet and knew the reason. Ethan’s thoughts broadcast his unhappiness over the shortened days. The summer before, he expressed frustration. This summer, she could feel deepened unhappiness over an occurrence in nature that he could not control. Summer nights were short and there was nothing Ethan could do about it.

Brit sensed his mood and could see the thoughts behind it. His thoughts were filled with resentment toward not having more time at night with her. It never bothered him in the past. Now, he was entertaining options that he would have never considered in years gone by: Moving to the southern hemisphere for the summer months would place him in a region entirely unknown to him. Ethan’s thoughts flashed anger that, in 1500 years, he had not bothered to venture there making the option unattractive without contacts or knowledge. “We could go to the library and look up wherever you wish to go, Ethan,” offered Brit.

He blinked realizing she was linked to every thought. “No, baby. The information I wish to obtain would not be found there, I fear.” Ethan caressed Brit’s arms and pulled her against him again after turning her to the window in hopes that the view would distract her for a moment. Ethan had made inquiries, but information obtained was sketchy to him. The unknown was unsettling. It had been many years since he had experienced such feelings.

Ethan reflected on Latin America. Ethan had no intentions of staying in a rainforest tree house as Brit had excitedly suggested. The strict Roman Catholic religion and American baby-napping rumors associated with organ harvesting also made him realize that logic was not always first and foremost in villager’s minds. Chile, Brazil, and Argentina had some nice cities, and he had requested more information about them. Regardless, most information that he had obtained revealed tight-knit families, which could prove difficult.

Brit was also excited about the concept of visiting Africa. Jungle cats and safari came to her mind. Ethan had not burst her bubble that safari activities usually were daytime options. Draught, disease, smugglers, and weak medical care for his mortal wife were all concerns. The many local religions also made him pause. With a shake of his head, he cleared the image of him becoming tribal chieftain of the gourd people though he did think Brit would look cute in a grass skirt.

The intense poverty of many areas of southern Asia coupled with the highly diverse religions did not make a visit favorable to Ethan. He sighed pulling Brit closer to him. Again religious extremism and lack of tolerance for outsiders would prove problematic. Besides, the last news report that Ethan had seen on a television reported piracy and drug running was prevalent in some of the more interesting locations.

Europe, like North America, had shortened days. Ethan yearned for some locations in Europe. Places he had stayed and known. If only nights were longer, how lovely it would be to take Brit there. “Perhaps we will spend Christmas in Salzburg, Brit,” he said wistfully as he arranged her hair away from her face. “Salzburg is beautiful when the snow falls,” he whispered picturing the longer nights of winter with Brit on his arm. The image of her bundled in a fur-lined hood with her nose reddened by the cold night made him smile.

“There is a castle there,” Brit replied. Ethan smiled again knowing there were many and wondered which she meant. His mind returned to the problem at hand and he considered other locals. Polar caps were simply out of the question. He had running water and livable conditions 1500 years ago. Needless to say he was not giving that up in the new day and age. Brit tilted her head curiously at a glimpse of penguins in his thoughts.

“They do not fly,” she said remembering yet another book she had read. He grinned kissing the top of her head and felt his mood lift a bit. Looking up to him, she needlessly clarified, “Penguins do not fly.”

“Perhaps next summer we could venture somewhere within Oceania, Brit,” said Ethan. “Sydney is said to be pleasant enough and New Zealand, I have been told, is bearable.” Ethan paused silently vowing to kill the first person who called him ‘mate.’ Ethan reflected on what he had read about the city of Sydney. “Australia. We could go to the opera, perhaps.” His eyes narrowed thinking of the beautiful opera house in Vienna, but he placated himself with the promise of longer nights.

Brit perked, “They eat bugs there! I read it in the library. You can order a plate of bugs at many nice restaurants.” She giggled at the thought of bugs for dinner, but her smile faded at the decidedly un-amused expression of her husband. “No bugs,” she lisped questioningly.

“Quite right,” said Ethan with a decisive nod. He blinked again and visibly shook his head. “Bugs are what one eats out of necessity, Brit. You have no need to consume bugs.” Sensing her confusion, he glanced at her thoughts and waved his hand dismissively. “Just because someone deemed it a delicacy does not mean it is good or something you should ingest, princess.”

Brit nibbled her lip, “Maybe they are not real bugs.”

Ethan replied, “Then they should have called them something else. We do not call fish ‘sea kittens,’ do we? Of course not. They are fish. And bugs are bugs.” Seeing her puff her cheeks slightly, he grinned again giving her a playful squeeze. “Do not let me dark mood upset you, Brit. I am unhappy over the short night. If you having bugs for dinner will allow my summer nights grow longer, I’ll consider it.” Brit grinned, which caused him to chuckle. Kissing her, he mused there would be no bugs in her future without a call to the health department. “Shall we go see Kylean? Perhaps he can assist us in making inquiries about Oceania.”


They prepared to leave the Shelter and Brit paused at the door. "Don't perish anyone if they call you 'mate.' Okay?" she asked.


