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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Mar 10, 2010 16:28:53 GMT -5
"I'm sure you're highly disappointed at the idea of someone calling you 'master'. You don't seem to have any issues at all slipping into the role." He snorted and rubbed the side of the head where he'd been struck, returning the smile with a cocky grin that made his crimson eyes sparkle. "Garlic, right away, my lord."
Rolling his eyes, Gilbert walked over to the counter and peered down at the garlic sitting there. The corners of his mouth began to twitched uncomfortably, and he was giving the herb a look as if the small thing had just offended him in the worst possible way imaginable. I hate garlic... he thought bitterly as he spun the knife in his hand absently between his fingers. He'd better be grateful for this...
With a wince, Gilbert quickly brought the flat side of the knife down on the clove and tossed the skin aside, dropping the garlic into the pot. He gagged as the smell hit his nose dead-on, and scrambled for a spoon as he held his breathe and began to stir. It smells terrible... he whimpered silently, glaring at the pot. My kitchen is going to smell like this shit forever. Dammit... I hope he takes this meal as a gift from God because I'm going to kick his ass later.
"Get me a bowl... It'll be done soon and you're not eating out of this."
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Mar 10, 2010 22:50:39 GMT -5
"Not so fast," Roderich chided, shaking his head and he finished seasoning the beef. "Are those sautéed?" He peeked over Gilbert's shoulder and nodded in satisfaction. Hefting the bowl of broth and meat and vegetables, he carefully poured it in with the onions and garlic, somewhat muting the smell of both. Taking the spoon from Gilbert's hand, he gently shouldered him out of the way and stirred it several times briskly before setting the lid atop it. "It has to simmer. Now sit down," he ordered firmly, taking the silver-haired young man by the shoulders and steering him toward the table, "And try the Liptauer on some bread. What kind of master would I be if I didn't take care of my servant?"
Leaving Gilbert standing Roderich crossed to the other side of the table and sat down, crossing his legs and reaching unconcernedly for the knife and loaf of bread. Cutting a nice, thick slice of bread, he slathered cheese over it and offered it to the other man. "Try it. It's your ingredients, anyway."
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Mar 11, 2010 0:07:29 GMT -5
Gilbert gave the bread being offered to him an awkward gaze. He wasn't used to eating human food, and he hadn't bothered trying for some time. Being dead had it's advantages that he didn't go hungry or need human food to survive (after all, the digestive system stopped working when one lacked a beating heart and working organs), but in situations like this, he never knew what to do.
"Uh," he hesitated, reaching out slowly for the offered bread with an uneasy hand. His fingers wrapped around the slice and pulled it toward himself with a fluid motion, blinking owlishly down at it as he tried to figure out what to do. "Thanks. It... looks awesome. Smells good."
Raising the bread to his lips, he nibbled absently at the crust, carefully chewing each crumble carefully before allowing himself more. After a careful five minutes, he'd managed to down several normal-sized bites of bread and hoped that he didn't look too unusual. He knew that he'd have to rid his stomach of the food later on, or it would simply sit there without any means of being disposed off.
He didn't like the thought of forcing himself to puke. Even as a vampire, it was awkward and uncomfortable, and a fair challenge to do. His gag reflex didn't work the same way a humans did, and thus disposing of the food needed to be done by other means. Means he really didn't want to think about.
"Do you cook often?" he asked, changing the subject. As long as he had them talking, he wouldn't be expected to eat. He could use that to his advantage.
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Mar 11, 2010 9:56:53 GMT -5
Waiting until he saw Gilbert eating the bread, Roderich nodded and smiled. "I cook, but normally I don't have ingredients as fine as these." He cut himself his own slice and spread cheese over it, chewing it slowly to give himself time to think of something to say. "Usually I only have dried meats and fruits to work with, sometimes small game caught by the people I travel with." Standing, he took his bread with him to the stove and lifted the lid on the soup, stirring it a few times. The smell of the garlic and onions was almost gone now to his nose, muted by the smell of cooking beef and vegetables.
