Spin me around (Attn: Rowan)

Rowan slung his borrowed backpack over both shoulders and clapped his hands together, wrist guards making a solid sound as they struck each other. He had foregone the rest of the protective gear, stuffing it in the backpack with his shoes, but wrist injuries were very common in rollerblading (he should know, he saw lots of them). He didn't think so much of his skill as to assume he'd make it through the night without a crash or two. He was okay, he could skate, but things happened and he didn't relish the idea of trying to regrow a broken bone when there were other things he'd rather be doing with Cris.

So, wrist guards.

He stood and tested out the new skates. Not so bad. It had been a long time. He returned Cris's smile and shook his head. "I don't see anything nearby that strikes me as being worth all the trouble of undoing these so soon. Let's skate a little."

He pushed off gently, trying to gauge the friction on the sidewalk. It wasn't bad. He turned, bringing his heel into the side of the opposite foot and making a neat T-stop. "I think I'm good," he said. He did the same as Cris had done, hopping once or twice to make sure he had his skates on correctly.

"It's been a while," he said. "Hopefully I can figure this out in low traffic."

Cris laughed and turned toward Rowan. "You're not supposed to skate in the traffic. That's a little more adventure than I was looking for tonight." He figured his companion meant the people and how few there were at this late in the evening. Nachton never slept but it did quiet down some in the wee hours of the morning. "If you're feeling particularly daring I suppose we can hitch a ride holding onto the back of a bus...but I'd prefer to just take the subway."

He pushed off and spun around, lazily pushing himself backward for a bit while watching his partner. Christian didn't want to go far just in case Rowan really did need him to catch him and there were the other pedestrian types to worry about as well. The good thing about The Strip was that it was meant more for the walking shoppers in the area that for the vehicles. The sidewalks were wide and well kept which gave them plenty of room to skate along looking into shop windows without running over people...so long as they didn't flail about too much.

Christian turned and skated beside Rowan, extending his hand to his lover. "I did promise to keep hold of you...just in case." He gave his companion a very businesslike expression and said. "for safety measures of course."

He looked over at Rowan. "So..tell me one thing that people would be surprised to know about you?" Cris smirked and said. "That question can, but does not have to, go straight in the gutter. You're call."


((OOC: Next up, in case any of those pique Rowan's interest.))

As Seen on TV
GameStop
Armani Exchange

Rowan grinned at Cris. "No no, real adventure is grabbing onto a taxi," he laughed, trying to picture doing just that.

Cris skated backward for a bit, a feat that Rowan would not try to duplicate until later; it had been too long since he'd skated. He'd shoot for upright and forward first. it wasn't a problem; he was reasonably stable on wheels and had good balance.

As Cris turned back around though Rowan was happy to slide his hand into his lover's, even covered as it was with his wrist guard. "Of course, safety measures," he echoed, a soft smile on his lips. "I'm glad to know you take your duties seriously."

Rolling his eyes upward momentarily he laughed and gave Cris the most obvious answer. "I'm a pediatrician?" He glanced at his lover, grinned again, and then considered the question carefully. "I'm not left handed," he finally answered, quoting the popular movie unintentionally. "I'm not right handed either."

Some people could do certain things with one hand and other things with the other, but Rowan was truly ambidextrous and could function equally well with both hands. It made no difference.

"What about you? I know you're full of surprises," he smiled and squeezed Cris's hand. "Tell me another one though. Something you haven't shocked me with already."

He glanced at the stores, no seeing anything terribly exciting, far more interested in his companion at the moment than any sort of shopping.

Christian laughed and shook his head at Rowan. "No, I believe they call -that- a death wish."

His companion pointed out that people rarely guessed he was a pediatrician. Cris shrugged. "I think it suits you. Children need someone looking out for them and they are more fun than adults." Christian just couldn't imagine, and wouldn't wish on, his partner being stuck listening to needy adults worry about every cough, pimple or imagined disease. Bringing light and hope to sick kids and their parents, that he could see Rowan doing and being very good at it too. He could see why people didn't think of someone looking like his companion being a doctor or having the patience to deal with children but just talking to him once and the occupation made perfect sense.

Feigning shock at the first part of Rowan's revelation, Cris gasped. "I would have definitely fallen for that! I am not left handed either!" The fact that his partner was ambidextrous was interesting. It did mean there was a high probability that Rowan could also fight Florentine which was something that he got far less practice with than he liked. Christian normally had to fight two opponents instead of just one. It looked like next week's activity should be very interesting. He grinned at Rowan. "I am right handed for the sake of writing but I do fight with either. Its a lifesaving skill to have."

Cris frowned thoughtfully and then said. "When I joined the army I was small. I looked like an eight year old." He laughed and shrugged. "Like all kids, I was interested in the learning to fight but they kept telling me that I had to wait until I was big enough to wield a weapon." Gesturing down at himself, he said. 'As you might guess that was going to be a long time. I decided they were never going to teach me so I started watching the men, everything about them, the way they walked, talked, carried a weapon, how they swung it and why. When I had a bit of free time, I would find some place private, woods or the edge of town, depending on where we were, and I'd practice, pretending to be that soldier or officer. First I used branches and then I found a broken sword and carried it along with me from place to place."

