Memorial Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Power of Touch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Låt den Rätte Komma In

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow, perhaps he would teach her Morse code.

Silver & Gold

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Kaló Pás'ha, Ethan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Great Exhibition

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.