Merry Christmas, Darling

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was snowing outside, and Chase was wearing two sweaters and a blanket to combat the chill that had seeped into the apartment she and Mikhail shared, crawling in through the space under the door and through the cracks in the windows. It wasn't exactly paradise, but it was better than the back of an abandoned cathedral, especially now that winter was beginning to set in in earnest.

Mikhail had left earlier in the day, and Chase had no idea where he'd gotten off to. She just hoped he was watching his back. She, on the other hand, was staying as far from the snow as it was possible to be. She had fired up the stove and was heating water in a blue tea kettle she had found at goodwill for a dollar. She couldn't afford tea, but she'd picked up a tin of instant coffee last time she'd hit the dollar store.

Chase warmed her hands over the glowing burner of the stove, wondering vaguely if she and Mikhail would get evicted if she started a fire in the metal trash can to warm the rest of the apartment. She decided it was not worth it and scrapped the idea altogether.

When the kettle began to whistle and belch steam, she wrapped a grimy dish towel around the handle and removed it from the heat. She pulled a cracked mug down from the shelf above the stove (who put a shelf above the stove? Can you say "fire hazard?") and shook the instant coffee into the bottom of the mug before pouring the boiling water over the brown powder.

Although Chase preferred tea, the smell of the coffee was pretty inviting and, wrapping her hands around the deliciously hot cup, she lifted it to her nose and inhaled the dark aroma.

As she sipped her toasty beverage, Chase watched out the window as people shuffled through the snow down on the pier, including a fat man in a Santa suit (which had seen plenty of Christmases, by the looks of it) posing for pictures with the little children who lived nearby. Chase couldn't remember ever having a picture made with Santa as a child, but surely her mother had made it happen at least once?

Out on the chopping gray water floated a boat with a wreath attached, the wheelhouse lined with tiny white lights that twinkled merrily against the dull backdrop of a gray sea and a grayer sky. Chase could even hear Christmas music playing down on the pier.

Chase had always loved Christmas when she was growing up, even though her family hadn't done a whole lot to celebrate the holiday season. They had always had a Christmas tree, though, some years a tall spruce, other years, merely a small green shrub in a pot. But by golly, that shrub would be decorated so thickly with homemade ornaments that it would barely stand up on its own. Chase smiled at the memory.

Oh, what she would give to have the money for Christmas lights, even just to surround the door of the small flat where she lived with Mikhail. She wondered what Christmases had been like for him over the hundreds of years he'd been around. She would have to ask him about it sometime.

And speaking of Mikhail, he'd been gone for several hours, and Chase was starting to get a bit worried. The weather was getting worse, and she was concerned that something might have happened to him, wherever it was he'd gone. The bounty hunters were still after them both, and she would be in a right state if something happened to him at the hands of her old crowd.

Now, that got her thinking. What would she do without Mikhail? They'd been together for several weeks now, and she was so used to his presence by now that she was certain she would feel quite at a loss if he were suddenly just ... not there.

This realization, the dawning knowledge that she was becoming rather attached to him, puzzled Chase a bit. They were more than friends at this point; indeed, they were a team, working together to make ends meet and put food on the table. Chase had even been bringing him books from the public library, reading them aloud to him late into the night to help him with his English (which was coming along quite swimmingly, though he couldn't speak it as well as he could understand it spoken to him).

Chase realized with some amusement that she was smiling at the thought of their time together, and she resolved to give him an extra tight hug when he returned home. That should be entertaining, since any sign of affection from her still seemed to terrify him a little. Indeed, the first time she'd hugged him, he'd frozen like a statue and looked at her as though she'd just tried to set him alight. She'd had to tone down the affection since then.

Ironically, he still insisted she feed from him, as she was a miserable hunter on her own. She would have thought that the action of feeding would have been more intimate than a simply hug, but she'd given up trying to figure him out completely and put it out of her mind.

Chase had been putting back a dollar or two a week since early fall, resolving to buy Mikhail a small Christmas gift as a sort of "Thank you" for his willingness to sustain her. If it hadn't been for his tender guidance, she'd never have survived her transformation, and while she knew she would never be able to afford something extravagant, she still wanted to buy him something he'd enjoy.

Finally, she'd found the perfect gift, only a week ago. The public library had been putting on its annual book sale to benefit a local charity, and after an hour of searching, Chase had unearthed a leather-bound manuscript, more of a journal, really, that appeared to be written in Russian. It looked very old, and upon inquiring after it, she discovered that it was a hand-written transcription of the Zadonshchina. The librarian explained that it was an adaptation of the Igor Tale, which originated in Russia during the twelfth century. It had apparently been found in the stacks, but since no one could translate it, it was relegated to the rubbish pile, to be sold at the book rummage.

