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."

Marko was six foot seven and three hundred and seventy five pounds. Well, seventy eight pounds, but it was just easier to round down. He was the tallest Piper and as big as the Beta in wolf form, along with JT, but out of all of them, Marko was the meekest. His size intimidated everyone he came in contact with so he did his best to be polite and diffuse the nervous reactions. Always clean and casually dressed, it was a chore to find polo shirts with sleeves that didn't split just from bending his arms. He was wearing a light blue polo with pressed khaki colored slacks. He was bulky, for sure, but his height helped distribute the muscle. Marko was polite and absolutely smitten with Ysabel.

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.

Marko was quiet and polite, just as he'd been when she'd met him. For a giant of a man he was delightfully soft-spoken. She remembered how gentle he had been with her too, as if she were fragile and delicate and he might break her. The likelihood of that was slim, of course; Ysabel was far stronger than she appeared, but she was still a lady and she appreciated his consideration.

"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.

Marko watched as the other people on the tour left the area, leaving him alone with Ysabel. His hands began to sweat nervously and he tapped his fingers on the brochure, thankful she was more comfortable in talking than he was, apparently.

"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?"

"I'm so glad," Ysabel said when Marko told her Lothias was doing fine. His nerves were plain to her, or, at the very least, there was an obvious lack of comfort. Ysabel might not know werewolves, but she did know men and she thought Marko was quite charming even with his slight awkwardness.

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."

Marko looked at Ysabel's hand and realized she wanted to take his arm. Tucking his brochure into his pocket with his free hand, he politely held out his other arm for her to hold. He had honestly never had a woman do that to him before, other than his mum, but he was happy to do it. Ysabel was so petite next to him as he towered over her, making him smile.

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?"

Ysabel walked quickly to keep up with Marko, who was clearly walking almost painfully slowly for her. She tilted her head up (and up) to look at his expression of surprise, surprised herself that Lothias had kept her secret. Marko's response, though, was so... well, almost innocent. She couldn't be angry; she could barely find it within her to be worried. She had an excellent defense in that she could simply become intangible, and it made her bold.

"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.

Marko made a thoughtful face and then put his hand over hers. She was warm to the touch, not that he had ever gotten the chance to touch Simon Huntington (nor had the desire to) and he couldn't quite understand what she meant by her life after being alive. She was alive, wasn't she?

"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.

Ysabel considered her answer to Marko. "The process by which we're turned," she said slowly, "requires draining a human of his or her blood. In essence, we do die... but we are reborn, more resilient, yes, than before. For the record, I don't feel dead."

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.

Seeing Ysabel again was an unexpected, yet pleasant, surprise. Marko had taken a shine to her when he met her last Christmas, but he couldn't tell if she wasn't just being polite or if she might like him as well. The best he could come up with in response was an awkward grin while he tried not to touch her hand again.

"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?"

Ysabel looked down, color rising in her cheeks at Marko's request. She had thought perhaps this was the case. It was a shame; had she been free to do so she would have enjoyed a date with him. His manners were delightful, his gentleness attractive. But not for a moment did it ever cross Ysabel's mind to be unfaithful to Ambrose. She loved him utterly.

"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.

Marko's forehead crinkled in disappointment, but when Ysabel showed him her engagement ring, his mouth opened and out came a soft 'ooooh'. He was mortified.

"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."

Her lips quirking up in amusement, Ysabel regarded Marko curiously. "It's quite all right," she said.

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.

Marko was still embarrassed but was pleased when she led them to a coffee shop nearby. Waiting politely for her to order, he pushed his lips out and looked at their menu on the wall behind the cashier. He didn't normally drink coffee, unlike the other Pipers. He did like chocolate so he asked for whatever Ysabel was having and immediately reached for his wallet, paying for their drinks. Escorting her back out to the patio seating, he politely pulled her chair out and helped her into her seat before he took his own.

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.

Ysabel thanked Marko when he paid for their drinks, even though she had expected it. Thanks were never impolite. She loved that he pulled her chair out for her; it was a mannerism that was falling out of favor which saddened her. Ambrose did it, though, and she was happy to see Marko doing it.

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?"

"My goodness," Marko said when Ysabel told him her age. The vampires were new to him, well in general he knew enough as any werewolf in Nachton could know about them at this point. The more the Pipers were exposed to Huntington's world, the more familiar the weres were with his clan. Marko also knew that Huntington's clan was one of three clans in the city.

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.

Ysabel tipped her head at Marko's exclamation of surprise. She'd heard it before. She was hardly as old as many others she could name but it wasn't her place to talk. She didn't mind giving out information about herself.

"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?"

Marko shook his head, "Oh no. We're not from here...or North America for that matter." Again he hesitated, wondering just how detailed he should be. Looking at Ysabel, he didn't see the fanged variety of supernaturals that, for the most part, were their mortal enemies. He grew up learning that the pack had been pushed far from society while the vampires integrated themselves deeply into the human society, living quite comfortably without the threat of the werewolves. Ysabel didn't seem nefarious enough to take his knowledge and use it against his kind.

