Author: Halfjaw101 PM
A hero named Steve Rogers and a vampyre named Mikayla Silverblood meet after Rogers' seventy-year sleep. Seventy years of technological advances and a completely new world that they must help each other adapt to. T for... stuff.Rated: Fiction T - English - Steve R./Capt. America - Chapters: 14 - Words: 106,943 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 08-11-12 - Published: 05-09-12 - id: 8102086
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This story spawns from a beautiful roleplay I'm taking part in with an INCREDIBLE Steven Rogers roleplayer. (He put 'Stephon' for reasons... so that's why it's spelled different here.) It's my DREAM to become as good a roleplayer as they, and with their help, I'm getting there. Very little has been edited in this - only some misspells I missed in Google Docs, and a few things that would help a paragraph run smoother. As you can tell if you're reading this, my being exposed to this awesome person has greatly amped my ability to give several paragraphs... I'm quite ashamed of how I started out *lol*
Anywho... I don't own Stephon Rogers, and neither does the other party... you might consider this version of Steve their's, though... However, Mikayla Silverblood, Marcus Khyte, the Little Lady, and this version of a small Italian town of Massa Marittima DO belong to me. None of them are worth stealing, but I'd appreciate them stay in my possession. I hope you do enjoy... I know I enjoyed writing this with Rogers' roleplayer.
I also have a request to make of you readers. We are completely unable to come up with a good title for this story... 'To Be Titled' just doesn't cut it. We would be SO grateful if you would read this, and review with your ideas of a title! If that's the only reason you would review, so be it, but you would earn our thanks.
Mikayla looked out of her window, out at the dark streets of the city. She'd been living there for the past century or so, not going out much and keeping her face hidden so she wouldn't arouse suspicion. Normally, to hide what she was, she'd do everything she needed in the day time. Sunlight didn't hurt anything but her eyes. Feeding, though... feeding always took place at night.
Looking around to make sure no one was looking, she slipped into the shadows outside of the window and slid down to the ground, letting her hair fall off her shoulders and hide her pale white skin, her hands slipping into the large sleeves of her dress. Silently she stalked the streets, looking for her favored prey - males. Oh, it was delightfully easy to entice a man close enough to silence him and feed.
After a few minutes of walking, she found a likely candidate. It was late enough that most people would be inside, but being out wasn't ridiculous. To her, he looked plain and simple, if not a little confused. Drunk, maybe? He didn't smell it, but some humans were capable of hiding it rather well. She stepped into the shadows, then paused, and decided to try a different tactic. He didn't seem a 'boobs-to-sex' kind of man. She pulled her cloak a little tighter, then approached him, coming up silently behind him. "Hello, handsome. What're you doing out so late, hm?"
Steve stares at the sky for some time. He ponders for some time, trying to figure out why he's in this predicament. What had he done wrong? Were his heroics as Captain America unapproved by the gods? If so, then it would make sense as to why he's here, seventy years into the future and away from the people he cares about. Those people, his fellow soldiers: they no longer exist. They've moved on from this life while he's still living it.
Steve is still trying to get used to this place and time. As a matter of fact, he's done a lot of reading so that he can catch up with what's going on in the world. Nazi Germany is no more. Japan is no longer an enemy. WWII is pretty much done. But something else has been pretty big lately. According to some articles he's read, mutants have become more common. Well, that is what they're being called anyway. They are people who aren't considered fully human. It's caused Steve to think. Would he be considered a human because of his genetic enhancement? He was built to be the perfect human, physically and internally. He can do things that no other regular person can.
Does that set him apart from humanity?
With all these thoughts going through Steve's head, he turns away from the sky and shakes his head. It's been a long night. He isn't tired though. It takes a hell of a lot to get him tired. Maybe he'll go bar-hopping again just so that he can meet some people and attempt to blend into this strange world. That seems to be like the only idea that makes sense right now. Before he can begin walking along the darkened streets, a voice stops him. A female voice.
Steve turns around and faces the woman. Her words catch him offguard. Back in his day, anyone who spoke such words would be considered a spy for the opposite side. That's why he instantly lifts up his guard. He may have enhanced skills but he doesn't like fighting either.
". . .walking," Steve says, looking her over once. He's stil a 1940s man at heart so he's not very used to the fact that women these days can be the ones who approach men and flirt. It's not that he thinks she's flirting with him. It's just that he wouldn't have been suspicious if he were from this time.
"A little strange for you to tell me such a thing, isn't it, miss?"
