Orphan [open to VDM family]

[Giselle]

Everything was moving around her, the people always seeming to be in some sort of hurry as they ushered her from one area to the next. Hazel eyes stared out the window of another car, all she understood was that she was being moved to yet another place while “arrangements” were made for her. Not that any of the so-called adults had actually sat her down and explained to her what was and would be happening.

Her name was Giselle von der Marck, the only child of Maximillian von der Marck of Bergbau Industries, one of the largest mining corporations in the world and dealt with gemstones of all types and kinds. Her father had always told her that every time he said her name, he thought of a swan. That was what he’d called her, Schwanjunge or a baby swan, and had taken her to the ballet of her namesake when she was 7 years old.

Nothing was constant except change itself. She’d heard that somewhere, from someone she couldn’t recall now. Only the thought itself was clear in her mind. Everything changed… Giselle von der Marck was gone. She was now Giselle, the orphan.

The people around her often whispered that she was in shock since she had been told of her father’s death yesterday. Maybe that’s what they called it when someone stopped talking, but she couldn’t really say. Couldn’t she just not feel like talking? Her father had been the one she had talked to most, spending as much time with him as she could. He had taken her everywhere with him, going to different countries on business trips. This time they had been in Greece and she had spent a night in their hotel room, watching documentaries while waiting for him to come back from a business dinner. Only… he never came back. Did she feel in shock? Maybe, if shock felt like all her insides had gone cold and her heart had turned to ice. She had just lost both her father and her best friend in one go, she figured she was entitled to being left alone. Not that she had been, left alone that is.

Well, not until she had accidentally thrown her arm out at one of the female assistants in the office she had been sitting in. The poor woman had gotten a case of hypothermia and some cuts from the ice shards that had materialized out of nowhere, the air around her fingers condensing and then freezing. The already emotionally distraught pre-teen had freaked out and closed in on herself some more, resolving not to even touch anyone in case she would hurt someone accidentally.

She couldn’t believe the things that were happening to her. It felt like she was trapped in a bad B movie or even a particularly bad nightmare. It would make sense, all her fears were coming up and she didn’t know what to do, who to turn to. So… she thought of happy things. That’s what you were supposed to do when you felt bad right? Think of happy thoughts and happy places? Of happier times?

Giselle was brought out of her thoughts by a jolt and she realized that the car had come to a stop. Turning her head, she saw the female she was riding with had turned to her and reached out a hand while saying something in English. She leaned backwards away from the hand and glared at the woman, her mind stuck in a German speaking state as she had been thinking of her father and really, they only spoke German to each other. It was their private language, their family language. It was something she found comfort in and it was causing her mind to be muddled as she struggled to translate what the woman was saying to her. Obviously, she knew how to speak English and it added to her confusion when she couldn’t switch as seamlessly as she used to. Finally, the door was opened and she escaped the confines of the car, huddling down into the coat she had been wrapped in.

She looked up at the front door of the large house and relaxed minutely. Giselle recognized this place, knew that it was somewhere she had been before, though she had always been with…

Looking down at the ground, at her feet, she forced the thought from her head and told herself bitterly not to cry. Von der Marcks had spines of steel… and she was determined to be colder than steel. ‘Eiskalt,’ she thought, staring at the ground forlornly. ‘Allein und kalt. Ich friere... ’

Translations:

Eiskalt - Ice cold
Allein und kalt - Alone and cold.
Ich friere - I'm freezing

[Leonie von der Marck]

The dark haired von der Marck Lioness had been nervous all day. Picking at imaginary lint from her surprisingly demure outfit of dark, tailored trousers and a v-neck white blouse, she had paced the halls like her namesake. A new face was soon to appear, under decidedly horrid circumstances, but Leonie had vowed to make the most of things, as best she could, for the sake of the young charge about to cross the threshold. Falken’s distant cousin was not so very well known to her, but she had seen him and the girl at a gathering or two and had met them both during random family visits over the years, when schedules or simple happenstance allowed for it. For that reason, the woman felt more responsible than she normally would have, despite the painfully obvious knowledge that she had no experience with children or teens. She would likely be the most familiar face out of all of them, if Giselle remembered her, and even then not that familiar at all, and so she thought it was doubly important she be present.