Ethan grinned again at her glimpse into his thoughts and motioned her toward the door.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Belladonna & Eosphoros

Opening the book, Ethan pointed out a picture and said to Brit, “Their names were Belladonna and Eosphoros and they had been life-long nemeses.” Seeing Brit’s confusion, Ethan clarified, “A nemesis is a formidable rival. All their lives, Bella and Eosphoros had competed for honors and awards in and out of school. Each of them achieved early admittance to a most prestigious magic school as both showed talent for magical feats.”

After a moment, Brit responded, “You do not like magic, Ethan.” Though she saw Ethan use archaic methods to do mystical things, she had noted his distain when others used similar methods. “How did you know these two? Were they friends of yours? Did they perish? How long ago did they live?” With a grin, Ethan patiently let her ramble out her questions until she puffed her cheeks and whispered, “I know….one question at a time.”

With a soft chuckle, he touched her nose playfully and said, “All questions will be answered in due time, darling. This is simply a story, but all stories tend to be based on some inkling of truth, hm?” She smiled giving him an affirmative nod and he settled her back to him and continued. “As fate would have it, each responded with immediate animosity when they first saw one another. Of course the rivalry continued. One took top marks one week only to be usurped the following week. And each blamed the other for their own lack of success when the other moved ahead.”

“I guess that made them not like each other even more,” lisped Brit. She shifted against Ethan so that she could look up at him. Seeing him nod in agreement, she settled back against him. Within his mind, she glimpsed images that she assumed were Belladonna and Eosphoros.

Ethan caressed her arm. “With hatred growing, each lost the ability to think rationally when it came to the other. With each passing week, the other had planned how to discredit or dishonor the other so they would leave. It was late in their first year when they gave up trying to harm the other, and a more sinister plan started to form.”

Brit’s eyes grew big. “They tried to perish each other?”

Brushing his lips over her temple, Ethan said, “No, baby. Truly perishing would have been kind compared to what each planned.” Brit looked almost fearful but remained silent to hear what each did. Ethan gave her a reassuring hug and reminded her, “Tis a story, baby. No need for concern.” She relaxed against him and he moved forward with the story. “Eosphoros decided that, since he could not drive Belladonna off, he would enslave her. Staying up all night, he made a love potion that would bind her to him. Her heart would feel that it could not beat if he were not near.”

Looking thoroughly confused, Brit said, “He hated her so he wanted her to love him?” Ethan nodded. “That does not seem like hate to me. Maybe he secretly loved her.”

“It is said that there is a very thin line between love and hate,” Ethan said. It was clear to him that Brit did not understand, but to discuss such now would mean to side track from the story. Ethan had learned early on to stick to a path when talking with Brit or their conversations would go in more directions than hydras had heads. Besides, he had eternity to follow each path in time. “We shall come back to that topic, baby.”

Brit settled again and Ethan handed her some juice to sip as he returned to the story. “So, Eosphoros would simply give her the potion and Bella would fall in love with him. And he would extract his revenge on her daily knowing she would love him and he would hate her.” Ethan waited for Brit to process and was rewarded with an audible gasp as Brit realized how much it would hurt the other to love and not be loved in return.

He could feel her heart ache for the unloved magic student and moved on quickly. “Eosphoros took his potion and placed it in a wine bottle. He found Bella in a lab working on a class assignment. Entering, he said, ‘Look. We have been at odds for years. Perhaps we should set aside our childhood anger and agree that we will not continue this rivalry since we shall be breathing the same air until we graduate.’ He was most sincere in his tone and actions.”

“Indeed, Bella was surprised,” explained Ethan. “After all, they had hated each other for years. Eosphoros handed Bella a bottle of wine and asked, ‘Truce?’ Bella looked doubtful, but reached for it to accept it. It was a very small bottle and Eosphoros said, ‘I would be so honored if you would accept this truce by drinking of it.’ And with that, he poured the liquid into a glass.”

“If he was always mean to her, why would she trust him?” asked Brit. Ethan hinted a grin that she thought of the obvious question. To him, it showed growth.

“Bella did not trust him. She asked him to sip first and he made a bit of a scene, but drank after telling her that her skepticism was not helping their new truce. Of course, magic users tend to be immune to their own concoctions.” Ethan’s fingers curled a strand of her hair around his index finger. “She watched him drink and said, ‘Then please drink with me.’ And with that, she too poured him a glass of wine from the open bottle she had beside her. Her own glass just inches from her fingertips.’ Seeing this, he smiled graciously accepting her offer. The two clinked glasses and both drank.”

Brit whispered, “And then she fell in love with him and he still hated her!” Her eyes widened in a mixture of horror and sadness.

“Don’t jump ahead,” Ethan chided gently with a playful poke causing her to giggle slightly. She was too focused on the story, and so he went forward with it. “Each drank while watching the other. They kept their individual glasses to their lips and poured in the contents slowly. By drinking slowly and watching, each encouraged the other to drain their glasses dry. When their glasses were empty, each smiled a contented smile.”

“And then she fell in love with him and he still hated her!” Brit exclaimed.

With a bounce and a tickle, Ethan said, “Slow down, you!” Brit giggled more merrily causing him to grin again. When she quieted, he said, “The room was quiet and each sat watching the other. It was then that Bella noticed how very beautiful Eosophoros looked as he gazed back at her almost lovingly. Perhaps the lighting had improved, she thought.”

