| Welcome to zetaboards. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Drifting into Deep Waters; Prequel to Moon Tears | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: February 2, 2012, 4:20 pm (7,289 Views) | |
| Lucifer's Angel | February 10, 2012, 8:30 pm Post #16 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Chapter 5 "Geno, did you hear what Max said? asked Kris as they prepared to leave the rink after the morning practice. Evgeni blushed when he realized he hadn't been paying attention to his friend, shaking his head. "Jordan suggested we go to a gun range and do some target practice, what do you think?", asked Kris. "Da, that sound good. I did not know you shot guns, though", said Evgeni as they headed to the showers. "My mother's family are country people from Gaspe, they know how to shoot guns. I can shoot handguns and I tried a shotgun once, the recoil hurt like a bitch, merde. But it sounds like fun", said Kris. "I have shot a rifle when my father and uncle took me hunting, but no little guns", he mused aloud. "You should try it, I'm actually thinking about getting a pistol myself for self-defense", said Kris. "That is good, this way you get bad guys", said Evgeni with a laugh. Half an hour later, Evgeni, Kris and Jordan were in a cab heading towards a shooting range somewhere in the mountains. The San Gabriel Mountains north of the city formed a natural barrier that cut off the huge city from the rest of southern California, the barren rocks with little plant life except for stunted little trees and wild chaparral and prickly pear and cacti. It was also considerably hotter than in LA as the ocean breeze did not penetrate this far inland, only a few dusty trailers and weatherbeaten houses showing any signs of habitation. The cab stopped at the gun range as they paid the driver. The range was surrounded by a chain link fence and consisted of a trailer that functioned as the office and various posts with paper targets attached, an employee fixing the targets. Jordan led them into the rusted little trailer as the hinges of the door squeaked loudly. The interior was spartan with a dusty glass case displaying various guns and ammunition, an ancient wheezy fan mounted on a folding chair providing a bit of coolness. An old man with gray whiskers and an equally old blue Dodgers cap on his bald head stood the counter as he looked at them with watery blue eyes. "We want to do some shooting, what sort of guns do you have?", asked Jordan. "We got all sorts of pistols and rifles, young man. Reckon I got all sorts", replied the old man, his dry, quavery voice with a slight Texas accent. "I'll take a .45", said Jordan. "Me too", said Kris. "Uh, I have never used a handgun before. What do you recommend?", Evgeni asked the old man. "You Russian, lot of 'em come out here to shoot. I'd say start out with a 9mm and go from there. Real easy to use, 'cause it's semiautomatic, a lotta girls like that one", replied the old man. They paid for the guns and ammunition and protective equipment as the old man led them outside to the target range. The three men all wore goggles and earmuffs as Jordan showed them how to load the bullets into the guns. The big blond man then faced a posts with a paper target shaped like a bulls-eye and aimed, squeezing the trigger as a round of bullets shredded the paper. Kris did the same but a few of his shots went more towards the perimeter of the paper as he he was still a bit rusty after not having used a gun in years. "Your turn, Geno. This is how you load the bullets", said Jordan as demonstrated how to load the cartridge into the gun. Evgeni watched him intently and placed the goggles over his eyes and the muffs on his ears as Jordan handed him the gun. He felt surprisingly calm as he faced the target and aimed towards the center, pulling the trigger as the bullets went right towards the center. "Geno, you're a natural", said Jordan approvingly. "Spasibo, Jordan. I never shot this before, but it felt easy", he said. "Some people are natural shooters, Eric's always been good at shooting and it's great that he lives down in Carolina, the hunting's real good down there. Marc and Jared never liked hunting, though", said Jordan with a shrug, referring to his oldest and younger brothers. "Too bad the gun laws in Quebec are so fucked up, it's hard to buy a gun unless you can prove you need to hunt. My uncle just smuggled one from the states when he was in North Dakota, he is a very smart man, non?", he chuckled. They spent the rest of the afternoon at the range shooting at targets, eventually moving onto the rifles. While Jordan was the best shot and Kris wasn't too bad himself, Evgeni was a natural. In spite of only having used a rifle only once when he was a boy, he displayed an excellent shot and steady hand as he got a bulls-eye each time with the report not bothering him much. Kris and Jordan could only stand in awe of their friend as he loaded the rifle easily and shot the targets without fail, as though he had had been doing this all his life. "Whoa Geno, we should buy you a drink when we get back", teased Jordan as they walked back to the trailer. Evgeni blushed. "Spasibo, Jordan. It was easy once I figure out how to load gun, you aim and shoot, it is easy", he replied. "Maybe with the handguns, but the rifle report hurts like a bitch if you're not used to it. But we're big guys, I guess we can handle it", laughed Jordan. An hour later they were back at the hotel getting ready to go out for dinner and drinks. Kris turned on the Mac and logged into Skype and smiled when he saw Marie was online. "Bonjour, ma fille", he said gallantly. Marie just laughed, a becoming pink flush on her cheeks. She was dressed casually in a plain white t-shirt and a denim skirt with her thick black curls loose around her shoulders. "Bonjour, Kris. What is LA like?", she asked. "It's not very warm but there's smog and it's hazy, we're staying near the Staples Center. Me, Geno and Jordan went to a shooting range and did some target practice", he said, chuckling at the shocked look on her face. "It was a lot of fun, ma fille. My mother's family are country folks and they shoot guns, I've shot before and Jordan grew up on a farm with guns. Geno's really good, though, but he hasn't had much experience, maybe he's got a good feel for it", he said thoughtfully. "Kris, I hope you are careful", she chided. Kris just laughed, his brown eyes amused. "Je sais, ma fille pays. If you want want to blame anyone, blame Jordan", he laughed. "What are you planning on doing?", she asked. "We're going out for dinner and drinks, we can't party too much as we have a game tomorrow and after that we have to fly to San Jose. It's always fun to go to the Bay Area, Metallica's from there and maybe I will see them around", he said with a chuckle. "San Francisco looks so beautiful", she said wistfully. "I will take a lot of pictures, ma fille. Have you traveled much?", he asked. Marie shook her head. "Papa and I have been living in Pittsburgh since I was a tot, I do remember living with the nuns at the convent in Matane before we moved here", she replied. Kris frowned. "Why were you at a convent? You are not an orphan", he said. "My mother died of eclampsia when I was born, Papa had me at the convent until he was able to save some money and open the bar", she explained. "Mon Dieu! I am so sorry, that sounds terrible", he exclaimed. "Pas de soucis, Kris. That's why Papa never remarried or even dated. And my mother's family thinks he killed her, I've never met them, but I do know they are from Arkansas and their name was Dean", she said. "Ma fille, that is terrible. Your Papa is a very good man, your mother's people can go to hell", he growled. "Mes sentiments exactement, Kris. I have to start preparing dinner, I will talk to you later", she said. "Au revoir, ma fille pays", he said. "Au revoir, Kris", she replied as she logged off. He turned off the Mac as he heard a knock on the door. "You ready, Kris?", asked Evgeni as he went inside the room. "Oui, mon ami Russe. I was just chatting with Marie on Skype", he replied as he stuffed his keys and wallet into his pocket and checked himself in the mirror. Evgeni tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy he felt as he just nodded. An image of the beautiful blond woman came to him as he blinked several times, shaking his head. "Geno, are you all right?", asked Kris. Evgeni blushed and shook his head. "Nyet", he replied. "All right, I cannot have you spacing out during the games", teased Kris as they headed out the door. Jordan was waiting for them downstairs as they all clapped each other on the back. "Guys, where to?", he asked. "There's an Irish bar down the street, I don't feel like going very far", said Kris as they nodded in agreement. Braddock's Shamrock Pub was the sort of faux-Irish pub that appeared in virtually place on Earth, but it was pleasantly full and welcoming with warm dark wood paneling and Christmas lights over the bar, a jukebox playing some Chieftains as two men played pool nearby. The trio found an empty booth as a waitress in a Lakers jersey and cap came over and handed them menus. "Three pints of Guinness for starters", said Jordan. Evgeni glanced down at the whiskey menu and looked at the