An Appreciation for History (private)
Ysabel stood beneath the Founder's Tree, where one of her tours both began and ended. Tonight's crowd had been larger than most, a last hurrah for summer, perhaps, as families took that one last vacation before school started again. The tour had taken a little longer than usual. Normally it took her about an hour to bring a crowd through the four historical buildings on the list, answering questions, telling stories, and dropping bits of historical information here and there. As it was drawing closer to Halloween she had added in more elements of the supernatural. The old Courthouse in particular was associated with many ghost stories of wrongfully imprisoned men and women.
The crowd dispersed and she remained to answer any leftover questions. As the last few tourists left she couldn't help but notice one person still remaining, hanging back a little bit. There was no way she could misplace him, not at six thousand feet tall or whatever he was. He'd been so polite during the tour though, always making sure he wasn't blocking anyone's view.
Ysabel gathered up her gown, a recreation of the fashion from the late 1600's. I was made of smoky blue-grey over a rose-colored chemise. It sat just off her shoulders, the bodice tight with a very low waist, the sleeves full and voluminous, three-quarters in length. The elaborate, full skirt was pinned up to reveal and even more elaborate decoration on the chemise. It was one of Ysabel's favorites. While most of the tour guides at the Historical Society stuck to costume clothing, Ysabel's were custom made for her, of course. And each little seeded pearl and gemstone was perfectly real.
Crossing the space to the big man Ysabel dropped a graceful curtsey, not inclining her head but looking up at him instead. "Good evening. Marko, isn't it?"
It was; she remembered the big man from last Christmas although she'd only gotten a decent look at him toward the end of a very awkward ride with a group of werewolves as her sight was returning.
"It's wonderful to see you again."
He had not thought he'd ever see her again, not since the Christmas fiasco downtown with the LT. They had rendezvous with the LT who had Ysabel in tow, as well as a little boy that disappeared before the Pipers could get to them. It wasn't something the Commander wanted to discuss and they chalked it up to the holidays.
Ysabel looked every bit the porcelain doll his older sisters had when he was growing up. Her hair was that almost soft, white blond, and her figure petite. He blushed just thinking about it and when she ended the tour (her voice tinkled like christmas bells), he stood calmly as she crossed the floor and said hello, but he was far from calm.
Marko nodded and held his brochure of the tour in his hands in front of him. "Ma'am," he said, his voice rumbling softly. He was slightly stunned at her polite comment about seeing him again and he gave her a small smile. "Very nice to see you again, ma'am. I enjoyed your tour."
Lifting his index finger from the brochure, he gestured toward her eyes. "Your eyes...?"
She had been temporarily blinded by the bright light that knocked them down to the ground that night, but Ysabel seemed to have recovered beautifully.
"Thank you," she said with a bright smile at his compliment. As he gestured to his eyes she laughed softly.
"Perfectly fine," she reassured him. "I am quite resilient."
He must know what she was; surely Lothias had told his family. Ysabel tilted her head up at Marko. He had not left; had he actually come to see her? That was sweet.
"How are your family? Is everyone well? Lothias too?"
Ysabel easily fell into the comfort of polite small-talk, although in this case her concern was genuine. Regardless of who and what Marko was, his family had been good to her. She had been fully aware that she was completely outnumbered amongst them but they'd all been perfect gentlemen.
"Oh, Lothias is doing much better. All things considered."
The LT had said that Ysabel knew what they were and she did seem apprehensive around them that night, but rightfully so. LT shrugged off the rest of their questions and told them it was done. Marko hesitated, wanting to ask him more questions, but followed orders.
"I didn't know you were a tour guide out here." Marko paused and then added, "I don't want you thinking I'm following you or anything. Us meeting again - just pure luck, I guess."
The more he tried to sound positive about running into her again, the less believable it sounded, but he half grinned at her hoping he sounded sincere.
"The truth is, I was hoping to see you again, if only to make sure you were alright. So...uh...I hope that's ok?"
She accepted his excuse and nodded gravely. Pure luck, of course. Then Marko qualified his words and Ysabel laughed again.
"I'm happy you ran into me, of course it's all right. Would you like to walk with me a little?"
Ysabel held her hand out, not for Marko to hold in his own, but palm down as was proper if he were to offer her his arm. There was no harm in their taking a walk. There were many small shops in the vicinity and they should have no trouble finding someplace to sit quietly with something warm to drink if they wanted.
Resting her hand upon Marko's forearm Ysabel gestured to one of the side streets, well-lit but not so much that it would hurt her eyes, and began walking.
"So tell me Marko, what is it you do? If you can tell me, that is? I know it might not be proper, you being... well, what you are, and I being what I am."
Her next question made him raise his eyebrows and considered the appropriate answer. It was safe to assume that she knew what he was...and was rather nonplussed about it, but her next choice of words confused him.
