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Post by Professor Roibin Vespers on Nov 20, 2009 14:27:11 GMT -5
Rafe was awkwardly silent, and Roi ducked his head a bit into his teacup, hiding his face with his hair. So he did catch the reference then? Ah well, it wasn't as if he had been practicing dark magic or anything otherwise illegal. Unsavory perhaps, but nothing that couldn't be properly explained given a few hours and a helluva lot more alcohol.
It all began simply enough, or at least simple by the rather eccentric Vespers' standards. Lamia, the youngest of the Vespers sisters, was about to marry at age 26 (the oldest age yet for any Vespers woman to marry, a point which Roibin's mother had derisively let be known at any possible opportunity). Understandably, she was extremely insistent that everything about her wedding be absolutely perfect. Unfortunately her definition of perfect included a necklace that their great-great-aunt Ava had worn on her wedding day and for the family portrait which stoically glared at all passersby in the west wing. It was unfortunate because--unlike Lamia had always assumed--Ava had not left the necklace to any relatives, but insisted upon being buried in it. The idea that the key to her perfect wedding lay mouldering away in the family catacombs angered her to no end.
So Roibin did what any responsible sixteen year old boy (in a family full of utter lunatics) would do. He promised Lamia he would go down into the catacombs to get it out. To be fair he didn't actually think she would hold him to that promise....
"I've changed my mind! I don't want to go into the catacombs!" Roibin yelped pitifully, as he held fast to the tree branch. His sister's magical hold on his leg didn't release. The fiery red-head (well her hair really was black like his other two sisters' but he wasn't about to make a comment about the unnatural color Lamia's hair charms had resulted in) practically glowered at her baby brother.
"You promised! You promised you would do everything to make this weekend perfect for me! Were you lying to me?!" she shrieked. Roibin winced and wished he'd never opened his big mouth.
"Of course, I meant it Lamia! It's just--eep!" he clung tighter to the tree as Lamia began more actively pulling him down. "Dead bodies, Lamia! And not like, the recently dead who aren't all squishy or the kind of dead where your just bones and a bit of hair. There are squishy dead down there Lamia! They smell, Lamia! They smell of old people and potions ingredients!" he squawked indignantly.
"If you loved me," Lamia seethed with a most dangerous edge to her voice, "then you would do this for me!"
Roibin whimpered and hid his face under his elbow. He truly did love his sister, but there was only so much one could willingly be expected to do for love a sibling, right? At least there was in Roibin's estimation: Lamia seemed to be of an entirely different opinion.
Roughly twenty minutes later, Roibin finally allowed himself to be rousted from his tree, and they had walked the rest of the short way to the ominous entrance of the catacombs. To be absolutely fair, entrances to catacombs automatically lent themselves towards being ominous, but the lovely Vespers family charm had been heavily applied to the structure and to call the place "blood-freezingly terrifying" would be rather generous on behalf of the gut-wrenching terror in general.
Lamia gave Roi a shove towards the archway. Lamia was a rather petite woman, but Roibin was also a rather spindly and weak teenage boy. Besides, she knew curses even his worst imagination wouldn't think. Normally she wouldn't perform these curses on him, of course, but she seemed a woman possessed to Roibin.
Roibin tried to track what Rafe was doing. He seemed nervous, suspicious even. He wondered what was running through the other man's mind. He couldn't think that Roibin had done something like steal body parts could he? Well, not on purpose at least.... The damn hand just hadn't wanted to let go....
Roibin trudged down the road outside of the Black Forest with an adorably irritated look on his face, and a cursed skeletal hand firmly attached the the hem of his now ruined shirt. He'd had no idea what Ava had cursed the bloody tomb with when he went in, and to be quite honest he still wasn't sure what happened even after he experienced it. All he knew was that he had a furious headache, ruined clothes, and two American muggles a little ways behind him on the path yelling at each other about something he couldn't make out. Oh, and the accursed necklace. Couldn't forget that, after all. At least, this night couldn't get anymore worse.
At least, it wouldn't as long as Roibin didn't realize that the two muggles behind him were yelling, not to each other, but at him. Of course, bad as his ENglish was, he did eventually catch enough to get the gist.
Fortunately, Roibin had a bit of an advantage in this situation. One was height, one was already being covered in dirt and having a bone clinging to him, and the last--and probably most important--was that the Vespers had pretty damn scary startled faces. Needless to say, as soon as the blonde German turned around with undoubtedly the most insane look the two sheltered muggles had ever seen, all of their protestations died on their lips.
As he walked away, he heard one mutter something to the other. He still remembered the name, but he'd never actually had any time to look up this Jeffrey Dahmer person.
Roibin snapped back to whatever Rafe was saying. Make his...move? Roibin turned a bright shade of red and felt his face heat up. The alcohol, however, was making that idea seem very appealing right now, and after all Rafe had said something about it first.