Chase bought it for nine dollars, and she couldn't wait to give it to Mikhail on Christmas morning. Assuming, of course, that he ever returned from his morning outing

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

Fortunately, Mikhail hadn't at all been kidnapped or assassinated in his time out. He had been out for a bit now, though, his mind dead set on some task that seemed, to him, a bit silly, though from his understanding it was now a staple tradition in homes today. Honestly, he was simply thrilled that people still celebrated Christmas hundreds of years later, and no matter their style of celebration, he felt the most important part was that the tradition still persisted.

The snow had been coming down in earnest throughout the past few weeks, but Mikhail was fairly accustomed to cold weather, having lived in northern Russia after his escape from his vampire mistress. As such, that midday, he could be found trudging knee-deep through snow wearing a robe, boots, and a water-resistant overcoat. The robe he had fashioned out of the apartment's curtains (Chase had griped about that coming out of the apartment deposit), and the boots and coat had come from one of the secondhand stores Chase regularly perused.

At his side he toted an ax, an implement that looked rather out of place considering his timid form. Yet as he walked, he effortlessly twirled the tool-slash-weapon in his hand. But in his other hand ... he was dragging ... a tree?

The tree was nearly twice as tall as Mikhail, and left a trail in the snow as he tugged it along behind him like a child dragging a teddy bear. Luckily, as their apartment was removed from the center of town, nobody was around to chastise him except maybe a stray hunter or two, all of whom could only look on in a mix of amusement and confusion.

By the time he had reached the apartment, his toes and fingers were frozen over (he was wearing neither socks nor gloves), and little particles of ice were clinging to his hair. He didn't notice though, concentrated as he was on his task of shouldering his way through the door and then attempting to fit the gigantic tree through the door.

He struggled and twisted the tree this way and that until suddenly the thing gave and practically shot through the door, barreling over Mikhail. With a great yelp of surprise that disappeared with him beneath the tree, there was a thud and a 'wumph' as he collapsed beneath the thing.

"Uhm ... oh dear," he squeaked as he wriggled his way out from beneath the tree. He paused for breath, sitting on the floor, and only just then did he realize Chase was home.

He froze like a deer in headlights, blinking stupidly at her, before he dissolved into a babbling attempt at an explanation.

"I was thinking ... that like other houses, we can have tree too," he stammered up at her, wringing his hands together and giving the gigantic tree a pitiful pat. "I find tree by lake, good size, so cut down," he went on, now brandishing the ax he had used.

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chase, absorbed by her own musings, jumped when she heard the door open with something not unlike a crash. She turned to face the door and had to stare open-mouthed for a few chilly minutes before she comprehended exactly what Mikhail was dragging into their apartment.

When she realized that her roommate, who rarely ventured out of their home for anything other than food, had gone out in the bitter cold to find a Christmas tree, tears welled up in her eyes. The warm tears stung her rather chilly eyeballs.

"What- Where- I don't-" Chase couldn't get her brain to form complete sentences. She merely stared, slack-jawed, as Mikhail wrestled the nearly twelve-foot tree through the door. It seemed to be quite reluctant to come inside, until Mikhail gave a particularly convincing yank, at which point the tree surged through the open door and seemed to tackle Mikhail to the ground.

"Oh my- Are you okay?" Chase's voice came out in something like a shriek. She was still awfully surprised at the new addition to their decor.

Mikhail, however, wriggled out from under the behemoth, and started trying to explain the tree's arrival in English that was liberally sprinkled with Russian. Chase couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiastic waving of the ax in his hand. She had a particularly enjoyable image of Mikhail trudging down the main thoroughfare, tree dragged behind him, swinging the ax by his side. The Merry Murderer, she thought with a badly suppressed giggle.

"I can't believe you got us a tree," she said in disbelief. "Mikhail, that thing isn't even going to fit," she laughed. She was loving this. "You are a crazy, crazy, crazy man. I love it." She was circling the tree, trying to figure out how she and Mikhail were going to get it to stay upright, if they could get it to that position in the first place. The smile on her face just kept getting bigger and bigger.

"Holy crap," she exclaimed, "there's a bird's nest in here!" She reached into the splayed branches and extricated a tiny nest of twigs and feathers, peeking inside to see if there were any remaining residents.

"This is so cool," she said, quieter now, but still grinning rather foolishly. "So cool."

For the next five minutes, she chattered on about where they should put it (not that they had any furniture that would need moving), her merry postulating interrupted every few seconds by more declarations of "how cool" and "you're the best!"

After she'd worn herself out, she collapsed on their crappy futon and said, slightly breathlessly, "We should have a Christmas dinner." Visions of sugarplums danced in her head, and then the sugarplums morphed into Butterball turkeys and bowls of canned cranberry sauce and platters heaped with mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. They wouldn't be able to do too much on their sparse budget, but Chase decided a trip to the dollar grocery on the pier was in order.

