~ Brit's Place ~

Pitie Salpetriere

2011-08-13T10:38:00.004-04:00

Ethan watched Brit with no small amount of amusement and husbandly pride as they meandered down the Boulevard de l’Hospital in Paris. She fingered the necklace of orange blossoms delighting in their citrus-like scent. Upon waking, he had picked the blossoms and boyishly strung them together for her to wear while she nibbled a croissant. Paris at night gave him glimpses and memories of the past. He found himself pleased to share the memories with his mortal wife and wanted her to feel that she had experienced them with him.

The August full moon always held meaning for Ethan. As the nights grew longer, the romance and warmth of the summer night, and the illumination from the bright moon, lured lovers of all ages into the streets. Once they were in full view of the Mazarin, the entrance of the hospital, Ethan pointed out places of interest to Brit. “The hospital was once a place where gunpowder was made, Brit. It has also been used as a prison and a place to put people that irritated society.”

“Like vampires?” Brit asked.

Ethan grinned as he whispered, “Only if they could be caught.” Pulling her close, he chuckled, “At one time, it was also noted for its very large population of city rats. Over 7000 people were housed within so the rats had an abundance of trash to consume.”

Wrinkling her nose, she peered back to the building. Ethan watched and remembered the small blue box in his pocket: a blue camera he had purchased after being asked to take a picture of a young couple several nights prior. He was mesmerized by the digital screen and seemed childlike with his new toy. Positioning Brit where he could take a picture, he fumbled with the camera to ensure the picture would turn out perfectly. Brit did not hear his mumbles about how much easier this was than securing an artist back in the day.

After snapping a picture of the sidewalk, he got the camera centered on his wife. Brit was looking over her shoulder at the building. By the time Ethan snapped the picture, she had turned to watch something he did not see. Brit walked into the hospital compound, past the admissions and seemed to follow a path that only she knew. Tilting his head, Ethan followed her cautiously. “Baby? Where are we going?” She did not answer and he quickened his pace as she walked past a nurse’s station filled with late-evening nurses who were busy with their work.

Smells of antiseptic and medication assaulted his nostrils. Brit continued on her path. Up a stairwell, she emerged on a floor. There were few rooms. Soft beeping sounds of monitoring machines broke the silence of the area. Nursing staff were shuffling about as they silently worked. Each room was larger than normal hospital rooms. Each room contained one patient. Brit walked into one of the rooms.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Brit blinked slowly as she focused on an elderly woman who looked tiny in the bed. Monitors covered her. Brit looked to him with huge eyes and back to the woman. Seeing into her thoughts, he realized that his wife had linked into the woman’s thoughts. The woman felt pain and sadness. She was bewildered and frightened. The scent of the room told him that she was dying and would not likely last to see sunlight again.

Ethan blinked as he saw Brit enter the woman’s thoughts just as he had done with Brit the evening when he first touched Brit’s lips. She walked along and opened doors of better memories. Sunlight afternoons with her new husband were glimpsed along with the laughter of a small child. “Emilie,” whispered Brit.

“Oui! Emilie.” rasped the strained voice as the woman reached out a hand.

“Emilie,” repeated Brit who took the hand and held it. The woman in the bed smiled as she clasped Brit’s hand. Ethan glanced to the door nervously. Brit covered the woman’s hand with her own warm one. The flesh was papery-thin, and the hand shook from palsy. The woman repeated the name smiling as she closed her eyes gripping Brit’s hand tighter.

Brit simply stood rubbing the woman’s hand. In her mind, the woman could see Brit. Brit walked with her to watch her as she sat playing with Emilie, a baby with cornflower eyes and pouting lips that blew bubbles as she gurgled. A nurse came in looking startled. Ethan turned to her as his eyes flashed briefly. A silent exchange had the nurse leaving the room. If anyone asked, the nurse would have told them that the lady’s niece Emilie had visited.

Ethan struggled to get past the smell of death in the room. He could sense the woman’s bodily systems shutting down. His wife touching the hand that stubbornly housed a thread heartbeat caused him some irritation. Death was not far from her, he rationalized. Ethan went back to watching Brit, baffled that she had entered the woman’s mind. He could see Brit intended to stay with her during the final night, and he shifted uncomfortably at the thought of the night passing. Surely his wife would not stay after dawn. Brit turned to look to him and his eyes widened. Surely he read her wrong in that she had thought that the woman needed them to help her calmly pass to the next life! Shaking his head, he continued to watch Brit and grew to feel that he had misread the thought.

Brit’s visit with the woman lasted through the night. Ethan mused that the woman had held no more than a blink of life compared to him but, within the thoughts shared by Brit with the woman, it was apparent that she had enjoyed much in those years. About an hour before dawn, the woman sat Emilie down and motioned for Brit to follow her along the path. Brit followed as she watched Emilie grow, marry, and have her own child. The path came to a house and the woman turned to Brit. She kissed Brit’s cheek and went inside.

The beeping machine sounded a single monotone sound. Nurses ran to the room and a doctor followed. Brit and Ethan were directed outside. When the nurse came to find Emilie, they could find no sign of the couple to tell them that Emilie’s aunt had passed.

Outside, Ethan held Brit as they returned to their resting place. He expected tears and sadness. He was amazed that Brit could enter the woman’s mind as she had. Brit turned to him before the sun came up and lisped, “Emilie made her happy, Ethan. I wonder why she was not there. No one should perish alone.” Brit snuggled against him and slept feeling melancholy missing her new friend.

Santorini

2011-06-19T14:20:00.003-04:00

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. For several summers, he had tried to escape the long days of summertime with less than optimal results. Unwilling to travel to another unknown place, Ethan booked passage to a traditional summer location in a part of the world more known to him. “Santorini,” he murmured to Brit as they were ferried to the island from Athens, “has a history unknown to most people these days.” Brit was watching the skies with huge eyes. The plethora of stars caused her eyes to glitter. The stars could be seen even with the full moon that illuminated the night.

The boat pulled to the dock and deck hands scurried to secure it. As its two passengers disembarked, the crew exchanged glances with the deck hands. The dark Victorian dress of the pretty couple who had spent more than double for private passage to the island would give tavernas gossip for several days. A driver from the Vedema Resort escorted the couple into a waiting car, loaded baggage and whisked them into the night leaving a blinking crew behind. One deck hand crossed his self and later wondered why.

“We need to shop, Brit,” commented Ethan. He smiled at his wife picturing her in a summery white fluttery cover. Tracing her face, he conversed with the driver in a language unknown to Brit. Yawning, Brit rubbed her eyes and leaned against her husband pondering what was being said. It sounded to her that Ethan knew the driver. She watched out of the windows and, with the full moon, she could see as easily as she would see during the day. White-washed houses gleamed in the moonlight. Noticing her attention to the details of the island, Ethan smiled. He felt sure that she would find it beautiful.

Arriving to the resort, Brit and Ethan were escorted to the Presidential Villa. The rooms were decorated in turquoise and white colors. Rich elegance throughout the villa combined with views of the sea and vineyards. One of the three bedrooms had its windows covered to prevent even a hint of sunshine into the room. As Brit wandered through, she smiled to him and whispered, “I know which one will be our resting place.” Ethan smiled giving her hair a tug as their bags arrived and household assistants unpacked their belongings.

Pulling her to the verandah which overlooked the cliffs and the sea, Ethan pulled Brit to him. She lisped, “You take me to such magical places.” Smiling, he pulled her hand to his lip to kiss before holding it to wrap her closer to him. Both enjoyed the tranquil beauty of the villa by the sea. A clinking of glass caught both of their attention to the fruit and cheese plate that had been delivered. Settling on the lounge chair, Ethan pulled Brit to him and fed her pieces from the platter.

Brit drifted off after enjoying the fruit and cheese, but Ethan remained awake. Stroking her hair, he closed his eyes inhaling deeply. There was something in the air that reminded him of other visits. Sea air mingling with the scents of the city yielded a distinctive scent that Ethan would recognize anywhere. Feeling Brit fall into a deeper sleep, he mused how it would be to be mortal and wake to the sunrise. As light started to streak across the sky, Ethan picked up Brit to take to the room where they would rest. He undressed her grinning at her sleepy protests and tucked her close to him after undressing for rest.

At sunset, Brit turned to see Ethan standing at the door. She had woken much before he did and was greeted by the concierge who had arranged for a shopping trip to obtain better island attire. Brit wore a thin green caftan-styled dress. It draped over her prettily and showed a bit more leg than he was accustomed to seeing. Ethan raised an eyebrow, but dismissed his objections. It was, after all, an island and he wanted to encourage Brit to make choices. Besides, the dark trousers, white linen shirt and dark jacket she had selected for him was most pleasing.

At the restaurant in the resort, Ethan perused the list of popular night spots. He wanted to take Brit somewhere modern and popular. Reading them to her, she selected the one that was on a beach. “Dancing by the sea,” lisped Brit. Ethan had to admit that the image was perfect. Soon, they were on their way to the popular place. Brit’s bouncing caused Ethan to tell the driver that they would walk the rest of the way when the road became impassible with traffic.

As they walked, Ethan tensed with the thickening of the crowd. Many wore little more than bathing suits. The music thumped from the club. Scents of smoke, alcohol, and sunscreen mingled with sweat permeated the air. Brit looked up to him as he hesitated. As they walked to the door, a drunk barreled from the club and vomited. Turning to Ethan, Brit lisped, “Let’s go somewhere else, Ethan.” He gave her a questioning look as another person passed making a remark in a language Brit did not know. As Ethan glowered at the man, Brit lisped, “I want to go somewhere you will like better.” Ethan raised an eyebrow to her statement. Brit puffed her cheeks remembering the club in France. “If we stay here,” she continued, “someone will lose an arm…or…something.”

Ethan blinked a few times and chuckled. “Indeed, baby.” Another drunk bumped him and he nodded. “Very likely.” Turning, they caught their driver still languishing in traffic. Sliding into the car, Ethan said, “Take us to Thera…Ancient Thera.” Brit looked to him quizzically. Ethan tapped her nose, “It is ancient even to me, Brit.”

Getting them as close as he could, the driver indicated where he would wait for them to walk the ancient city. No one was about and Ethan quickly carried Brit the distance. Again, the nearly full moon illuminated the night. He took Brit to one of the three sides where the cliff dropped abruptly to the sea. As they walked, Ethan painted enthusiastic images of the city as it was nearing the end of its reign. Brit listened as he described the theatre and the festival grounds. His disdain for pagan rituals and practices was evident in his descriptions.

Playfully, he spun her around on the festival grounds where men would dance naked centuries before. “Why did women not dance?” Brit asked.

“Back in those days, baby, they were too busy being women,” Ethan replied. Brit looked to him in confusion. Seeing that many questions were coming, Ethan swung her around again faster than before. She giggled and so he swung her about a third time. “What I mean, Brit, is that they were so busy with their homes and children…” His words trailed off as she nodded. Ethan swung her again to ensure that conversation trail was closed. Kissing her, they continued to explore the city.

Brit found the Temple of Pythian Apollo fascinating. She asked many questions about it and its practices. Ethan flatly discussed the pagans who believed in the false god. As she walked about gazing at the temple and touching the stones that remain, Ethan watched. Her dress fluttered and her hair wisped in the sea breezes. The sounds of the sea were loud beneath them. Ethan vaguely recalled a priestess in fluttering robes and long hair.

Brit walked to him and slid her arms around his neck pulling him down to kiss him softly. As she kissed him lingeringly, Ethan frowned slightly at the image of the priestess sliding her hands up his chest. Ethan broke from Brit’s kiss to walk to the edge of the cliff where he gazed down. This time, his wife’s hand was in his rather than a sword. Over the edge, he saw white seafoam surrounding rocks rather than red seafoam surrounding the broken body of a pagan priestess who dared to charm her way from her fate.

“This is a magical place, Ethan,” whispered Brit. Ethan turned to her. His eyes dark and tinged with red.

“It is indeed, baby.” His fingers trailed to the cross around her neck. Smiling at him, she tilted her head at the red in his eyes. Touching his hair, she gave him a questioning look. He kissed her hand again and whispered, “Let’s explore more than a temple for a false god.” Later, back at the resort, Ethan continued to try to shake the image of the fluttering of Brit’s dress that resembled the robes of the priestess so long ago.

The last leaf

2010-12-01T02:36:00.007-05:00

The sound of metal striking metal over and over again could easily be heard across the first floor of the estate. However, the strikes did not seem to be wild or random. Instead, the experienced kindred would notice a series of clear patterns in the vibrations resonating from inside the master dining room, interrupted only by soft laughter every now and then.

“Can we take a break Ethan?” Brit asked making big eyes, while using an embroidered handkerchief reading ‘E. S.’ to remove little pearls of sweat from her forehead and décolleté. The fencing training dress, clearly coming from Victorian times, had been arranged for her by Ethan to make the fencing lessons seem more like an opportunity to dress up and embraced her form tightly, the laced up corset however was not necessarily as practical, as it was optically pleasing.

“We have two more routines to practice and then of course there is the scheduled sparring for today” was Ethan’s only response to her inquiry. He was well aware that her “break” would mean ending the fencing lesson for the night and just enjoy the opportunity to wear the pretty outfits, that Ethan changed every three lessons, as an additional motivational factor to keep doing them. He was also well aware, that if he started a lengthy debate with his wife, she would most likely get him to eventually do just what she wanted taking advantage of her overwhelming natural charisma, that enchanted him in such a magnificent way since that night over the rooftops of Toxia.

Brit puffed her cheeks, noticing that Ethan was set on continuing the lessons but dutifully followed up the routines that were still planned until the time of sparring arrived, at which point her sparkling eyes made it quite clear that the lessons became fun once more. And how could a game of chase across the whole estate around, over and under the furniture, swinging a sword dressed up like a pirate princess not be fun? Especially since the term pirate princess came from Ethan’s lips describing her most recent outfit, immediately intriguing her. “But a book in the library said, that women on ships were bad luck” had been her first response until Ethan assured her that that did not apply if the woman in question was actually a princess or queen, in which case they were excellent luck!

Ethan thoroughly enjoyed this little game with his beloved who had clearly improved over the years and even though none of the two had ever seriously injured themselves during those sessions, it had surprised him that he had to increase his level of alertness to avoid just that, as the influence of their sharing combined with the lessons resulted in wickedly fast succession of attacks coming from Brit, even more so when she seemed to have the most fun with it.

The chase throughout the floors of their hiding place of the season in the South of France ended in the bedroom, where he lunged back against her in a Celerity enhanced motion, trapping her sword between his torso and his upper arm, while taking a hold of her free arm pulling her to him. “Show mercy princess, I surrender!” he declared in a shocked manner as if her sword had really pierced his chest causing Brit to get all nervous checking to see if that was the case before letting go of it and wrapping her arm around his neck “You are my prisoner then now? What did pirate princesses usually do with prisoners?” her interest was quite sincere and not suggestive as it could have been, had she been another. So Ethan took his time to present her with a series of options spanning from mild torture practices up deserting them on a lonely island to rot. Just as she was going to declare her lost interest in being a pirate princess, he added the marriage and living happily ever after option, which of course increased the interest exponentially again.

Following the reenactment of exchanging vows and some moments of utter tenderness between them as they reached for each other’s wedding bands, followed by a proper bridal kiss, Ethan took the opportunity to present news. “I believe we have stayed here long enough Brit. It is time to return to Toxia for a while. People are beginning to notice and remember us too much here and that is never advisable for my kind.” Brit initially seemed unhappy with leaving as she had truly enjoyed the time in France but the idea of seeing their friends in the city again was enough to lift her spirits and convince her this was a good idea. On the other hand, maybe the fact that Ethan mentioned, that nights would be longer in Toxia and they would have time for longer dates had something to do with her mood swing as well.

A few nights later, Brit locked the front door of the house that had been home for the largest part of 2010. The way she gently touched the heavy wooden decoration elements on it indicated she would miss it but her expression looking at Ethan as he helped her into the car made clear, she was looking forward to returning to the city, where the two of them met. It was the moment Ethan quickly accelerated the car leaving the driveway, that the last leaf fell from the cherry plum, that Brit had so enjoyed watching, once its leaves started changing colors in autumn.

Scrambled Eggs - Take Two

2010-01-04T00:59:00.003-05:00

When Brit opened the door, snow flurries swept in to the room in a swirl along with a bundled woman named Miriam. The door shut with a whistle of wind. Brit welcomed the visitor while helping her out of her cloak and scarves. The woman greeted Brit stiffly in a heavily accented voice, “My name is Miriam. I have come to instruct you to make eggs.” Brit smiled happily and Miriam watched as Brit placed the cloak and scarves on a hanger. Turning, Miriam saw Ethan sitting near the window and froze in place.

“This is my beloved Ethan, Miriam. Ethan, we have a visitor,” Brit said in her soft lisp. Miriam offered an awkward curtsey, which caused Ethan to frown. Tilting her head, she quirked over Miriam’s change in behavior. “I am sure that Ethan was expecting you, Miriam.” Miriam nodded and kept her attention on Ethan.

Ethan turned his attention to the woman. “I was indeed. Please do come in. I thank you for offering your services.” With a grin toward Brit, he continued, “Brit seeks to learn the art of perfecting scrambled eggs. We were told that you have been practicing for years.” Ethan returned to his book.

Miriam relaxed a bit at the smile. Nodding, she exclaimed, “Yes. Yes. I have been scrambling eggs for visitors and..well, visitors for a few hundred years!” Brit’s eyes widened as she had seen the woman out during the daytime. The woman looked at her hands and said more softly, “Yes, yes. A few hundred years can expand to a lifetime.”

The woman Miriam looked to be about 40 years of age. She seemed to be a woman who had lived life without much luxury. Walking to the refrigerator, she pulled out several ingredients: Eggs, milk, and real butter. Turning to Brit, she seemed to almost appraise her before speaking. “You will not get a good result if your ingredients are not quality. Look here.” Miriam poured a bowl of water and tossed in a few pinches of salt. Swirling the water, she then put in the eggs which sank immediately. “Eggs that float are old.” Brit nodded in understanding. “Fresh egg shells are rough and chalky. If they are smooth and shiny, you can discard them.”

Brit’s eyes widened at such sage advice. Miriam gave a nod of approval seeing that her words were being heeded. Brit tested all six eggs and found one that floated. “Out it goes,” said Miriam. Brit tossed the egg into the waste bin and retrieved another egg. Ethan raised an eyebrow before closing his book to watch the lesson.

“Low fat milk is used, though it is a modern concept. For years, we used cream. Un-pasteurized cream.” Brit said nothing in reply. Miriam muttered, “Modern times. Now people think even whole milk is too heavy,” which caused Ethan to grin again. Miriam reached for a bowl and instructed Brit to break the eggs into the bowl. Brit carefully cracked each egg and inspected for shells between each egg addition. Miriam waited patiently. “Sometimes, you may be forced to use an egg that is not so fresh.” Lowering her voice, Miriam whispered, “They will seem fresher if you add one single drop of vanilla.” Brit mouthed the word ‘vanilla’ as she committed the secret to memory.

Miriam tapped the bowl. “Use copper for eggs. Add 1 half eggshell of milk for each egg and one dash of salt for each two eggs.” Miriam demonstrated. Pantomiming, Miriam added, “And do not stir the eggs with a whisk. You will lift them and drop. Like a tilted wheel motion. Beat them until they are frothy and even colored. Brit carefully followed the instructions. Miriam turned to Ethan after ensuring that Brit was on the right path. She opened her mouth as if to say something to him but he was focused on Brit with an expression of sheer amusement and delight.

Miriam examined the contents after 2 minutes and warned, “Never over beat the eggs. They will fail to be fluffy.” Brit waited for the next set of instructions. Pulling a well-used 12 inch skillet, Miriam said, “This is the right size for six eggs. First, heat it up. Do not add butter before it is warmed.” Setting it on the flames, all three simply watched as the fire licked the skillet. Miriam indicated that Brit should add about a tablespoon of butter. The butter flowed without sizzle and coated the bottom of the pan.

Brit tilted the skillet as Miriam showed her to do and then added the eggs into the skillet as the last bit of butter liquefied. Miriam showed her to watch for indications that the eggs were setting before using a spatula to push the eggs toward the center and tilting so more liquid eggs would fill the spot. Brit followed the instructions carefully to Ethan’s delight at watching his wife’s wonder over such a simple thing.

As Brit slowly pressed the eggs as indicated, Miriam turned again to watch Ethan. After a moment, she spoke, “When ingredients are not kept properly, they will age. Age fast.” Neither Brit nor Ethan responded but Ethan’s glance shifted to Miriam. Miriam continued, “It is a little thing…to keep something from aging.” Ethan’s jaw set a bit before he walked over to Brit. His hand touched his wife lightly on the waist and caressed her hair pulling it back. Miriam kept her gaze on Ethan even as Brit smiled up at his touch. Brit continued to cook the eggs. Miriam’s eyes shifted to Brit’s hands before looking down at her own weathered hands.

Miriam showed Brit how to break up the large clumps and, when there was no more egg to run, Miriam told Brit to flip all over and count to fifteen. Then, she pointed to the plate and said, “Good. Now place them there and you can add more salt or pepper, if you like.”

Brit beamed at Miriam, “They look perfect!”

Miriam laughed briefly, “I assure you that you will find none better.” To Ethan, she added, “Your lady is a budding chef.” Ethan nodded obviously pleased at Brit’s excitement. Miriam politely declined when Brit asked her to share the eggs and directed Brit to enjoy them while they were warm. As Brit nibbled, Miriam went down the list of things one should never do to eggs. “Do not stir eggs. Do not beat whites then add yolks.” Brit ate slowly taking in all advice. “Never use baking powder in eggs. Nor sugar. Sea salt and salt. It is truly all the same.”

Brit said to Ethan, “We should stay a long time! I could learn lots, I think.” Ethan smiled at her as she ate the eggs.

Miriam responded quickly, “I could offer other lessons.” Brit bounced looking to Ethan.

Feeling the over anxiousness of Miriam, Ethan’s smile faded. He shrugged and said, “We shall contact your employer when Brit tires of eggs.”

Miriam pressed a thumb to her mouth staring at the window. Brit took another bite of eggs and Ethan caressed her hair again as he watched the woman seated across from them. Taking a hard look at her, Ethan could see Miriam's panic within and he was sure he could smell death upon her. Miriam was aging quickly. “Are you okay,” asked Brit.

“I.” Miriam looked from one to the other. Ethan could hear the woman’s heart race. “I need to drink,” she whispered in a panicked voice staring straight at Ethan. Brit looked to the refrigerator offering a stammered apology for not offering Miriam a refreshment. As Brit babbled, Ethan spoke silently to Brit to return to the table and sit down. Brit turned to him and blinked before doing as he indicated.

Placing his hands on Brit’s shoulders, Ethan said calmly, “You need to talk to your keeper. Several centuries yield a lot of loyalty. Perhaps you can find a way to remind him of your needs.”

“Please,” Miriam whispered. “I only need a little.” Ethan stiffened as Brit looked from one to the other bewildered. Miriam begged, “Please. I..I shall not last much longer.” Ethan did not respond. Miriam’s voice caught, “My years were like hers less than a month ago.”

Ethan’s hand went to Brit’s hair protectively and he said, “I am sorry. You should go now.” Pink-tinged tears formed in Miriam’s frightened eyes causing Brit no little anxiety. Ethan pulled Brit to him and nodded to Miriam. As Miriam started to say something else, Ethan whispered, “Go.” Miriam’s sob caught in her throat. She grabbed her cloak and scarves to run out of the cabin.

The wind howled into the cabin from the opened door. Ethan crossed to secure the door before returning to pull Brit close. Picking her up, he covered Brit and sat back in his chair cradling her to him. “Why is her beloved not feeding her?” asked Brit.

Ethan felt her racing heartbeat and could imagine her thoughts within. “I don’t know, baby. I do know it will never happen to you.” Not wanting to remind her that not all who are kept are beloved, Ethan pulled Brit closer and shushed her softly. He could hear the questions she was forming within.

