War of the Roses (3) (MANUSCRIPT)

Epilogue: She holds Him in High Regards (TRUE END)

2 Years Later...

    Rubbing her shoulders, tense as they were, Amaret Cook could only blink. "So, is this what you do now?"

    Sighing, stirring together a series of ashes in a fireplace, a red-headed, stubbled man cleared his throat. "Honestly, I heard this was an old hobby of Nahum's. I can... see why. Dude has nice hands. Me on the other hand? I gotta learn."

    "Babe, you know that stirring dirt and stoking embers isn't the same as actually working on a fondue in the kitchen, right?"

    Smirking, Maximus Kaline set the poker to the fireplace down. "Yeah, it's not. But, it helps build up these here wrist-muscles!"

    Turning to a pair of red hoodies, Amy nodded, tightening her lips. There used to be another way we'd tighten our 'wrist-muscles', wasn't there? Hm. As the doorbell to their small, pointy, single-family home rang out, Amy darted for it. "Oh, I bet that's probably Temuri!"

     Sure enough, the lanky, tan de'Navra man had his hands in his pockets. "Hey. Is the hubby home?" He'd asked in his raspy, low voice.

    Turning just his head, Max grinned, his eyelids going low. "You wanna go window-shopping... again?"

    "Come on, hubby. The car's all warmed up for ya! And, anyways- Yes! You humans have it crazy! Look, I'm a de'Navra- I gotta blow off my steam somehow, right? I love using a kind of telekinesis to make shit move. When you're made of mana, well- Eh, you know the drill."

    Rising from the hearth, Max put a hand in his dark blue pocket. "What do you plan on doin' now? Make an EasyBake Oven explode or somethin'?" 

    "Ugh, that's so, like, uncreative, man, but like... it's not like I'm plannin' on being some peaceful farmer, either."

    "Nah, nah. It's fine, it's fine. Let's go commit some misdemeanors, Temmy!" Max winked. I have been getting a little bored of improving my fondue-skills. 

    "Good lord." Amy shook her head. "I wanna come! I wanna come!"

    Temuri shrugged. "I never said that the wifey wasn't invited. Come on, hubby, bring your little lady with you."

     "Yay! I'll sit in the back with Max, of course." Grabbing her husband's hand, Amy giggled. "For once I have a really, really good excuse to not call shotgun. 'Cuz, yanno... it's normally my thing."

_________

     Crossing his arms, Gwyllomay Polidori looked over at a curvy, solemn Iona. Sitting over a table, her cheeks a flush, despite her tan complexion, Iona held a notepad close to her bosom. Writing, quickly, the girl bit her bottom lip as she dug her bottom further into a dark brown chair.

    "You've been... writing for a while, now." Sipping at a mug of tea, Gwyllomay hummed. "You'd put Nick Caraway to shame." 

     Clearing her throat, Iona noticed a sweat-bead forming at the top of her temple. "Hmph. I'm... almost... done."

     "Almost?" Gwyllomay raised an eyebrow. "Hah. Hah. Funny. Nonetheless, I guess I'll admire the view in the meanwhile. I've never seen a dimmer kitchen in all 700 years of my life."

    "Nahum likes candles." Iona continued to keep her head down, her nose in the notebook.

    "So he does." Gwyllomay chortled. "Say, Iona, I don't mean to press you- Your warming up to me, knowing what I am, is a commitment that not a lot of- Well, no one... would really do it, and I have come to absolutely cherish our little dates. I... really wear my heart on my sleeve for you, now. Who would have thought, eh? A Polidorian and a de'Navra. However, I can't help but wonder. We've been together for these past two years now... ever since the war- And some other offscreen things," The vampyre winked. "and, honestly, I've been going through so much tea recently, 'cause... I'e been wanting to know if-"