"Let me get my coat," she said, rising from the futon and looking around for her shoes. "We're going to the grocery store. And don't look at me like that, you're coming too," she said, giving Mikhail her best "don't-argue-with-me-about-this-one" look. It wasn't as intimidating as her mother's own stare, true enough, but as he shrugged on her second-hand pea coat and made for the mason jar in the cupboard where they stashed their savings, humming "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" all the while, she noticed that Mikhail didn't take his coat off, so it must have worked.

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

After he had finished his hasty explanation, Mikhail pushed himself to his feet, brushing the snow off of his coat with his free hand, the ax still dangling in the other. His cheeks were absolutely florid now, and probably not just from the cold. He blinked wide-eyed at Chase, as if expecting a reprimand, but when she burst out laughing, a nervous but earnest smile crept across his pale features.

He looked a bit disappointed when she pointed out that it was probably too large to stand up in their cramped apartment, and, frowning, he looked up at the ceiling, then back to the tree, his face contorted in frustration.

"Yes, probably not fit," he sighed dejectedly. And then in the next moment he had swung the ax around and rather suddenly lopped off the bottom two or so feet of the tree's trunk, the blade just narrowly missing Chase as she rummaged for birds' nests.

"There, now fit," he proclaimed triumphantly, nodding affirmatively as he lowered the ax again.

While Chase prattled on about where to place the tree, Mikhail dropped the ax and picked up the tree to stand it up, testing its height. Yes, it still kind of scraped the ceiling but it would suffice. He was about to proceed with dragging it around the room at Chase's instructions (or were they really instructions? Maybe she was just musing), but then abandoned it to lean against a corner once Chase proclaimed that they were going out.

"Grocery? Store? Why? Could catch goose instead. Or giant bird with big feathers." He was talking about turkeys, but he had never seen one before so he didn't know what they were called. "Wild birds live near lake. One is many Christmas feast."

Mikhail had become exceedingly more talkative as his English had improved, though it was only around Chase. Whenever she managed to drag him into public, he said very little, usually only speaking when prompted, and in very few words. Needless to say, he had grown much more comfortable around her, even though her random hugs still seemed to scare him halfway across the room. Ironically, though, the feeding was treated as routine.

"When growing up, had Christmas feast. Umbles of deer. Pheasant. But in monastery, more modest. No special food, only larger portion. Meat and ale," he mused thoughtfully, smiling to himself that he had remembered that. After all, his memories still seemed to be locked away somewhere, and he could only remember bits and pieces at a time, and usually unrelated bits too.

In any case, he was already dressed to go, and he made to linger by the door, waiting, before he remembered something, his eyes lighting up.

"Oh, woman at orphanage give gift. I forget," he squeaked excitedly, as he trudged to a pile of random items stashed under the futon (he usually slept here since he couldn't quite comprehend sharing a bedroom with Chase). After rummaging a bit, he pulled out a beat-up, paper-wrapped box, and tearing the paper away, he brandished the (obviously used) strings of Christmas lights.

"Woman says put on tree. Candles don't burn tree," he explained, just in case Chase didn't know.

Beaming, he jumped to his feet again, now ready to head out. His impermeable coat went to about his knee, so yes his homemade robe did peek out from underneath. But he obviously wasn't planning on changing; in fact he actually looked excited about going.

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chase was barely paying attention to Mikhail as she shrugged on her coat, thinking of all the wonderful food she wanted to buy. So what if they didn't have to eat human food? She was craving green bean casserole. She figured they could afford a few things to make a good, home-style Christmas meal, even if it meant they had to go without for a couple of days. There would be leftovers, right?

As Mikhail spoke of catching a "big bird with feathers," Chase laughed at his naivete, but couldn't feel anything but warm feelings toward him after he'd gone out and chopped her down a tree for Christmas.

When he pulled out the lights from the woman at the shelter where he volunteered, she shrieked with delight and went right up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're brilliant," she said, beaming at him. "The absolute best." She hugged him tightly to her, and noticed that her head rested just beneath his chin.

One more swift peck on the cheek, and then she grabbed his hand in hers and dragged him from the apartment, down the stairs, and out onto the snowy street.

The snow was falling afresh, and Chase, in the powerful grip of the Christmas spirit, flung her arms out and spun in a circle, tongue out to catch a snowflake. The large flakes fell in her dark hair, which was loose now, and caught in her eyelashes.

She waited for a moment when Mikhail wasn't paying attention, ducked to the ground and scooped up a handful of snow, and hurled it at him.