Quickly downing the rest of his vodka, he exhaled quickly, and in a smooth motion reached across the table and kissed Rafe solidly on the mouth.
It all began simply enough, or at least simple by the rather eccentric Vespers' standards. Lamia, the youngest of the Vespers sisters, was about to marry at age 26 (the oldest age yet for any Vespers woman to marry, a point which Roibin's mother had derisively let be known at any possible opportunity). Understandably, she was extremely insistent that everything about her wedding be absolutely perfect. Unfortunately her definition of perfect included a necklace that their great-great-aunt Ava had worn on her wedding day and for the family portrait which stoically glared at all passersby in the west wing. It was unfortunate because--unlike Lamia had always assumed--Ava had not left the necklace to any relatives, but insisted upon being buried in it. The idea that the key to her perfect wedding lay mouldering away in the family catacombs angered her to no end.
So Roibin did what any responsible sixteen year old boy (in a family full of utter lunatics) would do. He promised Lamia he would go down into the catacombs to get it out. To be fair he didn't actually think she would hold him to that promise....
"I've changed my mind! I don't want to go into the catacombs!" Roibin yelped pitifully, as he held fast to the tree branch. His sister's magical hold on his leg didn't release. The fiery red-head (well her hair really was black like his other two sisters' but he wasn't about to make a comment about the unnatural color Lamia's hair charms had resulted in) practically glowered at her baby brother.
"You promised! You promised you would do everything to make this weekend perfect for me! Were you lying to me?!" she shrieked. Roibin winced and wished he'd never opened his big mouth.
"Of course, I meant it Lamia! It's just--eep!" he clung tighter to the tree as Lamia began more actively pulling him down. "Dead bodies, Lamia! And not like, the recently dead who aren't all squishy or the kind of dead where your just bones and a bit of hair. There are squishy dead down there Lamia! They smell, Lamia! They smell of old people and potions ingredients!" he squawked indignantly.
"If you loved me," Lamia seethed with a most dangerous edge to her voice, "then you would do this for me!"
Roibin whimpered and hid his face under his elbow. He truly did love his sister, but there was only so much one could willingly be expected to do for love a sibling, right? At least there was in Roibin's estimation: Lamia seemed to be of an entirely different opinion.
Roughly twenty minutes later, Roibin finally allowed himself to be rousted from his tree, and they had walked the rest of the short way to the ominous entrance of the catacombs. To be absolutely fair, entrances to catacombs automatically lent themselves towards being ominous, but the lovely Vespers family charm had been heavily applied to the structure and to call the place "blood-freezingly terrifying" would be rather generous on behalf of the gut-wrenching terror in general.
Lamia gave Roi a shove towards the archway. Lamia was a rather petite woman, but Roibin was also a rather spindly and weak teenage boy. Besides, she knew curses even his worst imagination wouldn't think. Normally she wouldn't perform these curses on him, of course, but she seemed a woman possessed to Roibin.
Roibin tried to track what Rafe was doing. He seemed nervous, suspicious even. He wondered what was running through the other man's mind. He couldn't think that Roibin had done something like steal body parts could he? Well, not on purpose at least.... The damn hand just hadn't wanted to let go....
Roibin trudged down the road outside of the Black Forest with an adorably irritated look on his face, and a cursed skeletal hand firmly attached the the hem of his now ruined shirt. He'd had no idea what Ava had cursed the bloody tomb with when he went in, and to be quite honest he still wasn't sure what happened even after he experienced it. All he knew was that he had a furious headache, ruined clothes, and two American muggles a little ways behind him on the path yelling at each other about something he couldn't make out. Oh, and the accursed necklace. Couldn't forget that, after all. At least, this night couldn't get anymore worse.
At least, it wouldn't as long as Roibin didn't realize that the two muggles behind him were yelling, not to each other, but at him. Of course, bad as his ENglish was, he did eventually catch enough to get the gist.
Fortunately, Roibin had a bit of an advantage in this situation. One was height, one was already being covered in dirt and having a bone clinging to him, and the last--and probably most important--was that the Vespers had pretty damn scary startled faces. Needless to say, as soon as the blonde German turned around with undoubtedly the most insane look the two sheltered muggles had ever seen, all of their protestations died on their lips.
As he walked away, he heard one mutter something to the other. He still remembered the name, but he'd never actually had any time to look up this Jeffrey Dahmer person.
Roibin snapped back to whatever Rafe was saying. Make his...move? Roibin turned a bright shade of red and felt his face heat up. The alcohol, however, was making that idea seem very appealing right now, and after all Rafe had said something about it first.
Quickly downing the rest of his vodka, he exhaled quickly, and in a smooth motion reached across the table and kissed Rafe solidly on the mouth.