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?"

Ysabel was rewarded when Marko answered her question with what seemed like honesty. She nodded, interested in his background. She could see him being from the cold north; perhaps it was his strapping, hearty appearance, but he looked like he could handle a cold climate easily.

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.

Marko watched with enthralled eyes as Ysabel leaned across the table and touched his hand. His heart began to race, but he kept his expression neutral if not just friendly, but she was making it harder for the prudent side of him to prevail.

"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?"

Ysabel smiled at Marko. "Thank you," she said. She meant to be nice. She liked Marko and it behooved her to have a friend among his kind. It certainly couldn't hurt. "I don't know Mr. Huntington," she said with a shrug. "He's a much more important figure than I am." Ysabel lifted her shoulders. She was not a leader; as vampires went she was of middling age and very little importance.

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?"

Marko set his mug aside and folded his hands together in front of him. Crinkling his nose, he wanted to be polite and say he liked the city but he really didn't. Nachton wasn't any different than Johannesburg, but America was so different.

"American culture is different than the rest of the world. Such a variety of people and things, especially here on the east coat. I enjoy the city, but prefer the comforts of the pack more. There are so many things to see and do - it might be a little too fast paced for me. I like to work with my hands." To prove this he wiggled his fingers. "I'd rather much rebuild an engine than go out to the clubs."

Marko was simple in his pleasures. Enjoyed running the property in his massive wolf form, working on the Piper vehicles, or sitting with a pretty girl. Shrugging, he smiled at Ysabel.

"The city is nice, but it's not Siberia."

Ysabel listened with a sympathetic ear to the somewhat wistful tone of Marko's voice. "It must be difficult to stay here then, when you want to be somewhere else."

She sipped at her drink again. "But you like what you do, yes? So at least it isn't all bad."

There was nothing she could really say that wouldn't sound like she was trying to rail against his race; she would have liked to sympathize further but she knew Marko couldn't go into detail about why he was here, why he couldn't leave, or any of that. She could, however, be a little bit supportive and positive.

"I think I might feel the same way sometimes, but I have managed to bring the things I like to America with me. I love to train horses, so I have some of mine here and they keep me occupied."

She smiled thinking of her animals. Ysabel wasn't generally used to doing menial chores herself but where her horses were concerned she did not mind getting her hands dirty.

"What do you miss most about Siberia? I always understood it to be a remote and lonely place. I never expected to hear someone longing for it."

That should be a safe topic, she hoped. Surely Marko could speak of the home he loved without worrying about crossing the line of what was taboo.

Marko knew he was being cryptic, but for as much as she may know about him, there was so much he couldn't tell her. Despite himself, he felt like he could trust Ysabel, but the fallout from ignoring protocol was just too great, at least right then. Talking to Vivienne might help him define where the line in the sand would be between Ysabel and him and he planned on speaking to her soon about it.

Ysabel loved horses and he could see her dressed in a vintage riding outfit with her blond curls pinned back. He looked at her heart shaped face and had to remind himself that the line between them as man and woman could not be clearer.

"It's been some time since I've been that far north, to be honest. Our family is from there and I have been there, as a kid, but my time as a Piper has been in warmer climate, much further south. Had the opportunity last year to go, but never made it past northern europe." He paused a moment, looking down at his hands. "I miss the cold. Ice packed between your...well, paws. I was a young were at the time, but the freedom of running wild was invigorating. Very spiritual, really."

Shrugging with a wry grin, he looked up at the waiter who came for his mug. "Could I get...do you have snickerdoodles?" The waiter nodded and asked how many. "How big are they?" The waiter held up his hands and held them out to the size of a salad plate. "Could I have...four?"

The waiter chuckled and turned to Ysabel, waiting for any further order from her.

Ysabel tried to imagine Siberia as Marko described it to her. "You make it sound so enjoyable," she said. "I like winter but I'm always glad for the changing of the seasons. Maybe because I've seen so many years... I need the change."

She'd never really given it much thought, but she could only imagine how boring it might be if she never anticipated the cold of winter or the warmth of summer. It was funny, the things you took for granted even after hundreds of years.

When Marko ordered enough cookie to feed, in Ysabel's mind, a small army, she held her fingertips up against her lips to conceal her smile. It would be rude of her not to order something so she did as well, asking the waiter for a strawberry flan. They made little miniature ones, topped with fruit, which she enjoyed. They were very small and that suited her just fine.

"Have you been many places in England?" She asked politely. She was enjoying talking to Marko, even though it was slightly awkward working around the things they couldn't discuss. They were getting the hang of it, though.

"I've been to England several times, but it's not an area we frequent." Marko paused again, wondering how much he should tell her. "There's only one of us that is actually from America, but we come from all over the world. Europe does seem to be the central hub for our families. I've never been to Oxford though."

Suddenly Marko's pants pocket began to vibrate on his thigh. He jumped slightly at the sensation and blushed. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling his phone out and looking at it. It was Lewis asking him why he was at that particular restaurant. Pushing his lips to the side, he glared at the cell phone. Lewis didn't understand the social limits of appropriate knowledge gathering. Often innocently curious, Lewis did tend to overstep. Marko understood now why it annoyed JT.