Leonie sighed quietly, the staccato tap of high heels striking the stone floors in a gentle rhythm as she went, one hand toying first with an earring and the next fiddling with the ruby pendant. She was not the most patient of people at the best of times, but this level of anxiety was altogether new. An undercurrent of energy had been felt, all but tasted, and it seemed to her that this was perhaps the first sign that Alaric’s return had stirred something in the family, in their blood, perhaps in the very fabric of the Universe itself. She didn’t know, but the thought of it hummed through her, filling her head with the whispered suggestion that Giselle was but the first to return, under any number of circumstances yet to occur.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that premonition. So many things had changed, and there was a gentle, peaceful flow to the days and nights at the von der Marck manor. It would be interesting to see how things shook up as more and more returned to join them.

But at last and all of a sudden, the sound of the doorbell rang throughout the house, followed by a sharp rap against the solid oak door. Her pacing halted and instead, all at once apprehensive, Leonie drew a deep breath and moved to answer. And as she swung the door open, her eyes took in the sight of the young girl staring down at the ground, before her eyes swung to the woman standing beside her. The carer nodded and Leonie’s gaze moved back to Giselle before she gently cleared her throat. Unable to remember if the girl knew English, Leonie decided, without thinking much about it, on the language of her own childhood:

“Willkommen, Giselle. Komm herrein.”

Translation: “Welcome, Giselle. Come on in.”

[Giselle]

Welcome. The words came from in front of her and Giselle looked up from her feet and the ground only to see a dark haired woman looking at her. Her brow furrowed and she let her gaze fall to the ground at the woman's feet, thinking that she looked sort of familiar. Maybe she has seen this one before? Then again, it could just be the Von der Marck features that she recognized.

Her fingers curled and dug into the flesh of her palm as she forced herself to forget the family gatherings she had attended before, when her father was still...

'Nein,' she told herself firmly. A heartbeat later and she shuffled her feet, turning to look at the woman beside her who tried to smile encouragingly but ended up looking somewhat constipated. Reluctantly, Giselle stepped over the threshold with tiny, biting strides and a furtive glance at the Von der Marck woman in front of her. She wasn't surprised when the feeling of cold followed her inside, her lips pressing together as she spied frost on the edges of the doorway.

A panic started in her chest as she realized that there was something about coming inside that invited her to thaw herself, to let someone else in. Another glance at the dark haired woman ushering her inside had her wondering.

'Kommt das Gefühl von ihr?'

Translation:

Nein - No
Kommt das Gefühl von ihr? - Is that feeling coming from her?

[Leonie von der Marck]

The Lioness could feel the cold seeping off the girl, and she had to actually work to keep a brow from arching at the appearance of frost. Her fingers stole back around the pendant as she watched her carefully for a moment, before her attention was stolen by the social worker. After a brief exchange, a few signatures, and the passing of a card, the woman turned and left, heading off into the darkening day and Leonie, for the moment at least, was the person on record for having accepted custody of Giselle.

And, it would seem, alone for the moment.

She tried hard to tuck the momentary panic over that down as she gnawed on her lower lip for a moment, trying to decide what to do. She’d hoped for some company while waiting, from any of them, though one in particular’s absence was especially keenly felt. She’d hoped he would be waiting with her, though she supposed it made sense, since she was the only one with no current responsibilities, combined with an uncertain arrival time. After a beat, she gently cleared her throat, and offered the girl a soft, friendly smile.

“Hier kann ich Ihren Mantel nehmen. Gehen wir in der Stube sitzen. Die anderen werden in Kürze zusammen sein. Würden Sie so etwas wie zu essen oder zu trinken? Alles, was überhaupt ?” Even though Giselle had yet to say anything to her, she would have to keep trying. Leonie herself had no idea how it would feel to be in her position; in her mind, she’d mostly lost both distant parents some time ago. She was well used to being on her own, even with the recent reconnection with her father.

”Wir haben ein Zimmer für Sie vorbereitet. Seine in der Nähe von mir. Ich bin Leonie, nebenbei bemerkt. Oskar Tochter. Falken Enkelin.” She motioned the girl toward the large room off the front hall, waiting for her to join her, if she would at all. So far there had been precious little acknowledgement, with the exception of Giselle entering the house at all.

Translation:

*Here, I can take your coat. Let's go sit in the parlor. The others will be along shortly. Would you like anything to eat or drink? Anything at all?

** We have a room prepared for you. Its near mine. I'm Leonie, by the way. Oskar's daughter. Falken's grand-daughter.

[Giselle]

Hazel eyes more on the green side watched as the two women spoke and signed papers, ending with the constipated smile flashing at her again from the one she had been stuck with in the car. Giselle was not impressed and steadily stared at her until she fidgeted, clearly unnerved and said her quick goodbyes before departing with the car.

