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"The stormbound," he rumbled with a faint, wry smile. He hadn't involved himself with the goings on that night, them being quite far removed from his own areas of expertise, but he had watched from a distance and, of course, been bumped into before they had even boarded. "It is a pleasure to meet you properly at last, Lilianne," he said, returning with his own, somewhat lower and more formal bow. His fingers curled lightly against Habren's hand as he returned her kiss with a grin. It was a strange age for a couple to live in, he had found; on the one hand, it seemed to be perfectly acceptable - expected even - that a pairing who had met not five minutes earlier undress one another in public in a bar or club and yet established couples such as they were often looked poorly upon for doing even as much together in public as holding hands or hugging. It meant a constant expectation that one walk an impossibly fine line was thrust upon the spoken for members of society and perhaps went some way to explaining the increasing reluctance for the young people of the age to settle down into committed relationships. As it was, Mircea had never been particularly keen on living up to the expectations of society and so, instead of keeping a wary distance for fear of communal distaste or judgement, he kept hold of Habren's hand and drew her in against his side, placing a kiss to the top of her hair before returning his attention to Lilianne and her unusual questions.

Just as unbalancing a curiosity as society's view on appropriate levels of affection, of course, was the girl's question regarding the origins of his name. The truth was hardly appropriate telling to a mortal they barely knew, however curious the individual might be, if such a tale was even believable in the telling. It was a time long past and not particularly accurately covered in modern historical literature, so much of the telling depended on trust or a first hand knowledge of the period - both things that were often found to be lacking in modern day Harper Rock... Modern day anywhere, really, it seemed.

"I was given it," he finally said. It was true, in so far as it was a name that had been gifted unto him and yet a simple enough statement that it didn't lend itself to particular scrutiny, he hoped. Moreover, he thought, he hoped attention would soon return to what had brought the girl to Harper Rock in the first place and he knew that that was his wife rather than his unusual name. This wasn't the first time he had wondered whether it would have been wise to adopt a more fitting name for the time and place in which they dwelt and he doubted that it would be the last, either.

The dark-haired witch gave a nod at Lilianne's statement, the answer - that it seemed a misogynistic-centered society bent on keeping its women down and they feared this girl with all of her latent ability - almost glaringly obvious from her perspective, even if it wasn't necessarily the case - she couldn't quite know until Lilianne told her more. But instead of articulating that thought, she simply smiled. "Do not worry or give credence to confusion. The important thing is you are here now, and you need only learn what you came here to learn so you can protect yourself in whatever ways become necessary. That is your focus. The rest will come in time."

She smiled from her place at Mircea's side, fingers curled around his all the while as Lilianne spoke of their names. The question threw her a bit, though it seemed innocent enough... and yet, somehow not. A brow arched; she often forgot how out of place they sounded in this day and age, especially considering neither name had been too uncommon back in their own day but now seemed glaringly foreign and rare. But it had never occurred to her to change that which had been her own for her entire existence - even if some of their progeny and friends had taken to calling her "Habs" for short. Still, she waited on Mircea's explanation before making one of her own, keeping her look neutral, if somewhat guarded. She wasn't inclined to be dishonest with this girl, but for her safety and their own, Lilianne could not know just yet what she and Mircea were.

Gently, she cleared her throat before chiming in, her gaze easily swinging to find Mircea's before it moved back to the girl once more, gauging her reaction to their answers. "It is an old family name, my dear. Welsh." She hoped Lilianne would accept them with ease, all the while praying to Nox that the rest of her questions would not force any deceptions on their part.

A haunting little laugh escaped her as she realized by his nickname for her, that her reputation had been set. It wasn’t at all inaccurate and she did seem to have a proclivity for chaos, so storms fit in nicely. “Yes… I apologize for any disruption that caused.” The storm was significant and if Habren hadn’t recognized it for what it was, the other passengers would likely have perished. Fate, it seemed, stepped in that night and turned the world on its back. The change and opportunities presented were as wonderful for Lilianne to see as the affection the couple showed each other. It was different, yes, and they lacked shame- shame was another ‘quality’ that was supposed to be present in a romantic pairing that Lilianne disagreed with whole heartedly. She could see that the love was as timeless and untarnished as they both seemed… and the combination of it all gave them light. It made them a beacon.

Confusion had taken the head seat at her internal tea party since she escaped the confines of Montserrat. The girl wasn’t entirely certain how she would silence the riddles on repeat in her mind, but the woman was right. The right steps had been taken and a great deal of focus would be required of her… Giving distractions like confusion and worry would do nothing but hinder. Still, there were too many questions about every aspect of her life. She had an unsettling feeling that the confusion wouldn’t be going anywhere for a great while.

A glimmer of amusement crept over her features as the both of them gave vague and slightly calculated answers to her question. Neither seemed to have been a lie, just… not very giving. It was fair, she thought, in any circumstance- but this one especially, given what she was asking of them both, justified protection of their own information. She wouldn’t press, that much was decided, unless it became essential information. It could, after all, be as simple as they said.

After deciding to move back to their previous topic of conversation, she quit staring and turned back to pick up her tea. It was only a matter of minutes until the cooling process would begin, and her taste for tea stopped when it lost proper temperature.
“What a fortune. They really are lovely names…” A sip was taken, then she sat sideways in her chair to maintain conversation as the day’s travels began to catch up with her and her legs felt less than reliable.
“Will you be joining us for tea or just conversation, Sir?”