“Uh oh,” whispered Brit.

“Bella desired above all other things to touch him. Her fingers curled into each other to prevent her from doing so. His hand seemed to reach for her hair and he grabbed the edge of the table blinking. Bella gasped and he widened his eyes. Each shouted, ‘You gave me a potion! What was it?’ They went quiet again and stared at each other. Each seeing beauty and wonder in the other that they had never seen before. Each screamed, ‘How dare you!’ Then words flew from each other. Sparks flew quite literally as they attacked with magic which brought the attention of their instructors running to the lab.’

“Did she give him a potion too? What kind of potion? How did she know to give him one? Did she know he was giving her one?” Brit asked in rapid succession.

Ethan shrugged, “No one knows whether she knew or whether it was just amazing coincidence.” Shifting her back to him again, he said, “By the time, the instructors arrived, the laboratory was quite destroyed. With a bit of a truth spell, it was found that each had used magic against the other. Both gave the other a love potion and, for that, each was expelled from the academy.” Seeing her tilt her head, he clarified, “Expelled means cast out.”

Brit giggled, “Now they both love each other!”

Ethan grinned, “There is a fine line between love and hate, Brit. Neither had been on their own. They stood on the steps of the academy knowing they could not return home in disgrace to their parents. However, for a full hour, they continued to shout at each other that it was the other’s fault. Night was falling, and they spent their first night under trees as they continued to argue and were told to leave the small roadside inn.”

“Did they ever get along?” asked Brit.

“The sun is rising, baby. I will tell you more of their story another night. But safe to say that they were beloved of one another. Willingly or not.”

Monday, May 25, 2009

Memorial Day

Memorial Day. It was not the day that held real meaning to Ethan, but the simple realization that it heralded the start of summertime. Picking Brit up, Ethan jumped the railing and carried her to the rocks over the water away from the sweat and grime of the city. The tide caused the water to lap quietly on the rocks and the sound added to the peacefulness of the night.

Settling her back against him, Brit felt his face press against her hair. Ethan’s lips slide along the side pressing softly along her pulse points. Her body emanated heat. Mingled with the humid night, a thin layer of sweat caused from their fencing lesson salted her skin. There was a hint of sadness within him and Brit could pick up on the mood. “The nights are shorter,” she finally said. Her words were not so much of a question as it was a confirmation. Ethan nodded and pulled her closer.

Breaking the night’s silence, a couple were shouting at each other. “It’s your fault,” screamed the girl. A male voice immediately followed, “It’s your fault!” Both looked to the nearby building where a small window was open. More yelling followed by occasional slaps and punches followed. Brit’s eyes widened as she heard the loud crash from inside of the building. Ethan’s better hearing caused him to grin. Placing his lips to her ear, he whispered, “I believe those two have settled their differences.”

Brit seemed confused until her thoughts hit upon a plausible explanation. “They made up!” she whispered gleefully. Seeing Ethan’s grin, she snuggled back against him to enjoy the night and felt his lips explore her neck a bit more, which distracted her from the window above. Closing her eyes, Brit tilted her head to feel him caress her skin. Ethan pulled her closer to him.

It seemed a night for loving activity. Earlier, they had encountered a couple who had not left their room all day. Brit deemed they must have been very tired. Ethan had been quite sure that they were exhausted after their marathon ‘rest.’ A neko pair growled and hissed in the park causing the uninformed to avoid the area less the fight break out while they were near. A couple who was new to the city took advantage of having set up the bed first just a few doors down from the quarreling couple.

“Look up at the moon, Brit,” whispered Ethan. As she gazed up at it, he said softly, “If I were in Constantinople and you were here, we can gaze upon the same moon.” Brit smiled. Ethan continued, “No matter where we are, you can look at the moon and know I’m smiling back to you.”

Turning to him, she said, “And the same for you. I will never look at the moon without thinking of you, Ethan. Even if you are not right here with me.” Entwining her fingers in his, she peeked at him. “Of course, you should always be with me…when the moon is seen like this.” Going quiet, she thinks of the times he has had to make a trip without her. “I do not wish us to be apart anymore…maybe…if you have business….you should just take me along always.”

His fingers stroked her hair and he listened to the sounds of the night without replying for a few moments. “Brit, if it is possible, you are with me. I never go without you less it is absolutely necessary.” When she did not reply, he touched her face. “I will not place you in danger, baby.” His tone let her know that it was not for discussion. Puffing her cheeks, she simply nodded.

Brit turned to him to speak. No words came as someone had crossed the railing to move toward the rocks. Ethan caught the sound of someone there as well. Both turned so they could see more clearly. A man with blonde hair crossed the railing. Looking both ways, he reached to help a dark-haired lady into his arms. The lady was seriously injured and Brit looked to Ethan wondering if they should suggest a hospital.


Ethan pressed a single finger to her lips as he watched. The man settled the lady on the rocks and looked both ways. Not seeing anyone near, he opened the lady’s clothing revealing several gruesome wounds. Not caring that the wounds were bloody, he pressed his hands to them. Light gleamed from him as he muttered soft words. The lady fell against the rocks as if she had no energy to hold her with a soft cry. Brit simply watched.