He smiled over at Rowan. "So that long story was to say." Christian did his best Antonio Banderas. "I.. am a wonderful mimic." Waving an imaginary sword around, he said. "The pointy end goes into the other man."

Christian straightened and slowed down, looking at his companion. "I shocked you? With what?"

"I think it suits me too," Rowan said with a smile. He didn't mind the assumption most people made based upon his appearance. He would probably think the same thing if he didn't see himself in the mirror every day.

He nodded thoughtfully when Cris said he could fight with either hand. That meant potential fun. Wouldn't Eiryk be thrilled to face four swords instead of two? The idea made him grin broadly.

Rowan was able to focus on Cris's short story while they skated. He listened with fascination, trying to picture his partner as a determined, willful child. It wasn't difficult to do. Rowan wondered if Cris realized what he'd said when he mentioned all kids. Rowan himself had no idea if he wanted to learn to fight when he was a living human boy. Not that it bothered him but he did confess to a great deal of curiosity on the subject.

He enjoyed the picture Cris created for him of himself as a child. Rowan would have liked to have seen him then... But if he had, he supposed, he just would have forgotten it. It was better this way. He briefly wondered if Cris would be willing to tell him more about his young life.

"Really," he said with a smile, drawing the word out when Cris had finished. "That," he continued, "is a fascinating coincidence."

He thought for a moment and then said, in a very close imitation of Cris's own voice, "Apparently we share a trick or two."

Normally he would have practiced first but in this case it wasn't hard to reproduce his lover's soothing tenor, the soft hint of an accent. Rowan had heard Cris's voice in his dreams since they'd met. Reverting back to his own muddled Irish-European mutt accent he shrugged at Cris. "I volunteered for night watch up in the crow's nest a lot. Well, every night really. Gave me something to do when I got bored."

He waved his hand when Cris asked how he'd shocked Rowan. "Wrong word," he said, smiling. "Surprised would be better. Surprised to find someone like you. Pleasantly so." He gripped Cris's hand tighter for a moment. "I want to know all there is to know. Tell me something else about you?"

Rowan raised his eyebrows at Cris. "Something you've never told anyone else before. Anything, whatever it is."

It didn't need to be some deep dark secret. Rowan really did just want to know everything. The more he understood about Christian the harder it became for Rowan to fathom not being with him.

Christian laughed when Rowan imitated his own voice and accent, with its barely noticeable German Swiss influence. Now he simply sounded crisp, precise in his English but aside from the occasional word his own accent was mild. He arched an eyebrow at his companion and said. "They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

He thought about his partner's question as they skated along, avoiding fellow pedestrians and inanimate obstacles like trash cans, benches, and lamp posts.

"Well to tell you the truth. I wouldn't have made a very good farmer." Cris smiled, then snapped his fingers and added. "But I did tell my father that before he died. He was sorry that he could not provide for me any land on which to raise a family but I was happier as a soldier."

Thinking a bit harder for something he had not told anyone, Christian looked around at the shops. There was a watch place and those always interested him but not enough to change out of the skates. He spotted a store the specialized in pens. Smiling at Rowan, he pulled them along toward it.

Just outside, he paused and sighed. "If you tell Alfarinn this or anyone else, I'll harass you for the rest of your very long lifetime." Cris threatened with a small smile. "For a time, back when Grisha and I were clanless, I was a ...highwayman. In England." He looked down at the ground. " No one was ever hurt and the people involved also provided a little meal for myself and Grisha. I also might have wagered a bit on the outcome of duels... at least until people realized that the prissy little dandy was actually skilled with a blade." He looked up at Rowan and gave him a small smile and a shrug. With his size and delicate features it was easy to look the part of a overly dressed noble with a big mouth and a fancy foppish sword and then get men who considered themselves skilled duelists to challenge him over some perceived insult. He'd then make a friendly little wager or have Grisha do it.

"So, there, my secret life of one time crime is out. Grisha knows but no one else, until you and I didn't tell him. He just happened to be there." He shrugged. "And you, what's a deep dark secret you've been hiding from the world?"

"I should hope so," Rowan said. "I can't imagine meaning it in any other way."

He smiled at Cris's assessment of his own suitability for farming. "I'm sure whatever you'd chosen, you'd have been good at," he said. He couldn't imagine Cris not applying himself fully to whatever profession he chose. It just didn't seem to be in his nature.

As Cris propelled them toward the specialty shop, Rowan smiled at him as he realized where they were headed. He had a pretty vast collection already but he did have a thing for pens. If Cris was interested in going in, Rowan wouldn't fuss. He'd probably buy something, too.

He tilted his head as Cris swore him to silence. "I can hardly see myself telling someone I don't know... although I admit the prospect of you harassing me for that long is appealing. How about I stay quiet as a mouse about it, and you harass me in return?" He grinned at his lover, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him close, never happier for the invention of the wheel.

Christian's confession made him laugh out loud. The idea of Cris the hustler... it amused him just as much as the far sexier Cris the highwayman image. "So Grisha? Is he your Creator?"