Scrambled Eggs - Take One

2009-12-13T03:24:00.007-05:00

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.

Doing Things Alone

2009-12-06T00:09:00.005-05:00

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.

Painting 'Mine'

2009-09-30T20:25:00.005-04:00

(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.

Dressing for Summer

2009-08-17T17:35:00.002-04:00

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.

No Buffing Around

2009-08-04T01:13:00.006-04:00

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

Never Let Me Go

2009-07-20T00:57:00.004-04:00

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

Body & Blood

2009-07-14T00:58:00.003-04:00

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.

Dancing til Dawn

2009-07-10T00:27:00.002-04:00

Summer Alternatives

2009-06-30T16:08:00.004-04:00

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.

Belladonna & Eosphoros

2009-06-16T17:29:00.005-04:00

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.”

Memorial Day

2009-05-25T22:56:00.006-04:00

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.

The Power of Touch

2009-05-22T23:38:00.002-04:00

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

Låt den Rätte Komma In

2009-05-10T19:12:00.004-04:00

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.

Silver & Gold

2009-04-29T23:56:00.002-04:00

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.

Paper Anniversaries

2009-04-25T23:00:00.002-04:00

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.

Kaló Pás'ha, Ethan

2009-04-19T04:07:00.002-04:00

At the moment of sunset, Ethan had Brit quickly dress before making their way through the city to where the men with the skiff waited. “Are we leaving again?” Brit asked as Ethan pulled his cloak around her to keep her warm from the sea breeze and cool night air. The skiff pulled silently from the shore.

“Only for this evening,” Ethan responded. Truth be told, Ethan had not wished to leave the city, but he did not hear of any appropriate ceremonies to take place through Holy Week and had wanted Brit to experience some of Easter’s traditions since he had ensured that she kept to her fast during Lent.

Once on the mainland, they arrived to the church along with the rest in time for the evening ceremony. Ethan was too busy explaining the symbolism of some of the traditions to notice the odd glances they received from the other parishioners. Even in the darkness, he could clearly see Brit as she pressed against him in the crowded church. He whispered translations to her as the priest guided the faithful through the service, including what she was to say when time came for the crowd to answer, and he grinned slightly as she whispered correct responses while struggling to process everything.

Brit was enthralled as light spread throughout the church while each person lit a candle chasing the darkness from the room. The light cast shadows over the icons and walls. Mingled with the joyous responses of Alithós Anésti and Alithinós O Kírios, the end of the service took a more festive feel as the people poured from the doors carrying the lit candles to their homes and, for those transients, into the restaurants in the community.

Entering one of the restaurants, Ethan and Brit were escorted to a side area where both could view the rest of the room. Ethan carefully explained the reason behind so many of the traditions. Taking a red, hard-cooked egg, he gave it to Brit and took another for himself. Ethan explained that cracking the eggs against each other symbolized Christ breaking from the Tomb. He added that the person whose egg lasted the longest without cracking would have good luck the rest of the year.

After Brit’s third cracked egg, smoked salted pork and cheese were served along with assorted special breads and the Magiritsa, which was a creamy soup with a lemony flavor made from lamb sweetmeats. Music started and dancing began. Of course, wine and ouzo poured freely.

Brit nibbled the soup along with some cheese, and dipped bits of bread into it as she watched the dancers. She sipped wine finding the ouzo far too strong for her liking. Ethan enjoyed watching the crowd while telling her the history behind different parts of the meal and the dancing that occurred. He also explained what the people could expect to do on the following day.

As the night continued, Ethan pulled her to him and noticed that she was decidedly glazed from the wine. They had to meet the men with the skiff to return, so Ethan escorted her after paying and walked her toward the docks. Behind them, music grew fainter as they met their transport back to the city. Brit was chatty and feeling no pain. She was also less than steady on her feet, so Ethan picked her up to carry her. Once on the skiff, he settled her on his lap and covered her for the trip back.

As the skiff glided through the water, Brit continued to chatter about the good fortune Ethan would enjoy for the upcoming year having the egg that never cracked. She had fallen asleep by the time they arrived to the city, so Ethan carried his sleeping wife back to his resting place. She was chattered more as she woke when he was undressing her for rest. Her blood laced with the alcohol was not unpleasing to him, and both rested peacefully from sunrise to sunset.

Upon waking, Brit sought the picture of them when carnival had started prior to Lent. Finding it, she turned to Ethan who leaned on an elbow to watch her. She repeated back the events over the last few weeks as they lead to Easter. Ethan took the picture and smiled seeing their carnival masks and clothing. Brit continued to chatter excitedly about his good luck for the next year. He then heard her exclaim, “Ethan. Did you know that your lucky egg was made of wood?” She held it out for him to examine.

Reaching to her, he chuckled as he pulled her to him and took the egg from her without a glance. Placing it to the side along with the photograph, he replied, “Indeed? What a surprise. Regardless…the tradition stands even if someone was kind enough to insure that my luck stays true.”

The Great Exhibition

2009-04-03T02:44:00.007-04:00

Ethan scowled while listening to others in the diner gossip. An odd airplane had crashed upon the beach. An odd creature seems to be terrorizing the city, but one noted that the creature did not seem to be willing to kill others for now. Brit seemed calm and oblivious to the gossip as she picked at her meal which fit all of the requirements of a strict fast.

Tonight, Annika had served Brit a large bowl of lentils and rice. Ethan found the scent of the food pleasing since the diner’s cook had left out the garlic. Brit ate small rounded bites of the brown lentils mixed with vegetable broth, rice, grated carrot, a bit of onion, and unseasoned tomato paste. He also caught the unmistaken smells of oregano, rosemary, and a bit of black pepper with sea salt. “I thought this dish had olive oil,” said Ethan to Annika. She shook her head and explained that she had left it out along with the garlic in order to meet his requirements. Nodding, he said to Brit, “Better than baked French fries?”

Brit nodded with a giggle, “But not better than fried ones.”

Chuckling, he said, “Fair enough.” As she nibbled more at the dish, she noticed his thoughts again turned to the conversations around them. Before she could ask, he said, “It seems there is yet more turmoil, Brit.” Seeing that she understood, he added, “Yes…do not stray far from our home or library.” Brit nodded and ate more of the dish silently watching him through the veil or her lashes as she finished enough of the meal to satisfy his wishes that she continue to consume regular foods.

Pushing the bowl away, Brit watched the street. People were huddled on street corners talking quietly amongst themselves while giving cautious glances to their surroundings. “Turmoil,” whispered Brit. Puffing her cheeks slightly, she nuzzled against the crook of Ethan’s arm as they both watched.

Ethan could feel her discomfort and, while he wished to learn more, he did not wish her to worry. “Maybe we should dress up tonight,” he mused while running fingers over her cheek.

Pressing her cheek against his fingers, Brit lisped, “Dress up?” She giggled liking the idea, but went quiet for a moment. “Why should we dress up?” He could see she wanted to dress up and play, but was more concerned about him. “You are worried about what is going on in the city.”

Ethan grinned. “You have grown more in tune with my thoughts, darling.” His fingers continued to trace her face as he whispered, “I enjoy the closeness that our sharing has brought.” Patting her cheek, he added, “Cosmetics have provided a lovely diversion in times of turmoil. I remember several war times when the cities were filled with gaiety and elegance to provide mental diversions from general unhappiness. Besides, coloring is fun, as you have said.”

Giggling, Brit said, “Yah, but you never color on paper. Just on me.”

“Paper is an inferior coloring book. Let’s see if we can find Rosalie,” Ethan said as he stood motioning for her to follow. Seeing her questioning look, he reminded, “The immortal beautician who is never where she should be when we need her.”

Rosalie was, in fact, exactly where one would expect: In the beauty shop. It was the last place they looked. She had cut her long locks into a spiky style and reveled in the fact they would grow again come the following day. “It’s tedious, Ethan, to have to cut my hair each night.” Settling Brit in her chair, she looked to Ethan. “What style is tonight?”

“I think mayhaps something Victorian,” Ethan replied moving Brit’s hair on top of her head as he watched in the mirror. Rosalie arched an eyebrow. Ethan shook his head, “No, I will do her make-up. But Victorian suits my mood.”

“I think sometimes you relive your memories through dress, friend,” said Rosalie as she moved Ethan aside and started to comb out Brit’s hair into sections.

Ethan nodded with a slight shrug, “And so what if I do? It is a way to share with Brit times gone by as well, so I can relive memories with my wife.” The beautician grinned as she pinned the sections out of the way.

Ethan sat back enjoying watching Brit’s transformation as Rosalie chattered, “Get the make up to look more doll-like. Not that ghoulish look of dark circles beneath the eye. That looked dreadful.” The two exchanged a glance as Rosalie went momentarily quiet. “Yes, I know the difference, Ethan. I’m simply pointing out that yesterday was not always better. But the porcelain doll-look was by far the better look. And it has been sought throughout history when your wife has it naturally. Do not ruin that in your trip through time.”

Ethan growled slightly, “Are you questioning my style?”

Rosalie tsked, “Of course not. I’m saying to be wary of recreating yesterday. Like….lead foundation. Dreadful. It poisoned the woman wearing it. Kings! The poor dear’s eyebrows would fall out and they would be forced to recreate them with mouse fur.” Both Brit and Ethan shuddered as Rosalie wrapped Brit’s hair around a shaped sponge-like structure and secured it in place. The lady continued, “How fortunate for the two of us that we were already white as Venetian paste when it was vogue.”

Ethan moved near the window and watched the people on the street. Rosalie worked quietly knowing that he was trying to make rhyme or reason out of the recent events. As Brit’s hair took form, Rosalie described the style as being very new and first seeing it at the Great Exhibition of 1851. “A lady in the Crystal Palace wore it. It caused quite a stir as it was not all up for evening or down. And none could determine whether she was married or non.” Brit giggled at Rosalie’s explanation of hairstyles of the time and the suitability of styles for women in regards to age, station and marital status.

Realizing that no new information was known on the street, Ethan settled in the chair and watched a Rosalie finished Brit’s hair clucking that she generally preferred to do the finishing parts of the hair after make-up was applied. Rather than apply Brit’s make up right away, Ethan asked Rosalie whether she remembered his hair at The Great Exhibition. With a grin, Rosalie said, “But of course…I remember each one of us who attended that night. What we wore…what we saw. It is a good memory, no?”

“Indeed,” replied Ethan. With a glance to Brit, he said, “Arrange my hair like that night.” Rosalie grinned and said, “I think it might be like the powder in the hair, Ethan. Good for then but not so good today, hmm?” Seeing that he was not swayed, she motioned him to turn his chair so she could work. Brit watched as Rosalie pulled and pinned Ethan’s hair much as she had done to her own in record time. “Voila!” Watching Ethan smile, the lady waved her hand, “And then…I suppose that there is no accounting for timeless looks.”

Ethan gave Rosalie an envelope and then gave her a second one. “An accounting of Brit and my trip to France,” he said. “You might find it interesting.” Rosalie took both envelopes with a nod and said, “Nothing ever changes, eh?” With a wave, Brit and Ethan left to return to their resting place. Getting the cosmetic case, Ethan found applying tint to Brit’s face soothing. “My coloring book,” he whispered as he handed her a mirror.

“Sometimes, I do not look like myself, Ethan,” she whispered.

“Oh, but you do…” His fingers touched her lightly making small adjustments. “Just…I do enjoy seeing how you would have looked had you lived as long as I.” Selecting garments to complete the look, Ethan opened the door and offered her an arm once they had dressed.

Walking through the city, bits and pieces of the rumors could be heard. Brit and Ethan seemed to hear none of it. He walked her along the water past the park with the dead trees. Opening his mind and linking his thoughts with hers, Ethan showed Brit what he had seen when he attended the Great Exhibition of 1851. Brit watched him with huge, unblinking eyes as she felt his awe of the massive Crystal Palace that was very nearly overshadowed by the splendor of Hyde Park. She stared at his eyes as he let her experience his memory of the wonder of the new technology heralding the industrial revolution. Brit felt all that he felt and was as mesmerized by the novelty of new machines, tools, and even kitchen appliances. Steel-making displays and agricultural machines. Pulling her to him, he said in a hushed whisper, “There were over 13,000 exhibits on view from all over the world, Brit.”

Going silent, Ethan’s eyes looked almost like a child’s filled with wonder and life. Brit touched his face curiously and continued to see his thoughts and memories. Slowly, he pulled her to him kissing her most properly. In the kiss, his memory of the event changed as Ethan clearly saw Brit standing near the fountain in the Crystal Palace illuminated by the gas lights. Turning her to fully face him, he could picture her surrounded by like-dressed people. Oblivious to the grim of the street or the dead trees, he kissed his wife by the fountain again in the Crystal Palace, and ignored the surprised looks of those around them who were scandalized by his bold behavior.

Dancing in Toxia: A Movie by Ethan

2009-03-30T13:05:00.008-04:00

Spring Rituals

2009-03-29T00:04:00.003-04:00

“Ethan, do you wish to dance?” lisped Brit. Shaking his head, Ethan pulled his wife closer to him and watched the spring festival from the corner of the platform. He had been quiet since he had risen. Brit had been looking forward to the day since Ethan’s seamstress, Destany Laval, had brought the lacy pink gown to the city. Ethan’s fingers traced the lacy patterns idly as he held her. Noticing that the other revelers wore clothing that was much different, Brit asked, “Do you not like my dress?”

It was true that Ethan had not commissioned the dress and the crafty seamstress knew she would sell it the moment Brit saw the pink confection made of cloth. With a hint of a grin, Ethan said, “You are lovely.” His finger caressed Brit’s cheek and he touched her chin as he examined her fuchsia-painted lips. Kissing her forehead, he said, “Do not worry so, Brit. I am simply wrapped in thoughts.”

Nodding to him, Brit snuggled against him silently much like she had the previous night. Ethan had not wished to go out. His arms wrapped around her and they watched out of the window. She saw people coming and going. Nikita popped into the Shelter where she had been practically running it and discussed a few business matters with Ethan. Nikita left seemingly annoyed after Ethan praised her clothing choice, but neglected to stay focused on business. Whether Nikita was concerned about business matters, rumors at hand, or Ethan’s continued lack of assistance, it was hard to say.

Ethan murmured that he was not annoyed with Nikita as he shifted to pull her against him again. Brit pursed her lips realizing he was linked to her thoughts and she had not realized it. She thought of Destany again, and he immediately stated that Destany was a crafty girl but she too was not the object of Ethan’s concern. Peeking up at him, her head rested on his shoulder as she tried to see within his thoughts. Ethan grinned again briefly and whispered “Behave” which caused Brit to giggle.

Settling against him, she returned to watching the people at the festival. Her thoughts drifted again to the night before. After Nikita left, Ethan walked Brit to the diner. With it being the third Thursday of Lent, Annika served Brit a large bowl of artichoke stew, a twist on a recipe that had been quite popular in Constantinople during strict fasts through Lent. “No meats, meat products, fish, or oils are allowed during strict fasts, Brit.” Brit poked at the thick sliced carrots floating among the artichoke and green as she suggested baked French fries. Waving off the suggestion, Ethan said, “This is more nourishing.”

Leaving the diner, they had walked by the library and saw Denny and Picket within. Brit started up the steps but Ethan pulled her back saying that it looked like a serious conversation and that he wished to return to the Shelter. Rumors had been circulating the streets, and Ethan continued to pick up bits and pieces of conversation. People’s emotions were running high. Experience told him that it was not a night to linger outside when Brit was with him.

After returning to the Shelter, Ethan snuggled Brit against him watching the street from the upstairs window yet again. The streets were oddly empty, but Ethan watched. In the strange quiet, they watched as Omega passed looking lost in her own thoughts. Brit looked to Ethan questioning, and he gave her a comforting hug after kissing her forehead. Grr followed Omega just a few feet back. Grr looked concerned, but was obviously there to protect his lady.

Ethan did not breathe, of course, but he seemed to sigh softly and pulled Brit into their resting place even though the night still had hours left before dawn. Once inside, he lit candles and pulled Brit to settle back against him brushing his lips over her hair still lost in his quiet contemplation. When the sun set, they rested with Brit cuddled against him.

The following evening, Brit had managed to wriggle free of Ethan’s embrace and had gone to shower. He was awake when she returned and she started to immediately chatter about the spring festival. Spring Festivals. How many had Ethan seen? Over the years, he saw many rituals and traditions and, while he painted the cosmetics carefully on her face, he told her of some of the more pleasant traditions.

Ethan brushed Brit’s hair as he recanted the story of the golden bull that is said to wake in the springtime. He told her of several goddesses who were associated with springtime, and recanted some stories for each. Goddesses such as Ostara, who was escorted by a rabbit and Hertha who was associated with rebirth and healing. “There was even a Celtic tradition for St. Bridget,” said Ethan. He smiled seeing her look of surprise, “A person would knock three times loudly and say ‘Bridget, Bridget, Bridget! Come to my house…come to my house tonight. Open the door for Bridget and let Bridget come in.’ Then the door would open and a fruit tree would be brought inside. And for the evening, the fruit tree would be treated with reverence and, on the next morning which was called ‘Bridget’s Fire’, the family would plant the tree.”

Brit giggled, “You made that up!”

Ethan gasped feigning insult. “I most certainly did not.” He gave her hair a playful tug and said, “Just for your insolence, you can wear your hair down tonight!”

Still giggling, Brit lisped, “You like my hair down best anyway.” He grinned and stood pulling her to her feet to help her dress for the festival that she was excited to attend. His smile faded as quick as it had come and he became somber again.

Brit looked up at Ethan sighing softly, “I wish to dance….maybe….” He pressed a finger to her lips and swayed with her. It was not a proper dance, but at least they were moving. Some of those at the festival repeated some of the behaviors of times gone by. The dancers grew freer with their dancing as the night wore on and the alcohol continued to pour. It was after an hour of quiet swaying, Brit glimpsed a dark thought from her husband.

His eyes darted to hers knowing she glimpsed his mood. Clinching his jaw, he looked at the sky, the party-goers, and then to his wife. “Tonight,” he said in a low voice, “Tonight.” Ethan voice sounded strained as he pulled her more tightly, “Tonight the day equals the night and the pendulum swings. And, days will be longer at this point on until fall. And I will have less time to enjoy my wife.”

Brit felt his unhappiness. “Ethan…”

Ethan shook his head unhappily and said, “Perhaps, like other creatures, we should change with the seasons. Go to where the night is favored.” Brit did not respond not quite knowing what to say. Ethan continued to muse, “Perhaps…I will have to explore why others are able to stay awake longer here.” Ethan turned her toward him and said, “I do not plan to be robbed of time with you. Not for a second summer, Brit.” Kissing her deeply, he felt her arms go around his neck and return the kiss in kind. Without another word, they returned to their resting place.

Once there, he dragged his fingers as if they were rose petals across her bare skin before drinking from her in soft, lingering sips.

Red Dress Dreams

2009-03-22T13:41:00.008-04:00

Brit woke feeling disoriented. After several minutes of navigating sheets, she emerged to the side and tumbled to the floor. Ethan continued to rest as if dormant as she acrobatically extracted herself from his embrace. Pulling the sheet from her head, she quickly brushed her hair back from her face and peered at him blinking. The night before was mostly a blur to her.

The shower, she remembered clearly. Washing with the fine soap purchased on their most recent trip was pleasurable. She could still smell its jasmine-vanilla scent on her hair. The cotton towel sucked water from her skin before she rubbed the lotion with a matching scent lavishly into her skin. It was in the shower, she thought about what she and Ethan might do that evening.

Whenever Ethan rose, he would greet her and ask what she wished to do. Rarely did she have a response; and so she remembered the night before that she had decided to tell him that she wished to go dancing. Finding the red dress that he had commissioned from a seamstress while in France, she put it on. The dress moved even when she was quite still with its airy fabric that responded to the slightest motion of air. Rummaging through her trunk, she selected a pretty cross to wear with it and her black jelly bracelets. She almost tumbled in to the large trunk seeking her black ballet slippers with the ribbon bows that matched the black ribbon around the waist of her dress.

After dressing, she combed her hair in its usual style and found her cosmetics. One after another, Brit examined the lip tints until she found one that matched the dress perfectly. Following with the eye shadow and mascaras that Ethan had shown her to use, she examined herself in the mirror. She looked just as she did the night they went to the odd club while on their vacation.

Sitting on the mat in front of the mirror, she buffed her fingernails and carefully worked some oil into them so they would gleam while she remembered the club in France. The club was one used by kindred. It was very different then the dinner at the museum. Brit struggled for the word to describe it. It was elegant, but there was something animalistic about it as well. People seemed to wear all kinds of different clothing. Everything from Diesel chic to Renaissance court attire could be seen. Ethan dressed more contemporary casual in all black and dressed Brit in this red dress. He seemed to feel the seamstress did not follow his directives, but he placed a wrap around her and she wore it anyway.

There was no humanity in the room, Ethan had later said. At the club, others approached him cautiously and spoke in quiet tones. Brit noticed that he greeted some warmly and others he simply acknowledged. To all, he introduced her as his wife Brit. She did not notice the odd glances that were exchanged with her husband. At the bar, blood flowed as did a limited amount of libation for the humans in the room. Ethan rose from a round settee and took her to another location without reason, and Brit noticed that several rowdier kindred left a girl on the other side that did not seem to breathe anymore.

After much conversation, Ethan took Brit to the dance floor under the large chandelier and moved her through a slow tango. It was hard to focus on the dance. In this area, she could see glimpses of carnal behaviors that she had never encountered before. Ethan did not chide her not to stare. He simply danced with her and kept her focus primarily on him.

At the end of the third dance, a young man in a black leather jacket approached. Placing his hand on Brit’s shoulder, the man said, “If you are not interested in this meal, let another have her.” Ethan’s reaction was swift and Brit saw but a blur until she noticed that the young man was on the floor with his arm missing. Ethan said, “I will speak to your elder about your rudeness.”

The man screamed back sarcastically that the elders of his kind did not worry about the actions of their chylders, and so Ethan would be speaking to them all. Ethan leaned toward him and the man pressed back against the floor. Ethan said clearly, “I’ve spoken to you enough. If I see you again, I will kill you.” Nodding to a lady across the room, Ethan continued, “And I will inform the prince of this city that is an unfortunate possibility before I leave.” Friends of the man crowded around him and helped him leave the club. The crowd simply paused to watch. Some seemed amused, a few seemed confused and one looked clearly annoyed, but all went back to their business and play once the drama was over.

Ethan did speak to the lady who was called the Prince, and then they returned to their resting place. While there, a handful of people came to see Ethan. One remained talking amicably with Brit. Brit noticed that she drank and ate, and so Brit surmised that the one left behind was like her. Human. Ethan returned hours later with the group. All seemed in good spirits. After exchanging a few envelopes, the others left and Brit retired to the resting spot with her husband for the day. At sunset, they left to return home. In thinking of the incident, Brit found the memory clear, but dreamlike.

Her thoughts returned to the night before. Brit had looked up seeing a motion behind her as she prepared to go out. Turning, she saw Ethan who seemed surprised she was wearing the red dress. She rose and greeted him with warm kisses. Without waiting to be asked, she said, “I wish to go out to dance. I wore the dress you had made for me.”

His eyes traveled the neckline of the dress. Placing his hand on his chin, he said, “The weather is too cold for your dress, Brit. I wish you to wear it but we shall stay in. I do wish to dance. We shall dance here…in our home.”

Brit tilted her head in confusion. They had seen few of their friends since returning. “But,” she countered, “I wish to go…out…and I wish to wear the dress that…you…got for me.” Again, he told her that it was too cold and he would hear no more of it. Grabbing her cloak, she placed it around her shoulders. “There! Now I shall not be cold until we get where we are going.”