"I love Christmas!" She said, unable to wipe the smile (which some might think made her look quite mad) off her face.

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

Despite his initial fears that Chase would think his tree-fetching silly, it seemed like she was in good spirits because of the time of the year, and naturally it was infectious. His own smile lingered as they gathered their things to go, though it faltered briefly when she grabbed him and kissed his cheek. That was met with a squeak and a buggy-eyed expression, but it was quickly forgotten once they had left the apartment, starting the short walk down the waterfront.

Mikhail couldn't help chuckling to himself at Chase's antics, his pleasant smile back on his face. He folded his hands behind him, humming cheerfully as they walked; the song was pentatonic, probably some old monastery processional in honor of Advent.

Which is what he assumed Chase meant by 'Christmas.' Christmas was only one day. Advent was the season. Splitting hairs, yes, but these things he did not forget. Funny how particular his memory was.

He jumped in surprise when the snowball suddenly pelted him in the side, but when he realized it was Chase, he blinked stupidly, not comprehending the gesture. Seeing that she was not angry, though, he laughed quietly again, his pale cheeks already bright red from the cold.

"It is nice. Much reason to be joyous," he mused happily, brushing the residual snowball from his coat, and wishing he had something to cover his ears, which were already feeling frozen.

By the time they reached the grocery store, Mikhail had grown quiet again, blinking up in wonder at the cheap but festive Christmas decorations strewn about everywhere. There was the usual dollar-store-riffraff present, yes, but there were also plenty of modest families gathering what they could to celebrate as well. Sort of like him and Chase, he reflected.

"What is for cooking? Saffron and butter? And deer heart and tongue," he thought aloud. "For pie," he nodded, oblivious to the strange looks being sent his way by the nearest white trash couple. When he noticed, though, he simply beamed at them. "Merry Advent," he chirped earnestly, before being pulled away by Chase - probably a good thing.

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chase was happy to reach the grocers, if for no other reason than that it was heated inside. She didn't remove her coat, however. She did grab a shopping basket (no need for the rolling cart- she couldn't afford enough to fill it anyway).

As she wandered the aisles, she picked random things off the shelf, looked at the price, and with the exception of a few items, put them right back again. She did place a can of green beans and a can of cranberry sauce in the basket, though.

At Mikhail's suggestion of deer meat, Chase wrinkled her nose in distaste. However, when she saw a trashy woman nearby make the exact same face after overhearing Mikhail, Chase smiled sweetly and said, "Bambi meat, mmm!" The woman made tracks for the door as Mikhail called "Merry Advent" to her retreating back. Chase grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to another aisle.

"Okay," she chirped as she looked for a price sticker on a box of broken candy canes, "Do you like peppermint? Do you even know what peppermint is? Oh, forget it." She threw the box of candy into their basket and moved on.

In addition to the green beans, cranberries, and candy canes, she selected sliced turkey from the lunch meat cooler (they would never be able to afford a whole turkey, and furthermore, the two of them would not eat much of it), a loaf of bread, and a frozen pumpkin pie, which obviously mandated that she grab a tub of Reddy Whip. She briefly entertained the idea that she might just eat the whipped cream out of the tub with a spoon.

"Okay," she said, mentally totaling their bill. "I think that's about all we can- oh, wait just a sec." She thrust the basket into Mikhail's hands and made a beeline for the last aisle. When she returned, she was carrying two boxes: one contained two plastic champagne flutes, and the other was a box of the cheapest Eggnog she could find on the shelf.

"Can't do Christmas without a little booze," she said, and gestured to the check out line with a nod of her head.

When they reached their turn in the check out line, Chase noticed that the kid checking everyone out looked like he was only here because he was being punished by the gods. Chase wanted to say something jolly to cheer him up, but her tidings of peace and goodwill toward men were met with an icy, red-eyed glare.

"Okay then," she said, and grabbing their bag in one hand and Mikhail's arm with the other, she plunged out the doors and back into the biting cold.

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

Returning his attention to Chase after waving the disgruntled woman away, Mikhail smiled his usual blank smile and began to follow Chase down the aisles, though he stopped frequently and risked being left behind as he stared wide-eyed at the strange items that littered the shelves. In his mind, this place was something not unlike a flea market, although no merchants stood watch over their wares, which he found quite unwise.

"Peppermint?" he repeated, blinking at the box of red and white candied fragments. Those didn't look anything like peppermint, so he assumed they were perhaps just solidified peppermint oils. The world today was obsessed with conveniences, he'd observed.

For every item Chase threw into the basket, Mikhail plucked it out again to read the label and shake or turn over the package, before dropping it back in the basket. He seemed especially enamored by the fact that the bird came sliced and packaged so succinctly, and he spent a good minute or two poking at the package, marveling at its neatness.