It was a logical assumption, he thought. Cris spoke of this person with much familiarity, and obviously they had spent a good deal of time together. Creator or friend or both. "I didn't realize you were clanless at any point."

He was learning all kinds of things about Cris tonight. He drank it all in as if he had reached an oasis in the midst of a desert. Everything he learned helped him draw a bigger and bigger picture of the man he was falling in love with. He embraced it, welcomed every little detail.

Of course it would be his turn to tell Cris a secret as well. Rowan pondered. He had many secrets. Some of them were dark and depressing, some were amusing. He didn't consider himself secretive by nature; he just preferred not to discuss certain topics. That and, like Cris, it seemed, Rowan didn't often confide in very many people. Even Eiryk, whom he considered a close friend, didn't know the things Rowan thought about at that moment. Rowan liked to keep his interactions with others friendly, humorous, and fun.

He hemmed and hawed over the subject for a minute or two, finally shrugging and saying to Cris, "Really, it's a matter of which one to tell." He smiled. "I don't usually discuss things like this either, really. You're welcome to them all... but for now, let's see. You want a deep, dark one?"

Rowan had some deep dark ones. What didn't he mind Cris knowing? Well, the answer was nothing. He didn't want to bring the mood of the evening down though with a dark revelation so he bit is lip thoughtfully and said, "All right. Here's one of those lessons learned the hard way. I wasn't always a pirate, obviously. I spent a good deal of time in Germany. Because I was literate by then, I could earn a living writing. So I did. I lived in the city of Marl, under the rule of the Counts of Loe. At one point the Archbishop of Cologne requested permission to use Haus Loe as an Offenhaus. Wessel van Loe didn't want to give it over. He didn't want it turned into a stronghold for Frederick III's conquests. So he refused and refused. Finally the Archbishop decided to level an ultimatum. He threatened to destroy the family's finances and turn them into peasantry. Wessel held out for months."

Rowan shrugged at Cris. "Unfortunately, Wessel had a wife and two young daughters. The Archbishop threatened to marry the older daughter, Gerta, to his cousin. It wouldn't have been so bad except the man had already been through four wives. Dead of 'unknown causes.' Wessel's wife came to me as a friend of the family and asked me to help. I did. I forged Wessel's signature and signed the castle over to the archbishop."

Rowan rolled his eyes. "Worst move ever. For the next six years the Archbishop used Marl as his staging point to try to win possession of the next city over, Recklinghausen. It nearly destroyed the city. What was worse, Gerta was sent away anyhow. Not as a wife, fortunately."

He looked Cris in the eyes, unashamed of the confession. Rowan had done some incredibly foolish things in his youth, before he became the person he was now. He didn't have any excuses.

"It took some work to get her back again," he said, "but we did. In one piece and unharmed. There was little I could do about the warfare though. It was well out of my hands. I spent some years trying to put and end to it, but the damage had been done by signing the castle over."

He raised his eyebrows at Cris. "At least I wasn't responsible for the plague?"



((ooc: the time period Rue is referring to is roughly 1378-1384.))

Christian listened to Rowan talk about his time in Germany. His companion's solution to the problem might have been considered harsh but Cris saw it as practical. He understood that the results made his partner feel embarrassed, ashamed and even a bit angry; it was there in the muddy versions of his lover's normally brilliant aura.

Putting both hands up behind Rowan's neck, Christian pulled him down for a soft kiss. "You did what you thought was right. The girl's life was more important than her father's property. Its not your fault that it didn't turn out well but you continued helping until she was safe again."

He hugged Rowan tight to him. Having been an officer in an army and now the head of clan security, he had made many difficult decisions in his life where other people's lives were at stake. It was never easy and when it went wrong...well he carried guilt over some of those decisions himself. " You are good man. While it might not have been the best move. It was the better one out of the horrible options you had. So it was the right one."

Smiling up at his partner, he said. "It makes me admire you all the more."

Christian tugged Rowan over toward a bench so that they could change into their shoes long enough to go inside and take a look around.

"How about an easy one. What's your favorite colour?"

He stood up once more and opened the door of the shop for Rowan.

Rowan leaned down to eagerly receive and return Cris's kiss. He smiled and shook his head, then shrugged his shoulders. "Those aren't the kinds of decisions I enjoy making," he said. "I'm much better suited for which tests to run, what diagnostics to use."

At the time Rowan had been concerned less with right and wrong and more with just doing what would keep people alive. What he'd done to save the life of one little girl had led to the deaths of dozens of innocents. Rowan didn't like that at all.

Rowan didn't blush easily at all, but Cris saying he admired Rowan brought faint hint of red to his cheeks and he let himself be towed behind Cris, not certain what to say in that situation. Cris admired him? How unusual. Far more understandable the other way; for Rowan to admire Cris, which he did. He hadn't always made good decisions. He hadn't always cared about doing the right thing; there was a time when doing the easy thing was, well, easier. He wondered how Cris would like hearing of those times? Rowan admitted they painted him in a much worse light.

Pulling his skates off he smiled and closed his eyes thoughtfully, glad for the change of subject. Opening them again he looked at Cris. "I don't have one favorite," he said. "I like purple, and teal. Green too, and obviously black. What about you?"