The blonde man continued to mutter as the dark lady cried out softly reaching for him. Her fingers stretched until she touched him and seemed to make a complete circuit which calmed her. The light was bright beneath the man’s fingertips and the lady cried out softly again. “It hurts,” she stifled a sob as she lay on the rocks.

“Shhh,” soothed the man as he continued to press his glowing hands to her.

“It hurts, damn you! It hurts!” The lady struggled to keep from sobbing as the man continued to work. “I guess you like that….that it hurts…that I hurt.” He did not reply but continued to apply his hands, now red with her blood, to her wounds. “Ow,” she cried out and fell back onto the rocks with silent tears flowing freely.

Brit’s eyes filled with tears for the lady as she watched. Ethan pulled her closer and cautioned her to not make a sound. He had never seen either in the city before. With the moonlight so bright, both could easily see the lady was soaked in her own blood. “Nearly perished,” thought Brit. Ethan squeezed her gently in warning.

Ethan could see the man’s energy waning as he worked. Sweat caused his blonde hair to darken. The lady’s wounds bled less and her sobs grew less until they were the slightest of whimpers. As the last wound closed, the blonde man cupped her thigh and placed his lips to kiss the spot as it healed beneath his hands. The lady’s hand touched his wet hair. Silence followed for several minutes. “Thank you,” whispered the lady.

The man looked up in surprise smiling for a moment. The couple sat together simply touching. Not moving. Not talking. “Not a worry, Jezabeth,” said the man. “It grieved me to see you injured by anyone else but me.”

The lady groaned as she rose up to her elbows to look at him. “You are a bastard. A complete and total bastard.” He chuckled causing her to glare. “Did anyone see you with me?” she blurted out.

Tilting his head, he said, “No, but your blood is all over my hands. I’m bathed in your scent.”

Sitting up, she said, “Well, go bathe soap and water. And thank you, I guess.” She was shaky as she made her way back to the rail crawling over it.

Looking at his blood-coated hands, the man responded, “I suppose that I’ll see you later. So you can thank me properly.”

Turning, the lady spat toward him, “Well then, love. Be sure you use the back staircase. Naturally.”

The blonde man chuckled and said, “Naturally.” The lady nodded and strode away angrily. Brit looked up at Ethan quizzically wondering if the couple hated each other. As the lady walked away, the blonde man touched his bloodied hand to his lips kissing it and blew it in the direction of the shadowy figure. “Soon, my beauty. Soon,” he whispered as he got to his feet and left in a separate direction.

Watching until the couple was clearly out of sight, Brit lisped, “Those two hate each other!”

Chuckling, Ethan said, “I don’t think so.” Seeing she did not understand, he said, “I’ll explain soon.” She tilted her head. With a laugh, he whispered, “Soon, my beauty, soon!”

Giggling, she said “Um…well…be sure you use the back staircase, naturally.”

Ethan blinked gazing at her for a moment only to break into a grin seeing Brit had no clue about such implications. “Naturally, love…run ahead of me less you not be there when I arrive.” Brit scampered toward the railing and slipped over it most improperly. Ethan followed ensuring she ran into him several times before she arrived home, and he bit her playfully each time he caught her.

In their resting place, Brit was giggling loudly as she burst through their door. Ethan grinned and then followed using the back staircase. Naturally. Once there, they made the most of what was left of the night giving each a fond memory of the unofficial start of summer.

Friday, May 22, 2009

The Power of Touch

Ethan rose and greeted Brit in the traditional way before asking what she might like to do that evening. At her response, he paused. “You wish to do what?” he said with an eyebrow raised in surprise.

“I wish to give you a massage,” was the matter-of-fact response. Ethan’s second eyebrow joined the first unsure what to say or even where to begin. Brit puffed her cheeks and slid a book from his desk. Opening it, she read slowly, “Massage is a way for beloveds to get closer. It is a way to connect mentally and physically by engaging all senses.” Looking up, she whispered, “That sounds good, huh.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he reached for the book. Flipping it open, he examined its contents thinking he may be paying someone in the library yet another visit. Brit continued to chatter as he flipped through the pages. She rushed through the titles starting with the history of massage and the power of touch. Her words flowed faster when he gazed over the book to her as she was telling him of the medical benefits of such practices. “I am not generally afflicted with headaches nor do I require help with increased circulation, darling,” he replied.

Pausing, Brit lisped, “I do not have headaches, Ethan, but maybe I would like increased circulation. My blood circulates.” Ethan tilted her head noting that she had clearly read the book and was obviously taken with the idea of doing something new to increase their closeness. Peeking into her mind, he could see she had linked the concept with romantic notions befitting a young wife. It showed growth, which pleased him greatly.

Looking around, he noticed that she had already made some preparations for a massage. Closing the book, he knew she likely went with the book’s suggestions for trying something new, and he did not wish to spoil her fun by knowing what was next. Besides, she looked cute dressed in her loose, frilly summertime nightgown. Ethan focused on his wife who was placing towels about the room and went to lighting soft-scented candles that she had enjoyed on their last vacation.