"Booze? What is a booze?" Mikhail questioned, still overwhelmed by the various stimuli in the store as he followed Chase back to the merchant at the front. Despite the fact that they were purchasing his wares, the merchant did not seem happy at all. He seemed even less happy when he noticed Mikhail staring owl-eyed at him, a look that lingered until, again, Chase dragged them off.

"Why is mad? We buy goods, should become happy," he mused as they made their way back down the street. "Strange merchant."

Mikhail was already entertaining the idea of making a hat for himself later, since his ears were still frozen. He tucked his hair around them for now, wishing they'd stay warm that way.

He was also seriously pondering on what to hunt for - a deer, or a bird? A deer would be wasteful, he thought, because he knew they both could not finish one. Maybe he could prepare dried venison from it. That would last a while, and he could share it with the children at the orphanage.

Once they were home, Mikhail spent a few moments sweeping the pine needles that were littered all over the floor, brushing them out on the front step. That done, he smiled to himself and then went to put a kettle on, wondering if the red and white peppermint sticks could be made into tea.

After placing the kettle on the stove, he played with the knobs for a bit. He hadn't known what they were the first time, and was still nursing a burn on his arm from the hot coils.

"Is cold. Why not have hearth? Every house must," he mused. He had actually tried to start a fire inside the house once, until Chase had come home and in a panic put it out. Unfortunately, it seemed this house was much more flammable than what Mikhail remembered (most of his residences had been of stone), so fires weren't exactly an option.

Once the kettle was going, he stripped off his coat and hung it up, neatly placed his boots by the door, and then went to sort the purchased goods, padding around barefoot despite the fact that his toes were as frozen as his ears.

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chase laughed at Mikhail's bewilderment that the kid behind the checkout counter hadn't been more pleased at the fact that they were buying things from the store.

"He doesn't really benefit from our shopping there," Chase explained patiently. "We didn't actually buy anything from him. He just makes sure we pay for it." She wasn't sure Mikhail had gotten the point, but he'd catch on eventually. He was, she'd noticed, a very fast learner.

Once they had made it safely back to their apartment (Chase had developed the habit of worrying about their safety every time they went out), Chase dumped her coat on the futon and began putting their groceries away in the various cabinets in the kitchen, while Mikhail swept up the carpet of pine needles the tree had left behind.

She liked this, this feeling of being part of a normal life. She was in the kitchen, he was helping out around the house... Now stop that," she chided herself. There will be none of that Suzie Homemaker shit." Oh, but it would be nice to have that someday... but the whole Undead thing had made that impossible, and she forced herself to put it out of her mind.

Once the groceries were put away, Chase grabbed the carton of eggnog and the two plastic flutes and joined Mikhail in the living room.

"Booze," she explained, with a rather academic tone of voice, "is just slang for an alcoholic drink. This is eggnog. Tastes like shit, but it packs a good punch." She poured them each a generous flute-full and handed one to Mikhail.

"Merry Advent," she said, clinking her glass against his, and then taking a sip of the creamy drink. "Gods, that's awful. But the carton said 65 proof, so bottoms up!" She giggled and took another sip with a grimace.

Chase wished at that moment that they had a fireplace, as the apartment was ridiculously cold, but she figured the eggnog would set in soon enough, and though she would still be cold, she wouldn't care. Then again ... why waste a happy night on getting wasted, she thought? This was one of the first nights in a long time that had felt like a normal night, like she was living a normal, happy life. She set her flute down on the table beside the futon and sat down on the crappy couch-bed-thing.

Before she got too comfy, Chase jumped up, ran to the room, and grabbed the blanket off the bed. Sure, Mikhail had a blanket on the futon, since he slept there, but she didn't want to completely take over his space, so she grabbed her own blanket and wrapped it around herself.

"Did your family have any Christmas traditions?" She asked, pleased to be warming up under the blanket. "My family always used to play this game," she said, a nostalgic look coming over her features. "We had this ornament that looked like an onion. I think most people used a pickle, but we had an onion. Anyway, dad would hide the onion among the rest of the ornaments on the tree, and the first of us kids - me and my siblings and my cousins - we'd hunt for the onion. The first one to find it got to open the first present of the evening."

Chase smiled at the memories of her childhood, and wondered what Mikhail's growing up years had been like. They'd never really talked about their lives before they met each other, before.

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

Mikhail too had plucked his blanket from the futon, wrapping it around himself like a cloak. It wasn't so much a blanket as it was a battered sheet of warm fleece with patterns of sheep and shepherds on it. Seemed fitting, actually.

"Eggnog?" he mimicked, blinking at the flute as he took it from Chase and gave it a tentative sniff. Then, frowning, he took a careful sip, and nearly spat it out were it not for the fact he was trying to be polite. He forced himself to gulp it down, grimacing at not so much the taste but the texture.