Rowan had never considered himself a one-color kind of guy. He had some favorites, sure, but mostly he liked almost everything save the odd colors like chartreuse and mauve and such.

Getting his shoes back on at last he stood, trying to ignore the feeling that the sidewalk was still moving under his feet, and entered the writing shop, dropping a soft kiss upon Cris's lips as he went through the door.

Once inside, he knew he was in trouble. He knew his pens, and some of these were very good. He looked all around, turning to Cris.

"Nice. This is a writer's wonderland," he said with a big grin. Like a kid in a candy store it was difficult to figure out which direction to turn in first. Eventually one of the more elaborate displays caught his eye and he moved toward it. "Is there anything Nachton doesn't have?"

Christian smiled at Rowan's answers. "Despite my work attire, I like all the bright ones." He smiled and sent instead as they went into the store. [Like the ones I see in your aura...which is how my empathy works.]

He had remembered that his partner was an empath as well and Cris wondered how Rowan's empathy worked for him. Was it like Alfarinn's which seemed to be the most common form of the ability or something else entirely? It would be nice if it were similar to his own and then they could share that also but at least they had the talent in common, however it worked.

Cris loved the expression on his partner's face as he stood in the store and simply looked around. He could see a bit of the child that Rowan must have been but did not remember.

Answering his companion, he said. "You're here. So Nachton is now complete as far as I'm concerned...but aside from that, it does seem to have anything you could possibly want to find somewhere"

He picked up one of the fountain pens and considered it for a bit. Christian was fairly certain he could make these; he had never tried but it was fairly simple. There weren't even any moving parts. He resolved to take special note of which ones Rowan seemed most interested in. Cris wanted to get the weight, balance and writing quality just right.

"Your turn for a question."

Rowan smiled and nodded; he knew Cris liked color so it didn't surprise him to hear his partner's answer to that question. He was intrigued, however, it the way Cris's empathy worked. [You see auras? That sounds wonderful.] Without realizing it he gave a small sigh. [I might like having empathy if mine worked that way. I pull emotions in... same way as I send them out with glamour, just in reverse obviously. Only every time I use it, it burns. So I try not to.]

He wandered over to a display of Waterman pens, right next to a similar stand of Montblancs. He might pass out. They were beautifully made. The Montblancs in particular were sort of the limousine of fountain pens. A little over the top, with their platinum metals and diamond-inlaid caps, but they wrote so smoothly and beautifully.

When Cris spoke again Rowan squeezed his hand, unwilling to relinquish it even to play with the pens. "You have an excellent point," he said, turning a warm, affectionate smile upon Cris. "I found something here I didn't even know I needed. This is a truly amazing city."

He needed Cris, that was certain. Rowan would have previously stated that anyone he wound up with would be just fine with him, so long as they enjoyed each other's company. That seemed like such a simplistic point of view now that he knew Cris. There was nothing simple about what he felt now. Of course it could be broken down into it simplest forms, but his emotions were many and layered, and it was difficult to describe, even to himself, the sense of utter fulfillment he got from his lover's presence. It was more than physical. With Cris next to him Rowan felt like he was more somehow. He didn't just stop at his own body. He loved the feeling.

Moving to a stand that featured quills and nibs by Herbin as well as a large selection of inks, Rowan browsed while considering a question for Cris. He was enjoying this exchange. It was amusing and enlightening. He was happy to bare himself to Christian and gratified that although Cris was bound to uncover more of Rowan's somewhat dubious past, he didn't seem put off by what Rowan had told him so far.

He looked at the saleswoman who, aside from greeting them when they had walked in, had thus far left them alone, and lowered his voice significantly. "If you could change one thing about your previous life," he said, emphasizing the last bit slightly so Cris would understand he meant his human life, "What would you do differently?"

It was a little unfair to ask since Rowan could not answer it in return, but he would answer anything else Cris put to him, of course, and hoped Cris did not hold his blank memory against him.

Cris looked over at Rowan in alarm. [Your empathy burns?!] That was terrible. He couldn't imagine how that was helpful to his partner; why would his ability manifest in such a way? Cris wrapped his other arm around Rowan's waist. [I would guess that you do not use it nearly as much then.]

Letting go after a brief hug in sympathy, he followed his companion through the store. [Is that pen really over a thousand dollars?] Christian glanced over at one of the displays. [Does it take dictation? because it better for that price.]

He thought about Rowan's question. There were many battlefield choices that he would take back and change if he could. Shaking off the haunted thoughts and expression, Cris smiled over at his partner and shrugged. "I suppose I would have had children if I could." He sighed. "My profession was not the best for raising a child and I refused to leave a wife alone for months at a time, taking care of my child alone, worrying that I would never come back to them." Christian picked up a pen and inspected the weight of it. "Once I had retired. I felt there was nothing else I was good at doing. I had been a soldier all my life. I could make my own way but I still was not stable enough to raise a family."

Cris smiled at Rowan. "I had my brothers and sisters and their family. I don't regret what I am."

Setting down the pen, he looked at Rowan with an appraising air while he considered what to ask in return.

"What is something that you've kept to yourself, a habit, hobby, whatever that you don't like sharing with others? That is yours alone."