selections. "Good, they have Scotch, I not like Irish whiskey much", he said. The waitress arrived with the beers and set them down and took their orders. "Whiskey's for later, you're gonna pass out otherwise", laughed Jordan. After dinner, the waitress came back to clear away the dishes. "One bottle of Macallan Reserve", said Kris. Several minutes late, she returned with a bottle of the premium single-malt whisky and three glasses. Kris opened the bottle and poured them each a generous measure of the amber liquid as they raised their glasses. "To a win tomorrow night, Slainte!", he toasted. Evgeni took a sip of the Scotch and nodded in approval, feeling the whisky go down smoothly in a slow burn that warmed his insides. "Very good, I should buy more when we get back to Pittsburgh", he said. "Oui, mon ami Russe. My mother's father was Scottish, so I know a thing about good Scotch", laughed Kris. "What, I thought you were French?", asked Jordan, looking confused. Kris just laughed as he asked the waitress for a bottle of spring water. They watched as he poured the Scotch into a glass and carefully added just a bit of water before mixing it with the swizzle stick, then took a sip. "Yeah, I'm actually three-quarters French and one-quarter Scottish, that's why my middle name is Allen. There's a lot of Scots in Quebec, it's just that they all married French people", he laughed. "Awesome", said Jordan as he did the same with his Scotch. "Wow, it does taste better this way", he said. "That is sacrilege, Kris. Nobody in Russia cut the drink with water", said Evgeni disdainfully as he drank his straight up. "Your loss, good Scotch is to be savored, mon ami Russe", he chuckled. Evgeni started feeling very good as the whisky warmed his system, the smooth malt going down easily. "Kris, I thought I saw a ghost last night", he mumbled. "What? Really, what the fuck?", muttered Jordan. Kris said nothing as he poured them each another whisky. "What happened?", he asked. "I could not sleep so I turn on TV and they were showing old cowboy movie I remember when I was a boy. They have this song called Deep Water that I like, I turned off TV and try to sleep. I see this beautiful girl sitting on my bed, she had honey blond hair and very green eyes and wearing a greed plaid and white dress. She touch my cheek and and smile and then go away. I felt it, it was so real", he murmured. Kris had a thoughtful look on his face as he sipped his whisky. "Interesting, mon ami. I think you might have a touch of the sorcier as well", he mused aloud. "Huh? You're starting to creep me out, dude", said Jordan with a little shudder. "My ancestors originally came from Brittany, near Carnac. There's a lot of pagan activity there as the Druids had one of their sacred sites nearby, the standing stones. In the 1600's, the French government started cracking down on so-called heresy and idolatry at about the same time they went after the Huguenots. My ancestor Hugh Letang was rumored to be a sorcerer from a line of sorcerers going back to the days of the Druids in Gaul. He had to flee to Quebec or else he would have burned at the stake, my grandmere says we still have the Letang gifts", he replied. "Wow, that is incredible. So you think the ghost was real?", asked Evgeni. "I believe so, mon ami Russe", he replied. |
![]() |
|
| The Cosmic Gerbil | February 12, 2012, 8:14 am Post #17 |
|
Forbidden Forest Ranger
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Ooh, that sounds exciting I hope it is a ghost and if it is, I wonder what she wants?
|
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | February 12, 2012, 9:34 pm Post #18 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Chapter 6 The game the following night at Staples Center was sold out as the stands were a sea of purple and silver Kings fans, the few Penguins fans in attendance outnumbered. The teams were on the ice skating in their own ends as the lights were dimmed and the fans hushed in anticipation, the Kings fans wanting to beat one of the best teams in the Eastern Conference. Kris held his stick horizontally as he skated in laps close to the goal, his long black hair flowing out from under his helmet. He looked calm and stoic as he skated in their half of the ice, watching the others get into position as the referee prepared to drop the puck. Kris got into his defensive position with his back to the goal as he watched Sid and Kings' center Anze Kopitar prepare to face off, seeing both players get their sticks ready to grab the puck. Sid won the draw as he raced towards the Kings' goal, Kris backing up slightly in case the Kings got possession. He saw the Kings grab possession and head towards the Penguins' goal as he got into position to block the shot. Kris saw the Kings' wingers skating towards their goal as he checked Dustin Brown so that the puck became loose, smiling in satisfaction as the Penguins regained the puck, his smile growing wider as Sid scored the first goal to make it 1-0 Penguins. The Penguins hung onto win 2-1 in regulation as the partisan Kings fans booed, the team quickly going to the dressing room. "This is great start to road trip", said Evgeni as he peeled off his uniform and tossed into a pile. "Yeah, I can't wait to get into the Bay Area. I want to go to Amoeba in the Haight and see if they got any good Metallica bootlegs", said Kris. "What's that?", asked Jordan. "Amoeba's a record store with a lot of wired music, really good obscure stuff. Maybe we can check out the hippies in the Haight or Chinatown or North Beach", said Kris. After everyone showered and dressed, a bus took them to the team's charter flight at LAX. The freeways were eerily quiet as the bus made its way to the airport and dropped them off at the terminal. The terminal was quiet except for a few passengers catching red-eyes to the East Coast and the janitorial staff, compared to the hustle and bustle it experienced during the day. The team quickly boarded their flight as it backed away from the gate and taxied towards the runway. When the clear was given, Kris took out his Mac and logged into the plane's Wi-Fi to go online. He had a big smile on his face when he checked his email and saw the tickets that needed to be printed as he saved the message. "Why are you so happy, Tanger?", asked Jordan. "The tickets for the Pittsburgh chapter of the St. Andrew's Society Burns' Night came in, I have three tickets and I have to print them", he replied. "What's that?", asked Jordan. "It's a celebration for members of the society, there's poetry by Burns and singing, Celtic music and whisky and haggis. Plus, we all wear kilts and formal wear", he explained. "No way, I'm not Scottish and haggis is fucking disgusting. Do you know what goes in there?", said Jordan with a shudder. "Oui, mon ami Nederlandais. But it's better than it sounds, it tastes like sausage. I'm taking Marie and I want to ask if anyone wants to come along", he said. "What is going on, Kris?", asked Evgeni, glancing up from his book. "My tickets for the St. Andrew's Society Burns' Night celebration just came in, I'm taking Marie and I have an extra ticket", he said. "St. Andrew is patron saint of Russia, very big saint. And what kind of celebration is that?", he asked. "It's a celebration of Robert Burns' poetry, there's whisky and Celtic music and a big dinner, but you have to wear a kilt or a suit", he replied. "May I come along, sound very good", said Evgeni. "Of course, a lot of non-Scottish people go each year. You will have to wear a suit or a kilt", he said. "Do I have to wear a certain plaid or just anything?", asked Evgeni. "Since you're not a Scot, you can't wear a clan tartan. But there are some universal tartans you can wear, I don't think there's a Russian tartan. You'd have to get one custom, though, mine wouldn't fit you. There's this place in Pittsburgh that makes them custom, I can take you", said Kris. "Okay, when is party?", he asked. "It's on January 25th, there's no game that night. And I have a plaid for Marie she can wear with a dress. My plaids are in the Grant tartan, my mother's family the Allens are members of Clan Grant", he said. "Da, very nice. Is there anything else I can do?", he asked. "If you want, you can recite a poem during the recital, it's a custom for non-Scots to do a poem from their country along with the Burns", said Kris. "I will see if I can come up with something, but it would have to be in Russian or else it not sound good", said Evgeni. "That's good, I've recited French poems and they liked it, just do it if you can", said Kris reassuringly. Barely an hour later, the Penguins charter landed at Norman y Mineta Airport in San Jose, the small airport deserted except for the janitorial staff. "Since tomorrow all we got is the morning skate, let's do a bit of sightseeing in the city", said Kris. "Okay, I like San Francisco, very pretty city", said Evgeni. "No thanks, I'm gonna chill", said Jordan. "All right, mon ami Nederlandais", said Kris as they started to walk off the plane. The entire airport seemed completely deserted except for the janitors as the team walked through the terminal to the waiting bus. The sky above was inky black with a breeze coming in from the bay, the whole city seemingly fast asleep. Their hotel nearby was a Hilton that was