Which left Giselle with a woman who was vaguely familiar, standing in the middle of the entryway in a house that she barely remembered and didn't WANT to try to remember at the moment lest it trigger a memory she couldn't handle right now. It wasn't the best situation she could be in and although it certainly wasn't the worst, the 13 year old girl wasn't particularly inclined to look at the silver linings of clouds just yet.

The offer to take her coat had her huddling in around herself some more, as if afraid that she would be exposed and vulnerable, even weak, without the protective covering. She waited for the anger and exasperation to come, and then the attempt to remove it from her bodily, just like the others she had been with had done or tried to do until they learned that there was something odd about it, just like the odd thing that happened with that one secretary or lawyer that annoyed her. Giselle looked cautiously at the woman when she didn't react as expected.

She supposed she should be scared at all the ice and cold fluttering around her, but as it kept her safe from prying and prodding fingers, she couldn't bring herself to care much. Maybe it would hit her later, when that feeling that they had called shock, and wasnt that appropriate what with the ice cold feeling that anyone got from touching her, had worn off. Then again, the cold could be a manifestation of her father- No. Not going there.

The woman, Leonie she had said her name was, had motioned her forwards and mentioned a parlor. Giselle had flashes of laughter and the smell of something alcoholic along with hugs and tickles. Walking timidly forward but refusing to acknowledge Leonie's words apart from that, the sadness creeped further into Giselle's heart at the flashes and snippets of memories of being in this house. She didn't remember it all very clearly, but the sounds and smells were drifting across her senses, nearly convincing her that she WAS in a bad dream after all. How could she hear something or smell something that wasn't there?

Reaching the parlor, she made a beeline for a chair and curled up on it, knees brought up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, and chin tucked down as she stared at the floor.

[Judah Marck]

Judah and August had been out, and his car pulled into the drive just as the other was leaving. They were expecting Giselle, one of their young cousins who had unfortunately lost her in parents only recently. Jude had spent time on the phone with lawyers, organising a carer for her until they could locate more immediate family, or get her to them. The parents had left nothing in their will about who she went to specifically outside of her remaining in the von der Marck family. He'd scoured the lineage tree, making a list of names and reasons why but nothing seemed to sit right, to be the perfect solution and the poor child couldn't be left without family for too long. This had only been a matter of days, and now she was here, at the manor until a better arrangement could be made. Alaric had agreed it was for the best, Leonie seemed passionate about it, protective of a young von der Marck and Louvel his open, willing self as always. Here she would be loved, be clothed and cared for to help life be as normal as possible while she grieved. How could it be normal? He understood the nature of grief and knew it was unpredictable, all they could do was be there for her, to try and roll with the punches.

August had been told about the girl, told the situation and he was determined to be the best cousin ever. He was secretly excited to have another young person in the house, even if they were upset or unhappy, he would do everything he could to cheer her up. Ah, the simple solutions of youth. Jude ushered his son towards the house, the pair eager to meet with the new arrival. Judah had met her before, but she was so young, he knew she probably wouldn't remember any of them or this house. He hoped some part of it would be familiar, a comfort that they could provide. When he reached the door and opened it he felt the cold, making him shudder. Had someone been blasting the air conditioning through the place? It was getting cooler, and he would be much more likely to sit in front of the fire places than putting on the A/C at this time of year. Jude and Augie looked around, the older of the pair calling out, "Hello? Anyone home?" The boys headed towards the parlour, he assumed that is where someone might take a guest. Was Giselle able to be considered a guest? She was their ward now, whoever had welcomed her inside had made sure of that, to sign the paperwork that had been organised to say that the child was now in the care of the von der Marck family, naming himself, Leonie and Louvel on the document. Alaric had been left off, it was agreed that perhaps announcing him to the world when there was no Government record of him might be a bad plan.

His warm brown eyes fell on the scene, a welcoming smile for Giselle and a look of relief to see Leonie was with her, he knew the Lioness was capable not only of sharing her strength but her kindness.

[Leonie von der Marck]

As the girl shrank back and wrapped the fabric tighter around her, Leonie let her be and didn’t mention the coat again. But the freeze was following them inside and she had to wonder, again, if it was her doing. But when she curled herself into a chair, Giselle seemed so small, and lost, and alone, that Leonie could not help but crouch down before her, a safe enough distance so she didn’t crowd her, her fingers twisting the ring on her right hand. Though it was an involuntary, almost nervous tic, she drew strength from the small object that had belonged to the one woman who would have probably known just what to do at that very moment.