Rowan regarded Cris with slight surprise, but he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. [It is what it is,] he sent back. [It's in my head. You'd think I could overcome it, but I'm either incapable or just lack the skills. I'm sure you've noticed I'm marked... it always starts there, and then travels outward. I don't know why, it doesn't matter.] He rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand, indicating to Cris what he meant by 'marked.' Oddly enough he wasn't actually sure if Cris had seen the tattoo-covered band on his shoulder yet. As near as he could recall, Cris had not had much occasion to look at his back. To sate any curiosity on the matter he considered for a few moments and then hooked his finger beneath the back of the sleeveless shirt, pulling it away from the mark in question so Cris could view it if he wanted.

As was his habit, he tried to make light of it, toss it off as inconsequential. Rowan didn't particularly like discussing things like that, although with Cris, he didn't mind that much. [I don't use it often, no. I prefer to read people in other ways. But on occasion that's the best way, so I deal. And yes. That pen is over a thousand dollars.]

He eyed the display in question. "It has excellent balance," he said, looking at the pen on top of the closed-off display. "And faultless mechanics. But most of all it's the material driving up the price." The body of the pen seemed to be made entirely of platinum with a gold nib. "I've got one at Liefde. It writes beautifully. But to be honest, my personal favorite is still a good quill and nib, for calligraphy."

He watched Cris's face as his partner considered the question put to him, beginning to understand the reasons for the somber expression. He was learning that Cris had many ghosts in his past. He couldn't help wondering if Cris would want to tell him about them, if it would serve any beneficial purpose. As was natural for him now, he wanted to be helpful, useful. Immortal life had not begun that way for Rowan but now it was second nature for him to want to smooth over anyone's hurts, insofar as they could be. Doubly so for those he was close to.

He returned Cris's hug with one of his own at his lover's answer. Rowan nodded; he supposed that for many vampires that might be a common answer. But he could see Cris with a family. A wife (although a large part of him raised its head in possessive jealousy at the thought), children.

"I'm very glad you are what you are," Rowan said softly, "though I don't doubt for a moment you would have been a wonderful father. Look at your daughter now. She seems like a good person."

Granted, he didn't know much about Aishe; how old she was, how much influence Cris had had upon her. But she had seemed friendly and it was obvious she loved her Creator. That in itself said something about Cris as a parent, as a mentor, at least.

He had many more thoughts on the topic of Cris as a father but he didn't voice them here. Personally he thought Cris didn't give himself enough credit. Someone who cared as passionately as Cris did could never have been a poor father. Rowan had seen enough poor parenting in his current occupation to understand that even if he'd never experienced it himself.

Cris's next question was simple for him to answer. "My journals," he said easily. "I've never shared them with anyone." He smiled at his partner. "It isn't that there's anything wrong with sharing them. Or that I wouldn't want to. I've never been asked. They're a private part of me, and to be frank, until now I've never met anyone I've cared to share them with. You are welcome to them if you like."

Once again it was said lightly but it was a serious offer coming from Rowan, who really had never offered to let anyone, even Henri, read his innermost thoughts. The idea of having Cris read any of his journal entries didn't bother Rowan in the least though. They were full of Rowan's life, the good, the bad, and definitely the ugly.

"I should ask the same of you," he said. "It might be useful to know if I'm going to be invading your privacy in the immediate future. But on top of that, I guess, what else haven't you done yet that you want to? Someplace you'd like to go, something you want to see, or try, that you just haven't gotten around to?"

As they meandered through the little shop they came to a stand of pens that he immediately did a double-take on. "Oh. This is too much to resist. Does it really..."

He picked up one of the pens in question and played with it gleefully for a moment. Turning to Cris he grinned and said, "This is coming with me."

Cris listened to Rowan explain how his empathy worked. He had noticed the tattoo, though only in passing as his lover turned to undress or move in the shower. His hands had run over it once or twice while they were making love but he had not been thinking terribly deep thoughts during those moments.

He raised up on his tiptoes and placed a kiss on the mark that Rowan revealed. [If you every want to work on overcoming it then perhaps we can try to understand it together. It might help to have another empath. If I am no help then there is always Alfarinn. He is the most knowledgeable empath that I know. Its up to you. I won't push but I'm here to help if you want it. ] The fact that his lover was branded and then tattooed on top of it caused him concern, not for Rowan's past but for Rowan himself. It had to disturb his partner that he couldn't remember how this had happened, what it meant and whether he deserved it. For Cris, the how and why were not important; it was in the distant past and the Rowan in front of him was all that mattered.

Christian watched Rowan and tried to keep the incredulous expression off his face, luckily he had years of practice with the bland expression. It was not as though he could say anything, having a large collection of weapons that had cost him a great deal. However, those tended to cost more than the average pen and one typically preferred quality in something that could potentially save your life.

At least Rowan used the pens that he collected. That made the hobby much more practical than collecting stamps or coins. Dolls? Christian smirked to himself trying to imagine Rowan with a large collection of porcelain dolls.