Brit spread out a thick sheet over their resting area while he watched with a bemused expression. She ran from the room only to return with a stack of towels and some oil that was heating in rusty-colored, warm water. “Where did you obtain the oil?” Ethan asked. Upon hearing the answer, Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. He read the label carefully and found she had followed the book to purchase sweet almond oil. Opening it, he sniffed to ensure it was pure and nodded with satisfaction choosing not to scold her for venturing into the porn shop for the purchase.

Pressing play for music, a version of “When Love and Death Embrace” poured from the small speakers. Brit shook out a second sheet and peeked over it. “Um…you have to strip.”

Mouthing the word “strip”, Ethan coughed softly into his hand. Yes, she was definitely demonstrating growth, he thought as he shrugged off his jacket coat while watching her clear green eyes over the edge of the sheet. Regrouping, Ethan asked casually, “Did the book instruct you to tell me to strip, baby?”

She processed as she thought carefully, “No, but it said I have to rub everywhere and, if you did not strip, then oil would get all over your clothing.” Her eyes widened and he was amused that she was sincerely concerned over the potential damage to his clothing. Not wishing to tease too much, he discarded his clothing and let her wrap him in the sheet to direct him to the second sheet.

Ethan felt suddenly clumsy when she instructed him to lie on his back. He watched her curiously feeling suddenly unworldly beneath the sheet while he watched her move about. Rather than start to pour oil on him, she picked up the hair brush and focused on brushing his hair. When his eyes kept watching her, she leaned to kiss him before barely putting oil on her fingers and massaged his face gently then moved to rub his scalp. Her fingers caressed and she dragged her fingers lightly over the skin.

Feeling Ethan start to relax, Brit poured a bit more oil on her fingers and pressed them beneath him to let his weight push him on her hands that pulled gently along his large shoulders. He took a breath and exhaled slowly causing her to pause as he did not need to breathe. Feeling him relax more, she smiled.

Brit took her time caressing his skin. Sometimes, she would find tense spots, just like the book described. For these, she would press her palms and fingers against his flesh and slowly work the tension to his fingertips until he was completely relaxed. When she told him to roll to his tummy, a loud pop from several vertebrae were heard causing both to pause looking bewildered. Seeing her wide eyes, Ethan smiled catching a hand and placing it to his lips to let her know that she did not break him.

True to the book, Brit carefully practiced with long body massage strokes and kneaded the larger muscles in between. Her pace was very slow taking far more time that one might with such activity. Peeking again at her thoughts, she was focused on her hands and the feel of his body beneath them. No other thoughts entered her mind except following the instructions of the book, and the pleasure she had of examining him relaxed but not resting. She paused only when more soft pops were heard as his spine relaxed.

This time, it was Ethan who processed. He focused on the feelings and sensations that her touch yielded. Also the differences in the way she touched his skin. With a slight shift, he pondered that perhaps he would rethink his opinion of such practices. Immediately, he grimaced at the thought of anyone else giving him a massage. Rage flared at the slightest thought of anyone else touching her, and he quickly pushed the thought from his mind. This was an activity that should be reserved for proper couples, he thought.

“Are you okay,” asked Brit. Ethan refocused on her face as she gazed at him oddly. “You seemed uneasy for a moment,” she lisped. He noted that she was definitely in tune with him – possibly more than she had ever been before.

As for Ethan, he felt closer to her as well and marveled at the power of such a simple act. Ethan shook his head and said, “I was thinking….perhaps it is your turn.” He sat up feeling blissful. Pulling her nightgown off, he pressed her on to the sheet.

Brit whispered, “They don’t say how to get a massage…just how to give one!”

Chuckling, he said teasingly, “Then I suppose you shall learn like I did.” Pouring a bit of oil into his hands, he mimicked her actions almost to the textbook letter. Rather than lying lazily beneath his hands, Brit squirmed like a playful kitten. Ethan grinned and continued until he scooped her up to hold her tightly to him drinking lovingly from her throat.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFLN8cMuWL0

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Låt den Rätte Komma In

Lifting her head from Ethan’s shoulder as the credits rolled, Brit asked, “Did she love him or does she need him?” The movie was called Låt den Rätte Komma In. It was a Swedish movie about a 12-year old boy named Oskar, and a 200 year old vampire child named Eli. Oskar was being bullied at school and befriends a mysterious child who moved in next door to him and his mother. Eli lived with an older man who took care of her. The two develop a close relationship as Eli struggles with changes that challenge her ability to care for herself, and Oskar strives to resolve his issues with school bullies.

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. He did not have an answer. The movie dealt with several issues that focused on the darker side of humanity and vampiric nature. He knew without peeking into her mind that Brit would be processing the movie for days if not weeks. She did not understand the nature of bullies. A need for someone to make themselves feel more powerful by preying on others was beyond her scope of understanding. When Oskar was being tormented, she whispered, “He needs a redeemer.”

The need for killing people when Eli drank was explained when Eli fed directly. Ethan explained that some thoughts on the creation of vampires were that it was caused by a virus-like organism that could be gained when the vampire fed. Ethan also carefully explained how his chylder was created in a way that Brit could comprehend. As he spoke, his fingers caressed her skin as his mind sifted her thoughts to see whether she desired to be more like him, and was disappointed as he had been before that it never dawned on her to ask.