"What...you are?" Marko looked down at her and his mouth formed and O. That's why the LT didn't want to talk about that night. How the mechanical silver spider they found in that alley ended up in the garbage. How the thing was even taken off their LT.
"Lothias did not tell us that part of the story," he said rather gravelly yet without malice. "So you're a..." Marko looked around as they walked slow - one step for her two - and whispered conspiratorially, "...a vampire?"
Admittedly, he was more fascinated than cautious. Before Simon Huntington and his clan, he had never knowingly met a vampire and now he was surrounded by them on a daily basis because of Charlie's work at DI. Her dress and manners made sense now, seeing how she was so very polite and proper - definitely not a trademark of today's pop culture.
Then, without thinking, he blurted out, "What's that like?"
"Yes," she replied honestly, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. His next question was so blunt, so seemingly out of character with his quiet manners, that she had to laugh again.
She pressed her hand on his arm reassuringly. "It's much better than it looks in the movies," she said, "but it's difficult to make a comparison because I have been this way far longer than I was ever alive."
Ysabel kept her voice low even though there were no people that she could see or hear on the street with them. "I could ask the same of you."
She continued walking with Marko, not feeling any trepidation about giving him information. Ysabel didn't think there was anything to worry about from him. "It has been better, being what I am, then anything that happened to me in life, to be honest."
Well, that wasn't entirely true but it was close, and he certainly hadn't asked her for her life story.
"I don't understand that part. You're warm to the touch," and she was soft, too, "so aren't you just more...resilient, I guess you could say? You're not undead."
Of that he was fairly certain. Her scent, softness, everything about her was alive. Marko had always just assumed that 'they' were like 'them' - evolved, for the most part. He realized he had not answered her questions about him.
"I'm a kadzait, but the Alpha's Piper above all else." He paused, thinking it through. "I'm security, I guess you could say. We take care of our own. It's what we are."
Marko grinned knowing the other Pipers would laugh at that. 'We are Pipers. We suffer, we endure. It's what we are.' was their mantra, thanks to the Beta. He was never sure why Pipers had to suffer, but it was literally in their job descriptions.
"It's an honor to be what I am and," he shrugged, "I like it."
He realized he still had his hand over Ysabel's and he looked down at it. Tapping her hand gently, he let his fall away, immediately missing the warmth of her skin.
She flashed Marko an impish little grin. Surely no dead creature could laugh, smile, or love, and Ysabel was sure she did all of those on a regular basis.
Listening to him speak she was a little lost, not knowing what a kadzait was or a piper. She did not ask; information like that was best left undisclosed. She didn't want Marko's family thinking she was trying to glean information from him. Those details were best left to the Order of the Night and were none of Ysabel's business. She simply wanted to enjoy a walk with a friend.
"I can see that. Security," she clarified. "I feel very secure around you."
Even if he weren't a mile high, Marko gave off the aura of someone who was good to be around. Someone honest, pleasant. Ysabel liked him for it, found him a refreshing change from folk who were too embroiled in politics and games of ulterior motives.
"I like what you are too," she said. She saw no reason why he shouldn't take pride in his own kind. Ysabel had no complaints about Marko, nor about the few werewolves she had met. She didn't understand what all the fuss was about, really... but then, she was a relatively young vampire who did not need to know all the details.
"So, Miss Ysabel," he started, looking down at his feet as they walked. "Could I maybe...see you again?" Marko stopped and turned to face her, letting her hand fall away from his arm. Admittedly he knew this was not one of his better ideas, what with her being a vampire and him being a werewolf. Granted that didn't seem to stop Vivienne and Simon from being friends, but the details of their friendship did not go over well with the Commander or leadership. Everyone just assumed they weren't meant to be friends, but Marko didn't understand why.
"For coffee or lunch?" Marko sighed and raised his eyebrows with a hint of hesitation. "Or a date?"
"Oh Marko," she said, glancing up through her long lashes at him. "I think I'd like that very much, but," she held up her left hand, which had been hidden in the voluminous folds of her skirt. Naturally she had on the beautiful engagement ring Ambrose had given her. "My affections are otherwise engaged."
She smiled a little sadly. She wasn't sure if he would be interested in a 600 year old platonic friend. "I would enjoy coffee with you though. If you like."
Ysabel continued to rest her hand on Marko's arm, giving it a slight squeeze. It was like squeezing a brick. She didn't want to hurt his feelings. She did like him, and she would like to know him better.
"Miss Ysabel, I apologize."
He was suddenly very thankful he had not mentioned Ysabel to any of the other Pipers since christmas. And seeing how he just asked out an engaged woman, he definitely was not going to tell them he had seen her again. The sting of rejection was completely overshadowed by his humiliating and inappropriate behavior.
