gʀɑɦɑɱ ɦɑʆɗɑʀ, ɛรquiʀɛ (businesslike) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-03-16 09:04:00 |
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The overnight flight had been largely uneventful. Tucked away in business class with the window shade down, Vlad had simply worked while most of the other passengers tried to sleep. He didn't even bother the flight attendants, though he noticed how they seemed put off by him and Jonathan. Something about them, apparently, caused unease. That had almost made Vlad smile. With London being its usual cloudy self, the cab to the hotel was also hassle free, and then the day was slept away. With the sun setting, it was time to rise and go meet his parents for supper. It gave Vlad a sense of ease to be back in London, as much his home as anywhere else, and admittedly it brought a sense of familiarity to the parts of him that lurked in the shadows of his mind. Perhaps in a few years, once Jonathan was settled into his career, they could leave America and Orange County behind to come here. Maybe it felt like home to Jonathan, too, in its own strange way. Or maybe it was too much. Vlad's tongue ran over his teeth as his hands smoothed down his jacket. He turned his gaze to Jonathan, to try and see what he was thinking. Things could start to process now that they were really there. "My parents both know you speak Romanian quite well. I suspect it will be the language of the evening, but if you are more comfortable in your native tongue, do not hesitate to say as much." Smuggling dirt through customs (because they couldn’t rest without it otherwise) had been interesting - gave him a chance to utilize that skill with hypnosis, and Jonathan had toiled away on the flight over as well. He and Vlad were two business class passengers clicking away on their laptops, immersed in work and yet perfectly comfortable with it. Some encased in that metal tube hadn’t felt the same way, he supposed, but they weren’t his concern. Being in London meant a few things - one, meeting Vlad’s parents (which was what Jonathan was most anxious about) and two, sneaking in actual business meetings here and there since the HQ for Zelda’s company was also in London; he’d already set a few things up, during that flight. But the rest of their time in England would be spent actually on vacation. His eyes were a bright virescent, and he watched Vlad fondly as he took to smoothing his other half’s jacket in turn, deft hands passing over a few times. London felt right, it did. They really could settle here eventually - Orange County wouldn’t be forever, and he and Vlad would want to move on someday. Jonathan could establish citizenship here. They could get married here. Things to think about, for the long and expansive future which lay before them. “Romanian being the language of the evening is perfect,” he said, twisting the simple band he wore on his finger, around and around. Speaking Romanian didn’t make him nervous, but he mostly just wanted Vlad’s parents to like him. Jonathan’s parents had given their blessing (the staunch conservatives they were, surprisingly), so this was important. “I brushed up on French too, for when we go to Paris.” He was fluent in many languages, but obviously spoke some more than others. “Relax. They will smell your fear on you.” Vlad’s lips quirked up. A rare joke, but maybe it wasn’t a joke. Of course it was. Right? He grabbed their coats and placed a small kiss against Jonathan’s lips, meant to ease his anxiety. They were just two vampires going to visit parents for dinner. They’d already done that once. a second time would be a breeze. “Speaking Romanian will be good practice for you. In Bucharest, English will be fine, but the more we get out into the villages it is only the younger generations that have started to speak it. You will find Romanian is all you speak. And do not worry - my father never got superstitions in the city, and my mother never put much thought into the urban legends and myths of her childhood. It will be a good way to ease you into our culture.” He took Jonathan’s hand, thumb rubbing over the band on his finger. Together. That was how they would face everything, even parents. He led them down to the lobby of their hotel and hailed a cab, which he let Jonathan climb into first. Jonathan chuckled a little. “They’re your parents, I’m sure they can easily smell fear,” he pointed out, giving Vlad’s hand a squeeze. He had a feeling that Mr. and Mrs. Dracula were no slouches in the intimidation department - though Jonathan did think there was a romantic in Vlad’s father, the way he had overcome many