In a flash, her cloak was gone and was hurled over the boxes. Brit was pressed against them and Ethan sank his fangs deep into her throat gulping the blood. In surprise, she pressed back and he grabbed her closer to him embracing her more securely. She could hear the blood rush from her body as he drank deeply again and again. Her fingers and toes started to chill and she felt dizzy. Crumpling against him, he held her firmly and closely. Though not drinking of her once she crumpled, he continued to bite her hard until he felt her totally limp against him. Ethan then moved her arms to drape over his shoulders and her head against his chest, and he danced with her slowly.

Tonight, Brit sat with the sheets barely clear of her and stared at Ethan who was still resting. She felt bewildered by the unclear memories. Crawling to the mirror, she looked at her throat and found nothing unusual. She looked at her naked body and saw no marks. Touching her lips, she remembered the dancing and wondered if it was all just a dream. She remembered that she had also heard voices near while she dangled in his arms, and that Ethan had responded to them. Try as she might, she could not remember who it was or what was said. Dream-like. Perhaps it was all just a dream.

If it were not a dream, only he actually danced. In her memory, she remembered swaying like a rag doll in his arms. Did she really remember him carrying her back to their resting place? Or that he poured mass quantities of blood into her mouth as he pressed his body to hers? The memory seemed disjointed, but clear: He was telling her to drink more each time she turned away. Was it a dream? Looking about the room, Brit did not see her red dress or her shoes. She still wore her jelly bracelets and the cross necklace. Laid over the chest, Brit saw her cloak and the first dress he ever purchased for her. She looked a bit for her red dress, but it was not found.

Confused, Brit looked back to Ethan hoping he woke soon. She had so many questions. Brushing her hair back, her fingers caught in a knot and she pulled the hair forward. Upon examination, she saw that dried blood had matted a bit of her hair along the side of her face.

An Awakening

2009-03-13T00:39:00.012-04:00

Ethan woke with a jolt and immediately felt that something was wrong. Moving faster than humanly possible, he reached for Brit and felt only empty space beside him. His eyes widened and he staggered to his feet. Ethan felt ill. His body felt as if it were made of lead, his mind felt foggy, and he could not sense Brit near. Starting to panic, he crashed against the huge wooden door of his resting place in the Chateau de Jeanne, which was located on a river in the south of France.

Ethan fumbled with the knob before yanking it open. “Brit?” he bellowed as he entered the next room before sliding to a stop. The room was filled with bright light. Ethan clutched the molding of the door as his mind struggled to identify sunlight. It was bright and, though not streaming into the window, the reflective light from the very clear day flooded the room.

It was a struggle to stay upright and sentient. Ethan felt his eyes starting to close and his body falling. “Brit?” he shouted again. He could hear footsteps running toward him and he saw the most faithful servant to the house enter, which helped alleviate some apprehension.

The servant, Thomas, had been a good and faithful ghoul who had run the estate for over 300 years and was kept by the same organization that Ethan belonged. He was faithful to all within it. “Ethan,” Thomas exclaimed as he ran into the room and grabbed Ethan before he fell. “Mon dieu, but it is hours before you should rise!”

Ethan staggered another step toward the window. “My wife. Where is my wife?” His voice was hurried – nearly panicked, and he was unable to tear his eyes away from the window or the blue skies beyond it. “Where is my wife?” he demanded again as he moved. Ethan picked up the slightest feeling of Brit. She was beyond the window, he sensed, but why did he wake?

Thomas kept a sturdy hand on Ethan less Ethan fall to the ground knowing the nature and habits of vampires well. “Ethan, please,” he tried to reason. Looking at the window again, Thomas grasped the situation and spoke quickly, “Your wife. Brit is enjoying sunshine in the garden.” Ethan took another staggered step toward the window. Thomas said matter-of-factly, “Ethan. I have cared for this house and its garden for many years. I assure you that your sweet lady is safe. Now please. Return to your rest less you embarrass both of us by landing on the floor until sunset.”

Ethan turned to Thomas, who seemed to sound as if he was in a cave. The words registered and he asked the ghoul, “Are you sure?” Seeing Thomas give a reassuring nod, Ethan relaxed. The blue sky beyond beckoned to him. Ethan stared with wide eyes and took yet another step to the window. By the shadows, Ethan could tell that the sun was behind the house and was in no danger of beaming into the window. Another step to the window allowed Ethan to see Brit playing in the sunshine. She wore the dress he had given her the night before and looking at each plant and running her hand over the wet moss.

After feeling another wave of relief, Ethan stared at her. The struggle to stay awake was difficult, but he wanted to see. It had been centuries since he had seen the day so bright. It was sunshine. Pure sunshine and it covered Brit in a way he had never seen. Raising his fingers to the glass, he watched her with a hint of jealousy, and closed his eyes to try to link into her mind. He was so disoriented, but he wished to feel the sun on her skin. In fact, he craved the sensation. Something he had not even thought about in centuries. The jealous feeling grew.

Brit felt him enter her mind. She had grown to sensing when he linked with her. Turning left and right, she suddenly looked straight to him at the window. She blinked hard and glanced to where the sun was. Seeing him in no harm, she watched curiously and took a step toward him. His fingers stretched on the glass and hers flexed in a similar way.

The warmth, Ethan felt warmth of her body insulated by the fabric and the warmth of the sunlight on her exposed skin. Brit stretched out her arms and Ethan felt the difference in temperature as her hand moved to the shade. His lips parted as he absorbed the sensation, and his body trembled as she raised her face to the sun to allow him to sense the sunlight and feel it through the mental link on his skin. Ethan’s second hand touched the window. It was a cold glass barrier. Brit looked sad feeling the glass on her fingers, and knowing that he could not join her at this time to enjoy the abnormally warm spring day.

Brit walked toward him with another step. Picking a yellow crocus, she brushed it across her lip and he could feel the spring crispness of the flower. It was not so fragrant, but the color was vibrant. He had not paid much attention to a flower’s texture. Tilting his head, he noticed that she did likewise and she ran the petals over her neck. Ethan took a deep breath and watched wanting to feel her skin prickle from the flower petal’s caress before he drank from her. The sun held guard though. The sun warmed her. The sunshine caressed her and forced Ethan to wait for nightfall.

"Ethan, come to your resting place,” encouraged Thomas softly while watching Ethan's fingers clench. Ethan turned toward Thomas with a menacing growl. “We all want what we do not have,” Thomas offered gently in his clipped old French accent, but moved away quickly when Ethan then snarled - this time bearing fangs.

Brit looked up at the window troubled. She could feel Ethan’s thoughts. The turmoil that he was feeling within unsettled her. She felt longing and desire. She felt anger and resentment. Was it for the window that kept him back or the sunshine that he could not see? She was unsure. Moving again toward the window, she saw him turn back toward her. The anger she felt melted away into a deep sadness mingled with a feeling that she could only describe as exhaustion. She stopped when she saw him shake his head, and she could feel he just wanted to watch her. The sad longing intensified. Picking up the flower again, she looked up and he was gone.

Thomas ensured that Ethan returned to his resting place before alerting the other staff to check every crook and cranny for anything that might have caused him to wake. Brit ran inside of the chateau and, once in their resting place, she undressed to snuggle against him.

When the sun set, he grabbed Brit while she still slept. Caressing her where the flower touched, Ethan inhaled deeply to smell the sunshine on her skin. Brit wrapped her arms around him and Ethan drank of her heavily until she felt as unsteady as he did earlier.

Brit could not understand his odd feelings, and Ethan could see her confusion. It did not surprise him. How could she understand jealousy when she had not experienced it? And how could he explain to her that he was jealous of the sun’s ability to touch her when he could not and of the barrier it had been between them? Thomas greeted both of them as if it was the first time he had seen either that day.

She Walks In Beauty

2009-02-26T00:40:00.002-05:00

Ethan had taken Brit to dinner and conversed while she ate. He marveled over the dress she had selected for the evening. Though far more revealing than he would have selected, Ethan had to admit that the dress was not without charm. Upon entering the room, he was reminded of Byron’s poem. During dinner, Ethan whispered the poem to her and feigned eating. He had taken her to the mainland to escape the turmoil caused by the priests that had returned to the city. His voice recited, “She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and light meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

“That’s pretty,” Brit lisped. “Ethan, maybe we could try a restaurant that has things served in paper. Sometimes, it is fast to get things in paper, and then we can go dance sooner.” Noticing his frown, she ventured further, “I mean….I am the only one who eats…and we both dance.” They sat silently for a moment. Seeing his fingers tap on his wine glass that had not lost even a drop of wine, she ate a glazed carrot.

“Do you not enjoy our dinner conversations, Brit?” he asked raising one eyebrow. She puffed her cheeks and he could see her thoughts. Patting her hand, he said, “It is kind of you to think of me, but I rather enjoy our evening chats.” She smiled seeing that he understood. Picking up her hand, he kissed it before giving it a soft pat and motioning for her to take another bite. The wine touched his lips, but he did not drink. Instead, he continued, “Thus mellow’d to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.” Brit listened to the words that he softly recited, and told him that she liked his poems and the pictures they painted.

Ethan stopped after the first stanza of Byron’s poem and watched her as she finished dinner. Though he made all indications that he was listening intently to what she said, Ethan had another agenda this night. Of late, he had taken to using their mental connection, which had grown stronger through the regular feedings, to experience things he had long forgotten. Earlier, though she had dressed, he could feel her body’s hunger. The gnawing feeling in her abdomen that grew more prominent. It was unlike his desire for blood, but had similar components. Tonight, he decided, he would feel her drift to sleep. The only trouble was that his wife had far more energy than most, and so he decided that dancing would help her fall asleep earlier, so he could observe her mental and physical changes.

After dinner, he led her to a quiet place pulling her to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he danced closely to music that played somewhere near. His mind linked with hers and watched. Now that she had eaten, she was enjoying the physical motion of dancing. Did he enjoy the physical movement as she does when he was human? He was unsure and truthfully did not recall. Pulling her close again, he turned her and let her slide away from him. When her fingertips were all that was touching him, he kissed her hand and pulled her against him again. Keeping her near him, he whispered to her, “One shade more, one ray less, Had half inpair’d the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress or softly lightens o’er her face. Where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling place.”

Brit processed the words blinking rhythmically. He could see that she knew the poem was about a woman. Brit’s mind continued to process. He saw that she envisioned a lady in a sparkly black dress with black hair. She missed some of the contrasts so beloved by the Romantic era authors and their fascination with twilight to night in the murky darkness of mysticism. She only saw someone in love who thought his lover was perfect. Ethan smiled stroking Brit’s hair and feeling such sentiments could exist. He enjoyed her humanity and watched her thoughts picture the lady walking outside across where they were dancing with her black hair swaying in time to the music. Ethan desired to feel more of her human experiences.

Brushing his lips over her cheek and eyelid, he whispered, “And on that cheek, and o’er that brow so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent.” In keeping with his plans, Ethan kept up a decent pace to the dancing and discussed the way the lady might have walked. Brit was becoming better at making connections though she struggled with inference. Finally, he received for what he had been waiting. Brit yawned. “Aw, I’ve worn you out,” he said. Though she started to protest, he shook his head and said, “It is time we retire, I think…yes, I know it is still early, but yawning? No, you need rest.”

It did not take long for her to ready for bed. Ethan waited when she joined him. She could feel him within her mind. “I feel you near,” she said and he chuckled. Without saying a word, she knew that he wanted to feel her thoughts. Relaxing against him, she stretched and felt her eyes wanting to close. It was this that he wished to watch: Brit falling asleep.

As she started to drift, he saw images. Places they had been, things they had done together. She also had images of others for whom she cared. Nothing in her thoughts was harmful or hurtful. No negative thoughts flicked through her mind. He could feel her starting to fall asleep. It was a different feeling to him. Different from his going dormant when he rested. Ethan frowned realizing he did not recall that particular feeling when he was human. Her heart rate was slowing and her muscles relaxed. Ethan could feel it all.

Suddenly, Brit had a few small convulsions. Fleeting and barely perceptible. Her heart beat and breathing rate continued to decrease. Ethan wondered if they were letting her brain know by electrical pulses. He could feel Brit fall deeper into sleep sinking deeper in her mind and, like the images before, loving, innocent images formed basic dreams that she started to become more complex. Ethan pulled her to him, and she did not stir. He watched one image after another.

Brit’s dream was her dancing in the green dress she wore that night. It glowed slightly in the night and she watched him as she danced. Her mind focused on him. The way he felt when he touched her and when she touched him. Ethan smiled slightly feeling a bit odd at how absorbed she was. All thought surrounded him and the love she felt. He marveled how she saw him. Even though he had shared so much with her of his past, she obviously did not comprehend her husband as anything other than perfect.

Shaking his head slightly in bewilderment, Ethan watched one dream after another. Never anything unkind or untowardly. Brit obviously believed goodness in all beings. Ethan remembered the first time Brit invited him into her mind. She never closed her mind to him since that night. He continued to marvel at her guiless nature. But also knew that she had nothing to hide nor did she realize that hiding from people was something others did. Ethan’s arms tightened around Brit protectively. His lips brushed over her hair and he whispered, “A mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent!” As he too started to feel himself pulled into his daytime rest, Ethan wondered how Byron knew of his wife.

Old Fashion Romance

2009-02-14T10:33:00.006-05:00

At the strike of midnight, Brit exclaimed, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ethan!” The exclamation was accompanied with a pounce followed by a passel of kisses. The exuberance caused Ethan to need to brace to keep them both from tumbling and he grinned at Brit’s playfulness and excitement over a “holiday” designed around romance. “Valentine’s Day is a day for beloveds AND lovers, Ethan. And I made you a pretty card, which you could use as a bookmark if you wished all year long.” She presented the red card etched in lace with little pink and red ribbons. Rather than a verse, Brit had covered the card in lip prints.

Ethan traced each lip print and said, “Thank you, baby. I will use it to mark my ledger and so I will use it every day.” He bent to give her a kiss and looked at the card in more detail before laying it carefully on the ledger. “Would you wish to know the history of Valentine’s Day, Brit? It is a bit like a story.” Seeing her nod, he motioned her to him after sitting and pulled her on to his lap. “Many would say that it was a holiday created by greeting card companies, but that is incorrect. While those companies made it popular and commercialized it to what it is today, there are a few theories on its true beginnings.”

“Oh, please tell me! It is like a story when you tell me things!” She smiled happily as she settled against him.

Nodding, Ethan adjusted her to one side so he could open a drawer and produced a heart-shaped box of fresh strawberries drenched with layers of dark chocolate. Picking one up, he pressed it to her lips watching the juice and dark chocolate stain her lips. “There were several saints named Valentine recognized by the church. All of whom were martyred.” Brushing away her hand, he followed a drip of juice while watching her with his finger and pressed it to her lips where she licked it off. His words paused. Blinking a few times, Ethan continued. “One legend contends that Valentine was a priest during the reign of Emperor Claudius II in third century Rome. The emperor decided single men made better soldiers so he outlawed marriages of young men. The priest is said to have married young lovers in secret. When he was discovered, he was put to death.”

Licking the melted chocolate from her lips, she said, “But God approves of marriage.” She paused to take another bite of the huge strawberry and traced the dripping juice along his finger to lick it from his thumb holding the underside causing Ethan to raise an eyebrow and shake his head slightly to clear his thoughts to continue.

“Other stories suggest…” Ethan watched Brit’s lips nibble the strawberry and chocolate from his fingers in silence. When she pulled back to look at him, he kissed her forehead and said, “Other stories …yes. Other stories suggest that Valentine may have been killed for attempting to help Christians escape Roman prisons where they were sometimes beaten or tortured.”

Brit nibbled her lips to rid them of melted chocolate. “That’s not very romantic.” Ethan grinned and gave her another bite of the strawberry holding the chocolate so that it would not crack and fall away when she bit into it.

“What was romantic is one legend that says that he fell in love with the jailer’s daughter who would visit him during his confinement. Before his death, he allegedly wrote her a letter which he signed ‘From your Valentine,’ which is an expression still used today.” Brit caught a piece of broken chocolate on her lower lip and sucked it into her mouth letting it melt on her tongue. “Now the legends of Valentine are murky, but the stories are romantic. Tis no wonder that he is such a popular saint since medieval times.”

Brit nodded enjoying the story. Pressing her to him, Ethan kissed her softly tasting the chocolate and strawberry in the kiss. Settling back, he watched her silently for a moment and picked up another strawberry covered in chocolate to trace on her lips before letting her bite into it. Again, he caught the juice on his finger and held it to her mouth. Brit leaned and sucked the drip before taking a bite of the strawberry. Ethan blinked slightly again watching her nibble the strawberry and chocolate that he held for her.

Shifting his weight, Ethan’s other hand caressed her back. “Of course, there are some who believe that Valentine’s Day is celebrated in the middle of February to commemorate the anniversary of Valentine’s death, but others claim the church timed Valentine’s feast day in effort to christianize a pagan holiday known as the Lupercalia festival.” Brit listened as she let the chocolate melt on her lips before taking another bite of the strawberry.

Ethan paused again. “In ancient Rome, February was the official beginning of spring and was considered a time for cleansing. Houses were ritually cleansed by sweeping them well, and then sprinkling salt and spelt throughout them.” Brit ran her lower lip over his thumb and strawberry’s chocolate hull to catch the dripping juice. “See, the festival of Lupercalia, which began on the ides of February, which is the 15th, was a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture, as well as Romulus and Remus who were the founders of Rome. First, an animal was sacrificed and then young girls were ritualistically slapped with strips of the animal’s skin and blood to guarantee their fertility.”

Brit’s eyes widened. “I think…giving a beloved chocolate and strawberries would make her want to be a lover and have babies more than hitting her with blood and animal skin. Don’t you?”

Ethan stifled a chuckle seeing her question was most serious to her. “Well, baby. The beauty of Valentine’s Day is that it can cater to all tastes. Hmm?” He pressed the rest of the huge strawberry into her mouth before another question could form, and then followed with Valentine’s kisses.

Roses in Snow

2009-01-27T14:28:00.003-05:00

Brit closed her coloring book. Tips of crayons scattered around her. “Another broke?” asked Ethan. She nodded with a soft sigh. He gazed at her from his desk. Her body trembled and she stretched trying to shake off the feeling. Closing his ledger, he stood to hold out his hand to her. Pulling her up, he gave her a warm embrace and said, “You need to slow the world down, princess. It will be easier once you do.” He started to describe how she should visualize before she moved. She focused on him as he talked, but a glance within her thoughts showed him that she was not able to truly comprehend. Perhaps when some of the vitae wore off, he told himself. She would have to experiment with her newly found abilities. It was difficult to watch Brit struggle, but Ethan kissed her forehead and went back to his books watching her.

Ethan was proud that Brit was acquiring some of his attributes. He grinned at the memory of her broadcasting a comment to the room and how she struggled with moving very quickly. In time, he told himself, it would become natural for her. Brit settled back and picked up a new crayon. Her fingers moved too quickly on the page and pressed too hard. Within moments, the crayon snapped off the tip. Brit sighed staring at the page where she was trying to draw roses and cherries in snow.

Thinking to the night before, she remembered the warmth of the rooftop amidst the wind-blown snow. Ethan had given her warning about instincts. “When we both need guidance, we shall follow our instincts.” With his fingers caressing her bite marks, he added, “Though, instincts can be treacherous things.” More kisses followed until he said, “Mine. And I will not be left waiting.”

Ethan’s touches pushed the pain of Larissa’s loss from her thoughts albeit briefly. He could see within her thoughts as the newly awakened emotions of anger and grief drained away in his diversion. Brit’s eyes widened at his demeanor and words. Swaying to and fro when he pulled her close to him, she settled against him. “I do confess…that….” Her voice trailed off as she stepped closer pressing her body against his. Her fingers caressed his cheek as she finished her sentence by giving a slow and sensual kiss not wishing him to wait.

Ethan whirled her playfully fast and pressed her against the stone support for the billboard adjusting her body against his. “Confess to me, Brit,” he whispered softly before biting and nibbling along her neck. Moving his lips from her neck to her ear, he pressed her as he whispered again, “Confess to me.” Biting more, he flicked his tongue over her neckline. Snow flurried around them and his fingers shook the flakes free from her hair. Brit struggled to form the words that she wanted him to know. Closing her eyes, she felts his tongue on her neck. Her pulse beneath the skin was strong and vibrant.

Ethan continued to nibble and tease her neck with his fangs, never breaking the skin but leaving many bite marks to blush her skin. He yearned to hear her words spoken even though he could see it in her thoughts. Brit’s thoughts were never linear. He glimpsed it all. Her grief over Larissa’s death and her anger over the words she had heard. Dryl saying, “Dead,” and Nareth confirming that she was gone before the laughter started. Brit was offended and hurt over their behavior toward someone who was very dear to her. Her fingers clung to him as she rubbed her cheek against his hair. Her arms and legs wrapped so tightly around him that there was nothing between them anymore. “Confess to me,” he coaxed again. His voice was seducing her away from her high energy heart ache. “I know you will not fight me,” he said softly into her ear.

The wind was cold, and his body was as cold as the night. It mattered not as she could feel him warming where she was pressed against him. “Don’t fight me,” he repeated placing his lips on her neck. Brit blinked in bewilderment knowing she would never push him away. Opening his mouth wide, he sank his fangs into her skin breaking muscle and vein alike holding her tight as her blood filled his mouth. Before drinking, he pulled back with bloodied lips. Looking directly at her, his eyes were dark affected by her taste and his voice growled softly, “This is what I am, Brit, or at least part of me. I never hid it from you and I will always be part beast. But I will only be yours. Always. And you will never be alone because I will not allow it.”

Dipping her back until the stone supported both of them, Ethan drank heavily from her. His throat muscles working as he swallowed her blood turning it into vitae in his system. Brit’s mind raced to keep up. Telling him she would never fight him. She told him that she loved him. All of him. She could feel the snow pelt her exposed throat as he drank. Ethan enjoyed the feel of her chilled skin against his lips and the heat that lay beneath. “Do not fight me,” his thoughts pressed again and he drank another deep sip. Shifting to one side, his left hand slid lower pulling her tighter against him. With his arms around her and his fangs in her throat, Ethan seemed a predator keeping its prey near him. Brit’s thoughts started to drift as in a dream. Dizzy sensations from his drinking and embrace caused her to want her husband closer.

As if reading her thoughts, Ethan shook his head slightly. Biting his lips several times, he cause his vitae to pool before cupping her face with one hand. “I want your kisses,” he said, “And I want you to drink mine.” His tone all but ordered it as he claimed her lips pouring his vitae into her mouth. Brit kissed him and sucked his lower lip with soft pops as she released it. With each drink, her body received a slight surged reaction as the vitae hit her system. She mumbled ‘yes’ once to him and drank his kisses. Her bite marks pooled blood that slowly dripped down her neck. The color was rich red, crimson and dark, reminding Ethan of roses or cherries in the snow. Brit glimpsed his thought. Sensing her blood dripping, Ethan immediately moved to her bites and sucked the cooling blood greedily from her skin. He nibbled and licked ensuring none was left before returning to her mouth again. Reopening his lip, he demanded, “Drink more.”

Brit swallowed drink after drink of the heady vitae. Her body pushed away unsure she could drink any more. Ethan pulled her back tightly and repeated in a low whisper, “Don’t fight me. Drink more.” Her lips trembled from the powerful vitae coursing through her body. Ethan kissed her softly and dripped more vitae into her mouth as she breathlessly leaned against the post that supported both of them. Dutifully, she swallowed and he kissed again refilling her mouth albeit more slowly. Again, she swallowed. Her body trembling hard as it processed. “More,” he whispered. Her mossy green eyes blinked slowly as he filled her mouth again. One drop after another dripped from his lips until the wound healed. His fingers touched her chin holding her mouth closed with a fingertip until she swallowed.