The Liptauer bit his tongue pleasantly as he chewed, the almost-prefect blend of spices and cheese something he'd missed for a long time. This stove was slightly warmer than he'd anticipated; he turned the heat down and checked the vegetables. Only a few more minutes.
"When I was on the road," Roderich continued, closing his eyes, "I'd often stop at taverns and tell stories, play music. Sometimes they would allow me to eat for free in exchange for a song or a story, but usually they would want something in compensation. Then I would cook." He sighed and turned away from the stove, leaning against the counter top and crossing his arms. "It's been many years since someone has actually had the taste to appreciate what I play." Opening his eyes, he offered Gilbert a small smile. "Thank you."
Letting silence fall, Roderich turned back to the stove and stirred the soup twice more before crossing the kitchen to pull a bowl from the cabinet. Judging from Gilbert's less-than-enthusiastic acceptance of bread, he assumed he'd eaten already and only ladled in enough for himself. Turning the stove off and removing the pot from that burner, he set it down gently and returned to the table with his soup.
"You don't need to wait for me, please," he added, blowing on a spoonful of soup before tasting it. "I will clean up after myself. You must be tired."
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Mar 11, 2010 11:31:14 GMT -5
Clearing his throat, Gilbert pulled his gaze away from Roderich and shrugged, nibbling politely at the bread he'd been given (Frederick had taught him some manners after all). He could have laughed at the idea of being tired; sleep was yet another of the simple pleasures he didn't realize how much he took for granted until it was useless to him. "I'm fine," he shrugged, pushing the now half-finished slice of bread aside. "Awesome doesn't need sleep."
This, of course, was a lie.
It wasn't that the Prussian didn't need the sleep, but the amount of sleep that a creature like himself required compared to that of a normal human was very different. While he only needed a few hours a week, which he usually obtained during the daylight hours, someone such as Roderich would normally need at least a few a night. It was easy for Gilbert to go days on end, granted that he kept out of sunlight, without stopping to growing tired, but as he'd spent the better part of two months in the city where his house stood, the need for sleep wasn't much of a problem.
"I'll stick around for a bit. It's not often I get guests. I'd be a pretty crappy host if I just left you to wonder around the labyrinth on my own, wouldn't I?" Grinning, Gilbert leant back in his chair, his gaze seemingly focused on the ceiling as he watched Roderich move around the kitchen and prepare his food. Every few seconds his nose would twitch, his sensitive senses able to pick up on the lingering vapors of garlic that had, thankfully, been toned down by the other various ingredients (and not to mention the brunette himself). "Besides... a young master shouldn't have to clean up after himself all alone, ja? A loyal servant should keep to his side--Or so the contract would go, if we have one." The moment he said it, he winced. He'd slipped, big time, and that wasn't good. Frederick had told him only to mention the "contract" to someone he would singularly swear himself to--and a lot of other things he hadn't quite listened to.
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Mar 11, 2010 11:46:36 GMT -5
"Contract?" Roderich laughed softly as he finished his soup and raised an eyebrow. "I might act like a master, but again, I am not." He was taking himself too seriously, this silver-haired young man. He laughed again. "Besides, any servant of mine would grow weary of constant travel without any warning or results."
Standing, he crossed the kitchen and set the bowl in the sink, turning on the tap water and adding soap. Tightening the lid on the pot of Rindsuppe, he smiled as he turned to Gilbert. "Here, you can have some tomorrow; I'll leave this for you." He approached the leftovers, then frowned and turned back to the silver-haired young man. "Here, you can make yourself useful and put these back where they belong, then help me with the dishes."