Mikayla arched a brow, tilting her head, taking a subtle sniff in his direction. He was definitely different than most of her targets. "No, I shouldn't think so... Women like myself always ask a man like... you that question... Especially when walking in her... section." Way to totally make yourself sound like a courtesan, Mikayla. Well... she did kind of work like one, in order to get what she needed...
She'd been there when he was in his own time. She knew what the forties had been like. And the thirties. And the twenties. And all the way back since the thirteen hundreds. Six hundred and twenty-eight years she'd been alive. She could easily talk about things with him and not from the point of a history book.
Well... he was more human than her, enhancements or no. She used to be, but at least he'd fit in better than she ever could. Her pale, pale skin and weird eyes would make her stick out like a sore thumb. At least he looked normal.
She folded her arms across her chest, and shook her head. "Nevermind, I'm off duty. Forget what I said... But still, it's not really strange... Just one person asking another what they're doing out so late." She smirked softly, which then turned into a little smile, her eyes changing from a white-blue to a more solid blue.
Steve watches her closely as she speaks to him. Her words are strange. Her eyes are even stranger. Instantly he starts to think of the mutants he's read or heard about lately. She can't just be a regular human looking like that. He's not mentally bashing her look because she is very attractive but in a mysterious and unhumanly sort of way. He wants to ask her all sorts of questions but he's in a very strange situation, considering how he got here and all.
Now Steve doesn't know what she means by walking in her section. It does make her sound like a soiled dove but he tries not to judge too quickly. He just lightly clears his throat and gives her a small nod. "You're right," he tells her as he watches her eyes change. Yes, he does catch that. "It isn't strange at all. I guess it's just. . .not many people just ask me things like that." He gives a subtle smile so that he can appear more relaxed.
Steve doesn't know what sort of situation he'll get into with this woman but he does know that he plans to fulfill part of his curiosity about her.
Mikayla's next eye change would be even easier to catch - the solid blue started going purple, the color red bleeding into the blue from her pupil like blood from an overflowing pool. She didn't always catch the changes, since they weren't really voluntary, and this was one of the times that she didn't.
She arched a brow, tilting her head slightly. "Ah, makes sense. That means you must stay in the more... civilized, section of cities." She sighed, and looked away, then smiled at him.
Steve stares into her eyes as they change color again. She really isn't human. He knows that almost for a fact now. If she's a mutant, then he would really like to get to know her. He's always wanted to meet a mutant since he's heard so much about them. He hears what she says but these thoughts cloud his head for a second.
"Oh," Steve says after a few moments. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." He looks off to the side as the silence temporarily passes. Then he looks back at her. "So, seeing that you approached me and all. . .want to help me back toward where I came from? It's been pretty easy for me to get lost lately." He smiles a little bit. Hopefully he can get this opportunity to speak to her a little longer. He just hopes her mysterious intentions aren't hostile.
Mikayla did of course feel the next change, the muscles holding her fangs up loosening and longing to stretch, which would make it hard to comfortably keep her mouth closed. 'No need to scare him off... Better ease him into the subject...'
She then paused, blinking. "Did you just ask me to walk you home...?" She chuckled. "Sorry, honey, but I don't know where you live. I can walk you back the way I saw you coming, though, if that would make you feel better?" She flashed him a smile that would have been stunning, if not for the sudden change in her canines; they were replaced by much longer, slightly-curved teeth. She couldn't hold them up manually any longer, it was just too much concentration needed and not available.
She offered a pale hand to him, ready to walk him. She would walk him as far as he wanted her to, then turn and walk back if he said so. It would annoy her, seeing as she would then have to find another to feed from, but she would do so. She wasn't a monster like the others...
Steve looks at her and shakes his head. "No. . .not walk me home." He chuckles too. "Just back toward the city." He gestures straight ahead. When he looks at her smile, he notices her teeth. He pauses for a moment and clears his throat. He starts to wonder more about what she is. A shapeshifter? He wants to ask but that might seem rude in this day and age.
Steve moves forward so that she can take his arm. It's what a gentleman would have done back in his day. "If you feel at all uncomfortable, just let me know and I'll walk back on my own." He starts to walk along the quiet streets while feeling this strange vibe from her. He doesn't know if it's a good strange or not. Maybe he'll get his answer soon enough.
"Oh," Steve says after a moment. "Name's Rogers. Steven Rogers. It's nice to meet you, miss." He hopes that they can get the chance to talk about each other during the walk. Little does he know what she really needs of him.
Mikayla blinked, and it was almost second nature to take his arm before they started walking, smiling devilishly. It wasn't a scary smile; in fact, it was the opposite, a very inviting, quite seductive smile. "Oh, honey, there's nothing you could do that would make me feel uncomfortable."
