Obscured Lineage Uncovered (Alaric Von Der Marck)

[Yuri]

Backdated to 10/10/16

Evening had crept upon the town of Harper Rock like rolling clouds. Dull office hours had ended not too long ago and office workers were starting to fill out the streets, some loitering around and chatting among their cliques about the latest gossips and rumors of vampires.

Yuri on the other hand had bid her boss goodnight and made a dash for her apartment building before the rush hour crowd could fully pack the streets. Now within the safety of her shared apartment, she patiently waits for the crowd to filter out into their respective destinations. While waiting, the ex-model figured changing into a more comfortable outfit for her plans tonight would put good use to her time. Within minutes of opening her wardrobe, she puts together an off-white long-sleeved turtleneck top and fitting black pants with a pair of off-white socks and black slip-ons. With the usual ever present spirits that stuck to her like glue, she changes into the outfit without a care for their blatant staring. Finding herself with yet again time to spare, she proceeds to cook up a simple meal of spaghetti bolognese. Spirits crowd around her in yearning, some peering over her shoulder when the places beside her got taken up. If one could see them, one might find themselves comparing the scene with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. A horror scene version maybe?

After the meal, as Yuri was washing up the dishes scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain, suds splattered into her eye. Stinging pain had Yuri tearing off her soapy gloves hurriedly to rinse her eyes. Once sure the suds were no longer invading her eyes, she looks up into the reflective surface of the drying rack. Metallic purple and warm brown orbs stared back at her, the cause of her childhood misery. The Asian girl searches the kitchen sink frantically and found two black lens floating in the soapy water of the dish she had thrown aside. Knowing it would be hopeless to try reusing them, she tosses them in the trash.

Looking at the time, she noted it was slightly past rush hour. Throwing on a white-grey checkered coat, Yuri heads back out onto the now less crowded streets. Self-consciously lowering her heterochromatic eyes to avoid making eye contact with passer-bys. Taking in a breath of the frigid air, she turns her long-awaited attention to the ever grumpy spirits. Those that were still visible at least. Immediately, she was bombarded with the cries of the dead that now formed a crowd around her. Willing herself to stay calm, she listened to each one of them and went about the town, recovering and delivering heirlooms, peculiar ornaments, hidden wills to the spirits’ living relatives’ doorsteps.

Now it was the turn of an arrogant looking male spirit. He beckons her to follow him and heads towards the outskirts of town. Not thinking much of it as she went there occasionally to gather ritual ingredients, Yuri followed him without question. They head south into the wilderness, the moonlight their only visible company while the crickets’ symphony of stridulation and spirits’ low chorus of complaints were the accompaniment to the medium’s soft footfalls on leaf filled grounds. After walking a few miles out, Yuri was starting to wonder if the spirit knew where he was going when she spots the outline of a wide structure in the distance. As they walked on, she soon finds herself standing before a manor that loomed over her intimidatingly.

The grounds of the manor appeared well kept. There was an interesting array of sunflowers as trimmed nature of the gardens blended into the wilderness that surrounded the estate, threatening to envelope it. There was an ethereal feel to it, like stepping back a couple of centuries. The modern world just miles beyond the wilderness that separated them.

The intricate crest on the gates of the manor catches Yuri’s attention. The design had a Victorian feel to it. What appeared to be an eagle’s wing sprout atop a golden crown as feather-like tendrils wrapped around a tilted crest with a star design on it at the bottom. The crest looked familiar, but she could not put a finger as to where she had seen it. Fingering her necklace with the cuff link of her birth father, something she did when she was thinking, she turns to question the male spirit only to find that he was gone.

[Alaric von der Marck]

They were hard-pressed to get Alaric out of a suit. It didn’t matter the time or the place. It didn’t matter if there was an event, or whether he was not going to leave the manor. It took a few weeks for him to get settled, to figure out the clothes of this century and how they should be worn. The choices were numerous – too numerous. Eventually he had decided that he would not try to blend in; he would instead lean on comfort. The suits, though layered and, to others, a tedium, were a comfort to the elder.

He’d woken as he always did, reaching mental fingers out to all in the estate, checking on all those connected to him or living upon the land, making sure there were no unwelcome guests. More often than not, everything was quiet – or quiet enough. The von der Marck clan were either coming home to settle in for the night, or they were preparing to leave to previously organised plans. Sometimes there was barely anyone there.