“Hey... Sein Gehen in Ordnung zu sein, Giselle. Wie in Ordnung, kann es jetzt sein. Ich verspreche Ihnen, wir sind alle hier für was auch immer Sie wollen oder müssen, okay? Haben Sie keine Angst, um etwas zu fragen ...”

She sighed softly, then smoothly stood and sat beside her on the sofa nearest the chair, deciding to broach that which might engage the girl a bit, to finally bring her out of her shell. Not that she could imagine the shock of what she’d been through had even begun to fade, but if there was one thing Leonie knew, it was that extreme emotion with no outlet could be harmful. When uncontrolled abilities were added to that mix, it could be quite dangerous. The Lioness eyed her carefully, more than a little curious, though she was doubtful she would get any reaction.

“Ist es tun Sie das? Mit der Kälte? Es ist in Ordnung ... es gibt andere, mit unserem Blut, die Dinge wie diese tun können.”

But then she heard the door open and she looked up at the sound of the familiar voice calling from down the hall. “We’re in here,” she called back, waiting on Judah and August to make their appearance. When they finally did, she offered both a smile, and waved them in, with a clearing of her throat and brows raised slightly at the man. She wasn’t certain how or when to explain what she suspected without upsetting the girl, and since she understood German, that was out. She’d have to pull Jude into the hall after the got settled. Without saying as much, she gestured vaguely to the doorway and stood. “Dies ist Juda, und sein Sohn August. Wir werden bald wieder, Giselle sein. Ich muss mit Juda über die Papiere zu sprechen, die Dame abgesetzt. Hey August, can you save my seat for me until we get back?”

Translation:

-- Hey... Its going to be okay, Giselle. As okay as it can be right now. We’re all here for you, I promise, for whatever you want or need, okay? Don’t be afraid to ask for anything.

-- Is it you doing this? With the cold? Its okay... there are others with our blood who can do things like this.

-- This is Judah, and his son August. We will be right back, Giselle. I need to talk with Judah about the papers that lady dropped off.

[Giselle]

Why didn't anyone understand that she just wanted to be left alone? Leonie had come to crouch in front of her, no doubt trying to catch her eye. Giselle, being stubborn and wanting no part of whatever the other was trying to do, turned her head to the side so that she was watching the door to the parlor. Her actions earned her a sigh and a stab of guilt flashed through the girl's chest.

She wasn't a bad kid and didn't like the thought of hurting anyone, which was why she was trying so hard to push everyone away as it was. Her father had been her world and she still hadn't quite wrapped her mind around the fact that he was gone, that he wasn't just on another business trip, that he wasn't coming back. 'Die Leute kommen nicht von den Toten zurück... ' she thought sadly, tightening her fingers around the fabric she held in her hands as she clutched her knees to her chest. She wasn't a child, didn't consider herself a baby at all, and yet she was sorely tempted to cry like one. If she had felt safe maybe, just maybe, she would have let herself grieve for what she's lost. But no one had given her any sense of privacy at all, not since it had happened. Some had even acted like they were scared she would up and die on them as well, which confused her to no end. Day and night, someone had watched her. So she steeled her spine and told herself to be brave... when all she wanted right now was someone to tell her it was alright to cry, to give her the space she needed, she craved.

Giselle almost snorted with derision when she was asked if she was the one causing the cold to weave through the air. 'Ich weiß nicht, warum, aber ich fühle mich wie es so kalt außerhalb von mir sein sollte, wie ich innen fühlen. ' No, she didn't know how she was doing it, though she knew it was something that was from her, around her, a part of her. It made her feel stronger despite the fear that it would suddenly take on a life of it's own and attack someone. Yet another reason why she should be left alone. Odd things happened around her that she just couldn't explain. When she was younger she'd tried to tell one of her tutors and had gotten a long time out in the corner for daring to 'tell tales'. The girl had learned that anything that wasn't what others thought was normal should never be spoken about, lest she incur someone else's wrath. Even her own father hadn't known, had luckily not seen the odd light that would shine in her eyes and then cause a lamp or a glass to fall over out of the blue.