The introduction was new. The last few years, she might've learned the names of only five or six people. "Mikayla Silverblood. So, Mr. Rogers..." She paused, then shook her head. "Is it alright if I call you by your first name, sir?"
She blinked again. Sir? She hadn't said that in a long time, and definitely not to any male in her 'party'.
Steve is a little taken aback when she calls him honey. In the 40s, only mothers or significant others called someone else honey. Things really have changed, haven't they? He supposed that any woman can call a man by a term of endearment, even if she's met him for only a few minutes. He shakes his head at the thought but doesn't say anything to it. He's just glad that he can't make her feel uncomfortable.
Steve looks at her after she says her name. "Mikayla. . .that's a very pretty name." He smiles a little and then nods at her question. "Sure, Miss Silverblood. You can call me by my first name. Steve, if you prefer." It's actually what he prefers.
He still wonders where she's from and why she's so willing to walk with a stranger toward the city. Steve looks away from her and attempts to think it over. "You're probably the longest conversation I've had so far since I got here." He chuckles a little. "Still haven't gotten used to this place."
Mikayla smiled at the compliment. "Thank you. And thank you for allowing me to use your first name, Steve." Now /that/ was a strange word. In fact, it was the first time in her life she'd ever said it. It felt weird. "Interesting name... You're not from around here, are you? This country, I mean. Oh, and please do call me by Mikayla. I've a few bad memories that come from being called 'Miss Silverblood'..."
"Is that so? Not much of a social man, Steve? I'd think the opposite of you... At least with the women folk. Have you not visited any pubs, yet?" Those were the greatest places to strike a conversation, learn about things, and occasionally pick up another worth keeping. They were civil places here. Mikayla had gone there several times in the past, and developed many regulars from that place. She was well-known there, as well, and sometimes, it was the men who approached her, instead of the other way around.
Steve chuckles a little when she asks if he's not from around here. He obviously stands out a lot because he's been asked that so many times. "No," he answers. "I'm not from around here at all." He looks at her again and nods at her request. "I apologize then. I'll call you by Mikayla then."
As they keep walking and she speaks more, Steve looks straight ahead toward the streets. They're not far from the busier part of the city, that's for sure. It's going to be time to part ways, sooner than he actually thought. To her questions, he chuckles again but more lowly this time. "I am a social man. I do like to interact with others. . ." He pauses in reference to the women. "As for women, well. . .it hasn't been really simple for me to speak with them. They do speak to me, especially in some of the pubs I've actually visited. . ."
It's just that Steve used to be a lot smaller than this. He used to be very thin, almost emaciated. Women were never his strongpoint. Even after he took the serum and became this embodiment of perfect physicality, he still kept to his humble ways.
"The pubs are entertaining but it doesn't seem simple to establish any comradery with anyone around here." Not like before. Steve used to be able to befriend people just by visiting a bar. That was in the 40s though. Today, it appears like people want to get on with their lives and not be bothered much.
Mikayla gave him a look. "Well, you haven't been to Marcus' pub! The Little Lady... Friendliest place here in Massa, and Massa's a very friendly little town. God, you can hook up a friend or a lover just by looking at them right. He keeps it old, there... even plays old films." She sighed, lost in... something. "I remember when the movie 'Rebecca' first came out... I saw it then. It was great, great movie. He still plays it there, sometimes."
Her eyes lit up, and almost instantly, she was back to her normal self - ice-blue eyes and no fangs. She looked at him and smiled. "You should visit The Little Lady, Steve. You might pick up some new friends, learn new things. Maybe I'll run into you there one day. He also serves one of the top ten beer names in there."
Then she gave him a look. "You know, you can talk to us just like you can another man. We're just people. It's not like the fourties or something where we're all at home tending the children and the house..." She shuddered, as if personally remembering that specific decade and not liking the memories. "Thank God that stopped... Would've been nicer if it stopped before it did, but the sixties isn't so late..."
There you go, Mikayla, just rambling on about a time period that a nineteen year old could not possibly have experienced... Good thing she wasn't actually only nineteen, and that he wasn't your 'average ordinary everyday kid'.
Steve smiles as she speaks about this pub. His face lights up a little more as she speaks of Rebecca. He does recall wanting to see that movie back in the days when he was a skinny little guy. He wanted to go with a young woman but she didn't give him the time of day. He didn't really get the chance to see it, not because of the woman but because he was more interested in helping out in the war. So he watched more military movies.
Steve is so distracted with that at first that he doesn't realize that she's speaking about a movie that came out in his time. He doesn't notice the fact that she said that she remembers when 'Rebecca' came out. It flies over his head (for now) that it isn't possible for her to have been alive in that time.