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Mar 11, 2010 12:17:26 GMT -5
Shaking his head, Gilbert stood up and gathered the remaining unused ingredients, cradling them in his arms as he moved to put them away. "Contracts aren't always that simple, you know... Some run much deeper than the simple title of 'servant' and 'master'." A small smile tugged at the corner of the Prussian's lips as he disappeared into the pantry, glancing at the ice-box which held his own personal source of food. Someone like me... I could offer you so much more than that. One who would never fail you; protect you with more than a simple life. Heh... but if you knew what I was, you'd run away in terror.
With a small sigh, he walked back into the kitchen and began tossing the used dishes into the sink, turning on the water as warm as it would go and watching in faint fascination as steam began to rise from the stream. The heat didn't bother him as he began to scrub at the food which had caked itself onto the surface of the pot and bowls, if anything, it was a dull comfort from the normally frigid temperatures he'd become so accustomed to.
"As for traveling..." he shrugged, reaching for another dish to wash. "I'd be willing to bet this entire house that I could go for longer, and faster, than you could ever hope for; and not just because I'm awesome. Although my vast amount of awesomeness does help." He snorted quietly and shook his head, nodding toward a fabric towel on the counter. "Grab that and start drying."
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Mar 11, 2010 16:21:28 GMT -5
Roderich didn't answer immediately, moving where directed with eyebrows furrowed. Their conversation had taken a serious turn, and he wasn't sure if he liked where it was going. This young man had been a pleasant diversion conversation-wise, but if things kept on like they were right now, Roderich foresaw one of them being hurt, and he was willing to bet what little money was currently in his possession that it wouldn't be him who'd come out the worse.
Without looking, he absently dried the dishes near him and stacked them neatly to the side. His hand shook slightly as he set down a plate, and he stared at it until it stopped. Perhaps, if he caused him a little pain now, it would avoid both of them more in the future.
"Thank you," he said coldly, inwardly flinching at his own tone but pressing on. "But I don't need nor want a traveling companion, no matter how 'awesome' they think they are."
Setting down his dish and rag, he didn't look at him as he left the kitchen, boots clacking in a sure, steady stride that Roderich wished was a match for his inner feelings. The sound muffled as he crossed the carpet. Pausing on the first stair on the way upstairs, he sighed softly and closed his eyes, forcing his tone even cooler. "I will be out of your way by morning," he added briskly and firmly. "Good night."
Without another word, he walked up the stairs and entered the room Gilbert had given him, gently closing and locking the door behind him and sitting gently on the bed. Setting his glasses on the bedside table, he leaned back and sighed heavily, throwing his arm over his eyes. With a sinking feeling, his other hand brushed the case of his violin. Barely thinking, he sat up and opened the case, running his hand down the strings. Exhaling a deep, shuddering breath, he closed the case and laid back down. If he played, Gilbert would hear his insincerity.
And he could not allow that.
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Mar 11, 2010 16:54:11 GMT -5
The wide grin on Gilbert's face slowly melted into a look of shock, before finally working itself into a thin frown. He turned sharply on his heel and began washing the dishes with more force than needed, barely flinching as he cracked almost half of the ones left remaining. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, something began to claw violently at his insides, but he ignored it and forced the feeling away. He was used to this; people acting friendly and then suddenly jerked away.
The only explanation that he could think of was that, somehow, Roderich knew what he was, and wanted nothing further to do with him because of it. That's how it always happened and how it always would happen--or at least that is what he told himself. He was a vampire, and the mast majority of the world was human. They'd never mixed well before, so why would they be able to do so now?
It didn't take long for Gilbert to finish off the kitchen, and he wasted no time in getting out. After setting what remained of the soup, carefully packed away in a travel container, near the front door, he produced a tied handkerchief from the folds of his cloak. Inside were several fresh pieces of fruit and a small knife to cut them with. Despite how humans saw him, his old master's words had never left his mind since the day he first heard them. No matter what humans did, as one who could not die, it was his "job" to take care of them, and Roderich, especially Roderich, was no acceptation. He didn't know what it was about the brunette that made him so eager to help, but he planned to do what little he could.