obstacles, related to those myths and superstitions, to be able to marry the woman he had fallen for. He slid into the cab, reaching over and resting a hand on Vlad’s knee for the ride; now that he’d actually rested, he felt refreshed and more ‘in tune’ with the night - but he was a creature meant for these hours, for the cloaks and daggers, the shadows. It was comforting. “I’ve wanted to visit rural Romanian villages ever since I started studying the language,” he said, the clear scholarly excitement (read: nerdy) present in his tone. “It’ll be an amazing experience, I think. Plus, you miss it, don’t you?” Vlad actually smiled. It wasn’t a very large smile, but his lips turned up and he looked surprisingly peaceful. “Yes, I do,” he said. He had no shame about it. For as little time as he had actually spent in Romania, he loved his country. He liked the cities and the mountains, and he had fond memories of spending summers with his grandparents. Vlad hoped that Jonathan would grow to have the same fondness of it. London passed them by. As things came to Vlad, he told Jonathan fleeting stories of old memories. Nothing particularly scandalous or of interest, just something to fill the time. It wasn’t a very long car ride - Vlad had picked a hotel near his parents for ease. Standing outside the door to the townhouse, he glanced at Jonathan from the corner of his eyes. “Are you ready?” Jonathan would take any and all stories from Vlad - he was a private person in general, and it took him awhile to open up. It was why Jonathan was always pleased to keep learning more about him, since he loved Vlad so much. They’d have a really long time to continue that too - he was sure he wouldn’t ever get tired of learning things about him. Meeting his parents, Jonathan was looking forward to that as well, in a way. A nervous way, but he knew things would work out - it was natural to be anxious when meeting your significant other’s family, however. Things were always so much easier when everyone got along; perhaps it helped that Jonathan already had somewhat of a presence in London, given the location of Zelda’s company and court case he just won on her behalf, where billions of dollars and a whole energy conglomerate were at stake. “I’m ready,” he nodded, mouth quirking upward in a small smile as they paused by the door. “They’ve been really wanting to see you. Skype’s a decent substitute, but it’s not the same as being there in person.” “They have gotten sentimental in their old age,” Vlad quipped. He took Jonathan’s hand and pressed a kiss to it, then gave it an encouraging squeeze before knocking on the door. It didn’t take long for the door to open. Waiting behind it were Vlad’s parents, his mother with a small but warm smile and his father with a thin lipped look that still managed to look pleased. If Jonathan hadn’t already been familiar with them, it would be easy to tell that the tall man with greying hair was Vlad’s father. The two looked eerily alike, dark green eyes and angled faces. Vlad’s father was even pale - though lacking in the deathly pallor. It was probably what Vlad would have looked like if he could ever age. His mother was softer in every aspect. Her skin was darker, her hair still full and dark. Even despite her immaculate appearance there was something about her that hearkened back to gypsies of old. Her arms opened. “Come in, come in,” she said. Her accent was even softer than Vlad’s. Years in London had softened it but Vlad suspected Jonathan would pick up on the regional difference between hers and the one he’d affected from his father. Vlad pressed a kiss to her cheek and endured the light embrace. He greeted his father with a firm handshake. “The young mister Harker, at last.” Vlad’s father held out his hand to Jonathan. “Welcome to our home.” “How nice to meet you in person at last. The temperature must be dropping out there.” Mrs. Dracul shut the door behind them, then quirked up an eyebrow. “I had thought the California sun would do something for you. You two must work too hard, stuck inside offices. A vacation will do you good.” Vlad’s father was...alright, yes, he was extremely handsome. Obviously those looks ran in the family - and even if Vlad was able to age, Jonathan always knew that he’d continue to look distinguished, and wouldn’t lose any of his appeal. So glimpsing into that would-be mirror of the future was pleasant; it made him smile, almost shyly, as he greeted his eventual in-laws. “Thank you so much, it’s good to finally meet you both in person,” he said (he’d speak in Romanian as long as they did), clasping the hand of Meeeeeeester