Then again, it looks impossible for him too. . .
"That pub sounds very fun," Steve says. "Sounds like my kind of thing." He chuckles a little bit. He might just stop by that pub after this little walk with her. He can use some relaxation like that.
When Mikayla speaks about women, Steve listens to her and smiles a little bit. It is funny that she mentions the 40s out of all decades. It's almost like she knows it's his home time. He does find it surprising that things aren't like that anymore. Women now have jobs and are more out and about. The idea is so bizarre to him.
At first, Steve is thinking that she's talking about the time period like someone who's an expert on history. But then he backtracks a little bit. "How do you know so much about this?" he asks with the smile still on his face. "Did you spend a lot of time reading about that?"
If only he paid attention to the fact that she said that she remembered.
"Experience," Mikayla replied without really thinking. "History omits some of the best little details all the time... With reading about it you only get so much... The true color and feel of the occasion comes from experiencing it, because then you have something special stored that historians and people that read history books don't have."
She looked at his face, and chuckled softly, then got an idea. "Would you like me to walk you there, so you at least know where it is when you want to visit?" She liked him. She always liked men who were different... That, and she was almost drooling at the scent of his blood still. Anything that could prolong their time together, she would do. Other than Marcus, he was the only man that had treated her other than her occupation for a long time. Of course, with Marcus it was a completely different story, but it was still refreshing.
There was yet another reason she was offering to take him to the pub. Marcus looked only about thirty, but he was born in 1910. Meaning he'd be able to help Steve as well with knowledge about everything that had happened since. Mikayla hadn't visited the man in a while, either, and out of all the men she'd ever been with, he was undoubtedly her favorite. But he wasn't the one she wanted to be with, or she would have quit trading sex for blood decades ago.
Their surroundings changed. They had now left the residential area and were entering the main part of the city. Which wasn't all that big. The buildings were small and cozy-looking. She turned to Steve for his decision, whether they were to part ways soon or she was to lead him to The Little Lady. She was going there anyway, but introducing someone new to Marcus was always fun.
Steve's eyes stay on her as she keeps speaking. Experience? Is she in a similar situation to him? Time traveler? A mutant that ages slowly? He doubts that she was frozen in ice like he was. She speaks about the past as though she lived it, or witnessed it firsthand in some other method.
Maybe there's a new technology that allows that?
Steve almost questions this but she asks something that stops him. He smiles a little at her and then nods. "Sure, that'd be great, Mikayla. I'd like it if you walked me there." He smiles more and then faces straight ahead so that he can remember these surroundings. He can't believe that a woman is this comfortable around him. Sure, many more women approached him after he became Captain America but it's still an odd fact for him that a woman will want to walk arm-in-arm with him like this.
Once the silence falls for some time, Steve clears his throat lightly and looks at her. He's about to ask her again but then he realizes that they're in a different area. He turns away and looks at all the buildings. "Which one is the Little Lady?" he asks, glancing back at her. No, he doesn't want to part ways with her, especially not after all those words she just spoke. She's become that much more mysterious to him.
Nope. No new, awesome technology that does that. Though that would be amazing, wouldn't it?
Mikayla grinned her set of pearly whites, and led him forward a little white longer, then pointed to a building that was styled different than the others. It didn't look much different structurally, as all these buildings were originals from when the town was built - somewhere around 1225 - but the outer lights were different, the roof had additions the others didn't, and the door was something to look at. All other doors were soft colors - dark greens and blues, browns, and even a peach down on the end of the street. But this one was a nice, bright red, with 'The Little Lady' painted in pretty curling gold letters. The semi-frosted windows cast off a warm glow from the lights inside, and smoke curled up from the chimney.
She led him inside. "Steve, meet the Little Lady. She says 'Hi', by the way. This is Marcus - life-time owner and Pub Whisperer."
Mikayla led him to a man that looked quite like Steve below the neck - pretty much physically perfect. Stubble graced his jaw, and connected to his slicked black hair, framing his face. His pale brow and groomed eyebrows sat perfectly over cutting icy-blue eyes. The same eyes that Mikayla had as well. Both being Italian, and looking rather alike, with the exact same eyes, everyone assumed they were related. Of course that wasn't true. "Marcus, I would like you to meet Stephon Rogers. Steve, this is Marcus Khyte."
The bartender grinned, and after sticking a strong but pleasant-smelling cigar firmly between his lips, offered a hand, grinning. "E 'un piacere conoscerti signore. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Welcome to The Little Lady, finest pub in Massa Marritima, opened by my family in 1873. What can I get you?"