If her dress was any indication to her actual age, even coffee might be crossing the line. Marko didn't want to insult her or her fiance'. It was fairly obvious he liked Ysabel for more than just a friend, but Marko wouldn't even consider ignoring her marital status (unlike Red) and pursuing her further. It was something Red had done in the past and Marko gave him a stern talking to regarding Red's philandering to no avail, of course.
"Are you sure coffee would be ok? I wouldn't want to...well wouldn't it seem...I really do apologize for my inappropriate behavior, ma'am."
His continued semi-floundering was endearing, and Ysabel thought he would make some lucky woman a wonderful partner. In fact, if she hadn't met Ambrose... but no, she did have Amber and she was glad for that fact.
"You couldn't possibly know, therefore I fail to find anything inappropriate with your behavior. You've always been a perfect gentleman."
Marko didn't seem opposed to spending time with her, in spite of her confession, so she steered them toward a tiny coffee shop one street over where they served a variety of beverages and had an adorable little outdoor patio that would be nice to sit on. It was a lovely evening; the chill of fall had not yet set in and the stars were bright overhead despite the city lights.
She ordered hot chocolate for herself, enjoying the way they made it here, with cocoa powder and sugar. No packaged mixes or syrups, just chocolate, milk, and sweetener.
Hmm, he thought. The patio seating was small, for him at least. He encountered this problem quite a bit, unlike JT who was almost as tall as he was, but at least seventy pounds leaner. His Piper brother only had his long legs to worry about, Marko had girth and length to contend with, unfortunately. Still, he settled down onto the small chair and twisted his legs out so not to rudely bump Ysabel completely out of her seat. Then he assumed the position.
Leaning forward, Marko automatically tried to make himself smaller, putting his long arms in front of him so they hung and he bent down, pressing his chest almost against the top of the table. It was more awkward sounding than seeing, but it was something he always tried to do when with the female persuasion. With other men, he sat with his back straight and let his size intimidate. They were men, after all, they'd have to get over their insecurities of size when Marko was around or leave. Most left, save for the Pipers.
"Well, I'm glad it's alright for us to at least be friends. I would like that."He paused for a moment and then quietly asked, "Do you mind me asking how old you are?"
The gentleman in him recoiled in pearl-clutching horror, but the question had to be asked. His curiosity fought for dominance and it won. Ysabel looked maybe...twenty? Early twenties for sure, but her manner of dress suggested Renaissance period? No, little bit later maybe, he wasn't that great with history. Was she 'that' old?
"What period is your dress, which is beautiful by the way? It doesn't look like a costume from your job at all."
The gentleman in him was screeching and he felt the need to balance out the awkwardness of his question by sharing. "I'm thirty six, but our kind ages slowly. I think I look about twenty five, or so I'm told."
Marko smiled softly, looking at her porcelain fine skin and curly hair. He could be friends with her, sure. Wasn't like his conscience would let him be anymore than that. He was almost one hundred percent positive. 90/10. At worst 75/25.
Settling herself, she waited politely while the server set their drinks in front of them. She noted how Marko seemed to fold himself down and wondered if it was that he was trying to appear smaller, or that the table and chairs were uncomfortable for him. He did make the patio seem a lot smaller than she remembered.
She stirred her hot chocolate slowly; a lady never blew on a drink to cool it off. Ysabel would simply wait for it to cool down on its own; it wouldn't take long. Marko's question didn't bother her at all. She thought it was the obvious and natural question to direct at one of their kind.
"I was born in 1390," Ysabel said with a soft smile. "So this year, I am six hundred and twenty one."
She looked down at her dress with a smile. She adored this gown, the smoky grey blue and rose together. And the gems, of course. "It isn't a costume," she agreed. "The style is from the late 1600s, and I suppose I just never grew out of dressing in gowns. I prefer them. This is somewhat modern for me though."
Ysabel acknowledged the irony of that statement with a dip of her head. "Usually I prefer to wear clothing from the time I was born, and that is a much simpler style."
When Marko told her his age Ysabel gave a little 'ah' of understanding. "I didn't know that," she said about his aging slowly. "You do look much younger than that. I might have guessed twenty-five as well."
The little smile upon his lips was handsome; Ysabel was surprised Marko was single at all. Sure, he was enormous, but five minutes in his company and any woman could tell he had a heart of gold. Since they had already wandered into the realm of personal questions, Ysabel thought to put him at ease by asking one of her own. She didn't want him to feel awkward just because he was curious.
"So tell me," she said, stirring her whipped cream into her cocoa, "is it true that the moon governs your instincts and you must change when it's full?" Her lips turned down in concern. "Does it hurt you?"
Her next question raised alarms, but mostly those were instinctive. They never talked about the specifics of their kind, although pop culture was only barely accurate. He pondered her question and his eyes flicked up to hers when she asked if their change hurt him. A warm smile spread across his lips at her concern.
