Painting 'Mine'

(Taken from RP)
Overlooking the details of her painting left unfinished, Ethan goes over them with a brush though he still lets Brit do most of the coloring. Brit’s head rests on his shoulder as she stands behind him. Her fingers played with the texture of his vest. “Did you ever paint, Ethan?” she asks while her fingers press in a light tickle-touch.

“I was never too much into painting, Brit,” Ethan replied with a shake of his head. “No. Well. Unless you count actual house painting as ‘painting.’ Nothing too artistic, I am afraid.” With a look over his shoulder, he presses his lips to hers and whispers, “You are much better than me in it.”

Brit blinked in surprise, “But…you had no time at all to help paint while we fixed up the shelter.” Ethan grinned impishly at her and her eyes widened which caused her eyes to blink more. “Perhaps we can find your skill when we need to repaint!” she exclaimed with a glance to the walls. The walls looked like they could already use a fresh coat of paint.

Shaking his head, Ethan replied, “It has been many a year since I last had to do that. And I am not so inclined to do that anytime soon. The paint..the way it splatters.” Raising his shoulders a bit, Ethan shrugged, “Definitely not my past time of choice. This is far more acceptable,” he murmured while watching her brush stroke a bit of color from the palate he was holding to the canvas.

Brit nodded in agreement and continued to paint the section she had been working on silently. A bit of shouting could be heard outside, but nothing caused Ethan concern. While he focused on the environmental noise for a moment, Brit selected a clean, new brush. Her fingers neared the palate, but she brushed it instead over the back of his hand. The dry sable bristles drug softly over his skin. Looking down to his hand, he flexed his fingers neither pressing against the brush nor moving his hand away. “Do you like the feeling of the brush against your own skin, Brit?”

“I don’t know,” answered Brit after a moment of musing. She pushed her glove down to expose her skin, then focused to trace the light bluish vein under her skin from her wrist to her elbow. Smiling, she peeked up to him as she continued to drag the brush. “It tickles a bit, but,” she whispered, “it is pleasing enough.”

Setting down the used brush in a glass, Ethan selected a fresh, dry brush waiting in a jar. He made sure that his brush was thicker than hers and started to trace up her exposed skin with it. “Tickly is a pleasant feeling,” he repeated and saw his words confirmed in her expression. Brit held very still and giggled feeling the bristles drag over her skin. Leaning to one side, she placed her brush at his earlobe and traced the outer ridge of his ear before dragging the brush down the side of his neck.

Ethan stretched under the brush’s touch and tilted his head to the side. “That yields an interesting feeling, princess. Rather different compared to skin touching skin.” His eyes widened with realization that his skin prickled in response to the tickly touch. “Yes, yes,” he said softly, “it is rather tickly.” Brit smiled at his word “interesting” and continued to play with her brush by dragging it over his skin. She pulled it over the back of his neck and followed with a soft, moist kiss with an open mouth on the curve where his neck joins his body.

A soft moan caused Brit to pause to look at him. Ethan looked the painting up and down before saying, “Maybe we could continue with the painting a bit later and go make ourselves comfortable on the couch to experiment a bit with just brushes.” Placing the palate aside, he directed Brit to the chair not waiting for a response. Ethan really was not asking anyway as his wife’s attention has strayed from the painting.

Brit had started to blow on the wetness her kiss left on his skin and stopped to put away her easel. “That would be more fun than fencing, I think.”

Ethan turned to face her, “What does fencing have to do with anything?” His brow furrowed as he watched her. With a hint of disappointment, he said, “You do not enjoy our fencing lessons too much it seems.” With a soft sigh, Ethan moved to the sofa and sat before motioning her to him. Brit joined him and he selected a spot to drag the brush over her exposed skin having an easier time with her facing him.

Brit watched silently for a moment as she pouted sensing his disappointment. “There are parts of fencing that I like way lots.” He peeked up at her like a schoolboy while brushing bristles against her inner elbow. She stretched her arm to feel the touches almost involuntarily. “Like..when you drug your epee over my body, like a finger, slowly,” she continued with her cheeks pinkening at the memory. Glancing toward him, she found herself caught in his gaze. Smiling shyly, she touched his chest and continued, “And when we fence together, I like that way lots too.” Nodding, she processed to be sure she was correct in her words to him. “It’s like dancing then. But last time, we spent the entire night rotating my wrist and ended up with no time for even one date!” Brit looked shocked that anything could be more important than dating!