Tucking the phone back into his pocket, he opened his mouth to say something else when it vibrated again. With a faint blush, Marko looked up at Ysabel and apologized.

"They're nosy, I do apologize."

Lewis would continue texting him until he replied, so Marko took the opportunity to end his friendly cup of hot chocolate with a pretty girl. The waiter appeared with Ysabel's dessert and his four snickerdoodles. Marko asked for a bag and was promptly given one.

"It is nothing now like it was when I remember it," Ysabel said. "Oxford, or what was now Oxford, was a lot smaller. It was a commune, surrounded by a great number of outlying farms. Ours was one of them. If I recall correctly we grew mostly barley and other grains for the breweries inside the city."

She might be faulty on that score; it had been a very long time and Ysabel had been very young when she belonged to a family of farmers. However she didn't think a little bit of inaccuracy in detail would be noted by Marko.

Their conversation was interrupted not once, but twice by Marko's phone. Ysabel politely ignored it, turning her attention instead to the little dessert she had ordered, which fortunately was very small. They were surely meant to be ordered in threes and fours, but she so rarely ate that the one tiny piece was enough.

She was done with it by the time Marko had put his cookies into the bag provided for him. She stood, smoothing her voluminous skirts, and smiled at him, noting the even while she was standing and he was sitting he was still taller than she.

"I won't keep you," she said, "but I'm very glad you came to see me and I hope you find yourself curious about Nachton's history again."

If Marko had the urge to visit her again he could easily accomplish it by coming to see her at work. Ysabel would be happy to repeat the occasion. Marko was pleasant company.

Even the way Ysabel stood from her seat was ethereal. The rustle of silk and lace and politeness resonated deeply within Marko. He was embarrassed his cell phone interrupted their conversation, but he didn't want to keep her from her fiance any longer. Marko certainly envied the man, whoever he was.

Standing immediately after she rose, he tucked his cookies into his pocket and offered his arm to her again. "Let me at least walk you back."

Turning back down the street, he kept a slow pace so not to drag Ysabel with his huge steps. His conscience was struggling with him. As much as he knew Ysabel could only ever be a platonic friend, Marko enjoyed her company and found her enchanting. Was that a vampire ability, he wondered? The rustle of her skirt was sending chills down his spine; an odd reaction, really. Everything about her was delicate, demure, and ethereal. Even her scent was mesmerizing.

They made it back to her job and he turned to face her, trying not to stare. With a polite nod, he took Ysabel's hand in his large ones and smiled.

"It was a pleasure, ma'am. It was nice to experience refined culture - it's not often I get to." The Pipers were men, after all. Put a group of them together and they were rather rambunctious, despite the seriousness of their lives.

"Thank you, I would like that," Ysabel said when Marko offered to walk her back to the Founder's Tree. She was offered an enormous arm again and she rested her hand delicately upon it. Perhaps it was because chivalry was dying, but she was a little bit of a sucker for a man with manners. Even Ambrose, as gruff as he was, had delightful manners which he always used with her when they were out.

As they reached the square Ysabel found her small hand captured gently between two giant ones. She turned her head up and smiled at Marko. "I enjoyed your company too, Marko."

In another time, or another place... Ysabel would have enjoyed his company even more. Here and now she loved Amber, but had she met Marko first she could easily imagine spending more time with him. A relationship with a werewolf... well, it was impossible, and that was a shame. Vampires and werewolves could not co-mingle. Friends, though, as long as they could, Ysabel would be happy indeed.

"Any time you like, you know where to find me."

Ysabel worked often, only for a few hours each night, but she enjoyed it so she kept doing it. Marko could find her here almost any time there was a tour. It would be a reasonable excuse for him to come visit for a little while, she thought.

Ysabel did not miss the soft sigh, and she suddenly felt bad. It couldn't be helped though, that many factors stood between any sort of relationship she and Marko could ever have had. Friends, though, they could be.

He pressed his lips to her hand and she smiled at the warmth and the sentiment therein. What a sweet man he was; she didn't like him to be alone. There must be someone for him. Until then she was happy to share his company.

Marko released hr hand and turned to go. Impulsively Ysabel reached out and gently caught up his hand again. She gave a little tug, lifting off her feet as she did. She floated up to his level, skirts lifting around her, and softly pressed her lips to his cheek.

"I'll see you again," she said quietly.

Then, being a little bit dramatic, perhaps, Ysabel faded slowly from sight, becoming ethereal as mist. Like a little ghost she disappeared and left, wafting safely home through Nachton's streets, unworried about being discovered.

((ooc: Ysabel out))

Turning away again, Marko walked down the street toward the strip in search of a cab back to the Den. He tried not to think about Ysabel - how pretty she was, how soft her scent was, and how full of regret he felt. The gentleman in him was quiet as his heart silently broke. With a deep breath, he dug into his pocket and read Lewis' message, replying with his own.



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