Paper Anniversaries

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Great Exhibition

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.

Spring Rituals

“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.

Narcotic

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

Good Intentions

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.

Cookies & Claws

((Taken from RP))

Flicking her tail-tip, Binx pressed her nose against the dirty glass of the diner and watched the dark-haired waitress with huge eyes. Platters of pancakes, sandwiches, pastries, and other goodies were served up and consumed by those trying to ignore the kitty girl looking pitiful through the window. The waitress’s occasional glance and lip-pursing caused Binx’s ears to droop. Klaws yawned behind Binx and she told him, “I’m hungry. And the lady remembers last time when we didn’t pay.”

Klaws could hear her tummy rumble and shifted uncomfortably knowing his pockets only contained lint. With another peek into the diner, he tugged the back of Binx’s jeans pulling her from the window. “Don’t be so obvious, you impatient minx.” Her look of hopeful adoration encouraged him to scrounge up a plan. With a grin, he waved her to the side of the diner behind the bricks where the waitress could not see. Looking both ways, he acted as if he was planning a conspiracy of epic proportions. Binx walked backward following him. He caressed her ears and said “We shall outwit the evil powers of capitalism and other evils demanded of that diner. And redistribute its wares to rightful owners.” His stance changed. “That would be us, by the way.”

“Can that happen before I lose a life to hunger?” she asked before being distracted by the intoxicating smell of food coming from the diner. Suddenly, the plan to simply rush in and grab the platters of food from some diners seemed like a fantastic idea. Seeing her tail twitch and her muscles tense, he slipped the tip of his paws in to the back of her jeans and tightened his hold telling her that they would outwit the waitress in the diner which meant that they would steal with a plan! Binx’s tummy didn’t care about any plan, but she trusted him enough to listen. Her nose twitched at the scent of food, so he knew he only had her in a rational mindset for a short moment or so. He outlined the plan: She would distract and he would grab food. With that, she bolted inside.

With a plan in mind, Klaws watched Binx walk up to the counter and eye the tip-jar. “Do not even think of it, kitty-girl,” said the waitress in a thick accent. “Get out of this diner! I know you from before,” she continued. Binx reached for an individual creamer and then for another. The waitress focused on her. “You! Get out now! Right now!” Klaws grinned. It was just as they planned. Binx held her ground and the waitress, Annika, walked nearer to her. Just as Klaws had told her, Binx reached and pulled Annika’s dark hair before jumping back to flip her off. First, the waitress stared, so Binx did it again. As the waitress screamed at Binx, Klaws hid behind the column waiting for the moment when the waitress would chase Binx.

The waitress stayed behind the counter so Binx popped open a creamer and drank it, but the waitress changed to a language Binx did not know when Binx flicked the container hitting Annika in the forehead and slowly extended a second middle finger toward her. Shouts were heard by other diners. As Binx gestured with both hands, the waitress reached under the counter and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun causing Binx to freeze with an audible gulp. Klaws mouthed “What the fuck?” He never dreamed the waitress would have such a thing, much less know what to do with it. As Annika fumbled looking for shells, he jumped from behind the column and grabbed a small pitcher of syrup from a nearby customer and threw it at Annika soaking her in stickiness.

Annika screamed at both kitties and slammed a handful of shells on the diner counter. She fumbled chambering two as Binx grabbed tips out of the tip jar and screamed to Klaws, “Kitty! Kitty!” Annika swung the shotgun up and fired it directly into the ceiling. Plaster fell like snow and both Binx and Klaws sputtered while being almost frozen in place.

Hearing Annika fumble to reload caused both Binx and Klaws to move fast. Klaws put both paws on the counter and leaped over it. He shouted, “DEATH TO THE DINER OPPRESSORS!” as he ran toward Annika hurling creamers, chocolate milk and syrup. Binx hissed as a large piece of plaster fell from the ceiling and shattered on the floor. Only Binx's fast reflexes kept it from hitting her. Annika swung blindly at Klaws with her shotgun. He hissed and shouted while grabbing up pastries, cookies, and sandwiches out of the pie safe at the edge of the counter.

Binx turned to two diners who had yet to touch their food. “I’ll be your waitress today,” she mewed quickly grabbing up steaming pancake platters dumping one on top of the other. She grabbed up a container of syrups and ran out of the door at the sound of two shells being chambered. “RUN!” she shouted at Klaws who was eyeing an entire pie. He put all in his shirt and held it grabbing a quarter of a cake instead and bound for the door.