just down the street from the HP Pavilion, everyone getting off the bus and going to their rooms. "Good night, guys", said Evgeni as he opened the door to his room. He turned on the lights and barely glanced around as he carefully took off his suit and hung it up in the closet, leaving the rest for the maid to wash. Evgeni took out his toiletries and placed them in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, changing into boxers and a tank top as he turned down the bed and reached for the remote. I have to thank Kris later, this Burns' Night think sounds interesting. I don't mind having to wear a kilt or recite a poem, it sure beats staying home, he mused. Evgeni flipped through the channels looking for something to watch. He stopped on the History Channel as it showed a program about Scottish history, about the clan system and Highland life before the Jacobites. While he watched the show and found it interesting, he was jolted awake when he during one of the historical reenactments, he recognized the girl from last night. He was sure it was her, with the honey-blond hair and the same green eyes and plaid sash around her body, even the shape of her face was eerily similar. Efbeni was more startled when the girl appeared as one of the people interviewed by the narrator, her name given as Ellen Sutherland and identified as a member of the St. Andrew's Society. She was even more beautiful than last night, her long thick wavy hair the color of warm honey and her eyes a brilliant leaf green, a slight smile on her full pink lips. Her voice was slightly husky and had a pronounced Highland Scots accent that sounded so alluring, especially when she pronounced the R sound that sounded almost caressing. "My clan ,the Sutherlands, they were one of the largest clans in northern Scotland. In fact, the district of Sutherland is named after us. Unfortunately, the Sutherland chiefs of the 1800's threw a lot of people off their lands to make room for sheep, there was very little sense of clan loyalty and instead they were motivated by profit. 'Tis not somethng to be proud of, I'm afraid", she said with a little chuckle. That's her, and she is more beautiful than I thought. And that voice, wow. I got to meet her, he thought as he watched the rest of the show. However, he was disappointed when she didn't appear the rest of the show, turning off the TV in disgust. I ought to sleep and talk to Kris tomorrow, he thought, turning off the light and going to sleep. |
![]() |
|
| Lilith | February 13, 2012, 7:28 pm Post #19 |
|
♥ Jaimelicious ♥
![]()
|
Uh! I loooooove this! :3 I'm a sucker of Scottish lore. I was part of the Scottish Country Dance Group of St. Andrews Society in Mexico. And headed the dances in their annual Ceilith! I'm very intrigued about what mystic forces are bringing Evgeni and Ellen together.
|
![]() |
|
| The Cosmic Gerbil | February 15, 2012, 8:20 am Post #20 |
|
Forbidden Forest Ranger
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
A Burn's Night celebration sounds awesome I love Scottish culture too...I hope to visit Scotland someday
|
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | February 15, 2012, 4:04 pm Post #21 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Chapter 7 "So the ghost chick, you saw her on TV? Whoa", said Jordan, his eyes wide as he tried to shoot the puck past Marc, only to have the Frenchman block, a cocky tone in his cheerful voice. "Go Flower. What was her name?", asked Kris as he watched Marc block another shot. "Her name was Ellen Sutherland, she was so beautiful", said Evgeni, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Hey, I know Ellen, her dad is the head of the Pittsburgh chapter of the St. Andrew's Society, he's Alisdair Sutherland. Unfortunately, we also share the same neurologist", he said with a chuckle. "What, how come?", he asked. "I went to him when I had the concussion last year and she goes for her epilepsy, she takes medications for it but she is fine now. Ellen is a good girl, she is like my sister", he said. "Will she be at the party?", asked Evgeni. "Of course, I go there every year and she always recites a poem, even though she's Highland rather than Lowland Scots. But I can introduce her to you", said Kris. "Spasibo, Kris. But how come you never invite anyone to this before?", he asked. "I usually ask for one invitation, I didn't know if anyone was interested. But this year, I thought I would ask for extra ones in case anyone wanted to come. It is formal but fun, you will really like it", said Kris as they heard the coach blow his whistle to end practice. "I was thinking about doing one of Pushkin's poems, but perhaps not one of the really long ones. I will do it in Russian or else it not sound right", he said. "Sure, go ahead", replied Kris as they headed to the showers. "Where do you want to go, Kris?", asked Evgeni, pulling on an XL Pantera shirt over his head and reaching for a bottle of gel and comb for his hair. "We'll take the Caltrain into the city and walk a few blocks to Chinatown, do a bit of sightseeing and get some lunch. Then we can go to the Haight, I want to go to Amoeba and see the old hippie shit. Then we get dinner and we're meeting with Jordan at Mezzanine, that's a great club with all different kinds of music. Sound good?", he asked as he put on a buttoned down gray shirt and black slacks. "Da, very good. I not familiar with San Francisco, last time I go I had my knees bad, that hurt", said Evgeni as he combed his hair. "And you really shouldn't wear a t-shirt if we're going to a club, no offense mon ami", said Kris. "Okay, I put on other shirt", he replied as he changed into a black buttoned-down shirt with a matching jacket over it. They left the rink and walked down the street to the Caltrain station. It was chilly with the clouds portending rain as both men purchased umbrellas from a newsstand along with their tickets. The station was quiet as few people traveled north to the city around noon as the train from the city pulled into the station. Barely ten minutes later, the train's whistle gave a loud, shrill whistle before the doors closed and it left the station on its way north. The Caltrain went north via the East Bay as it passed small towns and the huge citrus groves, farms and ranches of the area, many of the towns quite poor with small houses and countless trailer parks that housed many of the farm workers. Once it reached Oakland and then Berkeley, the train was full as it made a left turn before making its last stop at 4th street in SOMA near the piers. Evgeni followed Kris off the train and looked about curiously. It was still a bit chilly but the fog was much denser here as Oakland across the bay was virtually invisible and the boats floating on the baby were but apparitions like long-forgotten ghost ships. The seagulls perched on stumps gazed dully at the bay with their calm black eyes as though weighted down by the fog. The short walk a few block away towards Chinatown was also fog-shrouded with the heavy mists raining down the most ephemeral of rain drops, softening the edge of the modern buildings around them. Chinatown emerged from the fog like an apparition out of a picture book the bright colors and buildings and various Chinese dialects spoken almost surreal after the train ride north. "Geno, you really ought to go out more, now that your knee is better", teased Kris. "Da, ya paneymat. What do you recommend?", he asked. "I want to buy something for Marie, it is the right thing to do with your lady, non? And you really ought to try dim sum or Chinese food in general, much better than takeout", said Kris. Kris led them towards the Far East Flea Market, which was actually a store on Grant St. near the Chinatown gate. However, it was in the spirit of an outdoor flea market with stalls and shelves carrying every sort of cheap item a person could want, from the mundane and everyday to the kitschy and exotic in no particular order. Evgeni looked through a series of shelves with dinnerware in porcelain and stainless steel, picking out a set of handle-less porcelain tea cups with a pink cherry blossom design on a black background for his mother and a set of matching sake cups for his father, carefully placing them in his basket. He saw Kris looking through a display on the other side as he looked through a shelf of porcelain dolls, ranging in size from a few inches to a foot tall. "Kris, I think Marie would like this", he said to his friend. "Very nice, mon ami. You are right, I think she would like this", he agreed. They paid for the stuff and arranged for them to be sent to their house in Pittsburgh as Kris led them out the door. The sun had come out a bit as he led them towards one of the innumerable dim sum and noodle parlors on Stockton St., many of them just plain fronts with only the little dining rooms seen through windows suggesting a restaurant. They went inside a dim sum parlor and were led to a booth as a waiter in a white coat poured them each a cup of fragrant jasmine tear, the other diners giving them a quick glance as they were the only non-Asian people here. "You just point to what looks good on the cart, it's all good", said Kris as he sipped his tear and reached for a small plate and chopsticks. They finished lunch as they split the