Dracs. Culturally, it was customary to wait for the woman to extend her hand first, and he was nothing but respectful and polite when it came to greeting Vlad’s mother as well - he could also see a little of her in Vlad, a good mix of his parents. “And yes, we had sort of an...unorthodox winter in Southern California. It actually snowed quite a bit. But in general I try to get Vlad out of the office as much as possible - we sort of look after each other that way.” And slept during the day, hunted at night, with side-by-side coffins in the basement. Mr. and Mrs. Dracula probably didn’t need to know about a lot of those gothic aspects, however. “Jonathan does, I think, look after me more than I do him,” Vlad mused. He cast a glance to Jonathan out of the corner of his eyes, lips quirking up just so, and waited for his parents to pass through to the sitting room before following. So far it was going much as Vlad had anticipated. His parents were charmed by his choice in partner, and, naturally, Vlad felt very proud about that. He led Jonathan into the room as well, a hand placed at Jonathan’s back, and motioned for him to sit in a vacant chair. “We hope you don’t mind,” spoke Vlad’s mother once they’d joined, “but we thought we’d pass on something more traditional for dinner. We would hate to spoil Romania by giving you a poor taste of it before you go. It will be your first time there, Jonathan?” He settled in one of the chairs, feeling less nervous now - despite a lack of pounding heartbeat, he still experienced a whole gamut of emotions, perhaps they were even amplified due to his vampiric state. Much in the way his senses were - and being in a new place, a new home, he was picking up on everything. “It is, yes.” Jonathan was quite looking forward to seeing the landscape, though - it was probably apparent; he couldn’t really hide the scholarly nerd and excitement over the prospect of broadening cultural horizons. “I started learning the language when I was at Stanford but I never got a chance to visit during my study abroad programs. Now’s the perfect time though, I know Vlad misses a lot of things about it. And oh, anything for dinner is perfectly fine - “ Besides garlic that would potentially kill him and his partner, but hopefully that ‘allergy’ had been mentioned already, “It’s just nice of you to have us over.” “Do not absurd,” spoke Vlad’s father. He seemed more than content to be the silent type in the background, though once things had settled, he would undoubtedly strike up a conversation with Jonathan regarding international law and business. “Of course we would have you both over. I cannot imagine Vladimir thinking he could get away with being in the city and not seeing us. His mother wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.” It was followed by an affectionate pat on his wife’s shoulder before he got up, seeing himself off to find some wine to open. Mama Dracs scoffed, full of quiet fondness. “He is not wrong,” she agreed. “You speak it very well. Given time, your accent will be hard to distinguish from a native speaker. I don’t think my son would be able to tolerate someone who spoke it poorly, so you must know you’re quite accomplished.” The fondness stayed in her voice while her eyes followed Vlad, who took his own turn to scoff as he stood up. He made his way to a display cabinet on the other side of the room and opened a cupboard on the bottom, reaching in and extracting a photo album. Jonathan had been very vocal in his desire to see a glimpse of Vlad’s childhood, and Vlad decided to spare them all having it brought up later. That was adorable - the look on Jonathan’s face said as much; he found both of Vlad’s parents to be charming as well. “Thank you,” he laughed a little. “I’ve always had an affinity for languages, they’re a love of mine.” He and Vlad had that in common, among other things. And the desire to see old photos was strong in this one - no one could dispute the spark of joy in his eye at getting to see his fiance as a wee one. Mostly because Jonathan just couldn’t picture it - besides conjuring images of Vlad in designer suits with polished shoes on tiny feet. It was probably a little precious. “Speaking of all things Romanian, I am very intrigued by the holiday story when someone was chosen to be Krampus?” That was directed to Vlad’s father and surely there was a story there. A good one. Vlad’s father was just setting the wine glasses on the table between all of them. He paused, glancing up at his son, who met his gaze, and the two looked at each other unblinkingly for several moments. It ended with Vlad shrugging