"Is like posset," he grumbled, wiping his mouth off with his hand and washing it in the sink. "I make tea of peppermint instead," he sighed as he dug a chipped mug out of the cupboard and dropped a couple of fragments of candy cane into it, then poured the water from the kettle over it to let it steep. In the meanwhile, he cupped the mug in his hands to warm them up.

"Tradition? Long time ago," he pondered. "Much different from onion in tree," he added with a laugh, finding the 'tradition' to be funny. "Uhm ... when young, Christmas vigil at cathedral. All day. Then feast after. But before I become monk. After become monk, then mass and singing. And extra meat and ale for supper."

He tilted his head, trying to think as he sank into a seat next to Chase, abandoning his eggnog for the peppermint tea (or what he thought was going to be tea).

"Not have tradition with wife and child. Not good person then. Did not love them." He frowned, looking a bit anxious, as if remembering this still made him feel bad. "Is okay, I left them after dying. I see much war since young. Mongols always invade land. Must fight them every year. Is tiring. Reason I move west, away from Kiev."

He took a sip of the tea now, but then spat it right back out just as he had almost done with the eggnog. "This not peppermint!" he lamented, setting the mug down in defeat and tucking the blanket more securely around himself. Sighing, he shook his head and looked to Chase.

"Tell of your childhood," he asked hopefully, pulling his blanket up to his nose. Now that he could understand her much better than before, he wanted to hear her story as much as he wished to share (and remember) his.

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chase giggled when she saw Mikhail force the eggnog down his throat. Admittedly, it was pretty bad. She quickly forgot about her own flute. When he went to make tea, it took her a minute to understand that he was going to try to make the tea with the peppermint candy canes. She debated trying to stop him, but on second thought, it might work, so she let him go ahead.

Once he'd rejoined her on the futon, she listened with interest to him, wondering what it must have been like to live before all the modern conveniences. When he mentioned his wife and child, she startled, not having heard him mention them before.

"Not good person then. Did not love them," he said, and she tried to come up with some scenario in which that would have been the norm, but she just couldn't wrap her head around the idea of being part of a family where love wasn't present.

"Tell of your childhood," he prompted. He seemed a little eager to shift the focus away from his own history and onto Chase's.

"Oh," she said, thrown by the sudden shift. "Um, okay. Well, I grew up with two brothers, one older, one younger. Their names were Thomas and Jonathan, and we were super close." She twisted the blanket in her fingers as she spoke. She hadn't seen her family in years, and talking about them after so long was awkward at first.

"John died before his twenty-first birthday, but Tom still lives back in my hometown. He runs a business that sells, uh... tobacco." In truth, Tom sold e-cigs, but Chase didn't want to have to explain that to Mikhail, who would definitely not get it.

"Mom and Dad had a lot of money, so we grew up pretty comfortable. Big house, lots of food, that kind of thing. Private school, all that. I went to an all-girls school and was taught by nuns," she added, thinking that maybe they shared their church background to some degree.

"When I graduated from Saint Josephine's, I wanted to go to college, but I dropped out during my first semester, and I guess I was just too ashamed to go home and admit I'd failed, so I just ... didn't go back," she said, a little sadly. "I haven't talked to my parents since I was eighteen," Chase shrugged. "I talk to Thomas all the time, though. We're still really close, especially after Jonathan died. I didn't even go to the funeral."

Chase was starting to feel melancholy, but when Mikhail spit out the failed peppermint tea, she couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Sorry, I was hoping that would work out for you," she said with an apologetic smile. "Too bad."

Chase sighed and pushed the thoughts of her family back home to the back of her mind.

"I didn't know you were married," Chase ventured tentatively. "How old were you when ... I mean, when you changed?" She had thought vaguely that there couldn't be too much age difference between them, centuries of death notwithstanding.

Chase had a million questions to ask Mikhail, but she didn't want to overwhelm him or upset him by forcing him to relive years and years of history that might be painful for him. She felt a pang of unexpected jealousy at the mention of his wife and child.

Why should she feel that way, though, when it had been centuries ago? And it wasn't like Chase had any right to lay claim to Mikhail anyway. They weren't a couple- they were partners, perhaps, in the sense that she brought in the money for rent, and he allowed her to feed from him, but that was all.

But, oh, on this cold winter night, she wished she could curl up against his chest and have him hold her, tell her that he cared about her. But that wasn't how things were, and she knew (although part of her hoped she was wrong) that any signs of affection like that would probably just freak poor Mikhail out. Better to let sleeping dogs lie, right?