Ten minutes after waking, after becoming accustomed to the dark that he hated, he’d roll from the bed and light the fire. He’d get dressed, his closet now well stocked with all different kinds of suits, from black to gold to grey, from casual to smart. He always chose the three-piece suits, the ones with the vests and requiring ties. Tonight’s was a dark grey affair with a subtle plaid inlay. Where was he going? Absolutely nowhere – not beyond his usual amble through the grounds. It was normally as he wandered that he decided what he would do for the evening, or who he would bother for company. It all depended on who was home.

The polished shoes quickly became unpolished as Alaric made his way across the Autumnal carpet that coated the grounds. Even with staff that looked after the gardens, under Louvel’s instruction, there was no keeping the dead leaves from falling. The elder did not mind – he found the sight, even under the cover of darkness, to be spectacular.

It took quite some time to walk the perimeter of the estate, but it was something that Alaric did regardless. Time was of no consequence to the elder. And besides, it gave him the opportunity to sneak into the wilderness for ten minutes, to track down an elk and, regardless of suit, tackle the hot-blooded animal to feed. The animal would fall to its knees, would grunt and complain before falling into a trance. Alaric took his fill, and only after he was done, the wound healed, would he slap the animal’s rump and send it running back to its roaming grounds. It depended on the size of the animal, and whether it lived or not.

Stepping back onto the manicured grounds, Alaric re-buttoned his jacket and pushed his fingers through hair that had previously been gelled, allowing it to be pushed back into neat submission. Five minutes and he was back on the path abutting the front of the estate, up along the perimeter of the front wall. He reached the gate, and the cold iron that kept the outside world out, and was surprised to see a face on the other side. A woman, dressed for Winter, peering up at the domineering house with no small amount of curiosity.

”Brauchen Sie Hilfe?” he asked. He was learning English. It was slow. German still came natural to him. He cleared his throat, realising his native tongue might not be understood by the exotic looking female he faced through the bars.

”Do you…help?” he repeated in English that wasn't quite full, head canted to the side.

W E A R I N G

[Yuri]

Yuri was conflicted. Should she wait for it to return or continue on with the other spirits in line? As she pondered, her thoughts on helping the spirits were quickly overridden by her interest in the manor before her. Especially so with the crest presented on its gates. With feather-light fingertips the eighteen year old traced the design of the crest as if it were a familiar thing, but at the same time afraid to find out what lay behind it. Immersed in her little activity, she was oblivious to the tall ghostly being that had materialised behind her. With masculine arms twined in vines, it reached for her back. Just a centimeter away from contact, barely audible sounds of footfalls interrupted it and the being made a hasty retreat into the tree tops. Abhorrence filled it at the sight of what had interrupted it. As abrupt as it had appeared, the being fades from existence.

Yuri was startled from her trance like state into awareness by a man’s voice from the manor’s grounds. He spoke in a language that she was not familiar with. The man apparently figured out that was the case or her confusion must have shown on her face for he repeated himself in english that sounded a little hesitant and foreign on his tongue. Sensing what he was trying to say Yuri grew flustered.

“Uh-” She backed away from the gates a little reluctantly and looked around. It appeared her mind had once again omitted her memory of the past few minutes for she could not recall how she had come to stand where she was. This was something that occurred frequently when she was doing things her mind regarded as insignificant.

“Sorry, your crest just feels familiar.” She eventually says pointing to the crest on the iron gates as she did so, just in case the man did not understand what she was saying.

Unused to making conversations with people she was not familiar with, she keeps her eyes focused on the ground and fiddles nervously with the cuff link on her necklace. The cuff link (for reference) was oval shaped and had a golden frame that surrounded a bronze backdrop. An eagle wing spread out above a crown was atop intricate feather-like tendrils that framed a cursive letter ‘F’ engraved in the center of the cuff link. Below the intricate design was a banner with the letters ‘V . D . M’ engraved in its center.

Unaware of the clue before her eyes, Yuri continued to fidget as her tension grew. Finally she could no longer take it and turned to go but upon doing so was met with countless trees and not a single clue on which way was back to town. Not trusting her way with directions, she turned back to the man abashed.