"It's more awesome being alone..." he assured himself quietly. "I don't need anyone, and no one needs me." Sighing, he turned and hurried back down the hall, disappearing into the door on the opposite side of the room of the kitchen, glancing up at a large portrait on the far side of the room.
"...Hey, old man..."
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Mar 11, 2010 23:06:57 GMT -5
Roderich awoke slowly that morning, with no memory of having fallen asleep. Eyes closed, he nestled his face deeper into his pillow. In the fog of just-awake, he smiled and hugged the pillow to himself, expecting at any moment to hear his father calling for him, and the smell of the maids' cooking downstairs.
A half second later, and he jolted completely awake, eyes wide as he remembered where he was. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. The sun had barely risen; his biological clock had woken him at his normal time, and in the early morning light, the rich adornments of the room shone with a peculiar light, their color halfway between blue and purple so that he wasn't quite sure where he was just from looking.
With a sigh, he levered himself out of bed and smoothed his wrinkled vest, noting with some disgust that he'd slept in his clothes. Stumbling over to the sink, he turned the faucet on so the water was just a trickle, trying to make as little noise as possible. Filling his hands with the clear water, he splashed it over his face and stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection's violet eyes stared back, showing him clearly the indecision and self-loathing within. Uncharacteristically, Roderich had the sudden urge to smash the mirror, and an ugly, angry expression crossing his reflection's face until he turned away.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he smoothed his face into impassivity and picked up his jacket, dressing himself haltingly. Sitting at the desk, he took a piece of paper from within the drawer and uncapped the ink bottle, scrawling a hesitant, but brief note[/u][/url] and leaving it on the bed. His shortbow and violin on his back, he smoothed the bed covers and exited the room, closing the door gently behind him. Padding as silently as possible, he made his way down the stairs and started for the door. Almost as an afterthought, he turned and looked at where he had just been. One of the doors just behind the stairs was slightly ajar, and within, he could glimpse something that maybe, just maybe, was the foot of a grand piano. He should go. He knew he should leave and not look back. And with a sigh, Roderich ventured toward the room, pushing the door open the rest of the way gently so as to keep any potential sound from the hinges. Shutting it carefully behind him, he stood and stared at the piano longingly. It was a beautiful piece of work, this piano, and one hand reached out to slowly run his hand along the fall. He could clearly see himself in the lid, his own face reflected with the strings until he could barely tell where he stopped and piano began. A Fazioli... passed through his mind wonderingly. He might have gone through his entire life without having played on of these, and here it stood before him, welcoming him, almost pleading to be played. He stood there for a long minute before pulling the bench closer to the instrument and throwing his coat behind him as he sat. Roderich closed his eyes and lifted the fall, feeling the keys with his fingers, knowing from the feel how it would play. It was perfectly tuned and lovingly cared for, he could tell that much. This song would be the only apology Roderich could give him, and, keeping his emotions carefully masked, he started to play. The opening notes rang softly, but then, as he continued, his emotions entwined with the music and in a crash, everything spilled out. His own music-magic poured out of him and infused itself to the piano, taking on a life of its own as if moving his fingers with ghostly strings. Even if he had wanted to stop, he couldn't, for the music demanded to be played, and the instrument was the perfect vessel for it to flow through, capturing his soul and flowing it through the strings, in each cascading note. And then, with a crash, it slowed almost imperceptibly and stopped with a planned abruptness that had nothing to do with Roderich himself. Breathing heavily, sweat dripping off his nose, Roderich shoved himself back, knocking the bench over in his haste as he stood, staring at the piano as if it had betrayed him. There was no possible way Gilbert could have slept through that, and, eyes wide, Roderich turned and fled from the music room, slamming the door behind him. Gasping for breath, Roderich glanced down, and his heart twisted in anguish. At his feet, wrapped neatly, was the leftover food he had left for Gilbert. Gently picking it up, he bit his lip and glanced back at the door, then all but ran down the walkway and disappeared between the houses.[/sub]
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