Both ran as fast as they could trying not to lose any of their treasures. Covered in plaster powder and carrying food, neither attracted as many stares as they would in any other city. Reaching the room in the abandoned building where they had drug a cardboard box, Klaws started to unload his shirt of the food. “Damn. That shotgun wasn’t planned,” he mumbled while he inspected his loot.

Binx put her platter of pancakes down inspecting them. “I dropped a pancake,” she whined. Klaws dipped a soiled cloth in water and wiped the plaster from her. “That went well,” she smiled meaning every word. It was difficult to clean the plaster from her as she divvied up the money from the tip jar and gave him half.

Forcing a smile, he finished dusting her off before she returned the favor while he picked a piece of busted debris from his paw. She inspected it while he stood obediently for her to tend to him. “Yes, baby,” he said nuzzling her. “We got lots to eat now. This should keep us fed for at least two days.” He was unsure where they would obtain food after two days since they just robbed the main eatery in town.

Binx helped him clean up after soaking the pancakes in syrup and butter. Both snuggled on the stained, patchwork blanket and hungrily devoured the pancakes sharing the platter together, each taking one bite and giving the second to the other. As Binx fed him bites of cookies, he counted how much money each had received from the tip jar. It was not much, but would buy them each a couple of drinks at the Haven between bull rides. With the cookie, they each had a few shots of creamer.

Caressing her, he asked, “How is your belly feeling now?” She pulled his paws against her tummy while licking his lips with her rough tongue. He pawed playfully at her tummy that was now slightly rounded with food before settling her behind him. Binx reassured him that all was good and returned the light scratches along his belly and sides while whispering that she was his kitty. At her words, he growled low and softly, “You are damn sure as muthafucking hell right….my kitty.” His eyes narrows and he raked his claws over her jeans. The sound of the denim almost ripping fills the room.

Continuing to scratch his skin lightly, she licked his neck very slowly. Her claws extended slowly. “Miiiiiiine,” she said possessively. He responded in kind. She repeated, “MIIINE.” Her nails clawed harder at his back as she repeated herself slowly over and over. Klaws arched his back as he felt her claws sink into his skin. His own claws dug slightly into her thigh as he held his breath enduring the unexpected pain. Her paws scratched his skin drawing blood along his back and he moved from side to side resting his head against her shoulder when she stopped.

Giving him the sweetest of mews, she pulled him tightly against her feeling the wetness of the seeping scratches on her belly. He lay against her wondering what she scratched before pressing her against the pillows and rubbing his claws gently over her thighs. Turning, he cupped her face kissing her lips and rubbing the corners of his mouth over her face and hair.

Later Binx stared transfixed at her reflection in the window. Baring her tummy, she traced the word “Mine” that was printed there in blood from her scratches in his skin. He said sleepily, “Why did you write that?”

She replied, “Writing my name would be too possessive.” He grinned wickedly as he settled back on the rolled-up newspapers. She traced the letters while watching herself. Soft purring could be heard behind her from where Klaws now slept curled up in the broken-down cardboard box amidst the rolled-up newspapers. Klaws’ face was covered by his paws and a small pillow that he clutched protectively. She curled up next to him usurping the pillow’s placement.

The Tango

It was official. Brit had taken to picking at her meals more and more. Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he examined her for any sign that she might be losing weight. He had sat with her for hours and felt that they had spent far too much time in the diner. Impatiently, he called the waitress over to clear the table. Setting his jaw, he held his hand out to Brit and wordlessly directed her out of the door toward the warehouse.

It was the middle of the night by the time they arrived. Ethan left Brit standing alone in the center of the dance floor to go put an old vinyl record on the turn-table. The music from the orquesta típica filled the large room with its strong, demanding sound. Honey-sweet violins played through the commanding mixture of piano, double-bass, and bandoneons. The weather was warming, and the windows to the warehouse had been opened for air to circulate. Brit was slightly wobbly because she had yet to adjust to the height of her new shoes. Returning to her side, Ethan walked slowly around her caressing lightly. Entwining his fingers with hers, he pulled her gently but firmly close.