one shoulder, a curve of a smile on his face that was soon enough echoed on his father’s features and a slight sigh from his mother. “Jonathan is, unfortunately, something of a romantic,” Vlad said. “It is a notion he has firmly latched onto.” He sat on the arm of Jonathan’s chair, keeping the photo album in his lap. One thing at a time for Meeeestar Haaaarkaaaar. He’d get his love story first. “But of course he would rather have the story from the source.” Dracula The Elder took a seat beside his wife, eyebrows raised. But there was no denying his amusement at the request. “In larger places, there can be up to hundreds of men dressed as Krampus for their parades. My home village is Cosoba, where I would return after my classes in Bucharest were done, and our parade would have only one Saint Nicholas and one Krampus,” he explained. Backstory was, of course, important. “I was not meant to be the Krampus that year. The man chosen was, unfortunately, ill. Or fortunately,” he added, giving a sideways glance at his wife. “So through some process they decided it ought to be me, and naturally I was honoured to accept. I had the most hideous mask - it was worn by every Krampus, so you can imagine it was more hideous inside than out. And the costume was heavy and becoming matted. Not, I think, one of my finer moments.” On cue, Vlad flipped open the photo album. He turned a few pages until he found the page of the festival parade, and his father in all his Krampus-y glory. Visuals were always helpful, weren’t they? And - perish the thought - Vlad seemed to be enjoying this. “Now, as Saint Nicholas walks the streets and hands out gifts, Krampus is mean to rattle his chains and frighten those who have been scared,” continued Vlad’s father, “or snatch them away. I remember it being hard to see through the mask, but there was no mistaking a trio of lovely young ladies who were from the villages, perhaps on their way to the city for the Christmas markets. Tradition says Krampus should stick to frightening children and carrying off men, but who could blame me for setting my sights on these young women? They put up a fair chase, but in the end I caught the most beautiful of them, and I still haven’t let her go.” Jonathan wasn’t expecting pictures of this, per se, but the fact that there were some? That was like the icing on the cake. He leaned in, resting an arm against Vlad as he perched where he was, perusing the pictorial evidence of Papa Dracula as a terrifying entity meant to scare children - it was quite a tale, and yet somehow very sweet as he knew it would be. “That’s kind of amazing how you managed to make Krampus a romantic story,” he said, grinning a bit at the idea of it. “And, well, I do tend to be a bit of one, I admit. Though it’s a lot more romantic than our first meeting - I think you accidentally interrupted one of my smoke breaks. I’ve since quit,” the lawyer added, “Vlad’s a good influence.” Now, it really didn’t matter how many packs a day he smoked - could be fifty a day, he wasn’t going anywhere. But the smell. Jonathan sensitive nose wasn’t keen on tolerating it anymore, which was probably a good thing. Vlad remembered it fondly, his first real world encounter with Jonathan Harker. It had taken him by no small amount of surprise. He hadn’t expected anything like this to come of it. “He is a force to be reckoned with, if nothing else,” his mother retorted, in regards to whether or not Vlad was a good influence. “Like his father, he’s learned how to get what he wants from the world.” She stood and nudged her husband toward the kitchen. “We’ll go get everything set for supper. And we won’t accept any help from either of you.” “For the best,” Vlad said. “Jonathan may combust if I do not show him pictures from my childhood. I will get it out of the way now and spare us all the pain of it later.” Said fondly, always. Ah, very true. Jonathan was looking forward to those particular relics from Vlad’s youth. “I’ve been waiting months for them,” he teased, especially since Jonathan’s own parents were all too willing (well, mostly just his mother - she was an unstoppable force) to show off the whole collection of mementos from their only son’s youth. Embarrassing class photos and every ribbon earned, every report card, every single ugly sorry excuse for ‘art’ he made in school. They’d saved everything, because they were sentimental. Meeeeeester Haaaaarker was too. Could be why he was eager to see Vlad’s photos and hear the stories behind them, but it could also be for blackmail purposes later. If you couldn’t blackmail the person you loved, then who could you? |