LK Marie
A Song In a World of Numbers
"Miss Massaravi, I have your beverages and pastry."
The young woman blushed brightly as she reached out, pushing her empty mug forwards as a fine china plate was set gently in front of her by a strong, golden caramel hand that was forwarded by a thick, creamy Russian accent. On the plate was a beautifully crafted Zefir, spun expertly into the shape of an elegant dragon. The plate was beautifully decorated with berries and homemade syrups of all sorts of flavors and colors, but it was the drink that really impressed the young woman.
Patch was careful to tip the clear, foggy glass mug at a fifteen-degree angle as he poured the espresso to pool at the bottom. A few minutes later as a casual dash of crystal sugar, the young woman had a classic Russian coffee in front of her along with the wonderfully made Zefir. His eyes lifted towards the back bar where his younger sister was washing mugs, her brilliant red hair twisted up in a bun with sparkling pins. "Enjoy," he purred to the flustered woman in front of him, placing a thin black leather tab on the side of the table for when she was ready to pay.
With his jet black hair just barely brushing his shoulders with every step, Patch pushed open the dark mahogany bar block and joined his little sister behind the black counter table, absentmindedly rubbing her back supportively as he leaned down to talk in her ear above the quiet, humble chatter of the Midnight Cafe. His canines scraped over his tongue lightly as he purred in rolling Russian, and he knew by the sharpness and faint burst of pain that it was almost time for him and his clan to find someone. Guilt weighed down on him - he hated his families hunting techniques.
Bellanine stopped washed out the mug she was washing to look up at her adopted brother with her large, ever-young bright green eyes. As with every time she saw her elder brother, she couldn't help but be phased by how unlike they were. His skin was warm and soft like caramel and his eyes were so dark that she wondered if he had pupils at all - so different from her alabaster skin and flaming red hair. They were opposites - and perhaps that was why she got along so well with him. Patch took her place at the sink as she picked up her violin from a stand, moving towards the front of the cafe where she would stand in front of a six-foot wide victorian clock, the edge painted navy blue to blend in with the walls. It read eleven thirty - a half hour after their opening hour.
The Russian vampire watched in amusement as many of the familiar faces in the crowd turned eagerly to watch his little sister as she tuned the instrument expertly. His hands were quick as he placed each mug on a drying rack by their intricate handles, letting the glass fog up from the heat without much of a thought. Almost as if on cue, three tings happened at once. His sister began to play an old Russian lullaby (truth be told, she had been playing for fifty years so it was rather impressive), a man came tot he counter to pay, and the door opened with a soft chime from the bell.
Ah, his favorite customer! Patch smiled to himself as he took the cash from the human in front of him, quickly pulling his final price and handing back a few coins as change. "Have a good night," he wished with his Russian accent before signaling to his sister, who just gave him a cheeky smile as her cheek pressed against the rest of the instrument she played. He shook his head softly before grabbing an order pad and pen, heading for his favorite table for his favorite customer. "Good evening," he purred in his velvety accent with one of his signature stunning smiles. "You look lovely, as always! The usual, or shall we surprise you?"
The young woman blushed brightly as she reached out, pushing her empty mug forwards as a fine china plate was set gently in front of her by a strong, golden caramel hand that was forwarded by a thick, creamy Russian accent. On the plate was a beautifully crafted Zefir, spun expertly into the shape of an elegant dragon. The plate was beautifully decorated with berries and homemade syrups of all sorts of flavors and colors, but it was the drink that really impressed the young woman.
Patch was careful to tip the clear, foggy glass mug at a fifteen-degree angle as he poured the espresso to pool at the bottom. A few minutes later as a casual dash of crystal sugar, the young woman had a classic Russian coffee in front of her along with the wonderfully made Zefir. His eyes lifted towards the back bar where his younger sister was washing mugs, her brilliant red hair twisted up in a bun with sparkling pins. "Enjoy," he purred to the flustered woman in front of him, placing a thin black leather tab on the side of the table for when she was ready to pay.
With his jet black hair just barely brushing his shoulders with every step, Patch pushed open the dark mahogany bar block and joined his little sister behind the black counter table, absentmindedly rubbing her back supportively as he leaned down to talk in her ear above the quiet, humble chatter of the Midnight Cafe. His canines scraped over his tongue lightly as he purred in rolling Russian, and he knew by the sharpness and faint burst of pain that it was almost time for him and his clan to find someone. Guilt weighed down on him - he hated his families hunting techniques.
Bellanine stopped washed out the mug she was washing to look up at her adopted brother with her large, ever-young bright green eyes. As with every time she saw her elder brother, she couldn't help but be phased by how unlike they were. His skin was warm and soft like caramel and his eyes were so dark that she wondered if he had pupils at all - so different from her alabaster skin and flaming red hair. They were opposites - and perhaps that was why she got along so well with him. Patch took her place at the sink as she picked up her violin from a stand, moving towards the front of the cafe where she would stand in front of a six-foot wide victorian clock, the edge painted navy blue to blend in with the walls. It read eleven thirty - a half hour after their opening hour.
The Russian vampire watched in amusement as many of the familiar faces in the crowd turned eagerly to watch his little sister as she tuned the instrument expertly. His hands were quick as he placed each mug on a drying rack by their intricate handles, letting the glass fog up from the heat without much of a thought. Almost as if on cue, three tings happened at once. His sister began to play an old Russian lullaby (truth be told, she had been playing for fifty years so it was rather impressive), a man came tot he counter to pay, and the door opened with a soft chime from the bell.
Ah, his favorite customer! Patch smiled to himself as he took the cash from the human in front of him, quickly pulling his final price and handing back a few coins as change. "Have a good night," he wished with his Russian accent before signaling to his sister, who just gave him a cheeky smile as her cheek pressed against the rest of the instrument she played. He shook his head softly before grabbing an order pad and pen, heading for his favorite table for his favorite customer. "Good evening," he purred in his velvety accent with one of his signature stunning smiles. "You look lovely, as always! The usual, or shall we surprise you?"