The sounds of her rustling skirt and uncertain clip-clop of her heels mingled with the music. Brit felt his arm wrap around her waist holding her tightly against him. Ethan said nothing but watched her for a long minute. He placed her hand against his palm and the other on his chest. Assuming a stance, he pushed his chest out standing very upright and shifted her weight to her right foot. Saying nothing, he took a step backward with his right foot very slowly giving her time to follow. She was unable to move her right foot, so she stumbled forward with her left looking up at him to see if that is what he wanted her to do.

There was no hint of a grin or smile, but she caught a slight twinkle in his eye when she made eye contact. Ethan pointedly looked to his side while dragging his left foot past the right moving his body to the side in a long step forcing her to follow in a slow wobbly step. She was unable to look down at their feet and keep her balance, so she simply kept focus on his eyes and followed where he directed. As she stepped, her hip slid against his twisting her skirt slightly. Again, her eyes sought his for confirmation that she was where he wanted her. This time, she was rewarded by the smallest hint of a smile. He slid his right foot past his left and to her side, and then followed with the left before standing still just enough time to allow her to follow. She moved clumsily but steadied as she repositioned for the next step. His tight grip caused her hips and thighs to press against his in the process.

He caught her gaze again and gave her a brief smile of approval which caused her cheeks to turn slightly pink. She pressed her forehead against his chest shyly before he moved again forcing her to follow. This time, his left foot slide forward slowly and was followed by his right passing over the left one causing him to pivot. Both feet then came together and, as she followed, she found herself facing his gaze yet again. He whispered, “Again” and repeated the sequence of steps starting with the left foot sliding back. Letting his body be her guide, she followed his slow lesson dividing the steps into three categories: The opening, the middle, and then closing.

After the third set, he maintained the slowness of the motion but ceased to pause between each group of steps. Brit grew more confident in both moving in her new heels and following the odd set of movements. As she moved just prior to him, he stood very still and looked directly into her eyes. “Do not anticipate,” he directed before turning his head to the side and repeating the steps again changing the middle part by moving around her with three quick steps ensuring she was able to follow.

Ethan used his hands and body to guide her through the dance steps increasing the pace with each sequence. Keeping her close at all times, he often varied the original steps. Her body brushed along his hips and thighs, turning away often to be pulled back quickly facing him. Their eyes met time and time again as each part of the dance seemed focused on returning the couple to gazing at one another. Brit enjoyed dancing with her husband and found it far different than the times she had danced with her adopted father, Denny. “This dance is different from the others,” she told him as she was turned to face him yet again. Her comment caused Ethan to grin as he pressed her against him before stepping between her feet and bending his knee forward to dip her slowly only to pull her quickly upright again. Her giggles were short-lived as he pressed her through he familiar sequence yet again.

They danced quietly. Brit found she could follow his pace and lead by the subtle changes in the way he held her and his body’s muscular movement. She grew more confident in her ability to walk in her new shoes and her ability to follow his lead. Ethan dipped her very slowly again to the right. This time, he took advantage of the position and drug his fangs sensually over the side of her throat before pulling her upright again to continue the dance. “Never be in doubt,” he said quietly. “You are completely and totally mine.” His expression was quietly serious as he stepped to her side and pulled her around to face him again.

She nodded to show that she understood and they continued to dance. Ethan’s lead was demanding and exacting never allowing more than two breaths distance between them. His demeanor remained serious and seemed to fit the dance though such attitude might have unnerved her at another time. She stayed close to him, gazed into his eyes until both she and the night started to fade. Time blended.

He looked to the horizon as they walked toward their resting place. After kissing her on the corner, Ethan said, “We should dance more often.” A motorcycle zoomed past them. Ethan watched it disappear down the street and continued, “And you will keep yourself nourished so that you can keep up.” Directing her to cross the street just as he directed her in the dance, he said simply, “Do not cut your meals short, Brit. The waitress knows what to bring you.” His expression was not scolding though his voice was serious leaving no doubt that his words were not a request.

Brit peeked up at his face that showed nothing but love and caring. “I will eat what Annika brings, Ethan. Do not worry.” Just as she had followed his lead, it was the response he wanted. He hugged her to him before opening the door to their resting place where she slept in an intimate and tender embrace.