bill and tip as Kris led them outside and down the street to the cable car station. The sun had come out more and the fog had dispersed back towards the bay, the temperatures a not-bad 60 degrees. "Kris, you have got to take more places", said Evgeni with a chuckle. "Don't sweat it, Geno. I like to see different things and travel, I don't like watching TV in the hotel. Just follow me', he said as a cable car approached the stop. "I thought these were taken out", he mused aloud as they boarded the train. "Non, it's such a big tourist attraction people would right if that happened. They used to have these in Montreal many years ago, back in the 20's or something. Just knock yourself out at Amoeba, they have all these albums and part of the thrill is looking for more stuff", said Kris. Haight-Ashbury seemed like a different world compared to Chinatown, the gorgeous old wooden Victorian houses a strange background to all the hippies and punks, both young and old. Many of the storefronts appeared to sell odd secondhand clothes, used stuff of all sorts and paraphernalia for smoking weed as the sticky-sweet smell of patchouli and pot smoke drifted from open doors. "I hope they don't do the piss test on us", said Kris dryly. Amoeba Records was a sprawling two-story shop that took up half a block, the exterior painted bright pink with a red and blue neon sign over the entrance. Inside it was a temple to the audio arts with a huge CD selection arranged in alphabetical order by genre, milk crates of vinyl records new and old being pored over by hipsters, indie kids and hippies. A green bookshelf held cassette tapes and even 8-tracks in alphabetical order, some of them in plain plastic boxes as the original boxes had been lost. Vintage and copy psychedelic posters advertising long ago shows at the Fillmore and Winterland adorned the walls, the birght colors and brilliant designs so different from modern ones. Kris immediately went over to the metal section as Evgeni just took a look around. He started out at the pop section but quickly went towards the vinyl, carefully flipping through the records and looking at the album covers. He was intrigued by the brilliant colors and bold designs of the psychedelic albums and prog albums from the 70's, picking up a copy of Hall of the Crimson King by King Crimson and Disraeli Gears by Cream. Lucky we have a turntable at home, he mused. He rejoined Kris in the metal section. "Those are great albums, mon ami. They got the Dream Evil album I've been looking for", he said, holding up a copy of Dragonslayer. "Very nice, what kind of metal is that?", he asked. "It's power metal from Sweden, they're a bit like Iron Maiden", he explained. "Sounds very good, do you like Nightwish and that sort of thing? Nightwish is very good, but Arkona is awesome, they are Russian and do stuff about old stories", said Evgeni. "I love Nightwish, Tarja's a great singer, Anette's not too bad either. I have to check out Arkona then", said Kris. "They are very good, I always like that sort of band, Iron Maide type-band. Everyone else in my town like stupid techno garbage, I hate that music. Metal is much better", said Evgeni as Kris nodded. "When it's my turn to choose the music for the workouts, I'll be playing the Maiden really loud", said Kris with a laugh as they went to pay for their stuff. |
![]() |
|
| Lilith | February 16, 2012, 1:43 am Post #22 |
|
♥ Jaimelicious ♥
![]()
|
Ooh! I loved their SF sight seeing very well described, brings memories! ;_; Hahaha, they all are metal heads. Can't wait for the moment Evgeni meets Ellen! I'm so intrigued. I wonder if her epilepsy is just that or something more. :horns2 |
![]() |
|
| The Cosmic Gerbil | February 17, 2012, 2:09 pm Post #23 |
|
Forbidden Forest Ranger
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Ah, good taste in music :biggrin: I am curious to know what happens when they meet too
|
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | February 21, 2012, 8:45 pm Post #24 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Chapter 8 "Very glad to meet you, Mr. Malkin. I'll have to measure you for the kilt and we ought to have it ready in two weeks", said Peter Brodie in his heavy Scotch burr. "Spasibo, Mr. Brodie", said Evgeni. He was still as the tailor took a measuring tape and used to it get the measurements of his waist and length for the kilt. "Aye, yer a big lad. We usually don't get such big lads here", he said with a chuckle. "Peter, it's a Russian thing. I am not small but I'm not anything like Geno", he chuckled. "What sort of plaid would be a good one for the kilt, I am not Scottish and I am not part of a clan", he asked. "The Flower of Scotland and the Royal Stuart are popular universal tartans, if you like. But really you can wear any sort these days", said the tailor. "You can wear a Grant tartan if you want, Geno. Since we're going to the party together it's okay", said Kris. "Okay, I'll have it with the Grant plaid then", he said. "There's a red dress tartan and a blue and green hunting tartan, which do you prefer?", asked Mr. Brodie, opening a book of tartans that showed all of them. "I will take the hunting tartan, I don't like to wear red", he replied. "I'm wearing the red one, so that's good", said Kris. "All right, gentlemen", said Mr. Brodie. Just as they were about to leave, Ellen Sutherland entered the shop as everyone turned to face her. "Mr. Brodie, is my dress ready?", she asked in her melodic Highland Scots accent. "Not yet, Miss Sutherland. But it ought to be ready at most in two days", he replied. "Aye, 'tis good. You canna be too careful", she laughed. "Bonjour Ellen", said Kris. "Bonjour, Kris. Are you getting a kilt done?", she asked. Evgeni felt his mouth go dry when he came face to face with the woman who had been haunting his dreams for the last week. Up close, she was far more beautiful than either in his dreams or on TV as he stood rooted to the spot. Ellen was dressed casually in jeans and a heavy brown shearling coat that was open to reveal a Hank III t-shirt with the Damn Right Rebel Proud album cover. Her dark blond hair was the color of warm honey with natural tawny brown and red highlights that fell halfway down her back in waves, her heavy-lidded green eyes the color of summer leaves that dominated an oval face with high cheekbones and full pink lips that were turned up in a smile. "Ellen, this is my friend, housemate and teammate Evgeni Malkin. Geno, this is Ellen Sutherland", he said. Evgeni tried to control his racing heart as they shook hands, feeling a tiny spark go through him. He glanced down and saw a tiny black birthmark shaped like a crescent moon on the underside of her arm, looking over and also seeing that she had six fingers on each hand, an extra pinky. Strangely enough, all twelve of her fingers were painted purplish black and she made no sign of trying to hide them. In fact, they were fully mobile and functional like a normal finger. "Aye, ye noticed. It runs in the family, I got extra toes two", she giggled. Evgeni blushed guiltily. "Sorry about that, Miss Sutherland", he mumbled. "'Tis all rgiht, it's just like any other finger. So, ye are going to the Burns' Night supper, lucky ye'll not be having a game that night", she teased. Evgeni frowned when Kris nudged him in the ribs, the other man giving him an encouraging look. "I'm taking Marie out tonight to Diesel with some of the guys, you want to join us Ellen?", asked Kris. "Of course, even though I'm more of a country fan. See you later, lads", she said, giving them a little wave as she left the shop. "Geno, you're drooling", he teased. "Kris, she is so beautiful", he murmured. "Then act like you want to be with her instead of drooling like a stupid boy, mon ami Russe. Ellen is very bold and confident, and I think she likes you. If you act weak, she's going to end up with Max or Jordan", said Kris. Evgeni gave his friend a look, a defiant look in his dark eyes. "I am not going to let her get away", he vowed. "That's the spirit, mon ami. Now let's get ready so we can meet our women", said Kris as they left. Later that evening, the group was in the VIP section of Diesel. The club was in full swing as the dance floor was packed with revelers grooving to the loud techno spun by the DJ as bartenders mixed drinks and poured beers as fast as people could drink them. "Ma belle Escosse, you are looking most beautiful", said Max gallantly, lightly kissing her hand. Ellen just smiled at the big Frenchman's obvious flirtation. "You have always been a charmer, Max Talbot", she teased. Ellen was stunning in a simple forest green satin evening gown with spaghetti straps and her honeyed hair held back with a simple jade comb, a jade and silver necklace resting around her long, elegant neck. "It's a French thing, I ought to know", said Marie dryly. She wore a simple sapphire-blue dress with spaghetti straps and her black hair pulled away from her face with a white comb and a few loose curls around her bare shoulders. Both women had turned a lot of heads as they entered the club, tall blond Ellen and tiny brunette Marie providing a striking contrast with each other. "Max, you heard the lady, go get your own chick", teased Jordan as everyone laughed. "Do you want to dance, Ellen?", asked Evgeni. "Of