Ethan felt disgusted when Eli’s keeper would kill victims that he had drugged to drain blood in a jug to sustain Eli. After all, in his mind, there was no need to kill them, but he rationalized that it was likely easier to get by with the attack if there was no witness. Brit blinked slowly as she watched the scenes that grew gory at times. Ethan noticed that her mind neither condemned nor justified the actions. Rather, she seemed to simply take in the story.

Brit seemed confused about the cats that demonstrated aversions to kindred. Ethan again told her of certain myths. She felt the myth was not true because Ethan had joined her in playing with a litter of kittens when they were in France. At that time, he told her many stories of cats and myths surrounding them. Brit had wanted a kitten, but she knew it would not survive in the city.

Brit’s thoughts surrounded Eli and Oskar, but Ethan found the story of Håkan unsettling. Håkan was the old man who had cared for Eli. At one point in the movie, he asked her not to see Oskar that night. Brit had no understanding of the request, but Ethan saw jealousy. He knew without a shadow of doubt that Håkan had been with Eli for a long time – perhaps since he was a boy of Oskar’s age. Now he was old and the two simply co-existed. Håkan provided and Eli endured.

Brit did not focus on the comment, but Ethan’s thoughts were not far from it. At that point on, he was sure that Håkan had one time been like Oskar. He had seen his kind use someone’s life for themselves only to cast them aside when they found someone new or grew weary of the one who had served them without a second thought. Brit was warm against him. He frowned seeing how others of his kind would view her.

In the movie, Håkan disfigured himself so he could not be identified. In the hospital, he offers Eli his neck and she drains him letting his body fall from the window. At no time in the movie, did it show Eli giving another thought to him. It was as if Håkan never existed as her focus was now on Oskar. Brit simply watched the movie focused on each moment as it arrived unaware of the discomfort that Ethan felt of the sad reminder of what he had seen played out through the centuries time and time again by kindred he had known.

The movie had endearing moments. Oskar teaching Eli Morse code so they could tap to each other through the wall. Also, Eli walking to him without being asked in to show him that she would harm herself for him and that she had watched over him when he thought she was gone only to help him in the end. Brit pressed against Ethan beaming at the screen when Oskar and Eli shared their first kiss.

The darkness, Ethan noticed, was lost on Brit. The sadness of Håkan’s likely story. Eli’s response to the question of her age: “I’m twelve. But I have been twelve for a long time.” Added to her story with Oskar, Ethan murmured, “Bittersweet.” At the end of the movie, Ethan smiled as Eli, who was in a crate, tapped out “kiss” to Oskar who was riding on a train and Oskar responded back in kind.

“Ethan?” Brit spoke again, “Does she love him or does she need him?” Ethan frowned. Brit’s thoughts had started to process the movie. Most movies were so simple to explain. This one was different and obviously close to home. He pulled her over him and kissed her softly. She giggled at the kiss but continued to wait for a response.

Normally he would ask what she thought, but he could see that she had no response. She was trying to make sense of it herself. “I’m unsure, Brit,” he said softly. Her eyes widened. She had never known him to not have a response. He smiled. “I love you,” he said. “And I need you.” She returned his smile giving him a loving squeeze.

Walking home, he was thoughtful as she was. Brit processed, but Ethan’s thoughts also focused on the movie and he continued to feel slightly disturbed. She took two steps to each one of his as they walked. “Brit,” he said softly, “I will always love and need you.”

Smiling, she said, “I know, Ethan.” He nodded returning her smile and they continued to walk.

“You will not grow old like Håkan did or Oskar will.” She paused looking up at him as they walked. Seeing his thoughts were closed to her, she frowned slightly. His hand tightened on hers and he shook his head. Seeing her curios expression, he shook his head again. “Just....” Smiling, he picked her up suddenly and swung her around. She screamed gleefully as he swung her again.

After three swings, he tossed her slightly up in the air and she giggled happily. Turning her quickly, he grabbed her holding her to him like one would a child, and he walked them both back to their resting place. His cheek nuzzled her hair as they walked. Neither noticed the odd glances from those they passed as he moved through the streets. Once back in their resting place, he kissed her as he tapped his fingers on her body. -- .. -. .

Tomorrow, perhaps he would teach her Morse code.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Silver & Gold

Brit sat in the resting place examining the contents of a footlocker that she had asked a passerby to bring to the Shelter from the library. In her hand, she held the letter that told her where to find the locker. Slowly, she read silently but her lips moved forming each word. She had read the note several times while her hand touched the footlocker. When she read the letter, tears would form, but they dried as she touched the locker. At sunset, Ethan rose to find her sitting in the dark staring at the locker. “What is that, princess?”

Handing Ethan the letter, she watched. Ethan glanced over the top of the paper before going to his desk to read it. He read once and then again. Folding the paper to place on the desk, he said, “Things are not always as they seem, Brit.” Motioning her to him, he patted his lap pulling her into it when she approached. “Things are not always as they seem, baby.” Ethan told her about the rumors going about the city and what had been told to him by more reliable individuals.