Summer Nights

Upon entering the diner, Ethan walked to the counter demanding that the waitress bring what he had requested earlier. Rather than explain why she had not followed his directives prior to his arrival, she dropped her gaze and rushed to the kitchen. Ethan turned to Brit looking her over carefully before placing his usual triad of kisses on her forehead, cheek and lips. Then, without warning, Ethan trapped Brit quickly against the wall with one hand about her waist and blocked any thought of escape with his body. His other hand held a cane. He asked, “So, have you been eating and drinking to keep yourself from hunger and thirst?” The tip of the cane traced her shoulder and neck.

Brit explained that she had been very thirsty, but not so hungry. With a glance, Ethan could see several empty glasses of juice and nodded, “So. Much juice.” He ran the cold tip of the cane up and down her neck slowly trailing over her bite marks. Brit reached up to his cheek caressing it lightly. Ethan placed a slow kiss on her lips. This time, the kiss was far less playful than the triad from before and he said in a low voice, “My good girl.” Brushing her hair back, he added, “Do make sure that you are not thirsty.” Seeing the waitress, he motioned Brit toward the booth.

Brit picked at the food more disassembling it on her plate than really eating. With a sigh, Ethan told the waitress to bring some French fries and was surprised when they too held marginal interest to Brit. Regardless, he motioned for Brit to eat and blanched when she dumped a river of ketchup on top of the fries after practically coating them in salt. Ethan fed them to her one at a time rewarding her with angel-kisses between each ingested fry. With half the fries left on the platter, Brit again told him that she did not feel hungry. He lingered against her lips breaking the kiss only when he worried that she might need to take a breath. “I have missed you,” he grumbled. “And the summer makes the nights shorter. And then I miss you more and crave your nearness.” His voice had a melancholy tone that faded as he leaned to her again and fed her more fries laced with kisses.

His actions and voice seemed odd to her. Outside, someone ran down the street screaming about a mutated gigantic frog. Ethan rested his chin on the top of her head and watched the man disappear down the street. “Are you well,” Brit lisped. When he did not answer, she said, “I rest with you daily, and I spend my nights with you.” He pulled her closer to him wrapping his arms around her protectively. She whispered, “Are you sad?”

Ethan allowed the waitress to pick up the tray. Most of the French fries were gone and a lake of ketchup remained on her plate. The juice was gone, but most of her milkshake and the Vienna-styled schnitzel remained. He said softly, “Not sad. Demanding and dependant of your time. No. Our time.” With a sigh, he continued, “With the summer night, I cannot seem to get enough time with you, princess.” He placed a pair of soft kisses against her temple and then her lips. Watching her eyes, he said, “I cannot get enough of my wife.” His voice was as soft as a church confession. Her response was a shy smile because Brit did not know how to reply to such words.

There was a drop of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. He grinned as he reached for a napkin. “Now, that looks almost like….” Ethan went silent as he dabbed the ketchup off and dropped the napkin on the table. Taking her hand, he said simply, “Let us relocate.” He pulled her from the booth gently while asking, “How would you like to go to the beach tonight?” He did not wait for a response guiding her out of the door. While walking, he said, “There are many other ways of sharing vitae…with effects you seem to be noticing.” He walked quietly for a moment while running his hand up and down her side over the lacy fabric of her dress. With a low whisper, he said, “I want to try something with you.”

The night was short and soon they were in their resting spot again. Brit was crumpled against him. Whispering more to himself than talking to her, he said, “I shall never grow tired of doing this.”

Binx and Klaws

((Taken from RP))

Exactly how they came to the city would forever be a point of contention. Each blamed the other and the memory was never the same, but one thing was agreed upon: They had stowed away on the ferry from the mainland, and neither had the money to return. While not use to these streets, the two were use to surviving and so it took little time to find the old fish market. Others like them had started to furnish the abandoned building with a few old, torn sofas, a table, and a make-shift kitty tree. They could smell the scent of others and saw a few come and go, but those never lingered. This was fine as well since both had relied on each other since they were kittens in the foundling kennel.

He sprawled on the sofa while sleeping and had woken Binx from her own slumber by knocking her off her perch on the sofa's back. She landed on her feet and hissed as she swiped at his tail. She was not an early riser by choice and was grumpy. Binx heard someone coming up the steps. “Are you the catnip dealer,” she asked. “If so, you are late,” she continued. The newcomer was not. Binx asked whether he had food or toys. He had neither, which caused her to wonder what good he was. She introduced herself before going back to the lazy sack of fur, who was named Klaws, and pounced him with an exclamation, “Feed me!”