“Which way is Harper Rock?” She asked with a light pink dusting her cheeks.

[Alaric von der Marck]

Alaric’s gaze flickered toward the crest, even though it rested on the other side of the gate he could already see the outline. It burned in his memory, the curlicues and flourishes, the crown and the menacing anonymous mask of its knight. It was the crest that he had worn, the one adorning the ring which gleamed in its rightful place upon his finger. It was the crest that had been passed down to him from his father – a crest that had flourished and remained steadfast, the wings the family unfurling across this city, and across the world.

The image of his father flickered like an old film in the recesses of Alaric’s memory, blinked away as he focused on the stranger on the other side of the gate. The warmth that tinged her cheeks contradicted the coldness of the bars, and of the creature she spoke to.

”It is von der Marck,” he said, his eyes sharp as he sought the eyes of the young woman. Light shone from above, the light of the moon, and from behind as it emanated from the large house down the long drive. To a human the light would seem non-existent, but to a vampire with preternatural senses there was plenty enough to see by. There was something strange about her eyes; something that triggered another memory. A better memory, which had been torn asunder by grief.

”This is Harper Rock,” he said, the English words warped by the strong German accent. Clearly, he had misunderstood the question – and was confused by the memories that he could not now banish. The appearance of the stranger this far out of the city, with no discernible mode of transport aside from her own two feet, was perplexing. There were not too many visitors to the estate who were not invited.

The glint of the jewellery at the girl’s neck did not go unnoticed, but the particulars of the etchings were not seen. Alaric did not think it proper to stare at a woman’s chest, and would not do so even if he was curious.

[Yuri]

“Von Der Marck.” She repeated after him in wonder.

It was a name she had not heard of, and as much as it was possible for it to be a fashion brand name, she doubt it was one. So why did she find the family’s crest familiar? Maybe the designs on it had been similar to one of the clothes she modelled or perhaps a ghost she’d seen was wearing a similarly designed crest. Thinking herself being silly she sets the thought aside for further reviewing, that is if she ever comes across the thought again.

After breaking off from her inner ponderings, it became apparent that the man was seeking her eyes and upon noticing this, Yuri self-consciously avoided his gaze by habit. It was also something that had been ingrained into her by her foster mother, for in Korea making eye contact meant boldness and was considered somewhat rude when speaking to an elder. Was it not so in this country? What if avoiding eye contact was considered impolite to them? Yuri made eye contact with the man but broke it a moment later, returning her gaze elsewhere but on him out of embarrassment. Not used to eye contact unless it was for work purposes. It was odd how she was able to do everything confidently while at work but outside of it, she was as timid as her once pet roborovski hamster. Or maybe they were more antisocial, she could not decide which was a more appropriate word to describe them.

The icy wind of the wilderness was starting to nip her, and as her fingertips began to tingle, bitter self-reproach filled her head for neglecting to bring the gloves that had been conveniently sitting on her dresser. Furthermore, the man had not understood her question and with her hopeless sense of direction she was uncertain of the chances she would be back in town before frostbite got her hands. She began to fret. At most she would just lose a finger or two, no need to panic. Yuri attempts miserably to calm herself.

“Uh, I mean the main town? How do I get there?” She said with an uncertain expression and hand gestures hoping against all odds that he would understand her better. Within the duration of a hand gesture, the 18 year old’s finger gets caught in the necklace she’d been fiddling with and unaware of her tangled appendage continues gesturing causing the thin chain of silver to snap. The single cuff-link soared from its constraint of 18 years, through the gates of the manor and across the grounds until it bumped against the shoes of the man.

Yuri clueless to where it had gone scanned the ground around her for something shiny, but found it too dark to do so. The teen began to think, if she had truly lost it she would let it be. Maybe it was fate. She had only kept it due to it being with her ever since she could remember. It would feel weird with it gone, but she could always find another to hang around her neck right?

Contradictory to her thoughts, she continued to scan the dark forest ground.

[Alaric von der Marck]

The elder may or may not have understood the girl as she tried to explain, further, what she wanted from him. Distractions were paramount, however -- first, the eyes, so familiar to him. Regardless of her dark hair, her tanned skin, the fact that she did not at all look like she was born in Germany, there was something in her eyes. There were bits and pieces of DNA that passed through each generation that even now, centuries down the road, he could see repetition in those he called family. And there was something of that repetition in this girl. Was that why she was here?