As was custom in Massa, Marcus touched his lips to Mikayla's cheeks briefly, a friendly hello, then another to her forehead as she sat. That wasn't custom, and it was the same kind of kiss that a very good friend, father, or brother might give. That was just his special way of saying hello. "Marcus, what movie's on tonight?"
"Hm... good question... Old Americans are always the best. I'll give you and the good sir a choice." He smiled at Steve. "Casablanca or Rebecca?"
Steve looks at the buildings again. They're so old-fashioned. He feels like he really is in another time period, which he is but the thing is: he feels like he's in the past instead of the future. He almost chuckles out loud at this thought but he doesn't because Mikayla leads him to the Little Lady. He smiles when she speaks and introduces him to Marcus. Steve looks over him and notices that he has a striking resemblance to Mikayla. He too thinks that they're related but he doesn't voice that opinion.
Instead, he shakes the man's hand in a firm grip and says, "Pleasure to meet you too, sir. It's great to be here." Steve would automatically think that this man served in the military based on how he's built. It's his 1940s mentality. Usually built men in that time period were some sort of fighters.
To Marcus's question, Steve answers, "A glass of whiskey will be just fine, please." He then watches as Mikayla and Marcus greet each other. He rubs his hands together and looks around again. So this is where they show the movies too. That's very different to how Steve saw movies back in his day. He smiles at the look of the place. He really does like it so far. Mikayla was right.
"Oh," Steve says after the question is asked. "Casablanca please. I never had the opportunity to see it." He remains standing until Mikayla sits down. Of course it's custom for him to do that as a gentleman. He moves forward and sits right beside her. Looking at her, he says, "Thank you very much for taking me here."
Steve would have thought right. Only a century in years, turned at thirty, Marcus had left Italy for America in Steve's decade, blending in because everyone thought he was from there. He'd fought, done well, and come home quite decorated. In fact, his medals hung in the back behind the bar, behind a pane of glass but in front of a rich burgundy velvet. His posture was ramrod straight, his movements neat and brisk. There was no clutter in the Little Lady, everything was spotlessly clean. The glasses shone. One could see their reflection in the polished cherry bar-top.
The people already there talked in a low, warm, friendly buzz. There were a few drunks, but they were kept in check by their friends, and laughter was a common thing to hear. It really was a great place to be. Marcus set Steve's glass down in front of him, smiling, then gave Mikayla her drink. The woman smiled, her eyes shining brightly. "Oh, you're very welcome. The Little Lady is always the first stop for age-appropriate tourists."
He was so much like Marcus in manners and actions that it was almost painful for her to be in his company. But that was what was keeping her there, as well. It was so refreshing to be able to spend time with a man other than Marcus and not have a duty to fulfill afterward. Not that she wouldn't mind, not with him, but that wouldn't happen and she knew it. It had taken her quite a while to get Marcus. She knew that, if she were to try, it would take even longer with this man. First, this question.
"Do you have anyone special in your life, Steve? We've many a place to buy trinkets and keepsakes for the lucky lady on a man's arm."
She already felt herself falling back. Not physically, but... her ways. She found it harder to just throw the word 'honey' or 'sugar' or any other loving pet-name out. Her 'perfect girl' was coming out, the one her father had literally beat into her nearly six centuries previous. The girl Marcus had brought out for a decade or two. Personally... she didn't mind it. She preferred this Mikayla. But like a strong-willed drug addict given unrestricted access to their poison of choice, she caved to her more... carnal ways, off and on. More on than off.
She looked to her right as the screen rolled down and Marcus started getting the movie ready, hoping he would answer before it started. No one talked during the movies except couples, because they could get close enough to each other to whisper quietly enough. The opportunity wasn't open to them, as that wasn't the case, and she was rather curious to know.
Steve feels very comfortable in this place. He likes the atmosphere a lot. It's pristine and relaxing. He really means it when he thanks her for taking him. He looks toward some of the other patrons and smiles a little when he hears them laugh. Then he takes the whiskey when it's handed to him. He thanks Marcus with a nod and sips from it. Oh, that's good. That's really good. He's missed the taste.
Steve looks at Mikayla again as she responds to his thanks. He smiles at her and sips from the whiskey again. There is still that mystery factor in her that draws him in. He doesn't know what it is but for a couple moments, it makes him almost forget about Peggy and the fact that he won't see her again. It's the first time this has happened since he woke up here. Of course he doesn't realize this as he drinks some more whiskey.
But ironically enough, Peggy returns right to his thoughts when Mikayla asks if he has anyone special in his life.