course', she replied as she offered him her hand. Evgeni smiled in relief when they went downstairs towards the dance floor as they started dancing. Ellen was normally used to leading in the dance but was pleasantly surprised that he took the lead, his hand resting on her lower back and his strong grip making her feel quite small. "You are used to leading, da? Man is supposed to lead in the dance", he teased. Ellen gave him a challenging look, raising a sandy blond eyebrow. "We'll see about that, Mr. Malkin", she murmured. "I like a challenge", he replied as he led them in the dance. "Looks like Geno's got himself a girl, and a nice one. How come she likes him and not me?", laughed Max. "Dude, chicks don't always dig the Superstar", teased Jordan, referring to the cheesy commercials Max did for a local car dealership: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOrvdvczpEA "Very funny, Jordan. But I'm happy for Geno, he needs a girl. Besides, there's a lot of fish in the sea", replied Max confidently. He spotted a sexy blond in a tight red dress that exposed impressive cleavage nearby as a feral smile formed on his face. "Excuse moi", he said. Jordan had to laugh when he saw Max go straight towards the blond chat her up, the blond immediately showing interest as he bought her a drink. "That is typical Max, he is indeed the Superstar", laughed Kris. "Is he the man from the commercials?", asked Marie. "Oui, ma fille pays. Terrible commercials, but he gets a free car out of it, I couldn't do that", he chuckled. "And it looks as though Geno and Ellen are getting along well", said Marie. Kris nodded when he saw the couple dancing. They were a very striking couple as a few people turned to face in their direction. Evgeni was a huge man with his dark Slavic good looks and Ellen with her gorgeous honey hair and feline grace and bearing of a queen. "Je sais, I know they make a good couple. Anyone would have been better than Oksana", he said. "Who is Oksana?", asked Marie. "That's his ex, no one liked her. She was older than him and divorced from some old dude back in Russia who was loaded, she was a total bitch and the other women hated her. She was cheating on Geno with another old dude and he sent her packing back to Russia. Ellen's a good girl, he really needs that", said Jordan. Marie frowned. She felt genuinely bad for the big gentle Russian, having been played by that awful woman. I do hope he's happy with Ellen, his ex sounds like a horrible woman, she mused. "I know, Oksana was a horrible woman", said Kris. Marie looked at him, startled. "I know it, you have an open face", he said with a chuckle. "I want to dance, Kris', she said. "Of course, Marie", he said as Jordan raised his beer in a mocking salute. The DJ now played some slow stuff as the couples all danced, Kris leading her onto the floor as he held her against him. Marie leaned into him as his arms went around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder. His big body felt so warm against her as they swayed to the music, her head barely coming up to his shoulder. Kris gave her a slow, melting smile as he leaned down and kissed her her, feeling her relax in his embrace as she returned the kiss. Kris lifted his lips from hers and smiled at the hazy look in her blue eyes, kissing her again. "You are so beautiful, ma fille pays", he murmured, taking her back to their table. "I will drive you home, Ellen", said Evgeni as he helped her put on her coat. "I'm going to take Marie home too, you guys", said Kris. "My car is in the valet lot, where do you live?", he asked, leading her out of the club towards the valet parking. "We live in Castle Shannon, that is south of the river", she replied. Evgeni nodded as the attendant brought over his silver BMW, tipping him fifty dollars. "Da, I will put the directions in the GPS", he said, hoping it was a long drive. "My da's car is a BMW, but his is black", she remarked as he helped her into the car. "That nice, who is your father?", he asked as he drove out of the lot. "He's Alisdair Sutherland, he's the president of the Pittsburgh chapter of the St. Andrew's Society. His cousin is the clan chief and a duke, but we're just Yanks now", she laughed. "Wow, very impressive. Well, my father is a factory supervisor and my mother is a housewife, that not so interesting", he said. "Don't say that", she chided. "That nice of you to say that, Ellen. And please call me Zhenya, that is a nickname for Evgeni and what my mother and granny call me', he said. "All right, Zhenya. Are you going to recite a poem for the dinner?", she asked. "I will try to do something, Ellen. But it will be in Russian, otherwise it don't sound right", he said. "It sounds lovely. And I am looking forward to seeing you in a kilt", she teased. Evgeni immediately became aroused at the teasing note in her voice, her green eyes dancing with amusement. He tried to distract herself by turning on the radio, Here For the Party by Gretchen Wilson coming over the speakers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Huo_-8PhDE Evgeni cursed herself as he became even more aroused watching her singing along to the radio. The up-tempo defiant party anthem at first blush seemed an unlikely fit for the elegant Ellen, but it perfectly captured her proud, cheerful nature as she sang along: Well I'm an eight ball shooting double fisted drinking son of a gun I wear My jeans a little tight Just to watch the little boys come undone Im here for the beer and the ball busting band Gonna get a little crazy just because I can You know im here for the party And i aint leavin til they throw me out Gonna have a little fun gonna get me some You know im here, im here for the party I may not be a ten but the boys say i clean up good And if i gave em half a chance for some rowdy romance you know they would Ive been waiting all week just to have a good time So bring on them cowboys and their pick up lines Dont want no purple hooter shooter just some jack on the rocks Dont mind me if i start that trashy talk "You don't look like girl who listen to country music", he said when the song ended. Ellen just laughed, her green eyes full of mirth. "Aye, I ken. Country music is my favorite, I'm partial to bluegrass and Hank III, but I also like Jason Aldean and Gretchen Wilson, Taylor Swift is nice once in a while", he said. "I like her too, but I don't want my teammates to know that. But I like mostly metal, I bought some Arkona albums when Kris and I go to Amoeba Records in San Francisco", he replied. "'Tis nothing to be embarrassed about, 'tis embarrassing to like that Justin Bieber lad, horrid stuff he does", she said with a grimace. "Nyet, no like Bieber either, he is horible. That for babies", he said disdainfully. They arrived at Ellen's house in the southern Pittsburgh suburb of Castle Shannon half an hour later. The neighborhood was one of the more exclusive ones in the area with its large well-maintained houses framed by trees and manicured lawns, late-model luxury cars parked in the driveways and curbs. Her house was a large one at two storeys and made of gray stone that vaguely resembled a British manor house on a smaller scale. Evgeni parked in front of the house and helped her out of the car, walking towards the house and ringing the doorbell. A tall, very dignified middle-aged man in a monogrammed blue velvet robe opened the door as she embraced him. "Good evening, Mr. Sutherland, I bring your daughter home", he said politely. "That was very good of you, lad. And who are you?", he asked in a heavily-accented baritone. "I am Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin, I am a friend and teammate of Kris Letang, Mr. Sutherland", he replied. "Aye, Kris is a good lad. Thank you for bringing Ellen home, you are a good lad", said Alisdair Sutherland as him and Ellen went inside. Evgeni whistled a happy tune as he walked back to his car, a spring in his step and a smile on his face. I think her father likes me, he seems very stern and proud, though. But I will see her again at the Burns' Night supper, he mused as he got in his car. |
![]() |
|
| Lilith | February 21, 2012, 10:22 pm Post #25 |
|
♥ Jaimelicious ♥
![]()
|
Ellen has witch hands! (and feet, lol) This is more and more interesting. And they made click immediately. I liked all the talk about the kilts... something sexier than a BIG man being measured for one? And the tartans, I love Royal Stuart, and also one named "night watch". :3I'm still very intrigued to know what will happen at the Burn's Night Supper! Aye. |
![]() |
|
| The Cosmic Gerbil | February 22, 2012, 2:23 pm Post #26 |
|
Forbidden Forest Ranger
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
I agree with Lilith This is getting very exciting
|