Second, the cuff link. It flew from the necklace and Alaric feld the thud at his feet. While the girl searched the ground at her feet, Alaric bent to retrieve the item from beneath his own. Even in the dim light he could see the design upon the link, the similarity of it. Nay, it wasn’t just similar, it was exact. This girl was not a stranger, she was family, and Alaric was remiss, making her stand on the other side of the gate.

“Du bist Familie. Du wirst hereinkommen,” he said, holding the cufflink through the bars right by the post where the same crest was etched into the metal plaque. He tapped the ring against the plaque, indicating that the girl should look at both carefully. He was aware that they could not properly speak each other’s languages, and he did not want to startle her. Once she had taken the link back, Alaric retrieved a key from his pocket and proceeded to unlock the padlock that kept the gate shut to strangers and potential enemies. Having been betrayed once before, Alaric did not think that the security measures were over the top.

The gate creaked as he opened it, standing aside and gesturing to the path that led up to the house. Many of the lights were on within, spreading a welcoming warmth across the grounds. Alaric even tried a welcoming smile. No harm would come to her, here.

TRANSLATION: * “You are family. You will come inside,”

[Yuri]

Yuri could only make out one word amongst the foreign ones that left the older man’s lips.

“Family?”

Stepping closer to the gates, her eyes shift between the design of the crest before her and to the cufflink now held between the man’s fingers. What was it that he wanted her to see? Retrieving the link back into her possession, she took a closer look between the two designs. They looked different, yet undeniably similar… Finally, she realized what he meant. This was the home of her birth family.

It was such a huge coincidence, that the teen had trouble wrapping her mind around the fact. She stood there dazed for what felt like a minute, the cold forgotten. The man now stood by opened gates, a small smile on his face. What should she do? Had they not abandoned her for a reason? If she went in she doubt she would be welcomed. What if she broke a happy family apart? Did she really want to go with it?

She was about to take a step back and reject the offer when she stopped herself. If fate had led her here, there must be a reason for it. If she ran now, she would only wind up here again whether she liked it or not. So rather than run like a fool, perhaps she should just see what fate had in store for her. Clenching her shivering hands the apprehensive teen took hesitant steps onto the grounds of the manor. Yuri felt like she was exploring forbidden territory and was tempted to turn tail and run wherever her ever reliable feet took her, but her decision kept her moving forward.

Soon, they were before the doors of the house. There was no turning back now.

[Alaric von der Marck]

The cold did not touch the vampire, and the house was still a while away. It was there, in the distance, a warm beacon drawing them in. But they would walk a good five minutes, and he had no need of the jacket that he’d donned only for propriety. It was peeled from his shoulders and dropped over the slimmer, smaller shoulders of the girl who walked at his side.

There was a language barrier, of course. How were they to get past it? Unlike the other descendants, this one seemed not to know a lick of the German that came so naturally to the elder’s tongue. He was a relic and the blood was flocking back to its home – it was an odd sensation, but above all he felt pride. This was home. This was his. This was what he would protect. He did not know the girl’s name. For all he knew, she had come here on purpose.

And perhaps she was not related at all. The cufflink wasn’t complete proof. She could have got it from somewhere else, someone else. She could be doing research. Either way, what harm could she do? Judah would know.

Once they were inside and the door was closed behind them, they were swallowed up by the warmth. Once upon a time this house was as cold inside as it was out, fireplaces needing to be sought in order for warmth to be gained. Now, they whole place had been upgraded, the heat now rushing into the room via ducts and electric white boxes attached to walls and ceilings. They were yet another thing that had mildly terrified Alaric until he learned their use. The constant buzz annoyed him a little, but the comfort of the warmth outweighed the irritation.

”Familie, ja. Kommen sie,” he said, waving the girl through the wide entrance hall and leading her down the hallway and into a different room, just as large. One whole wall was covered in carvings and marks. It was the family tree – still, and always, a work in progress. He gestured to it, fingers grazing the names of those who he knew to be alive, tracing the lines back to their parents.

Perhaps this girl would recognise one or some of the names. Perhaps there would be answers.

TRANSLATION: “Family, yes. Come.”