He looked down at the floor, a guilty expression on his face. "I can't take credit for Aishe's good nature. She was like that before. I have not been a very good influence, no influence at all really." Cris looked out the windows of the store, thinking about the past few years. [Alfarinn was determined to go after his sister, Elder Megan. He wasn't going to tell anyone because he knew we'd try and stop him. Too many people would slow him down. I caught up with him as he was leaving and threatened to shoot him in the head and haul him back to the Towers bodily if he didn't at least let me accompany him.] Christian turned back to his companion with a calm but determined look on his face, the same one he presented to his elder when he made that promise, and it was -indeed- a promise. [He knew me well enough to realize I was very serious. I didn't have time to tell anyone goodbye, and once we were gone, communicating our location was dangerous. There were many little adventures there, but the result is that I left my daughter not long after bringing her into the clan.] She had not been alone but Cris refused to make excuses for himself. He knew the truth and all he could do was hope to make up for it.

Christian was taken by surprise as Rowan's offer. "I wouldn't read them unless you wanted me to. Private thoughts, even beautifully written ones, are sacred. You put those down for you, so that you would remember how you felt at that moment. Its a baring of the soul." His partner, if he was writing purely for himself would be honest in his feelings and memories as he placed them down on the page. Quite probably also too self critical and the account, meant only for his lover's own eyes, would leave him vulnerable to someone reading it out of context. Journals were an excellent place to work through ones emotions, doubts and insecurities. "I want you to share the present and the future with me."

He went over to the journals as Rowan went to a different display. Picking up one, he came back over to his companion. Cris looked down at the pens that his partner had found and laughed, shaking his head. "We, Swiss, are always prepared...apparently."

Holding out the soft green leather journal to Rowan, Christian placed his hand on the embossed cover. The scene was of a meandering path through a forest. He wrapped his arm around Rowan's waist and said. "We can start a journal together, in addition to the one you already write. Place in it our thoughts on things we experience together, leave messages or thoughts for one another, share ideas." He smiled. "If you like."

In answer to his partner's question. "My metal working is something that I don't share. It is not for any particular reason except that it works out that way. I don't mind people watching, in fact, I enjoy talking to people while I work." Unless they were laughing while he recorded raccoon sounds...

Thinking about Rowan's question, he said. "One day I would like to try farming. Just so I know, but later, many many years from now. I have always wanted to learn an instrument. I keep thinking that I will but I have never gotten around to it."

"You?"

Rowan shivered a little as Cris's mouth touched the feared brand upon his back. It was and once comforting and unsettling. On the one hand he was gratified to feel Cris's acceptance, knowing what he must have been once, not judging. One the other, it was the most poignant reminder Rowan had of his forgotten past and it haunted him to this day to think that even as a human he had been some sort of failure. He'd had one shot at mortality and had apparently botched it badly. He'd come pretty damn close to fucking up immorality as well, but he'd survived to become a better person, he hoped.

[I'll... consider it,] he sent back hesitantly to Cris. [It means a lot to me. That you'd offer. Maybe we can try.] It was the biggest concession he'd ever made regarding his messed up empathy. Normally he tried to forget about it but for Cris, well, Rowan figured he'd give just about anything a shot.

Rowan listened, and watched, as Cris talked about his recent experiences and his neglect of his apparently newly-turned child. He felt a variety of emotions on the topic; concern about Cris being in dangerous situations although he knew it came with the territory, worry for the burden of guilt his partner assumed for himself, relief that whatever had happened, Cris was here in Nachton in one piece, and additional worry that he would have to leave again. Rowan didn't want to face that eventuality even tough he knew it to be a possibility. It was putting the cart before the horse though, so he tried to forget about it until such time as it actually become an issue.

"Well, she doesn't seem to hold it against you," he said softly to Cris, pulling him close once more, aching to soothe some of the soreness his partner surely felt about his perceived failure. "And you have time now, surely, to be there for her. Yes? Tell me you're not planning on going anywhere anytime soon."

He smoothed his hand across Cris's back, burying it in his short pale hair briefly and leaning down to kiss him softly. It was tempting to linger over his lips, but it would have to wait. He summoned his patience up and pulled away with a smile.

Cris's surprise was evident when he offered to share his journals. Rowan lifted his shoulders and shrugged. "Whether you read them or not, I would have no secrets from you. I want to share a present and a future, yes, but our past will always be a part of us no matter how we try to bury it." And he had tried to bury his, no doubt about that. Rowan found it ironic that in spite of his reluctance to disclose many details of his past to anyone, he had kept his journals religiously throughout the years. In a way it was a mental dumping ground. If he wrote down his thoughts, he could more easily leave them behind with the reassurance that they would be there should he desire them. "I spent a long time trying to get away from my past. I guess I still do it."

They each found their various objects of interest and Rowan smiled at Cris's suggestion with the handsome green journal. "That," he said with a big smile, "is a fantastic idea. I'm sure there'll be plenty of nights I don't get to see you at all. It'll be nice to see something you've written when I'm missing you." It was a comfort to know Cris could talk to him any time, so he didn't worry horribly, but having something tangible too, that would be good. To be able to hold the journal that Cris had written in and add his own thoughts, to picture Cris holding it as well, when Rowan was at work and he was alone... it was a good daydream.