Brit’s eyes widened. Picking up the note again, she read it silently yet again. “So…they are dead.” Ethan watched Brit process without interference. Her eyes blinked in their rhythmic pattern and she stared at the note. Her lips were outlined in baby pink lip tint and Ethan could see her lower lip starting to quiver. Brit glanced up to him questioning.

“Baby, what do you think?” He kept a hand on her and was linked with her mind. In the beginning, Ethan thought not to tell her. However, his wife was not a child, he reminded himself. An adult would be told, and so he had made up his mind to tell her of the events. The note, found within a book in the library, had informed Brit first. Placing his hand on her chest, he whispered, “What does your heart tell you?” Sliding his hand higher, he said, “What about your mind? Look within and trust yourself.”

Encouraged, Brit processed. “I…I think I would have known…felt it within,” she lisped. Ethan simply watched her as she spoke her thoughts out loud. Sliding off of his lap, she returned to the foot locker. Kneeling beside it, she said, “It has maps, and some stuff…writing with no pictures.” Puffing her cheeks, she picked up a pile of library cards and sorted through them. “All of these people have disappeared…perished maybe or just ran away.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ethan said, “Indeed? Allow me to see those please.” She gave him the pile of cards and went back to sorting through the footlocker.

Pulling jars of slugs with blood dried on them, she read the labels. “Me. Family. Others.” The three jars were set beside her. Staring at the jars, she gasped causing Ethan to look up quickly. She whispered holding the “me” jar, “I think….these were meant to perish him!”

Seeing her wide-eyes, Ethan grinned. “But they did not, did they?” She blinked twice before giggling and shook her head ‘no.’ Ethan chuckled. Brit looked back at the jars curiously finding some names rather surprising. Sensing her thoughts, he said, “No…if one of those perished him, it would likely not be in the jar, now would it?”

“No,” she said giving them another glance before setting the jar carefully on the floor next to her. Brit found pictures she had drawn and a bent and buckled short black sword. There were some uniforms, and ceremonial fetishes. Ethan raised an eyebrow as he used his own skills to sense anything dangerous in the footlocker. Next she found an ominous knife collection and first aid gear. A few cooking items and a small box of medals followed by a small silver wolf head.

“Allow me to see that, Brit,” said Ethan holding his hand out for the item. She gave it to him and he turned the wolf’s head left and right before holding it for a moment. “Silver…interesting.” Handing it back to her, he said, “Be sure to pack that in with the medals. In the box. And place it to the bottom for safe keeping.” He watched as Brit did what she was told. “We shall put the items somewhere for safe keeping until we hear where it is to be shipped.”

Brit packed the footlocker. “Will someone ask for it?”

Ethan pressed fingertips together arching his fingers. “I am sure someone will. Or perhaps we shall ship it.” Seeing her quizzical look, he pulled a second note from his pocket. Looking to her, he opened it mysteriously and started to read. “Hello, Ethan. I hope this missive finds you well. I enclose a small gift to commemorate your Paper Anniversary.” Ethan read slowly stopping often to ensure Brit could keep up with what was said.

Along with the note were a number of stories from the lands of Greece that had been written for children at the turn of the century. Ethan scowled slightly at some of the titles, but reminded himself that his wife was not a child. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him when someone had once commented, “It is only a bicycle.” Tapping his fingers on his desk, he glowered at the memory silently noting that society had declined dramatically since women were given bicycles. “Are you okay,” asked Brit.

“Yes, darling.” Ethan smiled and put the note card away. Though he was sure that some of the titles were deliberately chosen, he had to grin at the image of the mischievous glee that went into their selection.

“We have good friends, Ethan.” Brit smiled warmly looking over the book at him. Earlier, she had been wearing a dress made especially for her by a dear friend. That same friend, who was practically “family”, had made a matching vest for Ethan as she knew of their preference to match. Yet another had gifted them with a beautiful wrought-iron bed and matching candlestick. They even had their own moon and stars for when the cloud cover made one wistful for a clear night.

Thinking of those who protected Brit and looked out for him whether he felt he needed it or not, Ethan replied, “That we do, baby.” He could see her thinking and processing. People who had come and gone from the city. Her emotions waivered slightly as she thought of some and then others, but she was wrapped in the feelings of those for whom she cared and cared for them in return.

Ethan simply watched as she flipped through the books that had been sent. Then, he heard her voice. It was soft and sweet. Though she carried the tune, her voice held a slight child-like quality to it. “Make new friends, but keep the old.” Her hair framed her face as she sang softly, “One is silver and the other is gold.” Smiling, he walked to pull her up and swayed to her tune. He didn’t even frown when she asked him to read a story that reminded him of bicycles.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Paper Anniversaries

Lying in the resting place, Brit watched the candles burning in the silver holder that was used at her wedding. While normally silent, periodic pops occurred while the candles burned; this seemed to fill her with wonderment. Ethan watched both the candles and his wife. Her form between him and the candles caused a silhouette. Using one finger, he traced her side. First over her shoulder to her side, he moved gently down the side of her ribcage. Pressing gently, he could feel her bone structure beneath. “Fragile and soft,” he thought.