Klaws growled in protest curling up tighter than before. His body language indicated that it was much before “rise and shine” time. With a wriggle of his shoulders, his whiskers relaxed with a deep sigh as he tired to return to his slumber. Binx sat on the back of the sofa and braced herself. She used her feet to slowly press against Klaws’ back to move him off the sofa. “Feed…..me,” she demanded.

Klaws almost fell on his face as he tumbled off the sofa. He landed on his paws and stretched all of his muscles before glaring up at her. “What time is it?” She shrugged telling him it was clearly time to feed her. He stiffened his whiskers and pawed sleepily at her tail. Practically pouting, he grumbled, “You are always hungry.”

Binx lazily swiped at the air above him. Her eyes narrowed seeing he was clearly intending to return to his sleep. “Of course, I am always hungry,” she said. “I’m expecting kittens.” She figured that would wake him up.

Springing to his feet, Klaws beamed, “What? When? Where? How? I thought?” The stranger returned with fresh tuna. He glanced at the stranger and then beamed some more as he turned his full attention to Binx and was wide awake. Klaws asked, “How do you know?”

Binx flicked her tail, “I don’t. I am just hungry. And now that you are up, we can find food.”

Klaws blinked a few times before narrowing his eyes with a growl that would have intimidated most others. He hissed, “You don’t joke around about those things!” He pawed at her tail and yanked it. “Bad kitty!”

Binx yowled as her tail was pulled and turned fast clutching it protectively. Remembering that she wanted to get food, she batted her eyes and perked her whiskers prettily. She suggested, “Fooood? Pancakes? Sharing? Pancakes with strawberries and ice cream.”

The stranger offered fresh tuna. Binx stared at it in bewilderment. Where was the pink mush packed in yummy aromatic oil? She nibbled a piece and thought that it might not be bad if allowed to bake in the sun for a few days. Klaws said to her, “There. Now you should be happy. Can I go back to sleep?”

Binx shook her head and followed Klaws with the second bite of the fresh tuna. “No…here! Sharrrre. Then pancakes.” Klaws ignored the tuna and settled back on his pillow admiring its attributes. Binx chomped the second bite of tuna. Licking her paws, she shrugged, “I guess I will go to the diner all by myself. Alone. And order pancakes by myself. If I make it safely, I’ll have pancakes and bring you back some. Since you are too tired to go with me to protect me.” Her whiskers drooped and she sniffled bravely. She then asked the stranger if he was going in the direction of the diner, but he was clearly not getting involved.

Opening one eye, Klaws grumbled slightly, “You would not be trying to get my sympathy, would you?” He caressed the pillow with one hand and placed the other on the ground as if trying to stand up, but was unsure what to do.

Sounding overly sincere, Binx replied, “Oh goodness no. I know that you will feel secure knowing you did all you could do should I perish getting you pancakes.”

Klaws smirked and slowly got up. “Alright, alright.” After rubbing his eyes until he was awake, he looked at her. “I have like so spoiled you since you were just a little kitty with closed eyes. Let’s go to the diner.” Pawing at her rump and patting it, he motioned to the door, “Now, be a good kitty.”

They walked through the quiet streets to the diner where a mouse-like waitress took their order. Two sets of pancakes with strawberries, ice cream, maple syrup, and whipped cream. Binx noticed the waitress scurried as she ran to fetch the food and reached over to the coffee machine to get the pitcher of cream. She poured two glasses to the brim of the heavy sludge-like cream and gave one to Klaws. The waitress noticed the empty creamer and glared as she sat plates before each of them. Binx perked happily as she mashed the strawberries and ice cream into the pancake after licking most of the whipped cream off. She almost emptied the maple syrup bottle and stirred the syrup into the gooey, pancake-crumbled concoction.

Klaws took big bites of his pancake and balanced the strawberries and ice cream on each piece. He fed her as well between bites and licked the whipped cream from her lips. “This isn’t bad actually,” he exclaimed. He ate hastily and took the bites she offered him in return. He watched her as she fed him another bite. With a drink of the cream, he said, “You are not really expecting kittens, right?”
She nodded, “Right. I teasssssssed you to wake you up.” She bounced slightly eating more of her sweet pancake almost as quickly as he did. Seeing his ears flatten, she gave him an extra big bite as a consolation prize and attempted a subject change. “This is a way good idea. I thought we were too broke to buy pancakes!”