Ethan flashed a toothy grin and nodded, “Ah, I see.” So I must ensure that I include epee dragging and dating in our night to make fencing more attractive with the less solo theory.” He shook his head slightly in amusement over her comments as he finds his way up over the swell of her breasts to her throat, then to the side of her neck with the tip of the brush.

Brit nodded affirmatively before losing her thoughts to the feel of the brush. Closing her eyes, she moved to expose her skin. The sensations of the brush caused her heartbeat to quicken and produced a slightly harder throbbing along the length of her aorta. “Oh, yes please,” came the eventual response.

“As you wish then,” Ethan said with a nod of understanding. His lips parted watching her. “I will try to add more actual fencing time and only correct your mistakes when you do them, like the positioning and stance.” He could feel her mood lift regarding fencing. “From what I understand, dating is to become a permanent part of our fencing lessons then. Tis just as well regardless whether we involve the epee in it or not.” He grinned mischievously while finding her pulse with the tip of the brush and circling around the throbbing part of her skin.

His words and promise increased her heartbeat. “Yes,” she whispered stretching under the bristles of the brush. Her warm body felt slightly chilled on the surface, but was warm beneath her skin and where his body insulated hers by touching. Under her skin, a map of blue veins pulsed promising dark crimson should the skin break. Shifting on his lap, her head lay against his shoulder allowing him to touch, trace, and watch as he wishes while she felt completely at ease with the world.

Ethan settled back into the couch to gain more support as she relaxed against him. He took his time to follow the paths of her veins and arteries that were visible under her pale skin and wondered if she was always so pale. This was how he remembered her, but was it truly so?” Dreamily, he whispered, “I do enjoy our fencing time.” The brush danced over her skin in a specific pattern.

Splaying in his arms and feeling the soft bristles drag over her exposed skin, Brit replied breathily, “I enjoy fencing..when we fence together. And our dancing…and dating…that is nice too.” Readjusting a bit, she let him fully support her body weight and enjoyed the brush dragging over her skin. With a soft whisper, she said, “I like this…”

Looking directly at her, Ethan asked, “Do you now?” He leaned to her to place a soft kiss on her lips as he brought the tip of the brush to her temple down over her cheek then over the lower lip when he broke his kiss. Lower, the brush was drug down her chin and lower to her décolleté as far as he could reach with the brush. Looking up to her again, he grinned a bit impishly as he whispered, “I like this too.”

Lying beneath his brush, Brit returned his kiss. Her gloved fingers caressed his skin and hair. Her lashes on her cheeks resembled sooty fans against her white porcelain skin. As the brush traced her lips, they parted and moisture from her mouth smeared lightly below her bottom lip. As the brush swept beween her breasts, she squirmed ever so slightly even as the moon’s soft light casted shadows on her skin from the brush like a dark finger. “I do like this,” came her soft confession.

Ethan leaned closer again kissing her deeply. Setting the brush aside, he pulled her closer to him deepening the kiss and wrapped his arms around her in a more demanding than protective way. With none near, his hands drug over her body boldly. “Your skin is an amazing canvas. Even with only paint imaginary patterns on it, Brit.” He kissed her again grappling her to him. If one could have looked closely, the last thing he traced on her skin would form the word “mine” before he stood to carry her back to their resting place.

Dressing for Summer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No Buffing Around

Another movie by Ethan but made in Rappelz as a diversion from studies, work, and other stressors. Please enjoy....srsly. :)

Never Let Me Go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Body & Blood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dancing til Dawn

Summer Alternatives

Brit watched the street from the vantage point of the upstairs window just outside of their resting place. The sun was setting, she noted as she watched the street below. As the sky grew darker, she heard the door behind her open followed by the sound of familiar footsteps. Strong arms embraced her and she felt soft kisses on her temple before she turned to kiss Ethan’s lips. “Good evening, princess,” murmured Ethan.

Smiling, Brit replied, “Good evening, Ethan.” Quiet followed. Brit had acclimated to the quiet and knew the reason. Ethan’s thoughts broadcast his unhappiness over the shortened days. The summer before, he expressed frustration. This summer, she could feel deepened unhappiness over an occurrence in nature that he could not control. Summer nights were short and there was nothing Ethan could do about it.

Brit sensed his mood and could see the thoughts behind it. His thoughts were filled with resentment toward not having more time at night with her. It never bothered him in the past. Now, he was entertaining options that he would have never considered in years gone by: Moving to the southern hemisphere for the summer months would place him in a region entirely unknown to him. Ethan’s thoughts flashed anger that, in 1500 years, he had not bothered to venture there making the option unattractive without contacts or knowledge. “We could go to the library and look up wherever you wish to go, Ethan,” offered Brit.

