Dressing for Summer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never Let Me Go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Body & Blood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.