Picking up another crayon, Brit pulled it twice across the page before it snapped. She sighed. Ethan saw her body still racked with trembles. She would acclimate, he thought to himself. Besides, the benefits she would gain were too precious not to ensure they were within her grasp. “The tremors should pass, Brit. You will learn to control the gifts I give you.” Standing, he walked to offer her a hand. “Perhaps color later.” She took his hand and he pulled her up to him settling back on the desk. After carefully looking her over, he kissed her forehead, her cheek and then her lips. Inside, he glimpsed the focus again on Larissa. She needed time to mourn, he thought. With a hint of a smile, the fact that his wife finally realized that not all were “way nice” showed she was growing in a way he deemed positive. “You will always be mine,” Ethan said softly. He motioned her to follow him to the Haven thinking that perhaps dancing could help her body process, and assist her mind to sooth over the loss of her friend.

The Second Lesson

2009-01-22T23:05:00.007-05:00

Truth be told, Brit was growing tired. The fencing lesson had lasted far too long and she was starting to feel most weary. “Again,” Ethan directed. Touching his chest where his heart was located, he said, “Try to touch here, Brit.” Brit struggled to tag him but he moved too fast. He could read her thoughts. She wanted to stop, but continued only because Ethan had swatted her playfully with the broad side of his blade when she quit without his ending the lesson the last time. She could still hear his admonishment, “Next time, the lesson is over only when I say it is, Brit.” Seeing her memories, Ethan lowered his sword and motioned her to him. “You are developing speed in your parries, Brit. However, you lack conviction when you lunge. Enough for today, I think.”

Brit’s sweat was tinged pink upon close examination. She was tired. They returned to their resting place to obtain a few items and made their way south in the city to the public bath. Snow fell as they traipsed through the street. Once in the bath, Brit laid out fresh clothing before quickly removing her fencing garb and stripped down to a tanktop and shorts. Ethan followed suit down to his briefs. Both slipped in the warm water and Ethan rinsed the sweat from Brit’s skin with water by cupping his hand before pulling her back against him. Once she settled against him, Ethan reached for a sponge to drag over her skin as he went over the finer points of the fencing lesson.

In no time, the conversation left fencing and moved to the shared bath. With the moon lighting up the sky behind the clouds, and the snow fluttering to the ground, the bath looked like something resembling a set of a Ridley Scott movie. Brit chattered about the pleasures of hot water, when Ethan replied, “I like the idea of being in hot water with you.” Dipping the sponge again, he squeezed the warm water to flow over her neck, bite marks, and down her back while moving her ponytail aside to kiss her sweetly.

Brit’s relaxed body went rigid for a moment and she sat forward. Blinking, her eyes widened and she suddenly giggled. “That’s a joke, isn’t it? Being in hot water means being in mischief…er…trouble…and so you are saying hot water like a bath and maybe hot water like trouble even if I’m not really trouble.” Brit continued to ramble to process out the joke before giggling again. Letting her know that it was a joke, Ethan grinned pulling her back against him again. His fingers massaged her sides and arms. Brit continued to marvel about the words. She lisped, “I know a different joke.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Yes? Well, why do you not tell me about it then.”

Tapping her toes together happily, Brit said, “Okay. There was a skeleton once up on a time. And he goes to a bar. Like a bar like the Haven. And the bartender says, ‘So what will you have?’ And the skeleton says, ‘I’ll have a beer and a mop!’ And that is my joke!” Brit collapses into giggles and says, “I’ve never seen a skeleton walk or talk, but if it did, you know it would need a mop to drink beer! Or to drink anything. Even water! Because anything wet would go right through him!” Brit gestured animatedly and giggled more, which caused Ethan to grin with pure amusement. In her mind, she visualized the joke and continued to giggle. Ethan marveled at his wife’s growth to grasp and tell jokes, which was a recent ability.

Lathering up the sponge, Ethan washed Brit’s body. Handing her the sponge, he told her that she needed to wash her feet as he could not reach them. “All clean here though,” he said low before leaning and kissing the back of her neck. She leaned against his kiss before lifting her foot and tapping the top of his head with the top of her foot. Ethan blinked at her agility and was sure he could not do the same. Brit turned to wash his body in return and his vampire ego quickly forgot Brit’s flexibility as she spoiled him. “I do enjoy your touches always, Brit,” he whispered. “But these types of touches are definitely special.”

Brit washed him thoroughly. “I like touching you with these types of touches, Ethan,” she said before giving him a playful glance as she kissed the freshly washed chest to see whether it was soap-slippery. Both fell silent for a time. Only the sound of the water rippling as the sponge was dipped and squeezed was heard. After a while, Ethan looked to Brit as he heard her mind speak a single word, “Share.” Unable to deny her, Ethan drank from her in slow sips before breaking the skin on his lips to let her drink during kisses. He pulled her closer and heard her mind reach to him again with a single word. “Share.”

Tracing her lips with his fingernail, Ethan said softly, “You are my wife. The only one I love and treasure. You will learn that sometimes you can take what is rightfully yours without asking. Without words even.” His fingernails caressed her neck and stroked down her back. “Demand it like I do. You will learn that, just like in fencing, you have to take an aggressive stance from time to time.” His fingertips pressed her to him encouragingly as he whispered, “I am yours just as much as you are mine, Brit.” Just as in the fencing lesson, his body and words guided.

The Fencing Lesson

2009-01-10T13:04:00.007-05:00

((Taken from RP))

Coming downstairs with a most satisfied grin, Ethan brushed against Brit. Though he seemed in a hurry, he stopped at the door and turned holding his hand out toward her. “Brit, come to me.” When she arrived, he buttoned her coat up and gave her three kisses. “We are going to a walk to the beach. Those of whom we do not speak are coming to make a delivery.” Anticipating her next question, he chuckled, “They will bring several things, princess. Cookies, some supplies, a few things for me and…well, you shall see.” Her eyes grew wide at the mystery. Looping her arm in his, they left for the beach.

On the way, they saw a neko who had been a resident at the Shelter. Both were happy that she had not perished. Discovering that she had found a safe permanent home, they continued to the beach. Even in the cloak of night, assorted beings were engaged in drinking, making out, sparring, and simple social networking. Ethan looked over the scene and narrowed his eyes at the many drawn weapons. Turning to Brit, he touched the guns at his side and gestured, “You see, baby, this is why you need weapons at the ready. You never know when you will walk into a scene like this one.” Nodding toward the skiff docked on the end of the pavilion, he grumbled, “Let us continue.”

Nearing the edge of the pavilion floating in the water, Ethan grabbed Brit who was standing on the edge and jumped across to the skiff with one powerful leap. Brit squealed in delight at sailing through the air and collapsed into giggles as they landed. “Do it again, please!” she exclaimed. Her giggles caused a few astonished looks from those piloting the skiff.

Ethan nodded a greeting to each as he whispered, “Maybe, if you are a very good girl, later.” Brit’s giggles quieted as she too gave a nod to each one, but did not wish to interrupt Ethan’s meeting with them. Most of the crew were cloaked. As usual, one stood in front keeping most of his exterior from being seen less for his long, sharp fingernails. The being’s hand extended in a greeting and was shaken by Ethan. “You are dependable as always, old friend,” Ethan said. “Your services are much appreciated.” Quiet conversation continued as Brit dangled over the side hoping to perhaps see a fish even though she knew none ever swam so close to the city.

After Ethan’s conversation ended, the crew handed over two boxes. Ethan gave an envelope to the man in the front, which was as usual. Receiving an envelop in return was not expected, and Ethan gave a troubled look as it was placed into his hand. Tucking it quickly away, Ethan walked to the edge looking to where Brit peered over the side of the boat. To all present, she started with a barrage of questions and comments as she stopped searching for fish. "How far do you go before fish are around? Have you ever seen a fish as big as the boat? In the library, I saw a picture of an octopus...it was swallowing the boat!" Brit’s eyes grew wide with the telling of the picture. Seeing all simply watching her, she went silent. Puffing her cheeks slightly, she looked to the shore and to Ethan wondering when it would be time to get off the boat oblivious to the raised eyebrow that Ethan was given.

Ethan turned toward the crew looking to each one with narrowed eyes. “Did you not hear the lady’s questions?” Picking Brit up, he asked, “How far out before you see fish? How big was the biggest one that you have seen?” Brit did not notice that his eyes continued to grow darker as he asked. Again, to her delight, he leaped across to the floating pavilion and held her waiting for their answers.

The sailor nearest to them turned and answered dutifully, “It takes about two hours of a journey south until fish are seen again. Whales are not uncommon off of these shores; and the biggest was bigger than our boat. No octopus of that size has ever been sighted though.” The sailor turned as if in a trance. Brit listened attentively to the answer and politely thanked the sailor. Turning to Ethan, she grinned to him for the brief jump through the air before looking to the boxes, wondering what was inside, and musing why he did not simply have items brought over on the ferry. Ethan’s thoughts answered that some things could not be easily transported and he did not trust just anyone with other items such as foods that she would consume. Picking up the boxes, Ethan motioned her to follow him back to the Shelter.

Once there, Ethan moved the bigger of the two crates to a place where he had others. Opening it, he carefully checked the contents while she dangled over his shoulder to see. He grinned at her curiosity. “Ethan,” she asked. “Have you….have we other homes?” Her mind wondered from where the items came. “Places maybe where you once lived?” Brit wondered why she had never thought to ask him before.

After checking the contents of the box, Ethan turned pulling her close for a lingering kiss. The kiss deepened for a moment before he remembered that it was his duty to keep her curiosity sated. Breaking the kiss, he replied, “There are several places where I have resided, Brit. Places in Europe where I hold the deeds. Some of them have secured storage facilities or they are accessible to a certain group of few and selected individuals of my kind.” He watched her carefully ensuring she understood. Seeing his duty fulfilled, he pulled her close again brushing his fingers lightly over her skin.

Brit asked, “Maybe…maybe….one day we could visit other places and you could show me where you used to reside?” Ethan’s arms wrapped tighter around her lower waist pulling her to paste against him. Her fingers traced along his sides and looped behind his neck where she touched his unbound hair. Ethan hinted a smile at her growing curiosity about his past. The night before, she had whispered, “I am always curious of you.” Her curiosity without reason warmed him.

“We can do that, baby.” Wrapping his arms around her, he nodded again as if deciding something for both of them. “We should start in a Greece.” His voice sounded distant for a moment as he added, “It would be not far from the place where I was born either.” Ethan’s had rubbed the small of her back gently and he added, “We can do that in the near future. He leaned in for another sensual kiss before letting her breathe once more. There is something that has been troubling me though. Seeing her eyes widen that he might be troubled, he said, “Just recent events. The reasons the two of us have spent so much time in the Shelter, Brit.” His voice trailed off seeming to search for words or a proper way to put it. Ethan all but burst out with, “I am of the opinion that giving you a weapon of proper proportions and style befitting a lady and my beloved would be of interest. And, of course, I would teach you to use it.” He looked down and peeked up almost like a schoolboy admitting to his parents that he broke their prized vase.

Brit’s expression was pure astonishment. “A weapon? Like a REAL weapon?” Her mossy green eyes were huge. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “But…Ethan…what… What if I hurt someone with it? You know…like…hurt…them.” Blinking more, she processed. “Ladies…use weapons?” she asked curiously.

Tilting his head at her last question, he said, “Well, darling. I would think that most of the women you know in this city outside of the library carry them, use them, and quite often harm others with them.”

Brit processed while continuing to dangle from around his neck. One thought flittered to be replaced by another. “Ethan, you never think of most ladies as um ladies.” Since she was now more in tune with his thoughts, she had been rather surprised at his thoughts at times. Some were rather shocking! “Like….Marie Antoinette,” she lisped. Ethan blinked before coughing politely and he wiped his mind of the thought that formed regarding that particular lady. Brit caught the glimpse of the thought and her eyes widened!

Ethan raised an eyebrow and grinned thinking she was obviously getting a better education in seeing what was not said than she would have ever gotten from any book. He replied, “Well, baby. It depends mostly on their manners and ways of behaving. That has nothing to do with the choice of carrying weapons. In fact, at one time, such were combined with their outfits. Like a proper accessory.” He smoothed a tendril of her hair caressing her cheek gently before continuing, “In a large portion of history, it was quite proper, and very ladylike, for young ladies to be educated in the art of fencing. Just as it was for them to be educated in music and making conversation with guests. It kept their bodies trained and their senses alert. Really…much like when we played tag.”

Ethan could see her process and hear her concerns. He reassured her, “Brit, should the need arise and you need to defend yourself, you could buy just enough time for me to arrive or for you to come to me with a few subtle moves. Not actually hurting someone you see. But keeping them distanced from you.” Her recent encounter with the lycan crossed his mind. “Just to buy you time, if needed," he said reassuringly.

It was much for her to process. Brit had always thought of the games they played, like Tag, as simply a fun game of chase. She never thought it would have other purposes. Kissing her on the forehead, he opened a second box and ran his hand along the object inside. Brit lisped, “So…learn like Tag…for exercise?” She nodded slowly to show she understood.

Ethan pulled a long, case from the box. He wiped the packing materials from it and said, “I was thinking of a blade by the way. Small enough to be an epee, which is a fencing blade. Just…well…one of my personal collection.” Ethan opened the case.

“Like a knife?” Brit asked while trying to see inside.

Ethan unsheathed the sword. “Well, not quite a knife.” Brit could see the bright shine of the blade in the amber light of the Shelter hallway. “It is quite elegant, I think, and if used correctly.” The blade obviously held memories for Ethan as he turned the sword looking it over as if seeing an old friend he had not expected to return. “I have had this blade in my possession since the 17th century, Brit.” Ethan continued to carefully examine it while he spoke, “I requested it to be sharpened before having it brought to us.”

The sword was bright and shiny. Details on the pommel included an intricate silver skull. “In the 17th century,” she repeated. “Before Marie Antoinette…like…when Charles the second was king of England.” Ethan smiled seeing that she was beginning to develop a sense of when events occurred. He nodded. “It was yours,” Brit said smiling warmly. Then her smile faded and her eyes grew huge with wonderment, “You did not perish anyone with it, did you?”

Ethan shifted his weight uncomfortably for a moment before giving her a sweet kiss of encouragement. “I do not recall ending anyone’s existence with it, Brit. I do recall using it as a training weapon and in gentleman sports.” With a shrug, he said, “Fencing definitely was considered a noble way of resolving conflict, but often ended at first blood. That means whoever drew blood first from the other wins. Not a fight to the death.” Ethan skipped over that a dagger or other blade was often used for coup de grace moments.

He watched her admire the sword and could sense that she found it beautiful. Ethan’s chest fell as if he exhaled happy that she seemed taken with his gift. “I’m glad that you find it pleasing.” She smiled nodding up at him. “Fencing is a specific way of sword fighting. There are rules of engagement, quite proper, and usually betrayed someone’s noble upbringing. You see, anyone could learn to fence if they had a master to teach them, but noble families always….” Ethan’s eyes grew slightly dark for a hint of a moment. “Noble families always ensured one was available to teach their own.”

Ethan’s hand reached for hers, and he turned her as if in a dance with his free hand so that she faced away, and he guided her back against him. Kissing her hair, he raised her hand and wrapped her fingers around the grip ensuring her hold was proper. Brit gingerly touched the blade with her free hand. It’s razor sharpness caused her to pull away fast, but then she brought her finger to the flat surface and slowly traced down the length of the blade. He repeated that he would teach her all she needed to know. Ethan watched her turn the sword so that the light would catch it causing her to pause as the shine mesmerized her. Perhaps, he thought, she would lose some distractibility by its use and could react faster when needed.

“It’s beautiful. Ethan, thank you.” She kissed him while holding the sword so that the tip was pointed down. Ethan’s arms wrapped so one rested on her tummy and the other on her forearm that held the blade. He could not help but muse that these lessons could bring far more pleasure than any payment from teaching noble brats. When she finished looking over the blade, he readjusted her hand on the grip ensuring that she held the sword perfectly.

Brushing her hair to the side, he said, “At the very least, we shall arrange your hair in a pony tail so that it does not hinder you.” His fingers left her tummy to brush back her tresses. “Mayhaps with some ribbons in it, as well.” He also made a mental note to engage Destany in proper fencing attire for her. Not like the sterile modern day garments, but such as what might be worn in days when fencing was commonly seen. His hand returned to her tummy, and the hand on her sword arm extended to her wrist. Slowly, he adjusted her posture noting that her graceful stand was a natural start. He brought her sword hand slowly to her chin. “First, you would present arms to your opponent in an official match by bringing the hilt to your chin…like this.” He moved his head from side to side ensuring again that the posture was perfect. Grinning, he pressed lips to her ear and said low, “Très bon.” Realizing she would not know what he had said, he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “Very good.”

Brit allowed him to position her. Her body was relaxed and her mind attentive. His mind briefly remembered others he had helped learn this art. Ethan sensed that she feared the weapon, and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Her flesh tingled where he held her, and from his whispered words of encouragement. She moved her feet as he instructed and her stance resembled a ballerina more than a fencing opponent. It was graceful with one foot angled to the other. Brit pressed his body and she moistened her lips. The sword was not heavy to her and she could not help but notice how it shimmered as it moved.

Ethan admired her graceful form and found no need for adjustment. His fingers traced down her body as if to check her alignment and stance. Kissing her neck, he whispered, “A natural talent.” His body moved hers slowly into an ‘en garde’ stance, before moving her back to present and into en garde again ensuring she could follow the motion. His words were low and soft as he guided her from one position to the other, “Fencing, opposed to other forms of melee combat is very much based on benefits of grace in one’s movements: An element of which you possess in abundance.” Her eyes blinked as she moved with the grace of a dancer from upright to a guarded stance. Ethan could not help but think that her hours of dancing in the studio were paying off. She held still for him to inspect her posture. Seeing him nod approval, she laid her head upon his shoulder and looked up kissing him sensually by resting her free hand on his cheek. Returning to proper form, her back was straight with a slight arch that would have clearly demonstrated her lithe form had she not been dressed in her trenchcoat.

Ethan repeated the action, making sure to move slightly more swift with each repetition. As she did when resting her hands on his to play the pipe organ in the church, her mind linked and she followed his movement. His arm guided hers to extend in time with her leg moving forward to balance her body. Ethan murmured, “Extend,” and the tip of the sword touched an imaginary foe as Ethan’s voice instructed softly, “And…touch.” He held the position feeling her body pressed against his. He tightened his hold on her and whispered, “Then, back again” as he pulled her to the starting stance of en garde.

Both stood still for a few moments and were keenly aware of the nearness of the other. Once Brit had processed the sequence, she slowly repeated taking the initiative. He resisted pressing his cheek against her less he mar her fluidity of motion. Watching their image in the window, he followed her motion allowing his body to check her form. In the window’s reflection, they moved together as if she were attached to him in 100 different points. Brit paused at each position allowing for small corrections and waited for his nod to move to the next step. Holding the touch, she felt him press her closer to him. “It’s like dancing.” He nodded running his hand over her side under the guise of checking her stance.

Moving again against her, Ethan motioned for her to continue. “It is indeed like dancing,” he said moving with her as she moved through the basic positions. “Present. En garde, lunge, thrust, touch, and back to engarde.” His voice whispered softly as they cycled through again. Another cycle in silence. “Deadly dancing sometimes, but still requiring grace and elegance, which you possess.” His hands continued to touch her lightly as they moved through the sequence. At each point, Ethan was keenly aware of Brit’s body and corrected even the slightest of errors in her form. “It will also keep you fit,” his voice continued to softly instruct. “In time, it will keep you safe. I hope…you will not be disturbed by it, Brit.”

Lowering the sword, she turned slightly and tilted her head. “It’s a wonderful gift, Ethan. Thank you.” Her smile was warm and her care in the way she held the sword showed she understood it was a precious gift. He kissed her. Closing her eyes, she processed all he had taught and said. “Ethan,” she whispered with a hint of apprehension. “I never wish to perish anyone.”

Returning the kiss, he said, “You are most welcome. I do enjoy giving you things from my past. For there is history in them. They are not merely objects.” Caressing her face before cupping her cheek, he tilted her lips up and caught her gaze. “You are my one and only, and I want you protected. I understand you would not willingly try to take a life, but as I said…” Seeing her eyes widen, he stopped to watch her. With a reassuring smile, Ethan kissed Brit again. “But as I said, this is mostly for exercise.” She nodded and he grinned kissing softly. “You did well on your first hint of a lesson, my love.”

“No one perishes from exercise,” she said more for herself than for him. Ethan remembered a countess who perished in a fencing lesson due to a corset, indulgence of alcohol and sweets, and intense summer heat. Brushing the thought away, he said, “Quite so. And, if the need for you to run arises…such as if someone were blocking your path, I am sure that we shall find a way to teach you just where to swing this blade so to give them a little ache….surely not perishing them.” He kissed her again with his eyes flashing for a moment thinking of such a situation. “Do not worry, Brit. I am not trying to turn you into a body guard. You have me for that.”

Brit nodded understanding that she would not perish another with her new gift. Turning, she took both of his hands pulling him along to the resting place where she could place the sword in the chest with her more treasured belongings. He stroked her hair while she arranged for the sword to be organized as if it was always meant to be there. Standing, she pressed close and kissed him with all of the love she felt within. Ethan returned it knowing that should she need to get away, the culprit would pray for coup de grace in the end.

Unanticipated Events

2009-01-04T16:22:00.007-05:00

Brit sat with the dictionary while slowly flipping the pages. “Unexpected,” she lisped. “Unexpected means not anticipated; as in unexpected guests or unexpected news.” After reading over the words several times, she closed the book. The Shelter was filled with guests. A small group was frantically searching for a paper they had left on the table. Brit asked, “What is it?” After much shuffling, they told her that it was simply a chart. As words slowly formed, Brit realized it was the table she had given to Apollo. The group grew silent when she told them that she had given it to him since his name was on it. After a moment of silence, the group quickly said good-byes and scattered before Apollo happened by.

Brit wondered where Ethan had gone because he was not there when she woke. After a shower, she dressed and walked to the foyer of the Shelter. Some residents arrived and left, each greeting her. Outside, Lord Winter and Winterkitty, the snow creatures she and others had made, had been toppled, trampled, and might have been shot. “Not unexpected,” she lisped and noticed that the snow still was mostly intact. If she wanted, she thought, she could make them again without much trouble.

While making the snow creatures, many had helped. It started with Apollo, and then Lorne and Beau had joined. They were discussing a poem of a king who had died. Whether he was once great or whether he merely thought he was, in the end, the king was simply dust commanding sand. In the middle of the discussion, Brianna had fallen to the ground with bloody hands. “Unexpected,” lisped Brit softly as she applied her new words. Others had come and gone: Quiet, someone she did not know named Mei, a young vampire who seemed not to know she was a vampire, Jason, and several others. Then Ethan had come, but he did not help her make snow creatures. She giggled thinking of him and lisped, “Not unexpected.” While most playful, Ethan rarely engaged in group silliness.

During the day, she had seen many in passing. Some, such as Nerissa, she used to see often. Others, such as Redd and Tonks, she had just met. Brit mused on why she passed by Nerissa and had spent much time talking to the new library helpers. She had also seen Denny and Omega where Omega was playing music. Spinning, she thought it was called, but they had not stopped to visit with them. Was it expected or unexpected not to linger as one used to with old friends or was that something reserved for new ones.

Picking up her mug of cocoa, she tapped her nails on it while lost in thought. She sometimes missed the days of talking with those whom have been so close to her. “Denny, Omega, Grr, Joah, Larissa.” So many she thought. “Poncho. Merma. Tony. Ellie. Mel.” She took more than an hour saying each name slowly less she forget anyone. “Stacy. Jon. Choi.” Some she saw often and some she rarely saw these days. “Pieter. Blueray. Nikita.” The names she said went on and on. Was it expected or unexpected for so many to come and go as if weaving through one’s life?

Pars’s disappearance on the docks that day was unexpected, she thought. Pars had watched over her from birth. He had always been near. Before he disappeared, she had never been alone. Taking another sip of her cocoa, she realized that she had become accustom to people leaving. Each walked in to her life and stayed a while before leaving as quietly as Pars had disappeared from the docks. Such occurrences had become expected to many, but never to Brit.