He blinked realizing she was linked to every thought. “No, baby. The information I wish to obtain would not be found there, I fear.” Ethan caressed Brit’s arms and pulled her against him again after turning her to the window in hopes that the view would distract her for a moment. Ethan had made inquiries, but information obtained was sketchy to him. The unknown was unsettling. It had been many years since he had experienced such feelings.

Ethan reflected on Latin America. Ethan had no intentions of staying in a rainforest tree house as Brit had excitedly suggested. The strict Roman Catholic religion and American baby-napping rumors associated with organ harvesting also made him realize that logic was not always first and foremost in villager’s minds. Chile, Brazil, and Argentina had some nice cities, and he had requested more information about them. Regardless, most information that he had obtained revealed tight-knit families, which could prove difficult.

Brit was also excited about the concept of visiting Africa. Jungle cats and safari came to her mind. Ethan had not burst her bubble that safari activities usually were daytime options. Draught, disease, smugglers, and weak medical care for his mortal wife were all concerns. The many local religions also made him pause. With a shake of his head, he cleared the image of him becoming tribal chieftain of the gourd people though he did think Brit would look cute in a grass skirt.

The intense poverty of many areas of southern Asia coupled with the highly diverse religions did not make a visit favorable to Ethan. He sighed pulling Brit closer to him. Again religious extremism and lack of tolerance for outsiders would prove problematic. Besides, the last news report that Ethan had seen on a television reported piracy and drug running was prevalent in some of the more interesting locations.

Europe, like North America, had shortened days. Ethan yearned for some locations in Europe. Places he had stayed and known. If only nights were longer, how lovely it would be to take Brit there. “Perhaps we will spend Christmas in Salzburg, Brit,” he said wistfully as he arranged her hair away from her face. “Salzburg is beautiful when the snow falls,” he whispered picturing the longer nights of winter with Brit on his arm. The image of her bundled in a fur-lined hood with her nose reddened by the cold night made him smile.

“There is a castle there,” Brit replied. Ethan smiled again knowing there were many and wondered which she meant. His mind returned to the problem at hand and he considered other locals. Polar caps were simply out of the question. He had running water and livable conditions 1500 years ago. Needless to say he was not giving that up in the new day and age. Brit tilted her head curiously at a glimpse of penguins in his thoughts.

“They do not fly,” she said remembering yet another book she had read. He grinned kissing the top of her head and felt his mood lift a bit. Looking up to him, she needlessly clarified, “Penguins do not fly.”

“Perhaps next summer we could venture somewhere within Oceania, Brit,” said Ethan. “Sydney is said to be pleasant enough and New Zealand, I have been told, is bearable.” Ethan paused silently vowing to kill the first person who called him ‘mate.’ Ethan reflected on what he had read about the city of Sydney. “Australia. We could go to the opera, perhaps.” His eyes narrowed thinking of the beautiful opera house in Vienna, but he placated himself with the promise of longer nights.

Brit perked, “They eat bugs there! I read it in the library. You can order a plate of bugs at many nice restaurants.” She giggled at the thought of bugs for dinner, but her smile faded at the decidedly un-amused expression of her husband. “No bugs,” she lisped questioningly.

“Quite right,” said Ethan with a decisive nod. He blinked again and visibly shook his head. “Bugs are what one eats out of necessity, Brit. You have no need to consume bugs.” Sensing her confusion, he glanced at her thoughts and waved his hand dismissively. “Just because someone deemed it a delicacy does not mean it is good or something you should ingest, princess.”

Brit nibbled her lip, “Maybe they are not real bugs.”

Ethan replied, “Then they should have called them something else. We do not call fish ‘sea kittens,’ do we? Of course not. They are fish. And bugs are bugs.” Seeing her puff her cheeks slightly, he grinned again giving her a playful squeeze. “Do not let me dark mood upset you, Brit. I am unhappy over the short night. If you having bugs for dinner will allow my summer nights grow longer, I’ll consider it.” Brit grinned, which caused him to chuckle. Kissing her, he mused there would be no bugs in her future without a call to the health department. “Shall we go see Kylean? Perhaps he can assist us in making inquiries about Oceania.”

They prepared to leave the Shelter and Brit paused at the door. "Don't perish anyone if they call you 'mate.' Okay?" she asked.

Ethan grinned again at her glimpse into his thoughts and motioned her toward the door.