"Thank you. I am quite fond of them myself," he agreed; that was, after all, why neither had ever sought to take on a more timely pseudonym - their names, given at birth or later on in life were their own and each had become rather attached to them. They were part of who they had grown to be, as humans, as vampires and as a couple during their years together. Following the girl's lead, though, he strayed away from the topic and found himself pleased to return to the topic it seemed he had interrupted with his introduction to conversation.

"I am not much of a conversationalist," he began, rolling the word carefully around his mouth as if, even after so many years of speaking the language, some words were still foreign to him and the consonants and vowels struggled to form themselves on lips and tongue used to a very different construction of words and sentences. "But I am afraid I am even less of a tea drinker." It wasn't the first time since his turning that he had been invited to sit for a meal or join in a drink that he couldn't enjoy without suddenly revealing his true nature in a most unfortunate manner. As such, he had long since established a mental list of excuses why he couldn't join in, including everything from allergies and simple distaste to having already eaten or being expected to do so later in the evening. Tea, he hoped, would be a simple thing to avoid by dislike and, if pushed, he was sure they would come up with some other kind of cover story to keep their guest content and none the wiser about just who - and what - she had found herself dealing with.

He lead Habren back to her seat, only finally releasing his hold on her hand when she was settled and he needed to turn his attention to finding a seat for himself. "You have decided to take Habren up on her offer from the train, I assume?" He asked, looking to keep conversation flowing so that drinks didn't need to.

Habren smiled quietly to herself, taking her seat as Mircea detailed himself; it was true that he didn't speak much before he knew a person - the strong, silent sort of man if there ever was one - but when he did have something to say, it was often after a good deal of thought and consideration, carefully worded and precisely what he meant. Still, she was pleased when he sat in the third chair, still in its place close beside her own from the last time he had joined her, and she flashed him a soft grin at the mention of his distaste for tea. Truer words, though in ways Lilianne had likely never considered.

"Ah, do not be silly, my darling," she teased him gently. "You are an excellent conversationalist." But she allowed the matter to drop after that, knowing he was more likely to want to sit and observe and listen, as was his way, until he had something more he wished to offer besides his much-wanted presence. And he did not disappoint, as he soon added a new query to break the comfortable silence.

Habren took a sip of her own tea as she eyed the young girl across the table, the smile staying firmly put over her lips. She wondered what Lilianne might have to say, to add to the question that spoke of not simply observation, but that the male was well and truly versed in all that had occurred on that out-of-the-ordinary train ride.

Oh… no secrets between them. Deo gratias.
She offered a small grin in first response to his question, then allowed her gaze to float between the two of them. It all, at first, seemed to have been a simple and God-given solution… but as she sat and told bits and pieces of the story, the girl realized that the pretty picture wouldn’t hold under fire. Eventually, the details would have to be given… and would it be fair to throw anyone else into the flames without their full consent? Yes, it would certainly tax her integrity, but the weight would settle upon their laps… like a mountain of lead. Who was she to ask for blind faith? She couldn’t even give that to her God, let alone another living being. A vow of silence, serious, even if it had always chapped her sensibilities, would have to be broken.

“I would like to, yes. If, after I have disclosed what you will both need to know, everyone is comfortable with the notion.”

It bothered her that he wouldn’t take tea. True, in her experience, taking tea with company was polite, but it was also ritual for big conversations. She couldn’t remember a single serious talk in her life (at least in civil conversation) that hadn’t been accompanied with tea in all hands- so more than she felt insulted, as she quickly learned that her customs were not common, she was unnerved and wondered if she needed to make the entire explanation into a version suitable for rapid summary. The internal debate wouldn’t make itself evident over her features, but her fretting did cause her brows to furrow and a crease to draw itself just above the curve of her nose. No rock unturned… rushing will do no good.
“It will be necessary to keep everything between us, but I cannot ask or accept this favor without you both knowing what has risen in the wake of recent events… now, where should I begin?”

Truth.

It was such a small, deceptively simple word that had incredible ramifications when carelessly or naively employed or neglected. A white lie about a partner's appearance had long since been a social expectation (even when Mircea was a young man was it so), but such a thing poorly timed could dash the confidence of even the most beautiful of women or handsome of men. The lies Mircea and Habren were forced to live each night that they woke were no white lies, of course; a black so deep that no light could hope to penetrate it shrouded their existence from all but the select number who shared in the life of untruths with them.

And yet here was this mortal girl, with secrets of her own, offering to share them between two strangers before they (though mostly Habren, he had no doubt) agreed to help her or refused given their new found knowledge. It was a risk to do such a thing for anybody, but given what had brought the girl to them in the first place, Mircea couldn't help but suspect that the risk for this human was greater still. As great as their own, he wondered? Perhaps not quite so dire, but as dire as could be found to mortal hearts and minds, he believed.

His gaze slid across to Habren, the troubled thoughts in his mind showing only briefly in his eyes, but it was a concern indeed. What had they opened their doors to in inviting the young woman to seek counsel and extend her education under their wings. It was a risk to be weighed, but he supposed they had known that much when the offer was first made; quite how big a risk, it seemed would soon become clear to them, but the girl would be his wife's protégée, not his own and in such endeavours he trusted in her knowledge and experience far more than his own. The clouds of concern cleared from his eyes as he looked at her and were gone completely by the time he returned his attention to Lilianne, still quiet for the time being and trusting that the two women with him would soon enough tease out what truths needed to be spoken and heard in order for their working relationship to find its fate.