Pausing, Steve holds the glass in midair and then lowers it to the counter. He keeps his hand wrapped around it as his eyes fall toward the polished counter. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he pictures Peggy's face. His mind flashes back to her photograph that he kept in his locket. It was the last thing he saw before he crash-landed in the ice caps. Her voice was the last one he heard. She was the first and last kiss he received.
Steve tries not to let these thoughts reflect on his face, so he looks back at Mikayla again and cracks a weak smile. "No," he answers softly. "Not anymore." The fact that Peggy now has a grave sends a pang through his chest. He finishes the whiskey and then sets the empty glass on the counter again. It's at that moment when he realizes that the movie is being set up.
The smile he had brought onto her face died instantly at his weak one. Her eyes lost a little of their cheerful luster. She knew what it was like to not have that special someone anymore, and she sighed, wishing she hadn't touched the subject. Before the movie started, she reached out and touched his arm softly. "I'm sorry... I won't bring it up again."
Her touch, as before, was quite chilling, but this time it was also comforting. Something of use that came of being a vampyre. She drew her hand back, smiling slightly, then watched the movie, her face hidden behind her drink glass almost the whole time. She'd seen all the movies he showed, and most of them just reminded her how lonely she was if she watched them. Instead, if the glass wasn't in front of her face, her eyes were on him. She looked at Marcus as he walked up, taking Steve's glass and asking if he wanted another fill. After his response, he turned to Mikayla, and muttered, "D'you have him for the reason I think?"
She took time thinking about it. "I don't know anymore... I don't want to hurt him."
Marcus chuckled, then laughed softly. "Hurt him... Mikayla, if you get anything like you were with me, you couldn't hurt him if the Hulk were helping you throw your arm!"
That earned him a smack that sounded a lot more solid than it should have for the feeble effort put into it. She then put her hand to her stomach, feeling the faint blood-driven growl in it. She could easily surprise and subdue him right then and there, leaning in from behind, covering his mouth, and feeding. No one else - save Marcus - would know what happened. But that would undoubtedly drive Steve away, and she didn't want that. So instead, after the movie, she asked another question, this one less painful she hoped. "Steve, do you have anywhere to stay here? casa di Silverblood has rooms to spare if you don't..."
Mikayla didn't know how he'd take that, seeing as 'casa' meant 'home' and Silverblood was her last name. She was offering a room in her home. It wasn't often people would do that after meeting them on the street and then taking them to a bar unless they had an ulterior motive. While she did have one, it could wait a few days yet...
At the feel of her hand on his arm, Steve looks at Mikayla. He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he smiles a little bit. She can ask all about it if she wants but he doesn't mention that. Perhaps it's because he's not ready to, which he should be. He might not think he's strong enough to talk about it when that should be the case. He has to talk about it. He has to let it all out to someone and move on after what happened to him.
Her touch is indeed chilling but Steve doesn't take too much notice of that right now. He only moves his eyes from her and looks toward the movie. He watches it mindlessly, still thinking of the 40s again. As a matter of fact, this movie helps him think on his own past. Time keeps going and when he's asked if he wants another fill, he gives a nod and a quiet thanks. Then he rests his arms on the counter while keeping his eyes on the film.
Steve doesn't even notice Marcus and Mikayla speaking. He's in his own world at the moment. He registers only bits and pieces of what's going on in Casablanca. Then he thinks he hears the sound of someone hitting another. He takes a look over his shoulder but doesn't see anything so he focuses on the movie again.
A lot more time passes before it's finally over. Steve lowers his glance and takes his other whiskey. He's lost count on how many he's drank already. It really is a shame that he can't get drunk. "Thank you," he says with a light smile. "The film was great... although the ending..." He chuckles a little bit and doesn't mention that the ending hits a little close to home, especially since the the couple can't be together.
Steve looks at Mikayla again and hears her question. He's stayed in hotels ever since he arrived here. He's been used to it so far. He doesn't know what casa means, so he thinks that she's offering him a fancy-named hotel. He might as well stay so that he doesn't have to walk all the way back. So he gives a nod and a smile. "That would be great. Thanks again. You've been very kind to me, Mikayla. I'll pay you back in any way that I can, even if you don't want me to." He gives her more of a genuine smile this time and finishes the whiskey. What he just told her came directly from his heart. He's truly sincere about it.
Mikayla was actually very glad he said that. It was definite that she would give him a few more days before asking, but him saying that made it all the easier to think about it. He brought a smile to her lips, her eyes getting bright again. "Great! We'll leave when you're ready. Marcus, thanks for the drinks and movie." Out of her 'extra pocket' she pulled out her wallet, and then paid him for both their drinks, plus quite a bit extra - tip, and a few more glasses in case either got thirsty. They both should have been drunk by that point ... but he was incapable and she would have to drink every drop in the building.