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | February 22, 2012, 9:01 pm Post #27 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Chapter 9 "If one did not know better, they would think you were full-blooded Scots, mon ami Russe", laughed Kris as he straightened his tie. "Da, I never thought I would be wearing a kilt ever, but this is nice", he agreed. Kris and Evgeni were getting ready for the Burns' Night supper at the St. Andrew's Society being held at the Westin Convention Center downtown. Both men wore black suit jackets over white buttoned-down shirts and black ties but with kilts and the matching stockings and the sporrans as accessories. Kris' kilt was in a red, blue and green Grant tartan dominated by the red with matching stockings, the black leather sporran with gray faux otter fur tied around his waist with its belt and flat cap in the same tartan over his black hair. Evgeni's kilt was in the Grant hunting tartan in green and blue with muted red stripes with the matching stockings and cap, his sporran black leather like Kris'. Both men looked handsome and dignified as they left the house and walked towards Evgeni's silver BMW, turning on the engine and backing out of the driveway. Marie saw the silver BMW park outside the bar as Jean waved goodbye, Kris getting out from the passenger's side and embracing her. "You look so beautiful, ma fille joli pays", he said gallantly as he opened the door and helped her inside. "Merci, and you look very handsome yourself", she chuckled. Marie wore a black silk buttoned down blouse over a white, purple and blue Grant dress tartan kilt and matching stockings with tiny black suede boots on her feet. Her dark hair was in two braids down to her shoulders and bound with lavender ribbons that seemed to bounce with each step, a simple necklace of polished black beads and a small pearl and silver ring her only jewelry. "We have good news, Kris and I have been selected to the All-Star Game in Ottawa in two weeks. I want to ask Ellen if she can come with us", said Evgeni. "And you just let the cat out of the bag, Geno. I was going to tell you, but do you want to be my guest to the All-Star Game? My family is going to be there as well", he said. "Oui, monsieur Letang. How could I refuse such an offer?", she teased. Besides, I have never been to Ottawa before", she teased. "You have never been to Ottawa before? Then we will show you around, right Geno?", he asked. "Da, we will show you a lot of things in Ottawa. And Ellen will like it very much, my parents are flying in from Russia to see game too", said Evgeni. "That's great, your parents are awesome, Geno", laughed Kris. They arrived at the Westin forty five minutes later as Evgeni handed the keys to the BMW to the valet. The ballroom and banquet rooms of the hotel were booked for the society's dinner as they were led towards the ballroom. It was a huge room decked out in the red and green Royal Stuart tartan with a bar staffed by numerous waiters and bartenders and a small band consisting of a fiddle, mandolin, bodhran and bagpipes playing a lively tune as a few couples danced. Evgeni saw Ellen chatting with an older woman as he felt his heart skip a beat. Ellen wore a floor-length ballgown in dark green Sutherland tartan, a long shawl around her shoulders in bold blue and green Sutherland tartan around her shoulders held together with a golden brooch that showed the clan crest of a lion and their motto Sans Peur. Her thick honey hair was in two braids in a French twist and adorned with tiny sprigs of white silk flowers, a magnificent diamond and peridot necklace around her long neck. Matching earrings and a silver ring with a round waxy green Cairngorm stone rested on the middle finger of her left hand and a gold enamel signet ring with the clan crest on the middle finger of her right hand. "Hello, Kris and Marie and Zhenya. Feasgar math, ciamer a tha thu?", she asked, giving them each a quick peck on the cheek. "Sle math, tapadh leat, Ellen, Mrs. Seaforth", said Kris in accented Gaelic. "You are such a charmer, Mr. Letang. And I think you are finally settling down, you rascally French boy", teased old Mrs. Seaforth as he blushed. She was an elegant, dignified old woman with the bearing of a Victorian dowager, dressed in a simple blue Seaforth tartan dress, her white hair pulled back into a bun with little gold spectacles perched on her nose. "And Ellen, who is your young man?", she asked kindly. "I am Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin, madame. Ellen is very nice girl, Kris invite me here", he said, hoping he said it right. "Very glad to meet you, Mr. Malkin. Why don't you two run along and I will see you later at dinner", said Mrs. Seaforth. "She is a wise old woman, da? Let me get you a drink", he said, taking her hand and leading her to the bar. Several of the guests glanced in his direction as they recognized him and were wondering why he was with Ellen, but since many of them were older people they kept it to themselves. Ellen had been talking with Mrs. Seaforth when they came into the room. She had been prepared to say hello when she saw Evgeni and almost forgot to speak. He looked so handsome and dignified in his suit jacket and tie, but the kilt suited him perfectly as it seemed to emphasize his big, muscular body and strong legs, giving him an aura of strength that was barely concealed. She had managed to get herself under control and introduce them to Mrs. Seaforth, the old lady leaving them alone almost as though she knew what they thought. "Two shots of Macallan Reserve", he told the bartender. "How did you know I drink Macallan?", she asked, raising an eyebrow. Evgeni just laughed as the bartender got their drinks, seeing him pour a generous measure of the fine single malt whisky. "That is my favorite Scotch, Kris bought me some and I really liked it, don't drink blends now. I still drink vodka, but not Smirnoff, very bad stuff", he said with a frown. "You will have to teach me how to drink vodka then, I don't drink it at all. But I already drink this, so that is a start, ye ken?", she laughed. "Ye ken? What does that mean?", he asked. "It means you know in Scots, our English is very different from what people in the rest of Britain or North America speak, many times I canna understand them. But you have a charming way with the English language, Zhenya. I bet the lassies like it", he teased. "Hah, very funny. I getting better at it, I used to be crap at English", he said. "You are not crap at English, Zhenya", she said reassuringly. Evgeni beamed as he took a sip of whisky. He watched as Ellen took a sip and a slow smile of satisfaction formed on her lips, her green eyes slightly narrowed like a cat's. "Aye, ye have good taste in whiskies, Zhenya", she purred. He felt very warm all of a sudden as he put the tumbler to his lips and drained the whisky. Before he could embarrass himself, the loud skirl of bagpipes made everyone come to attention as a group of bagpipers in Royal Stuart tartan emerged from a room and bade everyone to follow them to the dining room. Kris and Marie sat across from him and Ellen to his right as the rest of the guests found their seats, waiters pouring everyone a generous measure of whisky for the toast. The people's chatter stopped when Alisdair Sutherland, head of the society, stood up from his spot at the head of the table and held aloft his whisky glass. Everyone turned to face him as he spoke. "Welcome ladies and gentlemen to our annual supper, in honor of the bard of Scotland and our fine Scottish heritage. And now we will have a toast to the land of our ancestors", he said as he recited Scots Wha Hae by Burns: Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed Or to victorie! Now's the day, and now's the hour: See the front o' battle lour, See approach proud Edward's power--- Chains and slaverie! Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave?--- Let him turn, and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and Law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or Freeman fa', Let him follow me! By Oppression's woes and pains, By your sons in servile chains, We will drain your dearest veins, But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Let us do, or die! "Now it is time for our main event, the Great Chieftain of the Pudding Race", said Alisdair as he recited Burns' ode to haggis, the waiters bringing out the dish: Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the puddin-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang's my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o' need, While thro' your pores the dews distil Like amber bead. His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut ye up wi' ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich! Then, horn for horn, they strech an' strive: Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive, Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve, Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, 'Bethankit!' hums. Is there that owre his French ragout Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi' perfect sconner, Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither'd rash, His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro' bluidy flood or field to dash, O how unfit! But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread. Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He'll make it whissle; An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned, Like taps o' thrissle. Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o 'fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer, Gie her a Haggis! After the dinner dishes were cleared away, a harpist came into the room and played some soft music in the background as Alisdair tapped his glass and everyone turned in his direction. "Ellen, why don't you recite a wee bit of verse?", he asked. Ellen got up and smiled at her father, clearing her throat as she recited the Lament of Mary Queen of Scots by Burns. Everyone was hushed as she did the classic Burns poem about the doomed Scots queen, reciting the words in her Scots accent as she brought justice to his great words: Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o' daises white Out o'er the grassy lea Now Pheebus cheers the crystal streams, And glads the azure skies; But nought can glad the weary wight That fast in durance lies. Now laverocks wake the merry morn Aloft on dewy wing; The merle, in his noontide bow'r, Makes woodland echoes ring; The mavis wild ai' mony a note, Sings drowsy day to reast In love and freedom they rejoice, Wi' care nor thrall opprest. Now blooms the lily by the bank, The primrose down the brae; The hawthorn's budding in the glen, And milk-white is the slae: The meanest hind in fair Scotland May rove their sweets amang; But I, the Queen of a' Scotland, Maun lie in prison strang. I was the Queen o' bonie France, Where happy I hae been; Fu' lightly raise I in the morn, As blythe lay down at e'en: And I'm the sov'reign of Scotland, And mony a traitor there; Yet here I lie in foreign bands, And never-ending care. But as for thee, thou false woman, My sister and my fae, Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall gae; The weeping blood in woman's breast Was never known to thee; Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. My son! my son! may kinder stars Upon thy fortune shine; And may those pleasures gild thy reign, That ne'er wad blink on mine! God keep thee frae my mother's faes, Or turn their hearts to thee: And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend, Remember him for me! O! soon, to me, may Summer suns Nae mair light up the morn! Nae mair to me the Autumn winds Wave o'er the yellow corn? And, in the narrow house of death, Let Winter round me rave; And the next flow'rs that deck the Spring, Bloom on my peaceful grave! "And we shall have a wee bit more of verse from Kris Letang", he said. Kris got up from his seat and cleared his throat as he smiled at everyone. "This is one of my favorite poems by Baudelaire", he said as he recited L'Invitation au Voyage by the great French romantic poet: Mon enfant, ma soeur, Songe à la douceur, D'aller là-bas, vivre ensemble! Aimer à loisir, Aimer et mourir, Au pays qui te ressemble! Les soleils mouillés, De ces ciels brouillés, Pour mon esprit ont les charmes, Si mystérieux, De tes traîtres yeux, Brillant à travers leurs larmes. Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté, Luxe, calme et volupté. Des meubles luisants, Polis par les ans, Décoreraient notre chambre; Les plus rares fleurs Mêlant leurs odeurs Aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre, Les riches plafonds, Les miroirs profonds, La splendeur orientale, Tout y parlerait A l'âme en secret Sa douce langue natale. Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté, Luxe,calme et volupté. Vois sur ces canaux Dormir ces vaisseaux Dont l'humeur est vagabonde; C'est pour assouvir Ton moindre désir Qu'ils viennent du bout du monde. --Les soleils couchants Revêtent les champs Les canaux, la ville entière D'hyacinthe et d'or; Le monde s'endort Dans une chaude lumière Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté, Luxe, calme et volupté. "And will you recite a bit of verse for us, Mr. Malkin?", asked Alisdair. Kris gave his friend a reassuring smile as he got up and recited Thoughts by Alexander Pushkin: Брожу ли я вдолъ улиц шумных, Вхожу лъ во многолюдный храм, Сижу лъ меж юношей безумных, Я предаюсъ моим мечтам. Я говорю: промчатся годы, И сколко здесъ ни видно нас, Мы все сойдём под вечны своды, И чей-нибудъ уж близок час. Глажу лъ на дуб уединённый, Я мыслу: патриарх лесов Переживёт мой век забвенный, Как пережил он век отцов. Младенца лъ милово ласкаю, Уже я думаю: прости! Тебе я место уступаю: Мне время тлетъ, тебе цвести. Денъ каждый, каждую годину Привык я думой провождатъ, Градущей смерти годовщину Меж их стараясъ угадатъ. И где мне смертъ пошлёт судъбина? В бою ли, в странствии, в волнах? Или соседняя долина Мой примет охладелый прах? Н хотъ бесчуственному телу Равно повсюду истлеватъ, Но ближе к милому пределу Мне всё б хотелосъ почиватъ. И пустъ у гробовово входа Младая будет жизнъ игратъ, И равнодушнаяа природа Красою вечною сиятъ. English Translation If I walk the noisy streets, Or enter a many thronged church, Or sit among the wild young generation, I give way to my thoughts. I say to myself: the years are fleeting, And however many there seem to be, We must all go under the eternal vault, And someone's hour is already at hand. When I look at a solitary oak I think: the patriarch of the woods. It will outlive my forgotten age As it outlived that of my grandfathers'. If I dandle a young infant, Immediately I think: farewell! I will yield my place to you, For I must fade while your flower blooms. Each day, and every hour I habitually follow in my thoughts, Trying to guess from their number The year which brings my death. And where will fate send death to me? In battle, in my travels, or on the seas? Or will the neighbouring valley Receive my chilled ashes? And although to the senseless body It is indifferent wherever it rots, Yet close to my beloved countryside I still would prefer to rest. And let it be, beside the grave's vault That young life forever will be playing, And impartial, indifferent nature Eternally be shining in beauty. |
![]() |
|
| The Cosmic Gerbil | February 25, 2012, 2:20 pm Post #28 |
|
Forbidden Forest Ranger
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
That was really cultured and interesting It would be so cool to go to a Burn's Night celebration
|
![]() |
|
| Lilith | February 26, 2012, 1:56 am Post #29 |
|
♥ Jaimelicious ♥
![]()
|
Man, I love imagining them in kilts... with those sexy athletic legs... I wonder if they'll be dragged for some Scottish Country Dancing... :3 Ellenn and Geno still seem to have a strong connection. LOL Couldn't help to think about my favorite Sutherland... in kilt.... Spoiler: click to toggle Loved Mary's Queen of Scots poem, her story is so sad. Elizabeth I is one of my favorite historical characters, but, even understanding her reasons behind what she did to Mary, it was still low and inhuman. Wanna know if Ellen will go with them to Ottawa. :horns2 |
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | February 26, 2012, 12:28 pm Post #30 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
That was a great pic, Lilith. I've always like a man in a kilt Chapter 10 "Ellen, what is the matter?", asked Evgeni, seeing her frown. "Da is spending the night with his mistress at the flat he bought her, could you join me at the house? I dinna like being alone in the house", she said. Evgeni tried to suppress the smile forming on his lips as he tried to remain calm. "Okay, Kris is going to take Marie home and will send him text", he said, reaching for his phone. "Tapadh leat, Zhenya. At least he doesna bring her to the house, 'tis poor form", she said. "I will change out of this first, in a minute", he said as she nodded and saw him go to the bathroom. He emerged several minutes later dressed in jeans and an Iron Maiden Powerslave shirt as he smiled at her, taking her hand. "Kris is taking my car, do you have car?", he asked. "Aye, Da's only going down the block, I'll drive us", she said. Evgeni had to chuckle when he saw the little gray pickup truck the valet brought over as she tipped him. "I dinna like flashy cars and the truck can go anywhere, 'tis a durable vehicle. Plus I got Sirius and an Ipod jack, radio here is rubbish", she said as they got inside the truck. Ellen turned on the ignition and put on the seatbelt as the radio was tuned to Outlaw Country, Texas in 1880 by Foster and Lloyd playing over the speakers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEBgRF1hkDA I can hear the wind whisper my name Tellin' me it's time to head out again My horses are trailered and the lights are shut down An I'm long overdue for headin' outta town Got a fever that they call rodeo Just enough winnin' to make the next show Sometimes you make eight,sometimes you hit dirt Go on,pin another number to the back of my shirt And I'll ride that pony fast Like a cowboy from the past Be young and wild free Like Texas in 1880 Just like Texas in 1880 Ah,from Phoenix to Tulsa to the Astro Dome New York City down to San Antone There's boys that are ridin' for legendary fame And our money's all gone but we ride just the same Our hearts got broken,and our heads get busted But we;ll alawys believe the things that we trust There'll be those nights when glory comes round And we'll tip our hats and wave to the crowd And I'll ride that pony fast Like a cowboy from the past Be young and wild free Like Texas in 1880 Just like Texas in 1880 Someday when you're older Someone see That buckle hangin' there on your belt Ask you just how it felt! And I'll ride that pony fast Like a cowboy from the past Be young and wild free Like Texas in 1880 Just like Texas in 1880 Just like Texas Just like Texas Evgeni admired how she maneuvered the truck and sang along to the country music, her elegant dress and jewelry contrasting