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

Now with neither tea nor eggnog, Mikhail simply folded his hands, tucking them under his blanket to keep warm, and essentially becoming a sheep-patterned cocoon with a spring of platinum blond peeking out the top. His eyes remained trained on Chase as she spoke, however, and although there were a few things he didn't understand (like 'tobacco' and 'private school'), but he got the gist of it.

Perhaps most people wouldn't understand why she would leave behind such a cushy life in favor of one like this, but Mikhail had done something quite similar (even if for different reasons) and so he simply nodded thoughtfully.

"Thomas is successful merchant? Why not be partner? Have more money for living," he murmured, knowing of course there had to be some reason for it - pride, wanting to see her parents - though he wondered why she would opt to live in near destitution instead of seeking help.

When talk turned back to him, though, Mikhail fidgeted uneasily, guilt still present in his consciousness even after so long.

"I not remember. Maybe more than twenty winters. I live in countryside, in monastery with brothers. Peaceful. But evil creatures come for attacking us. They eat brother Pavel first. Was .... horrible sight," he pondered, those memories quite vivid.

"Before monastery, lived in Kiev. Was related to prince. Help fight Mongols every year. Was selfish, earthly man. Wanted wife, only because beautiful. I trick woman's parents to marry her. Unhappy marriage. But one day, I wounded in battle. Think will die. But Saint Sergius heal me. Was miracle. Taught me I was in wrong place and wrong life. So, leave for becoming ascetic. Never see family after."

Telling such a story was laborious given Mikhail's limited speech, and after even only saying that much, he appeared tired. Or maybe the fatigue was from remembering his guilt.

"But for vampires. They attack monastery, but one vampire keep me. Not kill, turn. I become pet. She live in castle with vampire families. Evil creatures. Frightened at first, but then become used to them. She use me for food and ... other things," he sighed, the chill of her cold lips something he doubted he could ever forget. "This why have these," he elaborated, figuring Chase might have noticed during one of her many instances of feeding, as he tucked his hair over his opposite shoulder to show her some of the scars on his neck.

"Escape after many years. Kill all of them. Not sorry, after. Join new monastery, less peaceful than first. Mission is to hunt creatures like vampire. Like you, when first meeting," he reminded her with an amused laugh; that seemed like ages ago already, but he hadn't forgotten cowering behind the altar in that scant hospital gown.

The amusement left his features though as he resumed his story. "Hunt for many years. But monks discover I am vampire. Not good enough, my deeds. Am evil at heart, they say. But not kill me. Bishop is merciful and bury instead. I hibernate until now. Then wake up, everything different. Come here because of dream. Meet you. Probably dead now if did not," he chuckled, smiling sheepishly.

His smile lingered, before his gaze averted, his brow furrowed. "I thought lost, when by myself. World is strange. Hostile. No kindness anywhere. Even you try to kill Mikhail," he pointed out, laughing reluctantly, though it faded quickly, back to his pensive expression. "But I see bite and you not let heal. I think, she will come back. So be patient. Must wait. There is meaning."

He sniffled slightly, maybe from the cold, but maybe not. Blinking, he avoided her gaze, staring down at his lap. "Then you come back, and I think, it is true, meaning is there. So I think must look after Chase, because is not coincidence. And is true, she teaches to me and is patient."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Would be dead if not," he repeated, his hands slipping out of his blanket. They were still cold, but he scooped up one of her hands with both of his, giving it an affectionate nuzzle with his cheek. "Owe Chase much. Have much thanks for her, but not know how to say," he murmured, as he bowed his head to her, releasing her hand and folding his back in his lap.

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chase listened raptly, sitting still as a statue, as Mikhail began to tell his story. Her heart went out to him; she felt like her story was meaningless compared to what he had been through.

When he spoke of the monastery, she understood why he wore the robes he had fashioned from their curtains. She also began to understand his kind spirit, which he demonstrated not only in his willingness to take care of her, but in his volunteer work with the few local charities with which he had become involved.

Chase was hung up on one detail of Mikhail's story: his period of captivity with the Vampiress, and how she had fed from him. Chase suddenly wondered if Mikhail would be happier if she herself ceased feeding from him, lest the action resurrect painful memories. But he kept speaking, saying that the Vampiress made him do things different from feeding, and though Mikhail didn't go into detail, Chase still felt her cheeks blush crimson at the implication.

"I... my god, I'm so sorry," she whispered, longing to take his hand. But then he began to talk about the night they had met, and she couldn't help but smile, perhaps selfishly, when it was he who took her hands in his own. His hands we warmer than hers, and his touch sent electricity shivering through her body. She felt her face flush even brighter.