Nikita’s reappearance was not a surprise to Brit. When Ethan greeted her, Brit had felt her presence. Calm and familiar. Ethan simply told Nikita that she had been missed. Nodding, Brit agreed and had asked, “Where did you go?” Nikita replied with a single word: Scotland. Looking to Ethan, Brit felt that the response must have been expected. Regardless, it was good to have her home.

Brit turned on the radio and listened to Omega’s voice over the airwaves. She could picture Denny standing near his love. Another sip of cocoa and she smiled as Omega dedicated “Come What May” to her and Ethan. Brit nibbled dunked marshmallows as she listened and thought it was sweet of Omega to have played it. Omega’s voice and Denny near her was expected. The song was not and Brit found that an unexpected pleasure.

Thinking more on Denny, Brit sighed softly. In the week before, he had paid an unexpected visit to the Shelter. While there, he acted oddly and said some horrible things to Ethan. In the end, he said to Ethan that their marriage was cursed and that they would be divorced. Later, Ethan had assured her that too much drink lead to such words. Drunk or no, Ethan had told Denny he was no longer welcome in the Shelter; and Denny had not been in the library when Brit was there. She missed him, but he had unexpectedly been scarcely near for months.

Looking up, Brit watched more people come in. One sat for soup and Brit tried to remember whether the person had registered at the Shelter. When she started to inquire, the lady left making Brit realize she had just slipped in for the soup. Shrugging, Brit felt good that the woman had something to warm her belly on such a frigid day. Brit waved at the little demon that she and Ethan had found freezing in the street before her thoughts returned to wondering where Ethan had gone. Stifling a yawn, she thought of the unexpected turmoil during the day while they slept.

It could not have been more than 30 minutes past dawn. Brit was wound around Ethan who lay dormant beneath her. Her eyes opened to the sound of growling. Low and menacing. Raising her head, she blinked through the darkness of the room, but sensed no one was near. “Ethan,” she lisped. Giving him a shake, she repeated, “Ethan?” She really did not expect him to respond without more effort on her part. Thinking that perhaps it was a dream, she settled again on top of him and started to sleep again. Her eyes had closed for sleep and she heard it again.

Lifting her head once more, she rubbed her eyes to try to wake so that she could focus. Again, the growling was heard. Louder. Her eyes widened and she wriggled free of Ethan to find a window. Listening at the door, she could tell that again, none were near. Brit’s feet pattered softly on the cold floor as she opened the door to go to the windows of the hallway. Looking down, she saw her undisturbed snow creatures standing guard. More growling and an angry male voice could be heard. Leaning toward the glass, Brit saw a neko male and a human lady standing at the door. A huge lycan was growling.

Brit tapped on the glass, but no one heard her. It was then that she saw the lycan lunge at the male crashing him backwards. Brit ran down stairs to the front door opening it. No one seemed to notice her. Turning she shouted, “Turmoil!” No sound answered and she turned back to the door. The male neko was obviously shaken, and Brit understood the lycan when he told the neko boy that he was to perish. Brit regrouped and lisped, “You can easily kill him….but….I would be grateful…and would tell Wotan so….if you allowed him to live.” The lycan seemed surprised by her request.

Reflecting on the lycan’s reaction of pausing, Brit realized her actions were not expected. The lycan, she guessed, probably knew he could think on what happened and knew he could kill the kitty boy another time if he chose to do it. Brit puffed her cheeks and hoped he would just forget about the kitty. The lycan left and so Brit took the couple inside. She paused seeing Lorne at the door. He seemed to ensure all was well, and then left. Looking above him, she wondered momentarily whether Brianna was tottering from the rooftop again.

Once inside, the kitty boy seemed angry. Just as Brit knew she was not like others, he knew that the lycan could have easily killed him. The way he looked at the lady, Brit knew that she was the kitty’s beloved. Tilting her head, Brit knew that he was also wondering who would care for his lady should he perish. Both the kitty and human girl were cold, and Brit found them jackets from the Shelter’s lost and found. Watching them calm, Brit felt herself relax even as she could hear the howling in the distance as the lycan told its story to the others in the wee hours of morning. Brit felt tired, but ensured that the couple had food and knew where they could rest. Walking to the door of the Shelter again, Brit saw another resident return home and then she returned to the resting place.

Finishing her cocoa, she sighed softly. A most unexpected turn of events. “You left our resting place?” came Ethan’s soft voice as he brushed snow from his shoulders. She was pleased to see him. Rising, she kissed his lips before hugging warmly. Ethan returned a trio of kisses and looked her over as he always did upon greeting. His ability to see within her mind was not unexpected. It felt warm and she welcomed when it occurred. Her ability to hear his thoughts that followed, however, was new. It was unexpected. The growl from within him, however, was expected. Another kiss was obviously needed and she could feel his eyes follow her as she rinsed her cup. “Baby,” he said softly.

Brit could hear his thoughts that formed, and so she hugged him and kissed him again lingeringly. “I cannot allow someone to perish at our door without saying something, Ethan…” Her eyes met his and he could hear her thoughts explain that he would not allow such happenings either. Blinking, Ethan was unsure whether it was her nature or his blood that prompted some of her actions. Kissing her forehead, he wrapped her close to him and rocked both of them in a warm embrace while he pondered the events that he had seen within her mind.

Christmas Eve

2008-12-31T03:20:00.008-05:00

With the long winter nights, Ethan usually woke before Brit. Without going to the window, he could sense that the streets were coated with a fresh blanket of snow. Ethan loved the beauty of fresh snow and he especially enjoyed the way that the snow muted the sounds of the city. The snow merely added to night’s sense of enchantment for it was Christmas Eve. Sliding Brit from his chest, he arranged her so that she laid on a pillow that half-supported her shoulders. Brit barely stirred causing Ethan to marvel how soundly she could sleep.

Ethan pulled the blanket over her tucking it along her sides. Seeing that she was bundled, he placed his ear to her back and closed his eyes listening to the air move in her lungs mingled to the strong sound of her heartbeat. His fingers trailed through her hair arranging it into coils that resembled red puddles around her. Ethan closed his eyes and warmed his fingers on her body. Brit stirred slightly before settling back into her deep slumber. The wind howled outside causing him to roll to his stomach and stare at the wall. His hand reached for his cross but it was not there. Flattening his hand, he patted the spot where he had worn it for years.

The cross had brought Ethan comfort during many junctions during his existence. When he was mortal and doing God’s work, he had touched it for luck and to ask His blessings to allow him to complete tasks he was set to do. The cross had given him a focal point so he could pray before a battle, and it allowed him to stay sane after his capture. The battle did not last long: There were too many, and Ethan’s men were swarmed. Ethan was the last one standing swinging wildly even after he knew that all had been taken. They circled him like wolves taking down wounded prey and placed him in chains. One at a time, all of the men who had served with Ethan in God’s army were murdered before him. Ethan had known it was only a matter of time before it was his turn. Beaten, tortured, and drained. Ethan remembered holding his cross praying for the ability to break the chain on his foot preventing him from escaping during the day when most of his captors scurried away to escape the sunlight.

Brit made a small sound reminiscent of a kitten complaining. Ethan loosened his hold and raised his head to watch her. Light touches on her skin lulled her back to sleep. His thoughts returned to the cross. He remembered watching the last of his troop die. The sounds of the wind outside resembled the unholy howl, and Ethan was never sure whether the sound was his. He remembered keenly holding the cross tightly. God would surely hear his prayer in his weakened state. It seemed that his prayer was heard and answered. A miracle occurred. His captors brought him food. Then they gave him dark red vitae to drink. Ethan struggled to resist, but it was forced into his mouth until his body betrayed by the peristaltic contractions of his throat pushed the contents to his stomach and caused him to miraculously heal.

Laughter followed. Ethan could still hear the taunts that it was not his God who healed him. Still true to his faith, Ethan consoled that God’s will allowed them that decision and he gave a prayer of thanks. During his prayer, Ethan was grabbed up. He could still remember the feel of the cross in his hand as the sharp fangs sank into his throat. Rapidly and unceremoniously, Ethan’s life was drained from him despite his excellent fighting skills. Ethan remembered the panic of dying and the surge that followed as more vitae was placed into his mouth. Survival instincts caused him to swallow. He remembered being caught between two worlds, and knowing with growing terror that he was becoming a creature very like those he used to hunt. As he shivered through the night, he was helpless to react to the laughing and taunting asking him where his God was now.

Several boots to the side and more laughter and taunts followed. Then his sire picked him up by the collar of his tunic and pressed his face against Ethan’s ear. The dark voice said in a clipped, deep voice, “If I break each of your bones, you will not die. If I burn your flesh, you will not die. Your God has turned his back for all of your service.” With no little force, Ethan was thrown into a shallow grave. Closing his eyes, he recalled scent and sound of dirt shoveled loosely on top of him, covering him merely enough to protect him from the rising sun. Then darkness descended.

Burying his face in Brit’s hair, Ethan remembered waking and frantically digging his way from the dirt to a full moon. Ravenous, he attacked the closest source of blood and drank in huge gulps until the bovine collapsed on top of him. Ethan had to claw his way from beneath the animal and ran to the barn nearby. There, he shivered while tears dried in bloody streaks on his face and he struggled to calm his thoughts while clutching his wooden cross. The wind continued to howl outside. Dropping his head to his hands, he kissed the cross and prayed. Ethan could only imagine the image he created at that moment. It had taken him hours to clean the blood and matter from his hair and skin. His blood-soaked tunic was burned for warmth after he stole breeches and a barn jacket from a peg. That night, he felt unworthy to wear it anymore.

“Ethan?” Her voice caused him to startle and he looked to his wife with wild eyes. Brit touched his cheek. “Are you well,” she whispered. His hand came to hers and he pressed it against his cheek. It was warm and soft. He sat up composing himself from the bleak memories before pulling her into his lap still swaddled in the blanket. She reached to brush back his hair. “Ethan? What is wrong?” He could feel her thoughts probing his mind. Ethan smirked. He had worked hard for her to develop a link to his thoughts. The timing for it to click in place was uncanny.

Tickling slightly to distract her, Ethan grinned feeling her thoughts never entering completely. “Of course I am well, Brit.” She squirmed delightfully beneath his fingertips, and he thoroughly enjoyed her warm skin and softness. Even in her sleepy state, she stopped struggling once she realized that she was quite bound by both her hair and her blanket. Grinning mischievously, he bounced her gently to see whether she would struggle more. Brit giggled at his playful mood, but then curled up and closed her eyes nuzzling against him. “Oh,” he murmured, “I see you have wisely surrendered.” She grinned while feigning sleep. “Little faker,” he chuckled pulling her up and pressing his lips to her throat with a playful bite.

Brit meeped before bursting into giggles. She stretched and looked up at him. Ethan smiled seeing her eyes open: Dark green and framed in sooty lashes. Sometimes, when Brit looked at him, Ethan could not look away. Stroking her cheek, Ethan watched as Brit wriggled a hand free to touch his hair lightly while she finished waking up. Ethan bent and kissed his wife gently while feeling her hand touch his cheek. Soft caresses mingled with more kisses. His lips left hers to kiss her eyes, hair, and then along the side of her face. Each kiss caused Brit’s heartbeat to quicken. Her fingers pulled Ethan closer to her throat and he enjoyed the catch of her breath as he opened her bite marks and drank slowly. Closing her wounds, he opened a wrist to let her drink. As their blood mingled within each one, Ethan marveled at the sensual intimacy he had wrongly thought he might only achieve only through changing Brit.

He held her as long as he could. It was, after all, a special night. After feeding her a dinner of oyster stew, Ethan bathed and dressed Brit in her red gown that had been freshly pressed along with his matching suit. Opening the door, he escorted her to the church. Snow flurries fell and he grinned watching them catch on her eyelashes. Brit ran to the manger outside of the church to look inside expectantly. “Where is baby Jesus?” she asked.

“He has yet to be born…but soon, I think.” Motioning her through the door, Ethan prayed and light candles with Brit while observing her thoughts with voyeuristic interest as she prayed for seemingly everyone that she knew. Checking the time, he furrowed his brow and sighed realizing no Christmas eve mass had been planned. “I think we will have to hold our own mass, Brit,” he whispered to her. Settling at the organ, he pulled her to him. Placing his fingers on the keys, Ethan started to play. Music filled the church. Ethan felt the song wash over her. Each note played created a greater sense of closeness to God and added to the holiness of the night.

Brit watched him play wondering how Ethan learned to play so beautifully. Hearing her thoughts, he said, “Before radio…before television. Once we practiced to keep ourselves entertained. Arts, music. Reading poetry. Once it was all that one had.” After a moment, he said softly, “And prayer.” She smiled staying close. Her mind could follow his. Pausing a moment, he pulled her to his lap and placed her hands on top of his. Kissing the back of her head, he started to play. Her fingers rested on his and followed his motion. The pace picked up and she was able to follow. Ethan smiled sensing her delight at helping him create beautiful music to hail in Christmas morning. The song ended until midnight passed and he whispered, “Merry Christmas, Brit.”

She blinked several times and exclaimed, “I…I have a present for you!” She rummaged through a small bag and produced a small wrapped object. He raised an eyebrow in surprise as he took the package. Ethan had not seen Brit purchasing anything nor had he seen her making anything. With no little surprise, Ethan grinned as he carefully opened the paper not wishing to rush the moment. Brit glanced at him repeatedly growing anxious that he was taking so long to open her present. Once Ethan removed the tape, he unfolded the paper to see a small medallion attached to a ribbon and small ring. Brit had painted the medallion: A perfect image of the two of them together. Ethan beamed as he examined it closely. No kindred could have painted it more realistically. Upon closer look, he realized that she had used a brush of no more than three bristles.

“I will carry it here. Close to my heart.” Smiling at her, Ethan continued to examine the portrait before placing it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

Brit lisped, “You can attach a watch or a key…or anything to it, if you wish.” She pointed out the other end of the ribbon.

“I see that.” Grinning, he kissed her softly. “Thank you, baby. But…I also have something for you.” He had not wrapped it and did not think she would care. Pulling her rosary from his pocket, he gave it to her by wrapping it around her hand. On the end, he had placed his wooden cross. The small gem in the center glittered. He watched as her fingers curled around it. The wind continued to blow snow around outside and, again, Ethan thought of that night in the barn so long ago. Clearing his throat, he pulled her tightly against him. “The cross was worn by me when I was like you.” He swallowed and kept his thoughts focused on the night and his love for her. With a whispered voice, he said, “It brought me much comfort, Brit.” Another pause and he said thickly, “It has helped me survive…to endure.”

Ethan felt her eyes on him and he could feel Brit’s mind seeing within his. He focused on her eyes, and that was all she could see. He never wanted her to see the terror or the horror and so, he focused on the prayers that he had said through the years, and on the love he had found within her. She whispered in wonder, “It brought you to me.” His eyes grew wide as he met her gaze. He simply nodded and kissed her again as gentle as an angel’s wing.

Together, they said prayers and left for home before dawn. Walking past the manger that continued to be empty, Ethan explained that baby Jesus was probably still in the process of being born.

Invited Guests

2008-12-19T23:42:00.007-05:00

Feigning his review of the ledgers for the Shelter, Ethan watched Brit paint. Just as he enjoyed watching filmed sunrises, one frame at a time, he took great pleasure in watching his wife coax images to life through her art. Though Brit’s media had always been crayon in the past, she regularly amazed friends and strangers alike in her ability to create realism from crayon. Of course, Ethan knew the magical abilities of motion, sound and occasionally scents were due to the special ink given to Brit by Lorne; however, he also knew that Lorne had proclaimed there must be an ability to use it. Ethan was unsure what exactly was in the ink. Lorne’s response was that the ink was “comprised of the material of dreams,” which Ethan felt was an insufficient response. Regardless, the ink did not seem to affect Brit and Ethan enjoyed the results from it. He enjoyed paging through her coloring books to reminisce as well as to see what caught his wife’s eye within the city.

Ethan tapped a pencil in the ledger noticing that Brit continued to wear her box of crayons in a thigh holster. Though talented in crayon, Ethan felt that Brit should expand her abilities and attain new skills. Since she had shown aptitude for art, he purchased her an easel and assorted paints. Along with the delivery came a nervous art student in need of tuition who provided a few basic lessons for Brit. Ethan was pleasantly surprised that Brit chose to learn about oil paints over watercolors. After all, watercolors, like many things in the mortal world, were not made to last and oil endures.

The art student had shared basic techniques and now Brit applied them. Ethan watched her hand outline the portrait from their Christmas card onto the canvas in pencil before moving onto ink. He had stopped working to muse on her attention to highlight and light. Brit seemed to have a natural ability to define halftones and shadows, and then finally reflections. The inked canvas looked realistic and true. Once she progressed to the imprimatura layer to the umber underlayer, he could see Brit’s focus increasing. With a glimpse into her mind, he saw uncertainty but she clearly used her instinct and raw talent to make sound choices.

Brit was in the process of placing colorful dabs of paint on her palette to create the dead underlayer. Ethan tilted his head curiously as he knew from the art student’s directives that these colors would make the image look as if its objects were lit by moonlight alone. With a shrug, he went back to observing his wife paint, and found the lines of her back and curve of her sides as enjoyable to observe as was the painting she was making. If painting was Brit’s hobby, observing her had become Ethan’s hobby. Running his fingers on the arm of his chair, Ethan watched her while thinking of the texture of her skin and listened to a ballad that was rumored to have been written by Henry VIII, and still held favor throughout the years. In the midst of his musing, Ethan’s tranquility was disrupted by the sounds of soft moaning beyond the door of their resting place.

Ethan glanced with no little irritation toward the door. The sounds of obvious pleasure now mingled with light rhythmic bumping and gained Brit’s attention. She giggled to Ethan and said, “Maybe there are beloveds dating.” Ethan arched an eyebrow thinking of the list of guests they current had at the Shelter and counted two that might be ‘beloveds.’ The sounds grew louder, and Ethan rolled back his chair standing. Sounds of his boots made heavy thuds when he walked to the door. Checking his pistols attached to his thighs, Ethan opened the door walking toward the sounds which were louder in the hallway.

He turned to his left toward the hospital and noticed a human boy and girl grinding against each other on the wall of his office. “May I help you?” came Ethan’s low measured voice. The couple scrambled to rearrange their clothing. Both dressed in frayed, black and red checkered clothing. Both looked as if they could use a meal and seemed slightly unkept. Blinking, they shook their heads. “Are you new guests of the Shelter?” asked Ethan. Again, more headshakes. “Then you are trespassing,” Ethan said quite pointedly. “And further more, you are disturbing my evening with your…canoodling.” The couple stammered fast apologies and bolted before he could offer them food and a place to stay. Ethan watched them run down the steps. Turning toward his office, he encountered Brit. “It was merely a couple who seemed to be…engaged in activities of canoodling.” Ethan looked to Brit incredulous that he actually used the word.

Brit giggled, “We have guests who are beloveds?”

He chuckled and said, “They are not guests.” He grinned at her widened eyes, “They are…”

“LOVERS?” Brit’s eyes sparkled over thinking of new love right in their Shelter! “We should ensure they are guests. Then they would have a safe place to date.”

Ethan crossed his arms placing a finger to his own lips, “Brit, unregistered guests are called trespassers, and there is a hotel for those only seeking places to date. No one should be in our Shelter just for a place to be with their beloved. To be sure, beloveds are welcome here if they meet the criteria of other guests.” Brit nodded slowly, and he realized that she had followed him from the safety of his office. “Baby, do not follow me when I seek to check on potential turmoil. Stay where you are safe.” She started to reply and he hushed her by giving her a soft kiss indicating that the matter was not for discussion. He directed her back to her canvas.

Not more than three nights later, Ethan was again at his desk enjoying both his wife’s form as she painted while soft music played in the background. With snow blanketing the city, Ethan felt that Christmas was coming to the city. He read over an invitation to a holiday event that had been delivered and thought that Brit would enjoy such an event. Then he heard a girl’s voice, “I cut myself so I can feel alive.” The voice came from outside of the room. Brit put down her brush and stared beyond him to the wall behind his desk.

A young man’s voice responded, “You are too beautiful to scar the canvas of your body. You can cut me though, if it makes you feel alive.” Ethan rolled his eyes, but caught sight of Brit. She was enthralled overhearing such declarations between the unseen couple.

A sound of kisses exchanged was heard mingling with light moans. The girl responded, “But you are afraid of blades.” More kisses followed and Brit walked to where Ethan sat and slid into his lap. She grinned at him as if witnessing love itself. The girl said, “I would only cut you if I could find a way to do it using only wool and cotton.” Brit pressed her hands to her mouth processing.

The boy moaned into a kiss and replied, “Whatever makes you smile. You are so pretty when you smile. You make my tummy fill with butterflies each time.” Ethan rubbed his own temples not believing that he was hearing such things. Brit pressed her forehead against Ethan’s delighting that others in the city found love. Sensing Brit’s thoughts, Ethan tilted his head curiously toward hers.

Several seconds passed as wet kisses were exchanged outside of the room. Brit pressed her lips lightly against Ethan’s. The girl outside confessed, “You make me feel valued. No one else ever did, you know. Until I met you, I didn’t exist. Before I met you, my soul was a ghost without a home.”

Ethan placed his hand on Brit’s back returning her soft kiss while the boy on the other side of the wall told the girl, “I am so lucky I found you. It makes me wonder why I was even getting up each morning before we met. You complete me like nothing else ever could, and without you, I would wither and die, so please don’t hurt my heart. I will bleed to death if you do.” Brit looked up with real concern at the statement and Ethan blinked at the melodrama.

The girl said, “But you would still have your heart and you have mine. I gave it to you. If you left, I would have nothing left. I would be alone with my Rice Krispies each day. Just…” The girl’s voice caught before she whispered, “Snap Krackle Cry every day for the rest of my life.” Ethan’s fingers twitched on his pistol and Brit softly lisped, “Aww.”

More sounds of wet, sloppy kisses followed. The boy then said, “At least, you would still have a life to spend. I’d just sit in a dark corner and wait until the darkness is no more.” Kisses and shuffling followed and the boy moaned, “It cannot happen. Even though my chest is open and you have my heart, I am still yours.” Ethan slid Brit off of his lap and walked toward the door again as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Brushing back his hair, Ethan opened the door as the boy said, “You always must return, because only the one who broke you can fix you.”

Brit pattered across the floor and hugged Ethan. She lisped, “Please be sure they have a place to sleep…and food. There is too little love in the city.” Ethan’s fingers itched on the handle of his pistol. Touching her face, he marveled at her prettiness. Brit’s mossy green eyes were wide and sincere, and she was concerned about the couple so in love.

Ethan returned to his desk for the ledger. This time, he positioned himself so the couple could not run as easily. He got their names and registered them in his book before marching them like they were two errant teenagers to the kitchen and told them to eat some soup. The couple walked ahead silently and seemed bewildered they were being given food and a room by the man who accused them of trespassing a few days before. Both ate the soup silently between apprehensive glances toward Ethan.

Brit joined them in the kitchen and chattered amicably for a short time. Brief introductions and the couple seemed to relax. Sensing the sunrise near, Ethan excused him and Brit. The couple watched them both go upstairs. After thinking that Ethan and Brit were out of hearing range, the girl said to the boy, “Dude. Before she showed up, all I could think was Hansel and Gretel. You feel me? Hansel and Gretel.” The boy nodded with wide eyes.

Brit looked up at Ethan asking, “Hansel and Gretel?”

Ethan smirked at her naivety and was pleased that she could hear at such a distance. He kissed her hair and walked her to their resting place. Though the couple was roughly the same age as his wife, he said, “Young people today are tragically apprehensive.” Grinning at her look of confusion, he opened the door.

Twenty Years

2008-12-15T21:13:00.005-05:00

Furrowing her brow, Brit peeked again at Ethan. She could see into the hallway where the light was starting to fade from the windows beyond. Briefly she mused that he had not felt sunshine in so very long, and would never feel it again. The room had been set up so that the reflected sunlight could be glimpsed in the attached room, but the wall did not allow it to even accidently reflect to where they rested. The wall was a small marvel of engineering for which Ethan had paid dearly so that Brit could maintain her sense of day and night. Images of the night before flashed in her memory. She focused on each one as she pulled the threads of her gown that were torn and loose trying to remember at which point her dress was damaged.