70/30. A firm 70/30.
"You'd understand if that's not something I can really talk about, don't you? I don't mean to be rude, considering the question I asked, but if the others found out that I happily divulged information about us just because you're beautiful, I'd get into more trouble than you would even believe."
Marko shrugged and pushed his lips to the side.
"I will tell you this - you get used to it. The pain is nominal, and the older you get, the easier it is. I was gifted on my tenth birthday and I've been a Piper since I was seventeen. I was six foot five by the time I was fourteen so it just made sense."
Marko grinned again at Ysabel as she gently stirred her hot chocolate. Looking down at his, he picked it up and took a large gulp, despite the temperature. Licking his top lip, he nodded. "That's very good."
65/35.
"I understand," she said simply when Marko declined to answer her question about the full moon. There was no sense in saying otherwise; she did understand. He could no more talk trade than she. Surely, though, he saw how fruitless dating a vampire would be for a werewolf. How could a deeper bond ever form if they couldn't truly trust each other?
She smiled when he claimed to have gotten used to it. "I'm sorry it causes you discomfort," she said, "but as you seem to enjoy being what you are, well, I suppose it is an equal trade. For me, a liquid diet has been a fair trade for years of exploration, knowledge, and freedom."
Raising her mug to her lips she sipped delicately, closing her eyes briefly in pleasure. Usually she drank tea but hot chocolate had seemed perfect for tonight. "It is good," she agreed. "They make excellent pastries here too."
She didn't eat often, but when she did she preferred things that were normally tempting to her anyway. She did not ask Marko another question although she would have liked to. She was every bit as curious as he, she imagined, but propriety dictated she refrain, since her previous one had seemed to make him uncomfortable. Instead she returned to the familiar, comfortable realm of polite neutral conversation.
"Did you grow up here in Nachton?"
She was just too pretty to be that evil.
"My family is from Europe. Further north, near Siberia and the cold. I've been to the US before, but never for this long a time. We come and go all over the globe, but for now we're settled here. There are those of us already setting down roots. Our boss just welcomed a baby girl, in fact."
Marko flinched, now that was too much information. He stopped there and finished his hot chocolate, leaning a sizable elbow onto the small patio table.
"What about you? Where were you from originally?"
She did not miss his flinch when he mentioned the family's new addition. It hurt a little, she supposed; Ysabel was used to always being considered gentle and harmless. She herself tried to give that impression. As far as she knew she had nothing to gain by betraying Marko's friendship.
Reaching across the table, she sought to soothe him. "Marko," she said gently, just brushing her fingertips against his hand, "I bear you and yours no ill will. I know you have nothing but my word for that, but I don't intend you any harm."
Her Clan might, eventually. Who could say? Ysabel's loyalty was absolutely to her own family, but for the time being she meant her words wholeheartedly. Removing her hand she let the conversation continue, a little surprised he hadn't assumed her place of birth by her rather obvious accent.
"England," she said with a smile. "A small village outside of what is now Oxford. My family were farmers. It was hardly a glamorous upbringing; it was much different then than it is now. We had no books and very few toys. There were just animals and crops and never enough food."
Ysabel delivered the words very matter-of-factly. Her background did not trouble her; life was like that for many people back then. She had been luckier than most. She remembered very little more about her life before the death of parents and the intervention of Richard and Elsa.
"I appreciate that, Ysabel. I do. You're the nicest of your kind that I've met. Simon Huntington is polite to us, as are his people, but he rubs our Commander the wrong way." Marko chuckled, thinking of the rivalry between the two men. But he did not want to put Ysabel in the same position miss Vivienne was in herself.
"Our families had similar situations. We were pushed back far into the mountains, only coming inland in the past hundred years or so." He didn't want to get into the discussion of why they were so far from society, so he played with his mug and leaned back in his small chair.
"I wondered where in England your accent was from. We tend to lose ours so we can fit into wherever we are better. I used to have a south afrikan one. Before that Russian. US pop culture is interesting, but it's everywhere so adopting a native east coast accent wasn't that hard at all." He paused, risking a long look at Ysabel's pretty face.
"Do you like it here? Have you lived in Nachton long?"
She was very happy not to have to go into their history. That was a topic that could never really be fruitful either, and she felt they were both wise to avoid it.
"That makes sense," Ysabel said. "I never tried to lose mine, I've spent so much time in England."
She sipped at her cocoa, which was cool enough now, enjoying the rich chocolate taste. "I've been in Nachton for five years now," she said. "I like it very much, and I don't plan to leave any time soon. I have friends here and I enjoy the city."
Ysabel wrapped her hands around her mug, letting the warmth seep into them. "What about you? Do you like it here, or do you ever miss not being in the city?"