When it came time to leave, Mikayla and Marcus exchanged kisses again, then she left with Steve, and started leading him to casa di Silverblood. Oddly enough, back toward a residential district, only different than the one they'd met in. It was obvious the wealthier lived there. This casa di Silverblood was not easy to miss, being the largest in that area. The gates were grand and intricate, the top half hidden in hanging ivy, any flowers and color lost in the night. Beyond the gates was a courtyard claimed by nature, but in a beautiful way, kept neat and trim, especially by the koi pond and waterfall in the middle, the scales of the fish reflecting the moonlight. The doors - great sheets of cherry polished and carved with dragons and birds - swung open silently, and she led him inside. The floors were a dark green stone, the furnishings stained maple, the walls half white and half wood.
A gentle-looking elderly man took extra articles of clothing, bowing slightly to them both as he went and hung them. "Welcome to casa di Silverblood, Stephon Rogers, home to the Silverblood family for over seven centuries. Are you hungry? Tired? If you had anything at where ever you were staying before you can have Giovanni fetch it for you. As for now, we could go pick out a room for you, or get something to eat, or... whatever it is you want or need."
Mikayla smiled warmly, watching him for a reaction. She had a feeling he thought she was leading him to another hotel. This was sort of a hotel... the casa had twenty large bedrooms and ten smaller ones. All but the Master - which was easily classified as four rooms itself - were empty. Leonardo, the elderly gent, lived on the other side of the house, despite her insisting, and Giovanni and the others lived in their own homes in a different residential district. It was very lonely there, despite all the modern ways of communicating with other people. Another reason she wanted him to stay there way she knew then he wasn't even from that time period, and education opportunities were abundant there, from the library to the game room to the kitchen. And yet another... a few days there and her request might not seem so hard to make.
Steve also thanks Marcus for the drinks and film. He looks over as Mikayla pulls out the wallet. Then he turns away right after she does. Well, the first reason should be obvious. The other reason is because he's not very comfortable that a woman is paying for him. A gentleman should always treat the lady, he believes. He doesn't have much money on him though. That's why he doesn't voice his opinion.
Steve thanks her again as they leave. He's got to admit that he enjoyed his time there. He'd go back again if the time called for it. As Mikayla leads him to the residential district, he starts to look around. This is a lot more than he expected. He chuckles a little and notices how beautiful everything is. "You sure they'll have me here?" he asks a little jokingly. He likes all the nature touches to this place. It seems like it's built from serenity itself. Everything in this area - from the Little Lady to this area - seems to have been built to perfection.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for Steve to have been wandering earlier.
Steve walks inside the place with Mikayla. He releases a soft breath as he takes in the interior. It's all so majestic to him. He really can't thank her enough. He's very grateful to her right now. He can't believe he was actually suspicious of her earlier.
When the older man bows to them, Steve is about to speak but then he stops, shocked that the man knows his name. Mikayla couldn't have told him, could she? He pauses, trying to process all the questions directed to him. He doesn't want to miss anything that the man says but he can't get over the fact that his full name was just spoken. Maybe the man's heard of Captain America?
"I see you already know my name," Steve says with a small smile. "I'm not very hungry, sir. I do thank you for asking. If I can see what room I'm staying in, I'd be most appreciative."
So far, everyone here seems nice. This makes Steve a lot more comfortable. He looks at Mikayla again and smiles in her direction, mostly because he's so thankful to her. Then he looks back at the elderly man and waits to see what happens next. He likes it very much here. Ever since meeting with Mikayla, a lot of heaviness has been taken off his mind.
The elder gent smiled. "My father holds a high fascination with people like you, Mr. Rogers, sir. He is a lot like you himself."
Mikayla could have faceplanted the floor if she knew it wouldn't draw attention. He didn't say 'was'. He said 'is'. Meaning he was still alive... with Leonardo being eighty himself, there was absolutely no way that his father could still be alive. She sighed, hoping Steve didn't notice, then smiled. "C'mon. I'll take you to the rooms and you can pick one out. Leonardo, would you be a dear and grab Steve some bed linens? Thank you."
And they were off. She took him down a long hallway, then turned to the right down another one. Approximately every thirty feet, there was a door. It was like perusing apartments. She stopped after the first set. "Alright... here's a little map of the house... well, this half anyway. This whole hallway is rooms. The other end... rooms. Had we continued going straight, you would have found my room... Just... pick any one of these, then call Leonardo on the intercom and tell him the door number. He will find you with your night linens, and a small placard with your name on it to slide in the holder on the door to make it known that room is yours."