True to Ethan’s word, Brit had not left the room where they rested. Requested pancakes had been delivered and he politely turned down her request to play a game of chase. At no point did Ethan leave the room either, and he spoke only when necessary. Unlike before when they spent weeks in their resting place, there were no stories or cuddles or anything. Brit had spent hours layering color after color over the same single line. Ethan sat at his desk pretending to go over some ledgers but was keenly aware of her. Thinking she might catch his eye, Brit looked up at him from her coloring book. He was not watching her. “Vexed,” he had said when she asked whether he was angry. Closing the book with a sigh, she walked to where six marbles remained next to a wall. Settling near them, she rolled them one at a time watching them slowly move to the other side of the room and come to a complete stop before rolling the next one. Once all six were clustered, she moved to the other side of the room to repeat the process. She did not notice Ethan’s fingers squeeze the ledger slightly at the inevitable soft tap as the marble hit the wall.

Closing the ledger, Ethan moved to the chest with his belongings and dressed as he had been the night before. He combed his hair back into the usual style and arranged himself to perfection. Returning to his chair, he watched her roll the marbles again across the floor in silence keeping her self busy. Hearing the sixth marble tap the wall, he rolled it directly back to her. “Brit,” he started softly, “I want you to explain to me what you did wrong. Try to go into as much detail as you can.”

Brit caught the marble and picked it up along with the other marbles to place them in a bag. “I made you mad…vexed…. because I left the Shelter when you said not to.” Picking up her few crayons near the book, she started to arrange them in a box according to the color wheel. Ethan watched her and noticed that her gown was scrunched about her making it look as if she were sitting in a puddle of damask fabric. She said nothing else but her thoughts added, “And that is why you don’t love me anymore.”

Tilting his head to the side in surprise, he moved a bit closer touching her chin with his index and middle fingers to lift it up until she looked to him. “Of course I love you. That is why I’m very particular about your understanding this cannot ever happen again.” The realization that his wife thought he no longer loved her caused an unsettling feeling that left him to babble slightly, “You will always do as I tell you. Because you know I am more experienced and will always care for you…acting in our best interest.” Ethan stopped for a moment to give Brit a chance to process before continuing, “When I go to great length to educate you about something, you will not ignore me…or let curiosity have you act against my requests. We had discussed this very issue just the day before intensely and you disobeyed me the very next day.” Looking down, he saw her take his hand and paused, and then added quickly, “You promised to obey when we got married.” She did not respond and he could see she was lost in thought. He whispered, “But of course I love you, Brit.”

“But you did not give me kisses. Not when I saw you or even when we rested,” she replied. Her fingers traced the shape of his hand. “Not when I saw you or even when we rested.” Her voice was not accusatory but seemed bewildered.

Ethan nodded in agreement. “That is true. You see, actions yield consequences and, depending on the actions, there are positive or negative ones.” He continued for sometime justifying reasoning for the lack of kisses. Her fingers trailed over his hand. Sometimes, the tracing took on the shape of patterns. Letters…numbers. Ethan did not notice as he continued, “If I did not care about you the way that I do, I would not really think about it and would have ignored such a situation.” She seemed focused on the tracing of his hand. Letters and numbers and symbols. Watching her, Ethan was saying, “Me being so affected by you though doesn’t allow me to act differently.” Brit seemed silently focused on his hand as she continued to trace. “I need to know you understand what you did wrong and not ever do it again.”

Even after he had finished speaking, she continued to focus on the numbers which she now wrote on his palm with her finger. He could see she was heavily focused and so he looked to her mind. She was counting. In her mind, she was adding, multiplying, dividing, and multiplying again. “Twenty years, Ethan.” The number twenty was clearly seen in her mind.

Tilting his head to the side, he kept one hand touching her chin and supported the weight of her head so that he could look directly at her. “What do you mean twenty years, Brit? Perhaps you will enlighten me as I do not see this correlation at this moment as what this has to do with making me feel you understand what the issue was and is, and what you need to change.” Setting his jaw, he grumbled, “I do not understand ‘twenty years’.”

Brit continued to draw a set of numbers on his palm silently. He could see she was deeply saddened over the realization that she had broken a promise to him and had broken her promise to God. “Twenty years, Ethan.” Looking up, she whispered, “It is how long you have made me wait for a kiss now, if I compare your years to mine.”

Ethan blinked once at her thought process and tried to do the math to see how accurate she was. Halfway through, he realized that she had just distracted him, though not on purpose. That would not do when he was annoyed that she allowed a distraction to take her from the Shelter. Ethan shook his head and refocused on her. “I waited hundreds of years for you to give me that first kiss; and I shall not have it spoiled by things we can change and affect with our behavior.” His mouth set firmly. “You will understand fully what you did wrong and be sure not to ever repeat the same mistake!” Realizing his voice was too forceful and too fast, he regrouped and said more calmly as he released her chin and adjusted the lace on his sleeve. “After that, you can have all the kisses that you crave.” Hinting a pout, he grumbled, “It hurts me as much as you not to share such things. But I need to know you understand first.”

Remaining close, she peeked up at him beneath her sooty lashes and her fingers caressed his wrist. “Are you going to make me wait twenty-one years for a kiss?” Ethan peeked in her mind at her thoughts. Her question lacked the manipulative motives another might seek: Brit simply wanted her kisses and he saw she was feeling rejection. His fingers stretched toward her face that seemed to shimmer in the low light with the porcelain perfection that it had attained via his vitae’s powers. Her motions were gracefully feminine and her eyes remained guileless. His mood grew dark at the unfairness of such a combination.

Pulling his wrist back, he focused again on his lace sleeve and said quickly, “It is not like I woke and suddenly denied you kisses.” His words were sounding stale to him. He tilted his head to the side and gazed at her a moment. Her lips had formed a perfect pout and she rested her hand on his shoulder touching his hair. Ethan blinked feeling himself wanting the soft touches. He straightened remembering what he was telling her. “Maybe I forgot I want to kiss you like you forgot what I told you explicitly not to do?” The words sounded wrong to him. Her lower lip quivered and he stammered, “No. I did not forget.” Her eyes seemed greener than he ever remembered as she watched him. Clearing his throat, he tried to remember where he was, “Because…I know the importance of such things.” Her fingers lightly caressed his upper arms. He noticed the whiteness of her fingers against his dark jacket. His words whispered rather slowly, “It’s a fact that…depending on your behavior…I will be seeking them more or less than usual.” Ethan blinked feeling her hand touch his hair again. He started to reach for her hand but ended up wrapping an arm around her. His voice grew softer. “Brit. I just..I need to know that you understand and will not repeat the same mistake.” His arms tightened slowly closing the gap between them. His lips barely touched her forehead in the softest of kisses.

Brit closed her eyes and held her breath through his kiss. She could feel her skin tingle beneath where he had touched. “I do not mean to upset you, Ethan…or hurt you.” Her body pressed against his and he could smell the sunshine on her skin. “I just do not think that kisses should be given for anything but love.” Silence followed for moments. Her body dragged across his as she stood on her tiptoes to press her lips lightly to his, as gentle as an angel’s wing. Ethan pulled her in tighter. The kiss reminded him of the slow, soft kiss she gave him in return to the first kiss he had ever given her.

Her body was warm and soft as she nuzzled against him. Ethan could sense her sincerity. His lips gave her another soft kiss. “No, you did not do it on purpose….perhaps this is what leaves me not pleased…” Brit returned each of his kisses silently and she seemed relieved to see that he still loved her. “You will think of things before you…” His words were interrupted by another returned kiss. “You will give consideration and priorities to your actions.” More kisses that deepened and lingered. “I…know you are not a little girl…you will not think like a little girl again.” His fingers entwined in her hair and his words were lost in his observation of its softness. “And you will always do what I go to great lengths to make sure is done.”

Pressing against him, she returns each kiss. “Okay,” she whispers wrapping her arms around his neck kissing him with a sweet softness that melts into a kiss that begs to be deepened. Ethan kept her close to him. His fingers never leaving their position as she takes more initiative. Nodding once, he felt she finally understood him. Her heart called to him. Again, he focused on the sound of her blood flowing in her body and the warmth of her lips against his skin. His other arm wrapped around her pulling her tightly to him, perhaps too tightly. Ethan lifted Brit up walking a few meters to his desk where he pressed her against it with his body weight. He paused a moment to ensure he had said all he wanted to say.

Ethan felt annoyed with himself that Brit could prove such a distraction. Placing a finger to her lips, he said menacingly, “You will not disobey me again.” His eyes widened as she opened her lips to bite his finger gently. Her mind was open and he heard clearly a ‘yes, Ethan’. He could feel all of her sadness being replaced by love. There was no fear in his menacing demeanor. “All women have the make up to be Jezebels,” he muttered. Not making any excuses about pinning her arms, he opened his mouth wide and plunged his fangs deep into her neck. Biting quite hard, he took slow but deep sips of her, much like a beast would take of its prey. The sips grew more paced. Keeping her pinned with one hand, he bit into his own wrist pressing the pooling blood to her lips. Ethan flexed his wrist causing the blood to flow into her more like a demanded sharing of him rather than an offering. He continued to drink of her as she did of him. His body kept her pinned along with his fangs in her throat. His vitae continued to pour into her as his free hand sifted through the multiple layers of her gown until he touched her bare skin.

Hours passed. Ethan had not felt dizzy from blood exchange, but he felt dizzy tonight. The slow exchange of blood for kisses and kisses for blood gave both heady sensations. Ethan noticed that Brit’s sweat had a pink tinge to it. After ensuring all puncture wounds were safely closed, he listened to her thread heartbeat and examined the deep bruises on her body. Sitting up, he blinked at the slight head rush and brushed his hair back. Looking down at her on the desk, he touched his lips wiping blood from them. “We won’t be going out tonight,” he whispered and carried her to cuddle until sunrise.

Unexpected Turmoil

2008-12-10T00:22:00.007-05:00

Brit woke about an hour before sunset. Her resplendent dress was crumpled, creased and torn. Threads poked in all directions at the pulled seams. Looking to Ethan still resting, she noted that he seemed more relaxed than he did as he rested the night before. She struggled to wriggle free and, once upright, Brit crawled to him to observe her husband better. He looked peaceful but disheveled. Like hers, his clothing was rumpled. Her lipstick was smeared on both of their lips. As she did when he was in torpor, she observed him. Fang marks were visible deep in his wrist and on her throat surrounded by dark bruises – all of which were healing. She pulled his strands of hair back in place and watched him rest. Gone were the fangs that were still visible when he rested the night before.

Two nights before, Joah had been freed of a presence that had captured her body. Lorne, Denny, Blue, Rhaven, and many others worked to coax the presence to leave. Brit had followed the crowd who observed the mayhem inside of the library. She noted the stench that emanated from the building and she saw the layer of maggots that coated the floor. Grr was at the door standing guard: His mind clearly. It was as if something was trying to crawl within her and was frustrated that it failed. Brit had felt the presence grow angry and agitated. She was sure that Ethan’s gifts of the necklaces and his vitae had protected her. Lorne and Denny struggled to reach her and help. Then as fast as it came, the presence left. To where, Brit did not know. With the exception of some scratches, that quickly healed, and Brit having the wind knocked out of her, she received no injury.

Returning the Shelter, she expected Ethan to be pleased that she fared so well. She was even able to help clean up library. When she arrived, he told her that she had given him quite a scare and he quickly patted her down observing her. At hearing of her evening, Ethan went silent and seemed to be processing her words. Repeating her, he broke the silence, “You left the Shelter.” The only thing that moved on his body was his hands that clenched into fists. Brit assured him that there was no real danger. Folding his arms, Ethan said, “I take it involves the Horsemen issue that we ran into the other night. I also take it, since Joah is now okay as you have said, that there was a banishment of pestilence. Such a thing is nothing but danger actually and it could have gone wrong in so many ways that it hurts my mind to even begin thinking about them.” His words had a hard edge.

Excusing them both from those who were present, Ethan directed Brit to their resting place. Sliding a bundle on the desk, Ethan said, “You will wear this and we will take the clothing you wore to the washing machine now so that it can dry over day.”

Brit followed him feeling troubled. His demeanor was impartial and efficient. His voice was detached. Processing as she walked behind him, she whispered, “You did not give me my kisses.” It was the first time he did not give her the triad of kisses.

Taking a seat behind his desk, he gestured for her to pick up the clothing he had placed for her. “Everything at its time.” Silence followed as he tapped his fingers. “Get out of those clothes, Brit,” he said. His voice was low and direct with no hint of emotion within. Puffing her cheeks, she peeled out of the soiled clothes while pouting over her lack of kisses and his odd behavior. Ethan’s eyes turned darker as he focused on her skin inspecting it for any hint of healing. After stripping, Brit picked up her bathing basket and went to shower. Ethan focused on a spot on the wall until she returned. Watching her dress, he said softly, “Tell me something. Why did you leave the Shelter after I told you repeatedly not to do so under any circumstances?” Brit started to pull on the clothing he had laid out for her. “I said not to leave, no matter who requested.” His hands adjusted a sleeve as she dressed. “I said not to leave, no matter what happened.” She turned and he took the laces of the gown’s understructure and pulled them tight.” His voice continued, “I said not to leave, unless I was with you.”

Feeling the stays rob her of breathing room, she adjusted and countered her weight to his adjusting the gown before replying. “No one, Ethan. I followed b..because I was curious. So many were going…and I heard someone mention the library.” He said nothing. “I…I suppose that I forgot for that moment.” Brit peeked at him and whispered, “Sorry.”

Ethan blinked a few times before looking at her directly. With a scowl, he arranged her dress on her perfectly before returning to his chair. Gesturing, he said flatly, “You need to dry your hair or it will stain the dress. The weather is cold and I will not have you freezing.” Fingers tapped again on the arm of the chair as he refocused on the spot on the wall. Brit could see his jaw clench a few times. His words were measured, “I told you to do something and I pointed out its importance more than a dozen times. You forgot, you say? This wasn’t a shopping list, Brit. I requested this of you so many times….What would happen if you forgot what you promised to God in the church for a night and did things that don’t abide by those agreements? Or if I forgot that you are my only beloved?” Shifting, his eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the wall and his fingers curled into a fist.

Brit turned to him as she picked up the towel starting to dry the water from her hair. She noticed the clenched jaw muscle and his eyes. His fingers forming the fist only to tap a moment more on the chair were also noted. “But…I am your only beloved.” He glared slightly up at her seeing that she was missing his main point. She hushed and processed more. “You are angry,” she lisped contritely. Brit put her towel down and picked up her comb to remove any tangles. As she combed, she realized that he was indeed angry and that he was angry with her. “Do not worry…I will not forget again.” Slipping into his lap, she kissed his clenched jaw muscle lightly.

Seeing that she obviously felt that the discussion was over, he growled low, “You will not leave this room until I tell you that you can. If you forget about it again, I will see what else needs to be done. You disobeyed me and you got hurt. You were injured, Brit, and only my blood kept you from being injured much more. And grim things could have happened.” Clasping her fingers that were caressing his skin, he turned to her, “I do not accept your reason of…forgetting.” Her blinks let him know that his words had finally made an impact. Of course, he had thought that his words prior had. To emphasize, he continued, “And I mean…you will not leave the room you and I are in at this moment. The Shelter as a whole is off limits. Any other place is off limits.”

Brit fidgeted slightly on his lap not knowing what to say to him. Ethan’s mind darkened as if his beast within was trying to rush forward. He wanted to claw the bricks. His eyes flashed red for a hint of a moment. Her closeness was the only thing that kept him from letting go of the limited control he had at the moment. With his eyes still focused, he muttered, “Things that I ask of you personally and many times and that you agree to…I should not need to make you promise before God that you will do them. A wife does not disobey something her husband has asked of her intently and repeatedly..You will not disobey me again.” His words stopped suddenly and the fingers tapped again.

Processing more, Brit’s eyes formed tears that did not fall. “I did not do it on purpose, Ethan.” She noticed his eyes narrow again and so she stopped realizing that she was not saying anything that was helping. Wriggling her foot, one boot fell to the floor with a soft thud. His fingers continued the annoyed tapping on the arm of the chair. She wriggled the other foot and that boot fell as well. Looking up, she noted he was watching her yet again. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Ethan nodded and went back to musing for several moments. His whisper was barely audible to her. “The road to hell is paved with the best of intentions. It is not about what we wish to ultimately achieve. It is about what actually happens and its consequences. I refuse to take risks where there is no need for them to be taken and you will prove to me that you are past the stage of being prone to forgetting anything and that your sense are keen at all times as long as we share blood. Once I am convinced of this, we shall see about expanding your world to the entire Shelter again.” Both were silent. He saw her wipe at her eyes. She touched his hand caressing the skin with her nails while watching him from beneath the veil of her hair. “You are no child, Brit.”

Leaning against him, she laid her head on his shoulder. Ethan looked at her and gave a small nod before staring back to his random place across the room. “You will not disobey me again.” He could hear her heart sounding strong. Beating….beating. Her blood pumped through her body. Her mortal body. She nodded saying nothing at all, and he felt the soft splatter of a tear that fell from her lashes. Brit’s body was warm, but Ethan did not seem affected by her warmth or her tears. Seeing streaks of light start to appear in the sky, he directed her to change into her sleeping attire indicating his favorite gown with the Victorian lace dripping at her sleeves. He could sense Brit’s bewilderment, but let her process. No cuddles or kisses followed. She had never felt him angry at her before, and she was confused why he was not forgiving her. After all, she said she was sorry.

Ethan remained silent and was hell-bent on not showing emotion tonight. His fangs could be seen beneath his lips as he lay on the bed next to her. “You will not disobey me again,” he repeated before his body went rigid in his rest.

Alone

2008-11-17T22:39:00.004-05:00

Brit stretched out curling her toes before snuggling back against Ethan. “Maybe it will snow outside. It is getting cold enough, I think,” she said. Ethan grinned down at her noticing that she had dressed in her bathing attire that he had obtained for her when they went on the cruise. Brit plucked at the skirt and seemed lost in thought. “Perhaps I should have worn something more.”

Pulling her closer, Ethan reached for a blanket that lay near and wrapped it over her. Brit's clothing choices always interested him. Tonight’s choice made him wonder whether Brit made her decisions based on memories rather than requirements of the world around her. As she cuddled against him, he felt her body heat radiate beneath the blanket. Taking advantage of her short sleeves, he stroked her skin gently. “Perhaps,” he replied. “But it matters not for now, Brit. You look charming.” Shifting slightly, he picked up a book and opened it, “Tonight, I thought it would be enjoyable to share a poem or two.”

“A poem. Like a story that rhymes ?” she asked as she looked curiously at the book. “Does it have pictures?”

Ethan pulled her head to his chest and shook his head slightly. “Poems often paint the picture in your mind. That is what makes them special. They need not to rhyme. Close your eyes and just listen to the words.” She turned toward him laying her arm across his body. Ethan blinked and pulled her closer musing that she fit like a missing piece of his puzzle. His fingers adjusted her hair so he that he could see her face.

Seeing questions form in her mind, he placed a single finger to her lips. “Shhh. Just listen.” Brit kissed the fingertip and smiled up at him causing him to give her a single nod before he opened the small brown book and read, “Alone by Edgar Allan Poe.” Looking down, he noted that she seemed to look at the book as if it yielded pictures. Flipping the page, he read:

“From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.”

Brit looked up at him at the pause at the end of the stanza. “It rhymes maybe a little bit,” she commented. He nodded and waited patiently to see if she had gleaned any insight within the poem. Brit processed. Brit liked thinking about things when he was near. He never rushed her and never grew impatient. “Is it a boy that is talking?” she inquired.

“It does not say, Brit, but I do not think it matters.” Her body had grown warm beneath the blanket and his fingers enjoyed the feel of her soft skin. Brit processed more and could almost feel his presence within her mind which caused her to smile up at him. “I agree, baby. Different.” It was a captured thought and he grew more secure that it belonged to her. Satisfied, he continued to read:

“From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.”

“Is sadness and joy the same to him?” Ethan did not reply and so she asked, “Does his heart love both?” Brit tilted her face up to see whether his expression gave any clues.

Ethan shrugged closing the book slightly but marking it with a single finger. “Poems mean different things to different people, baby. There is no right or wrong answer.”

He felt her confusion as she stumbled for black and white understanding. She pressed her head back blinking. “I think,” she lisped hesitantly, “his heart loves both sadness and joy.” Sensing that her thoughts had churned the verse and, now was waiting for more, he reopened the book and read:

“Then – in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life – was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:”

Silence followed for over 30 minutes. Her thoughts went over the words carefully. Ethan closed the book again so he could fully focus on Brit as she mulled over the words. Within her mind, he saw her dart from one path of understanding, come to a dead end, and back-up to run down another. Turning so her back nested in the crook of his arm, she ventured, “Maybe..the things that confused him as a child still makes him wonder.” Ethan touched the shell of her ear and waited for her to complete her thought, which came 24 minutes later. “Maybe, he remembers when he was little to help him explain stuff now no matter if it is good or bad?”

Ethan gave her an approving caress and said, “Does that make sense to you?” Brit thought it over and nodded to him. He grinned, “Then maybe that is what he meant.” She seemed satisfied with his response and leaned against his chest to hear the next verse. Ethan continued:

“From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,”

Ethan started on the following part when he was interrupted by Brit asking, “Do you miss the feel of the sun?”

Her question caused him to pause. Though he had not thought of it in years, he caught a glimpse of a memory of himself as a small boy whose skin was browned by the summer sun. The dew-kissed mornings and red-sky evenings were such a distant memory. His fingers trailed down her arm as he responded, “I believe we all miss what we no longer have. And often we desire what is absent from us.” Seeing her thoughts start to divert toward his response, he kissed her on the top of her hair and finished the poem:

“From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.”

The last stanza hung in the air. Brit processed and an hour passed. “His life was hard. And he was not like others. And good and bad all was part of his life and he needed his childhood memories to understand…because…because.” She nibbles her lower lip. “He was still the child maybe.”

Ethan could feel her struggling to comprehend within her mind. When frustrated by lack of connection, she would press against him as she processed. Her toes tapped when a connection was made. It was all very interesting to him. Brit whispered, “He saw demons and darkness where others see heaven and happiness, maybe.” Ethan cocked an eyebrow at her comment. “Maybe he felt neither joy nor sorrow as a child. Maybe his life grew difficult…but…he was not like anyone else.” Looking up at him, she lisped, “Alone.”

Ethan felt pleased that she seemed to be able to justify the title. With a glance to the book, he placed it aside. The book reflected parts of his life well. His fingertip lingered on it for a moment as he thought darkly that other parts of it fit well too. Brit’s voice pulled him from the musings. “You are not alone anymore, Ethan.” Her words pulled memories that he was happy to leave long dormant.

“Neither of us will ever be alone again, Brit,” came the quiet reply. Brit smiled snuggling happily against him -- oblivious to dark inner demons that can work within one’s mind.

Virtuous Women

2008-11-10T01:23:00.006-05:00

Ethan took Brit to the rooftop to get fresh air. Together they watched people come and go along the street below. The night air had grown crisp hinting at cold weather, but Ethan felt at peace enjoying the unusual tranquility of the city. With Brit snuggled in his embrace, he felt all was right with the world and then he heard it. The shrill remark from a woman in the shadows of the alley across the street, “You bloody bastard! I should kick your ass for cheating on me with that sow!” Ethan’s arms tensed and he glowered in the direction of the shout.

“The lady does not sound happy,” lisped Brit. Her head turned up toward his face as she commented. He smiled tersely down to her and stroked her cheek. “It sounds like the pig girl maybe found a beloved?”