She started when the door to the parlor opened and two males came through, one older and the other just a boy. 'Er sieht jünger aus, als ich bin,' she thought, watching August curiously as Leonie introduced the father and son duo. Somehow, she knew that she had seen them before. But her head still felt thick and her heart was a block of dense ice in her chest. She wasn't in any mood to try and sift through her disjointed thoughts to try and remember a detail here and there about some people she was distantly related to. Giselle saw the older woman's attempt to draw Judah outside so she can talk to him privately. Which meant the younger boy would be left with her. Joy.

Giselle turned her head away from all of them and turned to stare at the decorations on the wall nearest to her, forcibly dismissing them all from her mind. 'Ich bin -nicht- interessiert,' she told herself firmly.

Translations:

'Die Leute kommen nicht von den Toten zurück... ' - People do not come back from the dead

'Ich weiß nicht, warum, aber ich fühle mich wie es so kalt außerhalb von mir sein sollte, wie ich innen fühlen. - I don't know why, but I feel like it should be as cold outside as I feel inside me.

Er sieht jünger aus, als ich bin - He looks younger than I am

Ich bin nicht interessiert - I am not interested

[Alaric von der Marck]

The darkness was still an issue for Alaric, but rather than run from it as he had done in the beginning, now he waited. The room he slept in was the one he’d always slept it; it was underground, with no windows. It was cold, but so was the vampire who passed out, comatose, within its four walls. The darkness was kept at bay sometimes, if the fire was strong enough to last through the days. Sometimes, the flames died and the dark and the cold crept over the elder. But it had been months, and the realm had not taken him back. The tendrils of shadows had not curled their cold fingertips around his soul and yanked him back into the ether.

To help ease himself into the darkness of waking, Alaric took stock of his surroundings. Not physically, not by looking with open eyes, but by reaching out with his mind. Each soul within the estate was within his reach. Each member of his family – small as the gathering was here, in Harper Rock, though growing every week – was found and assessed. He did not dig too deep, unless he found something worth concern. He liked to know who was there and who was not, he liked to know if there were any strangers in their home.

Tonight, there was a new presence. A younger one. One that Alaric was expecting, eventually – and from what he could tell from his distant location she had only just arrived. Although he could not read thoughts – as much as he liked to make them all believe that he could – he could read memories. From those gathered around the newcomer he could put together the pieces, a kaleidoscopic view of the situation from different angles. He could see the girl, her face, the way she curled up like she wanted anything but to be in company. He could hear her – the read memories came at a delay, the voices themselves bouncing off the walls and travelling down the staircases to the very room in which Alaric lay.

” Willkommen zu Hause, Giselle,” he said, voice projected directly into her mind.

He knew that she might not consider it home. The home the girl once knew was no more – and it was something that she would have to come to terms with. It would be a difficult age at which to do so. Alaric firmly believed that to continue to refer to the estate as her home, however, she might soon come to believe that it was her home.

The line of communication had been opened; the door to Alaric’s mind was open. If Giselle wished to talk with him, mind to mind, she could. Alaric did not stir, while he waited, his quiet assessment of his family continuing – his silent meditation before starting his night.

TRANSLATION: * Welcome home, Giselle.

[Giselle]

Giselle visibly startled at the voice echoing through her mind. Welcome home, it said. Was she to stay here permanently then? No more trips abroad? No more flurry of movement as people frantically made "arrangements" for her while trying to pretend that everything was okay? Was this her last stop?

Home is where the heart is. It was a cliche, but Giselle had known that already. Had felt that when she went around the world with her father. As long as she had been with him, wherever they were at the time, she had been home. HE was her home.

Losing him was the worst thing in her short life. She was afraid that if she ever loved anyone the same way, ever let anyone become her 'home' again, that she would lose them too. Maybe not in the way that she lost her father, but there were many other ways.

Even just the fact that the cold was wrapped around her like a child's comfort blanket was something. The people she had been with didn't understand, had treated her like she was diseased or worse, as if she WAS the disease. She was afraid of getting close to anyone and once they knew for a fact that she was odd that they would send her away. Giselle was no idiot. She had read stories and books where the ones who weren't normal were persecuted. Heck, the stories of witch hunts and trials were wide spread. She wasn't sure what to call herself or her oddity but... those stories were scary. As much as she tried to act maturely after everything, despite not speaking, she was still only just entering her teenage years.

'Zuhause? Ist das zu Hause? Wer.... bist du?' she replied to that voice who had spoken to her, mind to mind. She didn't know how to make sure he heard her, didn't know if he would hear. But she imagined that since it had spoken to her, she might as well speak back.

Translation:
'Zuhause? Ist das zu Hause? Wer... bist du?' - Home? Is this Home then? Who... are you?