He smiled at Cris's desires. "I don't know about farming, myself. I think it'd be fun to try." He wondered if he could nurture plants if he thought of them as children. He might be able to. They needed care, too, and he enjoyed caring for people. "If you want to fiddle around with an instrument I have plenty. I don't mind showing you a tune or two."

The offer was casually made; he would understand if Cris turned it down. Music could be a very private thing. Rowan himself sometimes got self-conscious when learning a new song or instrument. Granted, not very, but there were definitely times he'd secluded himself so as not to torment innocent ears with his shrill shrieking on a whistle or a flute.

He considered his options for trying something new and hummed thoughtfully to himself. "I might like to learn to fly a plane," he said after few moments. "I love to drive, and obviously I love to sail. It seems natural to try and master the sky as well. Maybe I should look into it some time."

He looked down at his pen, and the journal, then back to Cris. "Are we good? There's still much more skating to be done," he said, "and I haven't yet crashed, which I am almost positive is in store."

He smiled, indicating he didn't mind said crash. For one thing, he was certain to be picked up and kissed better by a very attractive partner. It almost made the crashing idea more appealing, if not for the fact that he was fairly certain of being kissed regardless of positive crash status.

He nodded once to Rowan when his lover said that he would consider his offer concerning the empathy. Cris wouldn't insist. He didn't like the thought that his partner's ability hurt every time he went to use it. Working on it was going to cause pain and he could understand why there would be reluctance.

"Yes, well that's because she's a good person." Christian muttered against Rowan's neck as he was pulled close. "I'm not going anywhere and neither is Alfarinn. At least I can find him now."

He smiled softly at Rowan's gentle kiss and listened to his words. "If there are things that you want to share with me then I will read them or listen to you tell me. I don't want you to hide anything from me but I don't want to pry, permission or not. I pry for a living and I'd rather not do it to you." It was something he was adamant about. He never wanted to step over the lines of privacy. He respected and cared for Rowan; it was easy to become suspicious and to nose around where he shouldn't instead of simply asking. Christian would rather talk to Rowan if there was something he wanted to know.

Cris was glad that his partner liked the idea of a shared journal. He thought it would be interesting and pleasant for both of them. It was a way to share Rowan's love of writing and a way to keep in touch when they were apart. He liked the idea of having many volumes of shared books years from now and being able to go over them together. It astounded him that he could think this way. Weren't they out on their first official date? Christian dared to hope that they would get the chance to fill up a library of journals together.

Smiling at the offer for musical lessons, Cris replied. "In a few months perhaps. I have this sneaking feeling that so much of our free time is going to be taken up with...other things for a bit."

He liked Rowan's own thing to learn, anything involving machines and vehicles interested him and Christian loved to fly. "That sounds like fun."

They headed to the counter with their purchases. "You are doing fine. Just continue paying attention to where you're going. I don't think you'll crash." He would be nice and not distract his companion. Cris would prefer Rowan not sore for later tonight.

Rowan sighed softly, pleased to have his partner in his arms where he belonged. "So are you," he countered gently. "An incredibly good person. One that I'm vastly relieved to hear is not going anywhere in the near future."

Cris's reasons for not reading his journals made perfect sense to Rowan once they were explained. Rowan nodded his understanding and said no more on the topic, although he disagreed with Cris slightly, perfect sense or not. Obviously he didn't mind sharing his past, or he wouldn't have offered his journals up for Cris's interest. Nor did he think it could even remotely pass for prying when offered in such a way. But the distinction was important to Cris and Rowan respected it. "Then I'll just tell you what's on my mind when it comes up," he said, smiling easily. In truth, he didn't mind being encouraged to keep his past where it belonged - in a stack of dusty old books.

He laughed at Christian's speculation about their free time, leaning back and favoring his lover with an innocent look. "I can't imagine what you could possibly mean," he said with as much naivety as possible. "Oh, you're talking about our book club right? That will take up quite a lot of time. All that reading... analyzing... I hadn't considered how time-consuming it could be."

His actions belied his words, though, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to the crook of Cris's neck, sucking softly for just a moment before straightening and raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe something else we can find time for... in a few months," he said with a grin when Cris seemed interested in flying also. "You know. When we've exhausted all the book club options."

They checked out at the counter and went back outside, taking a few minutes to get back into their skates. Rowan fixed his backpack on and tugged his wrist guards back into place; he wasn't going to count his chickens before they hatched. "It's hard to pay attention to where I'm going, when I just want to look at you," he pointed out. "Maybe you should go first. But then, I couldn't hold your hand."

It was definitely a conundrum. Rowan shrugged and took Cris's hand. "I'd rather be distracted," he said, "than not able to touch you."

Cris sighed happily in Rowan's arms, knowing better than to argue with his partner about whether or not he was a good person. It mattered that Rowan thought so and continued to think so.

He nodded to his companion about his journals. If Rowan sat down with him and shared them with him then he would not feel as though he were intruding. Much like looking at someone's family photo albums, they would be much better read with the person who made them and who could give insight and additional information about what was being looked at.

Christian laughed when Rowan suggested that they would be taking up all their time with the book club. "That's right, very time consuming but relaxing... all the time laying in bed...reading."