The second part caused Ethan to grin. “I do believe that the woman is cross with the one she calls her beloved.” More comments from the woman followed, all were peppered with expletives. Brit blinked and Ethan growled low, “And, do not mistake this, Brit. That is no lady.”

With a tilt of her head, she said, “Do you know the lady…er…um….lady, or are you guessing she is not a real Lady?” Nibbling her lower lip, she asked, “You sometimes say that ladies are not Ladies. How can you tell?” It was one of life’s greater mysteries about her husband.

Brit’s question caused Ethan’s dark mood lift as fast as it descended. His arms tightened around her and he pulled her back playfully giving her a loving smooch on the cheek. He began to explain, “See, Brit, vulgar people use vulgar words. Take that ‘lady’, for example. She called him a ‘bloody bastard’, did she not?” Brit nodded and Ethan hinted a grin at her attentiveness. “Indeed, she did. I used to hear that word often from vulgar people. ‘Bloody bad work. The bloody bad day.’ It seemed that they knew what a bloody day or week was; but a virtuous woman should not know what a ‘bloody’ thing is.”

Ethan turned Brit to him and walked her to the wall that outlined the rooftop. Sitting on the small walled perimeter, he turned her so he could pull her down on his lap. Stroking her arm, he continued, “Moreover, a virtuous woman is delicate and should not want to know anything about such examples; for they would be disgusted or appalled should someone mindlessly slaughter a lamb or a bird in front of them.” Ethan’s voice trailed off a bit as he added softly, “At least….that is how it use to be. And the world was better for it, I believe.”

Brit seemed troubled. Nibbling on her lower lip, she processed his words as he stroked her cheek. 'Virtuous' seemed to be what he wished her to be. There was a problem and so she whispered, “I know what blood is, Ethan. And I’ve seen many harm others. Am I not virtuous?”

“Brit, of course, you are virtuous! You are always bothered when someone harms another. And I’ve not known you to sit and watch harm come to others for amusement. That would be vulgar and an act of someone not virtuous.” Pausing, he asked, “What does virtuous mean to you?”

Brit said softly, “To be nice? To be honest?”

Ethan nodded pleased with her beginning comprehension. “All of those, baby. Chaste, good, righteous. See what I mean when I say that a virtuous woman would not wish to watch torture and harm for amusement? It would simply not be nice,” he explained not quite believing that he used the word ‘nice’ as a basis for understanding. Brit nodded. Ethan brushed Brit’s hair with his fingertips letting her process more. “Think of what the woman said, Brit. She also told the person that she would ‘kick his ass’.” Ethan shook his head again and continued, “Virtuous women would not speak of anything vulgar, especially not of bodily parts left best not seen in public.” He adjusted his sleeve and commented, “It is unseemly.”

Brit asked, “Unseemly?” Ethan pondered how to explain and traced her lips with his fingertip as he considered how to answer.

“Unseemly is not suitable for the time and place.” He paused to let her think on his words.

“You mean…like when you said not to take my clothes off in public?” Brit spoke slowly and was pleased to see him smile with approval of her connection.

Ethan gave her a loud kiss on the cheek as a reward. “Precisely, Brit. That would be obscene, hence ‘vulgar’.” His finger traced her lips and tapped her nose. “I once heard of a young woman who teasingly greeted her old classmate with ‘hello, you bawdy whore!’ Now, this would clearly not be a comment from a virtuous young lady. Do you see why?” Brit blinked blankly to him, which pleased him no little. With a nod, Ethan gave a satisfied “hmm’ and explained, “A virtuous woman should not know anything about these things. Not bawdy or whores.”

“Ethan,” Brit said, “I’ve heard you use that second word before.” She blinked silently and he saw the wheels turning. “You called Marie Antoinette that word!”

Tapping his fingers on Brit’s side, he coughed politely and said, “Indeed I did. But we are not discussing virtuous men, now are we? No. Virtuous men are trustworthy and honest. Virtuous women are good and clean. They are chaste and honest and gentle. Like you, Brit.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow as he saw her mind continuing to process. She asked, “But…what if I accidently learn those words?” Her voice seemed alarmed.

Ethan chuckled, “You simply do not say them in public and, if you must say them, you would say them alone with your husband. It is simple to stay virtuous, baby.” His arms hugged her reassuringly.

More processing as she rested her head on his shoulder. “And you have stayed virtuous for so very long,” she marveled. Her long lashes blinked rhythmically as she continued to process. “So do you call men ‘virtuous, Ethan?”

Ethan scratched his chin and ran his tongue over his fangs as he thought how to respond. “If they are saints, yes, Brit. For the rest of us, we shall stick to the word ‘worldly’.” He slid her off of his lap and said, “Let us go inside.”

Narcotic

2008-11-07T01:05:00.009-05:00

The moment Ethan’s eyelids parted, he searched for Brit in the darkness. His vision quickly became flawless again and he hinted a smile finding her nestled by his side. Inching closer to close the gap the daytime sleep had put between them, he laid his right arm on her upper arm gently brushing back the strands of hair that veiled her doll-like face. He studied her to ensure that all was as it was prior to their rest. Satisfied, Ethan beamed for a moment while touching her face. His thoughts were clear: “Nobody can take better care of you than me. Nobody.” Withdrawing his hand, he touched her chest feeling her breathe evenly in her sleep. Her chest rose and fell evenly as she slept as he lay there unblinking and marveling at he wonder of His creation that he was blessed with.

Two weeks ago, Ethan had taken Brit to the church and watched as she performed her nightly prayers. Many were milling about the streets. He could feel the question before she asked it. “Ethan,” she lisped softly. “Our door is locked lately. It did not use to be so,” she said.

His footsteps sounded firm on the street as he escorted her home. They passed someone who frequented the church steps but rarely entered. “Yes, baby,” Ethan replied. “I thought it prudent to lock the door so no one could enter our resting place while we sleep.” Glancing down, he nodded once and kept a firm hold on her hand. “I do want to keep you safe, of course. And comforted,” he added in a lower voice.

Brit needed to run to keep up with him. She countered, “But…Ethan.” He seemed to be speeding up. She ran along beside him and continued, “It was locked to others before and not to me. But now. Now, it is locked to me.” Ethan was almost to the steps and she ran again to catch him. Clasping his arm, she whined, “I cannot go get cookies!”

At her words, he turned abruptly and looked at her intently holding up a single finger to her lips. “There is nothing that you need that I cannot provide, Brit. Nothing.” His jaw clenched slightly, “Anything you can get while away from me, you can get the same or better with me.” Ethan’s voice dropped to a whisper as he caressed her cheek, “There is no need for you to be away from me.” Turning, he walked toward the steps again to their resting place. Opening the door, he let her walk in ahead of him. Following, he said softly, “And I want you close. So close. Everything else is secondary.” The door closed and did not re-open again for her.

So you face it with a smile

There is no need to cry

For a trifle's more than this

After two weeks, Ethan was far from running out of stories. On the contrary, he found that he loved reminiscing and knew that Brit was interested in from where he had come. Ethan enjoyed Arles in 1888. The artist community that thrived during that year brought enlightened, lively conversation among witty, clever, and talented people who wore bright colors. Ethan smudged the deep blue kohl around Brit’s mossy green eyes and stood back appraising his work. “Van Gogh,” he told her, “used to drink absinthe in the Hôtel Restaurant Carrel in the Rue de la Cavaleirie when he was not crying over some love lost to a prostitute.” He went on to describe how odd it felt to him to view the old Roman Arena and remember when such were used, or to touch the medieval gate and remember it new.

Brit loved when Ethan talked of times gone by. She could not imagine her husband frequenting parties of artists and writers. Similarly, she could not imagine Ethan in many times of his life. Among the more perplexing were his descriptions of the fall of Constantinople and the Crusades. Also confusing was his role in seeking those who acted against God: The power of the demonic influences was lost on her. Brit loved his descriptions of when he first heard a truly modern pipe organ or saw a man-made object fly.

Ethan noticed that Brit seemed more focused on the changes of culture and inventions than politics and war. Getting a bit of midnight blue to darken her outer eye corners, Ethan dabbed carefully noticing the enhancement to the whites of her eyes. So perfect, but fragile, he thought. Brit was such a precious gift, but her fragility caused Ethan more concern with each passing day. As his brush stroked on color, Brit looked up at him and he paused as if caught in a spell. The brush slowed. She was his to love and to protect. Brit was his wife, he thought. Ethan’s lips parted and he blinked feeling God would wish what he was thinking. The brush touched her eyes gently and Ethan knew that Brit would never age another day; and God would approve else he would never have brought her to him.

Will you still recall my name

And the month it all began

Will you release me with a kiss

To be sure, there was much to consider. He finished painting her face and turned it left and right slowly. Perfection was important when one was meant to never change again. Ethan’s fingers ran through her hair and he examined the ends to ensure they were perfectly trimmed. Moving her hair to behind her shoulders, his fingers ran over her neck. To heal the bite mark or not? In turning her, their reason for being was no longer important, but his vanity admitted to enjoying them on her throat. Unable to resist, he bent his head to feel them with his lips. His fangs lengthened and he could feel her pulse throb beneath her skin. No more sicknesses, Ethan thought. No more worries, he reassured himself feeling his fangs rub her bites.

Brit’s head tilted at the touch of his fangs. One hand went behind her head and another gathered around her and pulled her securely against him. Breaking the skin, the small crimson drops welled and he tasted her sweetness. How would her blood change, he wondered? His fangs teased open her bite marks allowing the blood to trickle into his mouth. Sweet, like candy. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the flavor and closeness. He had all night. No need to hurry, he said to himself. Brit’s arms went around him and her fingernails caressed his back. Fingernails, he remembered. Healing the wounds, he pulled away to examine them. Smiling up at her, he leaned and carefully licked the wounds healing her bite marks completely.

Have I tried to draw the veil

If I have - how could I fail?

Did I fear the consequence

... dazed by careless words

Cozy in my mind

Using the cosmetic file, Ethan ensured that her fingers and toes matched and were filed to pristine perfection. Beauticians, he mused, should be the most learned theologians as they had so much time to muse. As he filed, he thought of changes she would have to learn. Feeding. His chylder learned quickly enough, he thought, which was good as she had become such a wanderer. What if the same happened to Brit? Could she survive and feed? To be sure, she had no issue drinking from him but who was to say she could partake blood from others. His eyes flashed crimson at the thought, but he had to come to terms with the concept that drinking from other sources may mean survival.

Also, if he had to leave town for a while, who could care for her? She would be a fledgling. A chylder as well as his wife. So loved. Would an enemy target her? Ethan was not so naïve to not know that answer. Plus, in his world, he really should ensure there was approval to insure she would be protected without him. At one time, Nikita could have been a reliable back-up, but she had not been seen in months. Pieter would tend to Brit, if needed, but Ethan was unsure he wanted to risk the exposure to what Brit would see in the Pit. As for Omega, there was also risk of unwanted exposure. Ethan took a deep breath and let his mind refocus. Perhaps turning her was not the best plan. Yet.

Chorus: I don't mind

I think so

I will let you go

Now you shaped that liquid wax

Fit it out with crater cracks

Sweet devotion- my delight

As the pendulum swung the other way, Ethan pulled her to him again. He loved to drink from her and had grown to anticipate the taste of her blood. Metallic after she ate mushrooms. Salty after seafood. Sweet after cookies and such. But it was more refined than the obvious. Her moods and biological responses also flavored her blood. Again, he wondered whether Brit’s blood would change so if she were like him. Ethan’s mind wondered as he kissed her hand again before gathering her hair and starting to brush it. He made a mental note to order strawberries coated in a rich layer of pure dark chocolate.

Another kiss of her hand, Ethan slid a white chemise over her head and remembered his earlier thought: Brit would not age another day. There were two ways to achieve such things. Perching on the side of the desk, he rolled up his sleeve. Brit watched how his hair framed his face. Seeing her glance, Ethan gave a playful wink and brought his wrist to his mouth breaking the skin. Shifting, he pulled her to where she sat between his legs and held his wrist to her mouth. “Drink.” Her mouth felt warm against his wrist as she drank from him. He felt her body respond to his blood down to the strengthened heartbeat. Pulling her head back to the edge of his shoulder, he watched the pulse under her skin and felt her drink wondering whether she found his taste as intoxicating as he found hers.

Oh, you're such a pretty one

And the naked thrills of flesh and skin

Would tease me through the night

Ethan kept his wrist to her mouth. He knew she did not require so much, but wanted to share of himself with his wife. Brit was his wife. His eyes darkened at the recent interference of so many friends. Deep within, Ethan knew Brit’s friends meant well. Those such as Joah. Kissing Brit’s temple, he noticed that she had stopped drinking. How dare Joah tell him that he was wrong in his choices regarding his wife! Ethan licked his wounds and continued to think. If Joah were not bad enough, Omega also started to question his choices regarding Brit. Flexing his wrist, he struggled to keep his talons in check. Rage welled up within and, with a sudden animalistic growl, he quickly transitioned Brit to laying back on the desk and hovered his fangs over her throat. Again the thought to change her. Make her more like him. Give her a life-long connection.

Ethan’s body trembled causing Brit to look over to him in confusion. She could not see his face or his red-glowing eyes. He longed to drink deep of her. To feel her crumple and revive her while he held her. His. She would be completely his then. His fingers shook as he drew her near and scratched her throat with the sharp tips. He could hear her heart dare him to drink. The angry energy of being questioned caused him to growl as he quickly pushed her to the desk. Brit’s look of surprise gave him a brief pause. Rather than seeming alarmed, she relaxed back looking up to him and her sense of calm soothed him. Rather than finding brick to destroy, his talons stroked down her body ripping and moving the fabric aside. A slight screech of metal on glass could be heard as he leaned over her and kissed her tummy. Soft caresses yielded a tranquil feeling as he sought, selected and sank his fangs into her skin and drank.

"Now i hate to leave you bare

If you need me I'll be there

Don't you ever let me down"

..dazed by careless words

Cozy in my mind

He felt her body respond and enjoyed the way the taste of her blood changed as he drank. It was a struggle to drink slowly. It was a greater struggle to stop. Ethan’s talons retracted and his eyes became normal again but still he drank miniscule sips. Each sip, he knew he would care for God’s creation. With each caress, he knew he would protect his wife. Brit’s fingers entwined in his hair as she felt her fingers and toes grow colder. Still he drank until her heartbeat quickened. Even then, he kept his fangs embedded in her without pulling more blood.

Brit’s breathing was the only sound in the room. Ethan removed his fangs once he felt himself again. Music played close by. He knew that she would never let him down, but he also knew that she would never be parted from him. Ethan’s body ground against Brit’s as he kissed her lips. Giving her a soft caress, he bit her neck again returning her bite marks.

Chorus: : I don't mind

I think so

I will let you go

No, Ethan thought. He would never let her go. Picking her up, he laid her back on the coverlet of their resting place. It had been two weeks, but Ethan had no desire to leave the room. He had all that he needed in the room and could requisition anything Brit needed to be delivered.

And I touched your face

Narcotic mind from lazed Mary-Jane

Brit felt Ethan's fingers again on her face. He had arranged for Annika to bring her food, but she was content subsisting on his vitae. “You will eat properly tomorrow, Brit,” Ethan whispered. Not tonight, he thought.

And I called your name

Like an addicted to cocaine calls for the stuff he'd rather blame

It had been two weeks. And Ethan noticed that Brit did not seem to care whether they stayed in. He wondered if she could endure watching a sunrise on a DVD one frame at a time.

And I touched your face

Narcotic mind from lazed Mary-Jane

If someone had asked, Brit would have been surprised how much time had passed. Cold, tired, and content is all she felt and so she rested.

And I called your name

My cocaine

While she rested, Ethan thought again of those who meant so well and knew that none could care for his wife as he could.

Chorus: : I don't mind

I think so

I will let you go

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jsj-37UrxeM

The Inquisition

2008-10-31T15:10:00.008-04:00

Ethan said, “Last year, you made a lovely witch, Brit. I enjoyed dancing at the church thoroughly.” Both were on the second floor of the Shelter and gazing out of the window to the street below. A neko in an angel outfit passed along with a demon wearing scarcely more than a halo. Raising an eyebrow, Ethan audibly exhaled. “I wish to stay in tonight.’ His fingers reached for her and he nodded back to their resting place even though the night was still early. She seemed surprised, but said nothing and followed him inside to their resting place.

Sitting in his chair, Ethan pulled Brit onto his lap before picking up the book on his desk. “You asked for a story, I believe. A Halloween story.”

Brit perked with interest turning to the book. “Oh yes, please,” she lisped before adding with a whisper, “A scary story.” Attempting to twist to look at the book, she rearranged herself in Ethan’s lap ready to hear the story and hoped the book held pictures.

He grinned at her interest in Halloween knowing she knew little of its history. “A scary story,” Ethan repeated. “And you promised it would not cause night terrors.” Brit nodded affirmatively as he watched. “Hmm. Well, very well.” Opening the book, he gave her a sideways glance and said, “This of course is not a fairy tale, Brit.” Seeing her look of surprise, he added, “This story is very real.” When her eyes widened suitably, he said, “It is called The Inquisition. I borrowed this book from the library’s collection – using my new library card.”

Ethan paused to reflect that he truly had a new library card written in red glitter crayon no less. With a shake of his head, he continued, “I selected this book because of your obvious interest in witches because witches among other things were focuses of inquisitions.” Brit had him pause due to several questions. He responded patiently ensuring she understood the purpose and key players in an inquisition.

“Now sometimes,” Ethan explained, “an inquisitor would be called to identify a witch. Those who were thought to cavort and interact with the devil were rounded up and brought before this man of God.”

“How would people know who was a witch?” asked Brit.

Ethan placed his hand to his mouth pressing slightly to suppress the grin. When he was quite sure he could maintain his serious expression, he said, “Sometimes, one could determine it by their dress. Such as a pointy hat like you wore last year on this night.”

Brit blinked and said, “Maybe the girl just wore it for Halloween. Like I did!”

With a half shrug, Ethan said, “Well, Brit. They would always give a reason such as that, but they could have worn anything. Why would they select such a garment knowing how it made them look?”

Brit said, “Because…Halloween. It’s all for witches and ghosts and vampires and…scary things….not that you are scary. But you can be scary if you want.” She blinked a few times before shaking her head not wishing to remember him that way.

“I am a vampire, baby. So I dress as one for Halloween, but you,” he almost cooed dragging his finger down her neck, “You dressed as a witch. Hmm?”

Brit squirmed and said, “But, Ethan. I…I’m not a witch.”

Sighing deeply, he closed the book and seemed lost in thought. “All witches say that. I think every one I knew back then would have said it.” He looked at her with feigned concern. “No matter. There are other ways to see if one is a witch.”

Brit seemed relieved, “Good.” His fingers still stroked her skin and he said nothing but seemed to watch her oddly, “Um…how?”

“Oh, quite simple really,” he said low. His fingers caressed her hair, “Witches often had red hair.” He let the comment hang in the air and he held her gaze. Her heartbeat picked up slightly and he said softly, “And often….green eyes.”

Brit swallowed hard and said, “But….I’m not a witch. I’m just me.”

This time, he simply watched her. His fingers traced her lips before caressing her bite marks. “Some bewitched their beloveds. And caused them to act in ways they had not before.” She tilted her head in confusion. “I’d never married…before you.”

“Because you love me!” she exclaimed. He said nothing. She turned an opened the book. Several pictures of witches before and after redemption could be found. “I’m not a witch, Ethan.” She peeked at him over the book. Her hand shook slightly as she flipped pages.

“Witches were often nervous when questioned. They seemed afraid in an interrogation.”

Brit squeaked seeing an image. “Yah….LOOK at what they did to witches!”

Closing the book, Ethan took it from her. “They have no reason to fear less they were witches Brit.” His voice was eerily calm. His fingers pointedly went to her hair, eyes, and bite marks. Looking down, he adjusted her wedding ring.

She watched him silently noticing his fingernails had lengthened. “Do witches always hang or get burned when they were found?” Her voice seemed stressed and breathy. Her heart beat had quickened a bit more.

Ethan’s eyes flashed crimson just for a moment and the mist sealed the door. “No, Brit. Sometimes they were drowned as well.” Opening his desk drawer, he retrieved his rosary. “Have you something you need to confess?” His voice was still strangely quiet.

“I….I’m not a witch!” She squirmed watching his fingers adjust his rosary. She repeated her words with a hint of a pout as she felt helpless.

It was all Ethan could do to keep from giggling, but he said, “I never said you were a witch, Brit. But sometimes, witches will try to use sympathy to cloud the fact they were a witch.” She swallowed hard and blinked at him not knowing what to say. Her heart was racing. “Are you quite sure….you have not something you wish to say?” he asked again.

“No!” She gasped and took a big breath suddenly wanting to get fresh air.

Ethan said calmly, “Tempers. Witches were notorious for displaying a flash of temper.”

Brit slipped from his lap and started to say something and blinked. Then she started to say something again, and puffed her cheeks. Ethan reached for his rosary and let it dangle from his fingertips without taking his eyes off of her. “I’m not a witch,” she told him again.

Ethan arched his eyebrow and reached for the book. Opening it, he read silently for several moments while Brit stood there and squirmed. “It says here,” he said with his fingers tapping the page, “that witches have distinguishing marks up on their body. Since you seem so adamantly wishing to prove to me you are not a witch, we shall take a look.” With a motion, he said, “You will need to remove your clothing. After all, a proper witch would likely hide enchantments in them.”

Later, Ethan declared Brit innocent of witchcraft. She lisped sleepily, “I told you that I was not a witch.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Brit. I never thought you were a witch.”

Sitting up quickly, she gasped, “You made me think so! You…you…you scared me!”

Pulling her to him, he gave her a sweet kiss. “You asked me for a scary story. Your mind did the rest.”

Happy Halloween!

The Nature of Beasts

2008-10-21T20:06:00.006-04:00

One evening in September, Blueray intervened with a tut-tut as Apollo reached to touch Brit’s bite marks in front of Ethan and, Ethan’s abrupt reaction and words caused her to smile cruelly. Her thoughts turned to the true nature of a beast when its treasure is touched. She had heard tales of it, but had never witnessed it for herself. Apollo seemed quite bewildered. Blueray warned, “Do you really want to die so easily?”
*****
Ethan watched Brit as she walked from the diner. Her three days away from him surely affected her negatively. His eyes narrowed as he observed. She didn’t seem as peppy as she usually was, he noted grimly and, before her absence, she would have all but ran up the steps. To Ethan, this confirmed what he already knew: While others could try to care for his beloved, only he really knew how to tend to her best. The thought briefly cheered him up and he watched her duck inside.

Ethan nodded briefly to the guests of the Shelter as he followed Brit in. When she slowed to greet those she had not seen in a few days, he felt his annoyance return. Patches of news were exchanged. All caused his mood to grow darker. He wanted to thoroughly check her over and her usual inattentiveness fueled his displeasure at this moment. “Brit, please,” he said as he gestured impatiently toward the stairs. A few steps later, Ethan found himself speaking to another, “I must speak with my wife. You will please excuse us.” By the time they reached the landing, Ethan muttered in a language he had all but forgotten, “Good lord. Herding cats would be easier.” As they reached the door, he said, “I wish you to remove those clothes when we settle.”

Remembering the pictures of medicinal cups that were applied to the skin, Brit stopped just outside of the door. Seeing others nearby, he wrapped an arm about her waist as he opened the door and easily deposited her inside the room. The door shut with a loud thud and he audibly exhaled. “Ethan,” she lisped softly. His mouth did not move but she heard his voice loudly within her head exclaim, “Do as I say!” She backed away slightly in surprise and bumped the desk.

Seeing her surprise, he looked down uncomfortably for a moment and rechecked his temper before looking up at her again. “Brit, remove your clothing.” His jaw muscle clenched as he added, “Please.” Watching him a moment, she nodded and fumbled with the lacings on the front of the dress. He could tell that she was not frightened, but she was bewildered at his mood. Her hands shook in confusion causing him to soften a bit more. Walking to her, he took her hands kissing the palm of each one and rubbing them with his thumb. Arranging them on her lap, his hand stroked her hair for a moment before he took her laces and started to pull. Ethan said softly, “Why…why did you leave the Shelter….our resting place?” His eyes watched attentively for an answer.