She smiled, and motioned to all the rooms. "They're all really built the same. The location of the bathroom alters from left to right, with the two behind us having them on the left of the rooms. Um... a few of them are completely furnished, the rest only have a bed, wardrobe, and bathroom necessities... y'know, toilet, shower/bath, sink, that kind of stuff."
She led him to one of them, and opened it, to give him an example. This one happened to be completely furnished. King-sized bed with navy blue sheets and white bed curtains, and rich navy blue carpets, disappearing at the front of the bathroom door to white tile. The cabinet-sink in there was blue wood, blue marble top, and a white sink. The other bathroom furnishings were white as well. The wardrobe, desk, chairs, and fanblades in that room were stained maple. "This is a pretty good example..."
Mikayla leaned against the door frame, a sad expression falling over her face. She smiled weakly. "It's been so lonely here... I'm glad you decided to stay and not go back. You can stay here as long as you'd like... And if you leave, your room will always be open." Another weak smile... then watery eyes were turned back to the room.
When the man mentions his own father, Steve smiles. He's so into the fact that his name is somewhat known that he barely realizes that the man speaks about the father in the present tense. Well, he doesn't realize it at first. He scrunches one eyebrow and is about to say something but Mikayla beats him to it. He looks at her and then starts to walk with her after she speaks.
As Steve walks through the place and listens to what she says, he can't help but feel that it's like they're welcoming him into a house. Everything's going to be so personalized now. It surprises him a little but it also makes him feel good. As his glance moves around, he chuckles in the middle of Mikayla's words. "This is only half?"
How big is this place really? It's so grand and appears built to perfection. Steve tries not to get too distracted with it. Otherwise, he can lose track to what she's explaining. He moves down the hallway and then stops in the room she shows him. He takes a step in, immediately liking it.
Steve doesn't know how long he plans to stay. Although this life is different, he knows he has to try and move on somehow. Maybe he can go to the military and speak with them. They might be able to set him back on track. Staying here would only help him in making his decision to move forward.
So when Mikayla makes her last comment, Steve notices a slight sadness in her. He doesn't know where it comes from of course. He just takes a step forward in her direction. He stands right in front of the doorway where she's leaning.
"I'll probably be here for a bit of time, until I can get my head straight. Again, I have to thank you for all of this. You've been the most helpful person in a while." Steve smiles a bit. "You sure you'll be able to handle my presence for that long?"
Mikayla chuckled. "Well... technically, this hallway is only a quarter of this first floor. There are three floors above us. The other quarter is more rooms. There are twenty rooms this size here."
She smiles at his question. It was a sad smile, but it was followed by a laugh. "These rooms have not been loved for over two centuries... Other than cleaning. Fresh sheets every month and a new mattress every two years... But the beds have not been slept on for that long. The toilets and other bathroom furnishings have been updated every five years... This house has not seen visitations from friendly faces ever since Leonardo was born..." And here comes the slip: "I've been watching this house grow colder and colder ever since my parents died. The last person I had the grace of hosting was Leonardo's mother... she died in childbirth."
Hold that thought... Leonardo was eighty years old. Mikayla looked somewhere between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two. How in the world could she have hosted a woman sixty years before she was born? Mikayla clammed up after, looking rather nervous and frightened, her already pale skin seeming even paler. She put a hand to her chest, and swore her heart beat was loud enough to be heard by others. She looked arond quickly, mouth agape but silent, then put her finger to a small white box with a black square and rectangular buttons. "Alright... this is the intercom. It's in the same place in every room... Once you find your room, you press and hold the button with the L on it, and he will be told what room to bring your stuff to... Or... If you'd prefer to tell him yourself, just press it... give him a few moments to find an intercom and he will listen and respond."
She cleared her throat, and looked around again, then offered the younger man a smile, her hands running down her sides and thighs - nervous habit. "Well... find a room... no color is repeated, and if you happen to like an unfurnished one I can easily have others moved, as all of the things are stained maple wood and therefore interchangeable. Or I could order some of your choice, if you don't like maple. If... If you like this one, there are already clothes your size in the wardrobe, bottom left drawer... Um... yeah, that should be it... If you have any questions, my room is down the way we came and to the right."
She turned to leave to go verbally abuse herself... well, verbally at the least. Her unease was evident in her eyes, and in the way she was suddenly trying to get away from him. But then she turned back. "The four remotes in the container each control something different. The long silver one controls the flatscreen. The short white one the fan and lights. The thin black one will control both the blinds and the radio, depending on which you point it at. Finally, the fat grey one controls the DVD player..."
With that, Mikayla turned on her heel, and walked down the hall.
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