Klaws looked momentarily uncomfortable when she mentioned the broke issue. He gave her a very scolding look when the waitress looked away. Shushing her with a whisper and finger to his lips, he continued to devour the pancakes even faster than before her comment. Taking his lead, she also picked up the pace and ate happily while sharing bites until it was all gone. Finishing her cream, she noticed the creamer was now out of reach. The creamers to go were still there and she dumped the sealed creamer shots into her pack.

Gunfire was outside of the diner and someone staggered through the door collapsing onto the floor. “OH NO,” yelled Klaws. “We need to help him! Call 911! Call the fire department! Get help quick!” The waitress quirked slightly and focused on the man on the ground while Binx and Klaws dashed through the door and down the street.

The Hunger

Two hours before sunset, Brit woke starving. A glance at Ethan reassured her that he would not be waking prior to his usual time. After unwrapping her body from his, she dressed while still under the thick blankets and made her way to the diner. There, Annika, the waitress who seemed to always be present, brought her a heaping platter of pancakes with succulent blueberries and slathered in butter and maple syrup. Rather than dissecting out the blueberries and attempting to soak up as much syrup in each bite, Brit devoured it and ordered yet one more pancake that was consumed along with two large glasses of juice. Her tummy was slightly swollen having eaten so much, but the craving that she had upon waking still remained.

She made her way back to gather up items for her morning shower. Letting the water run to get rid of the thick rust coloring, Brit brushed out her hair, and brushed her teeth with the small bottle of water she had with her. The mint taste mingled with the maple syrup that remained. As she undressed, her thoughts turned to the hunger. She felt hungry. It was a feeling that came and went but, even after eating, sometimes it lingered. Pulling off her clothing, she stepped under the sporadic stream of water. The feeling of it splattering against her skin seemed to sooth the lingering hungry feeling.

She could hear music from outside of the building. A blasting speaker somewhere from someone determined to share their musical taste with the rest of the city. The song was slow in starting. Like a frozen music box, grinding as if reluctant to start. The gravelly sound of the singer and the smoky beat caused her to sway under the stream of the water as she reached for the shampoo that smelled strongly of vanilla and sugar cookies. Pouring shampoo into her hand, she slathered up her long tresses. The splattering sound of the water pattered like raindrops on her skin and the tile beneath her feet. As the singer crooned “Closer, move in closer…Closer now than…Than ever before,” her hands started to feel the soap as it oozed down her arms even as she continued to move to the rhythm. The song continued, “I doubt it that you can survive…So far from your trenches and your friends.”

Losing her self to the music and moving her body under the stream, Brit’s mind wandered as her hands rinsed out her hair. Reaching for the matching-scented milled soap, she ran her hands over the bar until she looked as if she were wearing mittens made of suds. The singer’s voice demanded, “Step into this room and dance for me.” Her hands washed the bite marks on her neck and she could feel her heartbeat quicken. The singer’s voice coaxed, “Step into this room and dance for me.” Her eyes closed as she danced to the music feeling the patters of water continue to pelt her skin.

She thought of the gala the night before. Opening her eyes while dancing with Ethan and feeling surprised at how many were near. Even in the crowded room, she could feel only Ethan’s nearness. “Come on, lady, dance for me. Come on. Come on. Dance for me.” The deep hunger she woke with grew slightly thinking of the warm ballroom, perfumed scents, and Ethan's closeness. Tilting her head back, she ran her hands over her body soaping her skin. The water trickled over causing rivers of suds to pour down making puddles around her feet.

Not so long before, Brit tried to explain this hunger to Ethan while they were on the rooftop overlooking the city. When he offered to take her to the diner, she told him that it was a 'different kind of hunger.' Brit stretched in the shower while she continued to wash her skin and danced to the song that seemed to permeate every corner of the room. “Step into this room and dance for me.” She wondered if Ethan felt similar hungers.

Her mind thought of other times when the hunger would start to grow. Her fingers stretched up toward the water that was cooling. The music seemed louder. All of the suds were off her body when she finally opened her eyes to see an amused Ethan watching her dance in the shower. Before he could say anything, Brit walked to him leaving a trail of water. Reaching up, she looped her arms around him, pressed her body against his, and kissed him deeply letting his Victorian suit absorb the water off of her soaked skin. She was completely oblivious to his expression of surprise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBxGj3R0za0