with the twangy Texas country. "Bloody good song, I want to visit Texas one day. I want to see Billy Bob's in Fort Worth and go to a rodeo and all that, we don't have that here. Maybe I was from Texas in a previous life", she mused aloud. "We play Dallas next month, I will take a lot of pictures and show you. My teammate James Neal used to play in Dallas for the Stars and he been to Billy Bob's, he says it is very big with dancing, the mechanical bull and real rodeo. I never go there, but he say he is going to take us. I want to go on the bull because I will not fall off", he boasted. "We'll see about that, Mr. Malkin. But that would be funny, and there is no way you could participate in an actual rodeo, 'tis dangerous for an amateur", she replied. "Do you have vodka in your house? I want to show you how to drink vodka", he said. "There's a bottle of lemon vodka and another of cranberry in our pantry, Moskya or something like that. A Russian friend of Da's got it for him, is that all right?", she asked. "Da, very good, very good brand. At least it not Smirnoff, that is crap, Swedish and Finnish vodka good too, but Grey Goose overrated and too expensive, it for stupid rich people", he said dismissively. "Aye, 'tis a drink for flash people with no taste. Just good Scotch and bourbon for me, Kris bought me some Crown Royal and that is good too", she replied. "You and Kris just friends?", he asked. "Aye, and get your mind out of the gutter, Mr. Malkin. We know each other because we have the same neurologist, we canna date because he is like my brother and that is gross", she teased. Evgeni blushed furiously. "Sorry about that, Ellen, but I have a jealous streak", he mumbled. "I won't give you anything to be jealous about", she said. They arrived at the house in Castle Shannon half an hour later. Before Ellen could get out of the truck, Evgeni had gotten out from the passenger's side and took her hand to help her out of the truck. "It's always good to help the lady", he said gallantly with a smile. Ellen felt her cheeks grow warm as she reached for her purse for the keys. She opened the door as a joyous barking echoed from the foyer and she smiled before leading him in. An Irish Wolfhound bounded over to Ellen and barked happily, wagging her tail. "Aye, you miss me lass?", she chuckled. "She's an Irish Wolfhound and her name is Aoife, she is three years old which would make her 21 in dog years", she replied as Aifa continued to bark. Aoife was a big dog, three feet tall and with a strong build, her coat a rich auburn that shone with red lights and curious brown eyes. Ellen filled the water dish and filled another bowl with kibble as Aoife began to eat, a happy munching sound coming from her jaws: ![]() "That is an odd name, though, is it Scottish?", he asked. Ellen shook her head as she got the vodka and two shot glasses from the pantry. "It's Irish, have you heard of Cuchulain?", she asked. "He was an Irish warrior, nyet? I saw it on Wikipedia", he said. "Cuchulain was trained in combat by a Scottish warrior woman named Scathach. There was a battle between Scathach's tribe and Aoife's tribe, Aoife was taken prisoner by Cuchulain who let her go after surrenders, spends the night with him and bears him a son. He had to return to Ireland and he gave her a ring, saying that if she bore him a son, the lad was to have the ring and. Aoife bore him a son, Connla, and w hen he was of age she sent him to Ireland to find his father. There was a misunderstanding and Cuchulain slew him, not realizing until too late that Connla was his son. 'Tis such a sad story", she murmured. "Okay. But why did you name the dog?", he asked. "I have always admired warrior women, and the old Celtic stories are full of them. I always did want to know how Aoife felt, knowing that her son was slain by her lover. Always was a favorite of mine since I was a tot, I'll be right back after I change", she said as she left the kitchen. Evgeni glanced down at Aoife as she ate her supper and looked around the kitchen. It was about the same size and similar to the one at their house with a big fridge and an electric stove and dishwasher and microwave, a group of various wine and whisky bottles sitting on a shelf away from the fridge and stove. There was a small table covered in a red checked plastic tablecloth with an arrangement of white silk roses in the middle sitting in a blue glass vase in the middle, a lamp with frosted glass hanging from the ceiling. That is a creepy story, and what a strange name for a dog. When I was a kid, our dog was named Pasha, he thought with a chuckle. Ellen came into the kitchen ten minutes later. She had changed into a plush blue robe tied around her waist with a sash and her blond hair was in a loose braid down her back, her face freshly scrubbed of makeup. "Ah, I will show you how to drink vodka", he said. Evgeni broke the seal on the cranberry vodka and poured a shot for them each. "Zazhen sheyn!", he said. "Slainte!", she toasted as they drank the vodka. Ellen felt the sweet, tart vodka go down smoothly as she drained her cup. "It is very good, but isn't this a cocktail?", she asked. "In Russia, there is vodka with all sorts of flavorings. In our house, we have lemon, orange, grape, cherry and hunter's vodka with hot peppers, I also have a bottle of Zubrowska form Poland, very good stuff", he chuckled as he poured them more vodka. "I'll show you around, we have a bloody big house", she giggled. Evgeni chuckled when he saw the vodka starting to have an effect. "This is our parlor we use to watch telly", she said, indicating the modern living room with the big-screen TV, cream leather couch and glass coffee table. "Our other parlor is better, this one is like every other bloody house", she said. The other parlor was considerably more atmospheric. It resembled the sort of room a medieval lord would have used to meet other nobles, with the only illumination coming from the electric torches on the walls. A handcrafted Persian rug in a muted design of purple and cream and dark green Paisley took up most of the floor, matching the curtains over the windows. The two chairs facing the fireplace were upholstered in dark purple satin brocade that stood on carved wooden claw feet as they sat down with the bottle of vodka. Evgeni looked above the fireplace and saw an oil painting, a portrait of a regal man in a full Sutherland tartan. Although it was most likely painted many years ago, the colors were still brilliant and the surface still shiny as though painted just recently. The man was handsome and appeared to be in his thirties, tall and proud with sandy hair and a determined look in his green eyes. He was dressed in blue and green Sutherland tartan with a matching cap holding a towering white feather, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword sheathed in its scabbard. "That is our ancestor Tavis Sutherland, the 4th Duke of Sutherland and clan chief. He kept the clan out of the Jacobite mess in the 1700's, but a lot of other clans joined with the Bonnie Prince", she said. "The Jacobites, they want to get rid of the king?", he asked. "Aye, the Old Pretender and Bonnie Prince Charlie. The British king George II wasn't even British, he was German from Hanover and many Scots didna like that. It's a Scots thing, especially a Highland thing, fight a lost cause and never give up. That's what our motto means, Sans Peur is French for Without Fear", she said. Evgeni set down the bottle and glass as he rose from the chair and removed his shirt. Ellen's eyes widened in surprise when she saw the massive tattoo on his back. "What is that?", she asked. "That is the Romanov eagle, they were the family of the czars. And that is my family coat of arms, before the Communists my family was a noble one", he explained. On his back was a tattoo of the Romanov double-headed eagle, the symbol of imperial Russia. Each eagle head wore a bejeweled crown and one talon held a golden scepter and the other a golden orb, while in the middle was the family coat of arms. In the middle of the eagle was a shield in depicting a brown bear standing on its hind legs holding a sword aloft: ![]() "I got it when I was drafted, it took twenty hours and three sessions. Kris got his tattoos from the same guy", he said as he put the shirt back on. "Those are impressive, Zhenya. I don't think I could do that", she laughed. "It does not hurt, you watch TV when the guy do it", he teased. "It's past midnight, I'll show you to your room", she said, a slight blush on her cheeks. Ellen got up from the chair and led him up the stairs to the bedrooms. "This is your room, Zhenya", she said, opening the door. "Dobry vecheyr, Ellen", he murmured. "Oidhche mhath, Zhenya", she said as she went to her room. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Inactive Metallica Fan Fictions · Next Topic » |






![]](http://z1.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)



I hope it is a ghost and if it is, I wonder what she wants?

Ellen has witch hands! (and feet, lol) This is more and more interesting. And they made click immediately. I liked all the talk about the kilts... something sexier than a BIG man being measured for one?
And the tartans, I love Royal Stuart, and also one named "night watch". :3



8:49 PM Jul 10