Once more outside, they found another bench and changed back into the skates. Luckily their purchase easily fit into one of the backpacks so they both continued to have their hands free.

Rowan remarked about wanting to look at him, Cris found himself smiling softly, unused to being the object of someone's affectionate attention. He could see Rowan being a distraction; the man was handsome, interesting to look at, and very charming. It would be no surprise to him if his partner garnered plenty of glances and smiles as they skated along or wandered through the stores.

He reached out and took Rowan's hand, looking up at his companion as he did so. "I will just have to be quick enough to catch you then."

They continued on their way, Cris took note of the next few shops as they passed before turning to his partner. " What's one of the silliest things you've done?" He was quick to add. "I'm not talking about mistakes, though perhaps it could involve that. Nothing serious just something odd, funny or strange." Their conversation had turned somber over the course of the last few questions, which was natural enough but he hoped to find a more lighthearted topic for the next round of questions.


((OOC: Stores

Swiss Leather - Luggage (not the kinky fun kind of leather)
Expecting - Women's Maternity Clothing
The Disney Store

Rowan threaded his fingers in with Cris's as they began to skate again. He wasn't horribly worried about falling. He was a reasonably good skater and should be able to stay upright as long as they didn't get too ambitious. Of course, being caught was appealing.

Cris's next question had him thinking, a big grin on his face. "The silliest thing I've done, now there's a long list," he said.

Where the hell did he start? "Uh, let's see. Jensen and I have been in some pretty unusual situations here and there."

He considered. "And Henri, too. You know, for the world's most normal looking guy he manages to get himself into some good scrapes."

He flashed a fanged grin at Cris. "Okay, some of them were my fault."

Still, he couldn't decide on one situation that stuck out. "I'm not sure where silly ends and absurd begins."

Finally he laughed and said, "All right. A while ago I worked for a children's hospital in Canada. It was a long-term situation, for kids with debilitating diseases who needed constant care. We did a lot to try to keep their spirits up, you know? Whatever we could to bring them some enjoyment. Lots of little shows, sing alongs, story-telling, things that would keep them interested and involved.

"On one occasion they all decided they wanted to put on a play. The ward wasn't very full at the time. There were six children there. They decided on a typical fantasy, complete with a prince, princess, an ogre, an evil wizard, you name it... they had a role for it.

"Only, they realized after writing their play that they'd forgotten to cast on of themselves to play the fairy godmother."

Rowan grinned at Cris. "The, uh, singing fairy godmother."

He laughed at the memory. He'd done some funny stuff in his time but for sheer silliness this was one of his favorite memories. "Several of the nurses offered to fill in but they wanted me to do it. What was I going to say? Of course, I could totally rock a tutu and a spangly star-shaped wand. They looked great with the scrubs and the piercings, let me tell you."

He shrugged his shoulders at Cris. "Are you going to tell me one too? Surely you've found yourself in some equally silly situations."

Anyone lived as long as vampires did, it was a given, in Rowan's opinion.

Christian smiled at Rowan when he said that his list of silly things was long. He was not surprised to hear that Eiryk featured prominently in a few of those things.

He looked especially interested when hearing about Henri, a normal looking guy, was involved in a lot of these situations as well. "Henri Durand?" Cris shook his head and smiled. How many average looking French vampires could there be? Most people seemed to grant immortality to people who stood out for one reason or another. Personally he thought Grisha turned him because he could get along with him. Cris was not sure what attracted the vampire to him in the first place. "Those could be interesting stories to know for the next time I visit France."

Rowan's story was not just amusing but very heart warming. Cris was coming to the conclusion that there was very little that his partner wouldn't do for children. He loved that about Rowan. Obviously his companion wasn't too worried about looking ridiculous if it made a few kids happy and that was just extremely adorable.

Christian laughed "So you're telling me that you were the Fairy Blood Mother?" He grinned at Rowan "I bet your were gorgeous. Were you sparkly?"

He thought about the same question and sort of shrugged. "When I was a kid in the army some of us, younger soldiers,would play pranks when we camped. Swapping people's clothes around, sending new recruits around to officers asking for things we don't have, etc... We once sewed one of the Lieutenant's tent shut."

Cris looked up at the stars and then over at his partner. "We didn't expect the Captain to be in there with him at the time..."

Biting his lip, he continued to confess. "I still might be responsible for a few pranks in The Towers. Of course Security believes I have no sense of humor so they've never suspected that the delicious looking cookies in the break room that have the sign that says "Do not eat" and happens to have dye in them to turn the thieves mouths green, or the person who the day after the company softball team hid all the office chairs, or who hired a couple of college theater students to prank call the lobby as groupies to ask then all kinds of crazy questions about Arin Björn was me."

Christian put on his poker face, turned around skated backward for a moment watching Rowan. "Office moral is important. Adapting and dealing with unusual situations is also important so from time to time I do such things to see how people respond... that and its fun."

He muttered. "For completely silly you should try making raccoon noises into a tape recorder, hunkered down in a tiny hole in the wall hideout sitting knee to knee with the elder of your clan who is laughing his ass off."

Cris sighed and favored his companion with a martyred expression before spinning around and skating forward once more. "Your turn for a question."