“I’m not so very fragile, Ethan,” Brit lisped. He hinted a smile seeing that she had linked to his thoughts. Both had been taking to linking with the other more and more. It was considered another way to bond together. Simply put, both felt it was another connection.

Curling his fingers, Ethan drug his nails lightly over Brit’s milky skin noticing the pinkish discoloration as he moved even though he was gentle. His fingers hooked on her hip and he pulled to roll her to her back. The sootiness of her lashes framed her eyes and enhanced their green color. Brit’s dark red hair cascaded over the pillow beneath her. Cocking a brow, he asked, “When did my princess grow so strong?” His fingers trailed over her sternum down to her belly where it circled.

Squirming slowly to his tickly touches, Brit giggled. “You make me stronger.” He watched her and sifted through her thoughts as she responded. “Better,” she whispered. “You make me better.” In her thoughts, he could see she did not comprehend the mechanics, but she keenly understood the affects his blood had on healing and her physical abilities.

“Perhaps stronger, Brit. Faster, yes.” He gazed at her face like an artist would watch a blank canvas before stroking the sides of her cheeks. “Not better though. If anything, you have made me better.” Pulling her to her back, he leaned for a lingering kiss. “Happy anniversary, darling,” he whispered.

She beamed returning the kiss. “One year,” she lisped. He nodded tracing his lips over hers and she kissed him again. Both were silent as he continued to drag his fingers over her skin. Both seemed to reflect the past year and could sense contentment within each other’s thoughts. Brit said, “First anniversaries are paper anniversaries.”

Ethan scowled as he commented, “Just paper? Paper is so fragile. Paper rarely lasts. It’s often cheap and mass-produced. His frown faded as Brit handed him a rolled piece of paper. His fingers toyed with the sealed ribbon – both the seal and the ribbon were also made of paper. “A present, I see.” Kissing softly, he checked to ensure she was not disturbed by his comments. Her thoughts only showed anticipated excitement of his reaction to her present.

Earlier in the evening, Ethan had taken Brit to the diner. He had arranged with Annika to serve dinner at the rooftop patio table. The night was quiet, and the spring-like warmth reminded Ethan of the cafés along the Seine River in Paris. Dinner was a small spinach tart followed by lamb roasted with honey and rosemary, surrounded by small herbed potatoes and minted peas. Dessert was a succulent pear poached in wine with a drizzle of raspberry and chocolate sauce.

As usual, Ethan had a plate set before him, but did not touch the food. Answering her thoughts, he said, “I do not miss eating, Brit, however I do enjoy the memories that some scents bring. He watched as she sampled parts of her meal and noted that she was less child-like in her eating habits. “You have grown much in a year, Brit,” he murmured. “I enjoy watching your transformations.”

Looking quizzically at the whole pear, she watched as he demonstrated how to cut it to consume. Brit smiled at him and mimicked the way he used the knife to slice the pear into pieces. The first bite caused her eyes to widen. “I would miss some foods, if I never had to eat anymore, I think.” She loaded the pear piece with as much raspberry and chocolate before biting it.

“Like chocolate, I suppose,” Ethan teased. With a giggle, she nodded as she chewed slowly. He grinned merrily as he picked up the glass of wine swirling it to enjoy the color. Soon, dinner was past and they danced in the warehouse. Brit remembered the first time Ethan had asked her to dance. He swirled her around the warehouse. She wore her blue princess dress. With each turn, she recalled another dance they had enjoyed. The more proper waltz moved toward a slow sway leading Ethan to think it was time to return to their resting place.

In their resting place, Ethan kissed her once again before lighting the candles in the silver candelabras. Brit had started to undress. Moving her hands away, he removed the rest of her clothing and placed her on the soft white fur rug. She watched as he prepared for rest and lay beside her. Ethan smiled thinking over the evening and of the year before. Now he held the rolled paper that Brit had given him for their paper anniversary.

Opening the seal and removing the paper ribbon, he unrolled the paper and smiled. Using crayon and colored pencils, Brit had created a picture of them at their wedding. In the center, she had placed a small pink heart. Smiling, he said, “It’s charming, princess. I will, of course, treasure it.” Looking through the wedding album that contained photographs, she pointed out the one she had used to make the drawing. Ethan smiled again seeing that the picture was taken by his chylder, Gweneth.

In the quiet of the night, just before dawn, Ethan broke the skin on his lip and kissed her. Brit’s lip was also punctured and the sharing became mutual. Their blood mingled and shared created a close bond between them. Soft, quiet and intimate. “I love being your wife. Your one and only, Ethan,” said Brit.

Ethan pulled her tightly against him and said, “I have experienced more with you in one year than I have in the thousand years before it, darling.” Brit looked up at him sleepily. He nuzzled her neck and clarified, “I am not speaking of events, baby.” She clearly did not understand what he meant. Cuddling her protectively, he mused over the change in his life and kissed her hair.

Brit’s thoughts also turned. She felt loved and protected. In the past year, he had shared so much with her. Pressing against him, she processed. “You make me better, Ethan,” she whispered drowsily before drifting off to sleep.

His fingers continued to caress her hair. “You give me purpose, Brit,” he replied ensuring she was covered from the cool night air. “Happy anniversary,” he murmured just before the sunrise demanded that he rest.