She watched him curiously. His voice sounded different. Thicker. Peering up at him, she replied sincerely, “My chest hurt, Ethan, and you were resting. And I remembered Joah could make people better.” He quietly loosened the bodice before staring at her palms again. This time, he removed the gloves to look more closely at her skin. His fingers tracing to her wrists turning them over in his hands as if viewing a precious coin to ensure it is the same coin as seen the day before. Watching him rub at a white fleck on her fingernail, she wondered whether he would answer.

Ethan slid the bodice from her shoulders and untied the skirt to watch it fall. Ethan’s chest rose and fell as if he was exhaling again and he nodded that he understood. His eyes looked different. Darker. His fingers removed the bodice and skirt completely before he lifted her to the desk to remove her boots noting that one of the buckles was even on the wrong notch. His fingers examined her legs one at a time as he removed her stockings after popping each garter. Noting no changes, he placed a hand on each side of her hips and said coolly, “I could have tended to you when I woke.”

“But you were resting,” she explained. It was all most logical to her.

Caressing her skin through the chemise, he noted a spot of fabric that was wearing thin. It wasn’t there before! Ethan could smell the scent of the library under the heady eucalyptus scent that still clung to her skin despite her shower. The library smell was not unpleasant, but it was not the finely milled soap that he had created after spending several hours in the perfumery. Without a response, he picked her up and carried her to the shower. Turning on the water, he touched it to be sure it was warm before removing her chemise and pressing her under the water.

Watching her play in the water a bit lightened his mood. Ethan removed his shoes, socks and jacket before quickly rolling his pant legs and shirt sleeves. Not caring that the fabric got wet, he lathered up her hair in the familiar vanilla-laced shampoo that held a barely-there hint of musk. His hands soaped her up using the same scent. Each time, he would bring her near and inhale deeply until she seemed familiar with his eyes closed. As he dried her, he noticed every mark that had not been on her before and quizzed her over each and every one of them.

After Brit was dried, Ethan rubbed lotion into her skin. Noting her smooth texture, he wondered who had supplied her with personal necessities. She had necessities, he thought darkly. Here. Shaking off the grim thought, he carefully started to comb out her wet hair. “Did someone comb your hair out, Brit?” he asked suspiciously.

Brit said, “No. I did that myself.”

Neglectful, Ethan thought. It was just more proof that only he could properly care for her. He smirked at the thought. Ethan selected her dress and make up for the following evening, but kept her wrapped in a large bath sheet for now. A few final checks and he felt that she was as she had been before leaving even if she had a bit of the cold lingering.

Still a bit weary from her cold, she snuggled against him. After arranging her just so, he nuzzled her neck and bit gently. Her blood tasted differently. Perhaps it was the lingering cold or maybe it was her change in diet. No matter, Ethan thought. It will be normal soon. With that thought, he brought his wrist up and bit so the blood pooled. “You will drink now.” There was no ‘please’ or other nicety. His voice left no question whether it was offered as he pressed it against her lips and held it so until she drank sufficiently.

Ethan was nearly falling over from needing to rest when he finally pulled her to him and set the mist around the door to protect. Waking before he did as always, Brit pulled on what he wanted her to wear and tried to open the door finding it quite locked. She fumbled with the mechanism. After a few minutes, she knew that it would only open when his eyes did.

Good Intentions

2008-10-21T09:42:00.005-04:00

Three nights before, Ethan woke and reached for Brit only to find a crumpled blanket. With an audible sigh, he rose, dressed, and went to find where she had gone. She was not in the showers, so he went toward the first floor coming to a halt when he saw that the first floor was submerged. The city had flooded so high that the water had breached the sandbags. Ethan shot back to the second floor asking the Shelter’s residents whether they had seen his wife. None had. A few questions brought him a bit of comfort at finding the flood had come in steadily but gradually. It was unlikely that Brit had got caught in fast waters and swept out to sea.

Regardless, he stormed up to the rooftop and flagged down a passerby on a float made of barrels. Masking his concern, he asked, “Could you go to the library to inquire whether my wife is there? Return either way. I shall make it worth your while.” Ethan paced the rooftop until the person returned. He found that his wife was at the library where she was being tended for a cold. His mouth set grimly as he paid the man for the information. Not only was Brit stranded across town, but she was unwell. Time passed slowly and Ethan’s mood grew darker despite his ability to get information regarding Brit. He had not been more than an arm’s reach from her upon waking in over a year. By the end of the third night, Ethan knew the streets would be passable when he woke the following evening. He laid caressing the space beside him when it was time to rest.

The following evening, Ethan travelled to the library. He took the steps two at a time and entered to find a crowd. Immediately seeing Brit, he merely looked at her without interfering with the conversation. Wrapping an arm around her, he kissed her cheek and turned to the group. His foot tapped on the ground slightly as he looked from one to the next as they spoke. Brit’s hair, he noted, had been washed in a shampoo that was unknown to him. His fingers caressed her locks and he examined the ends of her hair unhappily.

More conversation. Ethan grinned at Brit’s remark about way nice people. His expression darkened when he looked back to Blue and he spoke for the first time, “There are consequences for everything. Our actions always catch up with us. What you will decide to do will haunt you forever as well. I can only wish you luck and prudence in your choices.” He kept Brit close to him and caressed her arms. His fingers drug on her skin slightly from the soap she had used. It was not the finely milled soaps he had purchased. He wondered where she had bathed and whether anyone was near when she did so. Larissa inquired about the two of them and Ethan assured her that they were well enough. He added, “Brit has had a minor adventure with her health.” Looking down at her, he sad, “Which will be made sure not to trouble us again.”

More people came and went and the conversation continued. Ethan settled near the fire and pulled Brit to him placing two fingers on her throat for 30 seconds. He then brought his lips to her forehead. Brit held still for him and said, “I really do not think I need an onion poultice. Or cupping. Or even a remedy from this century.” The last was a quote from Omega as she held out the small bottle of antibiotic. Ethan took it looking over the label.

Looking at Brit sternly, Ethan said, “I do think that such a decision is for me to make and for you to comply with.” His gaze seemed rather absolute even as he continued to caress her side with his fingertips. Her clothing, he noticed, was clean and it smelled of eucalyptus. His abrupt words caused her to blink. She assured him that she was much better. At her words, he cocked a brow and his foot started to tap again rhythmically. “Much better is not well, is it?” With the same stern expression, he said calmly, “There will be no discussion about this Brit.” He stared at her as she crinkled her nose and struggled not to rub it. “If needed, I will treat your symptoms with ways that have proven themselves over centuries.”

Omega noted that Brit did seem much improved. Ethan nodded slightly at Omega and looked Brit over again. “So she tells me,” he said softly as he ran his finger up her side to her throat again. Pressing his lips together, his jaw muscle flexed beneath the skin. “Perhaps no poultice then.” With an added whisper, he said, “We shall see about the cupping though.”

“Cupping!” Omega exclaimed. “Surely you jest, Ethan.” Brit swallowed nervously and cuddled against him. She remembered seeing pictures of such practices and the marks it left behind.

Ethan returned the antibiotics to Omega. “These will not be required. And jest? Surely I am not. I do not often find myself in the role of the jester.” His fingertips moved back to Brit and stroked down her arm to her fingers entwining them with his own.

Omega smiled, “I will keep the tablets in case Brit’s illness takes a turn for the worse. Thankfully she seems to be recovering without additional measures – either modern or barbarically medieval.”

Narrowing his eyes for a moment, Ethan responded, “You surely mean ‘proven treatments that have been tested for more than three years on lab rats before being released to the market.” Placing an arm around Brit, he pulled her closer and ran his hand over her back and neck. His lips almost formed a pout as he stared at the patterns in the flames of the fire. “Antibiotics are…” His words trailed off before they even started. His fingers tapped lightly along the slope of her shoulder. “Brit, did you eat and drink properly tonight? Will Annika have anything to report to me?”

With the flood, Brit had not left the library in three days. She pointed out that Grr had made soups. Grr discussed what was in each healthy stew. Ethan nodded slightly to Grr and said, “I am sure you have made every effort to keep her well-fed. I do appreciate that.” Turning to Brit, Ethan seemed to almost be inspecting her as he said dryly, “So, you have not been eating what I have directed Annika to prepare for you specifically.” She tried to point out the flood, but was cut short with, “I believe we have a trip to the diner coming then.” Frowning, he took a firm hold of her hand and said, “We should go.”

Brit thanked all for helping her to get better and followed Ethan to the diner. Once there, he ordered food to be brought to her and asked that other supplies he had ordered to be sent to the Shelter less it spoil. While she ate, he examined her skin, which seemed slightly ashen and her fingernails – one which had a small white fleck in the pink just below the crescent moons. He grimaced as he touched the fingertips and noted they needed lotion. His mood felt dark as he thought of Omega’s near chiding of his decisions. “I will never do something that is not thought through with you, Brit. And you need to do what I tell you and trust me.” Tapping the table with his fingers, he grumbled, “I know what I am doing when it involves you, princess.”

As she ate, Ethan silently watched. His thoughts were troubled and he felt angry. Logic said that all was well and that he should be grateful that Brit had been well-cared for. Memory of waking three days without her played over in his mind. Petulantly, he reminded himself that he could have cared for her had she not have left! Noting she was playing with her food more than eating, he said abruptly, “I wish to return to the Shelter.” Signing a slip for Annika, he gestured Brit toward the door. Rather than walk with her, he followed a step behind.

October 14th

2008-10-18T02:35:00.002-04:00

Brit looked out of the second floor window. It had stopped raining. Peering over the railing, she noted that the water had still submerged the first floor. Returning to her pillow, she laid across it and took a deep breath. Brit was breathing easier. Even though she continued to cough and sneeze a bit, her fever was gone. Omega had suggested that she rest, and Ethan had not been able to travel to the library to get her. Coloring had been suggested but Brit did not feel up to the strain of drawing and, therefore, she did something she never had done before: She looked at the pictures she had drawn before.

Turning the pages, she noticed the picture she had colored a few days after Ethan had become her beloved. Her brow furrowed as she noticed there was no picture of the night on the rooftop. Looking again to the window, she blinked rhythmically. She focused and realized that a year had passed. Sitting in the quiet of the library, she counted. It was too confusing. She went to get a calendar and stared at it. Her fingers touched the date of October 14th. A year had passed!

Brit crawled to the library window and stared up at the rooftop across the street at the spot she first saw Ethan. They had not become beloveds right away. Months passed. For a time, he had gone into torpor. Forty days and nights passed. Day in and out, she had watched over him and cared for him as he lay dormant. She ensured he was clean of dust and debris, and she read to him daily. Days passed. She brushed his hair and took the liberty of really observing him. She even moved his lips so she could view his fangs. Prior to Ethan, fangs terrified her.

When it was time for him to wake, she was excited to see him moving again even though she felt a small sense of loss. It was the first time Brit ever felt a purpose. She felt that he needed her. Prior to torpor, he had given her clear instructions to pull the dagger and leave. Brit pulled the dagger, but could not leave. Ethan turned his back on her and said tersely, “Brit, you are not safe here.” She knew then that he needed her. Rather than leaving, she offered her wrist. Others arrived on the rooftop, but she was attached to him as he drank from her wrist. At that moment, Brit felt that he needed her and they were rarely apart again.

A few nights later, on October 14th, they were both at the spot where Brit first saw Ethan. She peeked back up at it as if to see him standing there. An odd being said, “Hello, dead one. Are you luring or preying?” Ethan responded and the subject of lies was brought up by the being. Ethan said that he could determine whether someone had lied easily. This was curious as Brit had just learned of lies. She asked him to demonstrate by asking what he could see in her mind.

Ethan seemed startled, but removed his glasses to comply with her request. He looked at her eyes. She found herself unable to look away thinking his eyes were as beautiful as the rest of him. Brit remembered feeling almost linked in the gaze. Her cheeks flushed pink remembering his whisper, “Quite unique. Especially for a human girl.” He turned and mechanically took his hand, and he did not pull back when she clasped it. The nearness was comforting and she stepped closer to brush back his hair.

At some point, the strange being faded away. Brit enjoyed being with him. When Brit neared him, his hand seemed to shake a bit. Brit could no longer feel the presence within as she could moments ago. As she came closer, Ethan’s eyes were less radiant and he held her hand a bit tighter. With a tilt of his head, he seemed to be staring at something rare in front of him. His eyes seemed more focused on what was in front of him rather that what laid beyond her eyes.

Stepping closer, Brit idly touched his hair as if he were still in torpor. Ethan did not move for several minutes nor did he say a word. His hand reached out and lightly touched his hair. He pulled her to him slowly. Ethan ran his hand through her hair once. Twice. His face seemed to show a hint of conflict as if Ethan was having second thoughts about what he was feeling; and then, Ethan leaned a bit forward as if wanting to close most f the gap between them.

Brit felt his hand grow warmer and she watched as he moved closer. Unbeknownst to her, she also leaned a bit closer in return. Ethan ran a finger down her cheek before outlining her lips before touching her face. Moving his fingers away from her lips, he gently stroked her face after pulling back. Then he closed his eyes and leaned in again barely touching her lips with his. Brit’s eyes did not close and she stood statue straight as she felt his lips touch hers. It was so light that she was unsure whether it had really happened.

Ethan pulled back a moment gauging her reaction and then leaned forward again to softly place a second kiss on her lips, and he swore that his heart was beating in his chest. Brit’s hand clung to his and her eyes closed on the second kiss remaining so after he broke the kiss. She blinked slowly a few more times before closing her eyes and mimicking his motion as she returned his most gentle kiss. Ethan felt his senses heighten and he pulled her closer to him to feel her lips on his again. This time, the kiss was bolder. And like before, it was returned.

Later, they continued to watch the city from the rooftop. The shouts and screams meant nothing to either of them. It was true that she had experienced nothing of love or lovers, but she whispered, “I think I always knew you would be my lover.”

Ethan grinned playfully and held her really close for a moment. The shouts and screams from the city below did not distract either of them. “I’m very lucky indeed,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

It was at that moment that Brit realized that, with his nearness, her mind was peacefully at rest. Usually, Brit struggled with thousands of sensations but, with him near, Brit found none of the usual distractions. She liked the feeling of him close to her. Wanting to offer him something, she whispered, “I’ll describe sunrise for you every day if you want.”

His arms tightened around her. “That might well be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. Brit remembered it all as she waited for him to come to the library for her. She hoped the rain would stop so he could remember the past year with her on the rooftop.

[Ethan, this morning’s sunrise was a deep pink along the horizon blanketed above by dark purple clouds. As you raise your eyes to the sky above, there was a vibrant tangerine that faded into a creamy orange color melding into light blue. Traveling to the west, the sky had a darker shade of blue. I hope I always describe sunrises to you. Happy 1st anniversary.]

Home Remedies

2008-10-13T22:46:00.005-04:00

((Taken from RP))
Brit woke disoriented and drenched. Outside, the rain continued to pour down hard and the streets were silent. There was fire. Turning her head quickly, she blinked and then recognized the warm hearth of the library fireplace. Trying to piece together events of the evening before, she clawed her wet hair matted to her face. Sitting up, she pushed back Denny’s cape that she had swaddled around her. The library was quiet. Grr looked up from where he worked nearby. She heard Joah’s voice mingled with Faye Li’s somewhere near along with Omega’s. Comforting, but where was Ethan?

Blinking slowly, she watched the flames jump and remembered being in the Shelter with her beloved. He was talking to someone. “I suppose it is all a big circle in the city,” he had said. There was something about the factory. It was not about the guests who had to work off a theft of fuel from there. She closed her eyes and tried to remember. There was a girl with a mechanical smile who made healthy soups. Apollo was mentioning cookies. Brit felt very cold while they spoke and Ethan had cuddled her to him. Then it happened: A tickle of her nose that caused her to sneeze.

Brit could not remember what people were talking about. She recalled that she was shivering as she accepted the hanky Ethan had given her to assist with her dripping nose. His hand slid to her head. Apollo and the girl with the mechanical smile were continuing to discuss soups. Something about shellfish. Something about ways to make them safe to eat. Ethan had blinked and said, “Okay. This is exactly why I said not to forget your raincoat or umbrella, Brit.” He quickly wrapped up his conversations and directed Brit upstairs. Ethan’s jaw clenched and she was quite certain that he was cross with her.

As they were leaving, Apollo mentioned a nurse who was suited for other purposes than nursing. Closing her eyes tightly, Brit remembered feeling very tired as she made it to their resting place and Ethan checking her over. He counted her heartbeats and placed his lips to her forehead. “My head hurts,” she told him. “My nose feels tickly.” His eyes turned dark as he listened while he continued to methodically check her vital signs. “I’m cold,” she whispered.

Turning her away from him, he said sternly, “You will drink now.” His expression made it obvious that he expected nothing more than compliance. Raising his left sleeve, he flexed his fist before bringing his wrist to his mouth and biting down. Hugging her from behind, he held his opened wrist to her mouth and noted that she was stuffy and had a bit of trouble swallowing. His strict expression flashed to worry and he held her a bit tighter. The night was getting late. He had her drink deeply and pulled her to him as he drifted off after feeling that she seemed stronger.

Flames crackled in the fireplace. Brit remembered leaving the Shelter. It was too early for Ethan to wake. Congested. She found her chest hurt when she took breaths. The coughing had started and sneezing grew worse. Feeling weak, she vaguely remembered dodging large puddles to make her way to the library. Joah. She remembered that she had come to find Joah. When she entered, she was greeted by Grr and Joah. Faye Li was there and Omega arrived right after Brit did. Brit remembered some conversation between sneezes. She wanted to be sure that those at the library prepared for the rising waters just in case there was another flood. The small talk made her forget why she had arrived.

“Do you have a cold, Brit?” It was Joah’s voice. She was unsure what it meant, but she felt freezing. Brit had never had so much as a sniffle before. The sneezing and coughing was bewildering. She explained that Ethan told her that she had been in the rain too much and Grr indicated that Ethan was old enough to know.

Omega walked to Brit and gently placed her hand on Brit’s forehead only to find it hot and clammy. Omega sighed, “You’re ill.” With concern, Omega quizzed Brit. “Does it hurt to breathe? How long have you been coughing?” Omega nodded as Brit answered. “Such infections are not as serious as they once were, but best to be on the safe side, yes? You must drink a lot of water and juice, Brit.” Brit explained that she had also drank of Ethan’s vitae and Omega responded, “Ethan’s vitae will make you feel better and you must also feed yourself in more traditional ways.”

After inquiring whether Ethan would mind if they helped, all sprung to action. Grr made a warm soup of items from his pack. Brit vaguely recalled packets of items along with a blue enameled mug and a long, intact celery stalk. He poured in water from his canteen. Omega conversed to herself as she diagnosed a classic flu and stated through pursed lips, “Broad spectrum antibiotics.” Grr chopped celery with his KA-BAR knife and added it to the mug. “I do not think you are seriously ill, Brit, but these things can become serious quickly. You must rest. No running around. You must sit, and read, or colour.” Reflecting on gentler times, she said, “Perhaps some embroidery.”

Joah stepped back biting her lip and opened a book. Grr continued to mix the concoction in the mug and placed it into the flames to heat. Omega had offered Brit some antibiotic tablets telling her to discuss them with Ethan before taking them. Brit looked at the tablets thinking they seemed like magic beans. Joah was silent. Omega said, “Joah, look outside. I need you healthy for what is coming. If it becomes necessary, we will do what needs to be done. For now, let us look to mundane solutions.”

All were quiet for a time simply watching Grr work. Omega told Grr, “I will need a list of ingredients for that brew you are making. Ethan will want to know. As do I.” Grr nodded and stirred the liquid. The celery and other items started to swirl in the steaming soup. “I hardly think Ethan will object over a coup of soup, but best to keep him fully informed, don’t you think, Brit?”

Grr said, “Oh. Sure. Is he resting?”

After a coughing fit, Brit rubbed her nose and worried that Ethan would be unhappy with her for being sick. To Grr, she nodded “He will be okay with it. He said fluids, food, and um…onion poultices if I were not better when he woke.”

Omega smiled, “Yes. All good ideas.” Grr listed miso paste, shitaki mushroom, dried seaweed, sesame seeds and small dried prawns along with some fresh celery. Omega added, “Perhaps Ethan will allow one or two cures from this century too.” To Grr, she commended, “A good soup.”

Brit curled up with Denny’s cape in front of the fire and sipped the soup when Grr gave it to her. She enjoyed the salty taste, but realized that salt was all that she could taste. Omega, Faye Li, Joah, and Grr discussed terms for the Japanese people through the ages and all agreed that Celestials was a pleasing term.

Onion poultices as medicinal techniques were discussed. Brit wrinkled her stuffed nose at the mere sound of it and thought that her fine milled soap would never take a scent of such a thing away. Joah suggested, “Or some use eucalyptus.” A vivid picture of a eucalyptus poultice formed in her mind.

Omega agreed that a eucalyptus and menthol after admitting that onion poultices were not so pleasant, which was why they had fallen out of favor. Joah was asked to prepare the former with supplies on hand upstairs. Brit nibbled the soup appreciatively between coughing and sneezes. Omega reassured her, “If you are a good girl and drink lots of soup and juices, and if you rest, you will feel better soon.”

Joah and Faye Li went to the lab to create an inhalant to help sooth Brit’s breathing. Brit inquired whether it would have garlic and explained that Ethan found garlic repulsive. She also indicated that he was grouchy over her sneezes. “Grouchy, is he?” said Omega. Dryly, she smiled and said, “Yes. Well. Your delightful husband will have to learn there are some occasional issues with a mortal wife.” Upstairs, Joah and Faye Li conversed quietly while mixing the ingredients for the inhalant. Brit sipped the rest of the soup and was comforted by Grr as she shivered from time to time before the fire. Brit vaguely recalled Omega saying, “Hello, Jason. Have you come to try to kill someone today or are you just here to chat about the weather?”

Brit blinked slowly as she tried to remember the events. Jason and Omega talked. Grr discussed his soup as Brit shivered by the flames. Brit remembers a scent of peppermint, eucalyptus, and other scents filling the room. She thinks she may have dozed off only waking to Joah’s gentle touch. Using a t-shirt, Joah covered it in the heady scent of the oils mixed to help break up the congestion after testing it on Grr. His exclamation of “It works! It works! Dammit, get it away! For the love of a scent!”

Deciding against the t-shirt, Joah found a piece of flannel. Brit told Joah softly, “Sniffles…and…my ears itch…and my throat feels scratchy.” Joah also noted that Brit’s fever was up. Grr reassured Brit that getting well will take some time. He ensured she was dry and comfortable in front of the flames. Even Jason showed a hint of concern.

Joah placed some of the mixture on the flannel after heating it. Then she knelt by Brit. “Do you mind if I pin this just inside of your dress, Brit? It will help you breathe.” Brit held still while Joah tucked the flannel inside poultice to skin and pinned each side to Brit’s chemise. As her hand touched the flannel, it seemed to heat up again. The strong scent drifted up to Brit’s nose. Joah ensured Brit’s dress was properly arranged.

Brit could not smell the strong scent. She felt exhausted. Joah leaned over and touched her lips to Brit’s forehead lingering a moment with her eyes closed. “The lady was right. You do have an infection.” Brit did not fully comprehend anything other than she felt terrible. Joah explained that Brit would get better, and said that Ethan’s vitae was a natural antibiotic for her of sorts. Brit did not realize that she had started to breath through her nose again. Nor did she realize that, with Joah’s soft check to her forehead, her fever dropped dramatically. And at some point in the night, her fever broke soaking her.

Brit continued to lie on the pillow in front of the fire. Just a few more moments, she thought…then she would go shower and find Ethan. It was a good plan. Her eyes blinked and she slept again waking nearer to when Ethan would wake.