Chase had never been with a man, never even had a boyfriend, and so the very thought of Mikhail having engaged in such carnal things sent her mind into a frenzy of emotion. Sure, she'd thought about her feelings toward him, but they had been of a more chaste design, and now she suddenly couldn't put out of her mind the image of her statuesque companion doing things she couldn't even begin to fathom.

Without realizing what she was doing, Chase found herself tracing the lines of Mikhail's face with her fingertips. She brushed a stray lock of his white-blond hair out of his eyes before brushing his lips with her thumb. He was beautiful, she had always known this, but she saw him in a different light, somehow.

The lights, which they had strung on the Christmas tree before leaving for the store, twinkled from the corner and cast enchanting shadows across Mikhail's features, making him look like some sort of carved angel.

When she realized, after a full minute of caressing his face, what she had done, she jerked her hand back and averted her eyes, certain that she had just crossed a line. After all, she couldn't even hug him without him tensing up, and she'd just made a very intimate gesture.

"I'm sorry," she said, flustered by her own daring. "That was... Sorry. The eggnog must be making me a little crazy," she said, knowing full well that she'd only taken a single sip of the horrible holiday beverage.

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

"Not sorry. Cannot be sorry for actions that not mine. Zinovia - " he grimaced at saying the vampiress' name, one he'd not heard for ages, literally, " - and her evil not break me. Only make stronger. So, is grateful. Can only be sorry for own actions." Some might have thought Mikhail's view on things oversimplified, but were they really? Some things really were that simple, and it was people who made them complicated.

He hoped his long story hadn't put her off. Truthfully he had been wanting to tell it for ages now, not just because his English was good enough to do so, but because memories had gradually returned the longer he waited. He attributed some of that to Chase, for having prodded his mind from its stupor. Living in the back of the cathedral was survival, yes, and he could have done it indefinitely, but he understood that Chase was essentially his only link to the foreign world around him, one that still frightened him as much as it amazed him.

He was pondering this even beneath the feather-light touch of Chase's fingers, and so deep in thought he was that he didn't even notice at first, at least not consciously. Subconsciously, it was pleasant. And different from what he remembered. No such tenderness had ever been exchanged with his wife, and as for the vampiress, anything as gentle as that was far from genuine, and not at all long-lived.

Without realizing it, Mikhail's eyes had drifted shut, his expression a brief window of the purest serenity, something only matched when he was deep in meditation. His breathing was slow, steady, and relaxed, and the faintest smile played over his features.

His eyes snapped open when she pulled away stammering apologies, though, and a tinge rose to his own cheeks as well, though he didn't make any verbal excuses. "Not be sorry," he murmured, wringing his hands in his lap. "Touch is ... genuine. Can feel difference," he chuckled quietly, chancing a smile. "Soft, like this," he went on, raising a hand to return the gesture, his fingertips grazing over her cheek, his touch incredibly gentle. He mimicked her earlier attentions, outlining her visage with his fingers, if for no other reason than the simple pleasure of it.

Despite that, he blinked at her, trying not to smile as if having observed something. "When speak of vampiress, face is red," he remarked, calling her out on it as if it were a silly, gossip-worthy secret. "Imagination wanders. Can tell," he hummed, almost mischievously.

[Emily Chase]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If Chase had been shocked by her own actions, it was nothing to the surprise she experienced when Mikhail returned her gesture, stroking her cheek with a tenderness that felt almost obscene. Her breath caught in her chest at his touch, and for the third time that night, she felt her cheeks grow hot.

When he commented on her habit of blushing, she couldn't help but giggle girlishly.

"Imagination wanders. I can tell," he said, and she got the distinct impression that he was laughing at her. She couldn't find it in herself to be offended.

"Imagination wanders, indeed," she said teasingly, batting his hand away with her own frozen fingers. "Not that it can wander too far, as I have no experience in such worldly matters," she said, trying to decide if this preserved her dignity or made her look like a naive doll.

They sat in silence for a moment, though it was not an awkward one, but then Chase spoke.

"You know, we bought all that food, and I'm not even hungry anymore," she said with a laugh. "Typical."

She pulled her blanket more tightly around her, though even the fleece wasn't enough to combat a sudden case of the chills that had gripped her. It was now completely dark outside, and Chase was not looking forward to the prospect of sleeping alone in that bed tonight.

Where the hell did that come from? She chided herself internally. Quit that right this minute. But the way he had touched her face...

"C'mere," she said, giving up completely. "I'm freaking freezing." She knew he wouldn't understand "freaking" at all, but she didn't care, simply scooting closer to Mikhail on the futon and snuggling up against him. Truth be told, he wasn't that much warmer than she was, but it was too late to back out now.

[/color]

--------------------------


Tag?![/color]
Outfit?![/i][/color]
Words?![/i][/color]
Credit?![/i][/color] HeatherLynsey?![/center]