You Pull Me Home

You Pull Me Home

The long, ebon fingers of night grasped out over the sky, and the city sat low on the horizon as it hummed to nocturnal life. The long shadow of man stretched behind a figure who thudded underneath the street lamps, an arm stretched out wide to have finger tips whack at the lamp posts as he passed. Today had been agonizing for Argoth; every newspaper or television channel was screaming about how his Motherland was in the wrong yet again, and all the while sleep had avoided him like a bad check.

He had sat in his bed, deep beneath his ridiculous amount of covers, Russian opera playing out of the stereo on his cluttered bedside table so loud that people were banging on their walls for him to ‘shut the hell up’ and ‘turn that racket down’. They couldn’t tell him what to do- he was a prince. The only reason he had not so readily grasped a bottle of vodka to drown his sorrows away, was that he had a date this evening.

And it was with a very important little lady. The Russian would not allow himself to be his drunken, idiot of a vampire in front of her. She did not deserve to have him act like an incompetent, and Argoth would never permit himself to pick up a drink in her presence. She was the only person, perhaps besides his baby brother, who he cared enough about to be proper around.

So instead of venturing out this night in his usual attire of charcoal jeans, ruddy russet jacket and nothing else but boots, he had showered. And shaved. Argoth had even applied deodorant. After about an hour of rummaging through his discombobulated closet, he had even managed to find an old pair of pinstripe slacks that fit him like a glove; some properly sophisticated shoes and even a matching vest to go along with his crisp, crimson shirt. Almost everything he was wearing was striped in some manner--Pants were a deep black with that subtle gray stripe, and his vest an ebony hue with tiny scarlet lines. The formal shirt was one of his favorites he had to admit, even if he more often than not didn’t even wear anything on his torso to begin with. It was his favorite shade of red, and had a black stripe that he thought was just the right width. Gel had even been used to slick back his roughish, violet locks; appearing like quite the regal gentleman.

Argoth now found himself rounding off 5th Avenue toward Broadway, fiddling with the tickets he had crammed into his pocket. He sudden realized that his dead heart was beating so fast in his chest it might rupture right out, and he almost had a panic attack right there on the street corner as he awaited a light change with a slew of New Yorkers surrounding him. What...What was happening to him...!? A shaky hand smoothed through his neon locks, and was pleased to find them still in place for once; trying to keep his cool as long legs swiftly crossed to the other city block. As the theater suddenly loomed within golden sight, he hoped that Imihiy had been able to get a taxi; it was quite the walk from her apartment to Broadway and he knew how she sometimes got her directions mixed up...

But there she was. With a cute little knit blouse on close to a cream color, and a deep cerulean skirt with delicate beadwork around the hem that sat just above her knees. From this distance he could tell she found the formal attire uncomfortable; a soft smile finding his rugged visage as she shimmed her skirt around and fiddle with the hem of her blouse. All the breath in his body escaped him, and a slow pool of warmth settled in his chest as a lump caught in his throat. About to call out to her, he ceased and a very slow look of unknowing found his countenance instead.

A man in a rather nice outfit approached her, ( it was easy for Argoth to tell it was some sort of cheap Armani rip off), and seemed to be harassing her with flirtatious questions; probably about what she was doing out by herself, and if she’d enjoy a man’s company. The she wolf balked at his torrent of forward queries, and her rose cheeks turned a furious shade of red as she tried to mumble something.

But he just didn’t let up as he put her arm around her, Imihiy trying to back out of his touch.

And Argoth most certainly didn’t like that.

Such a ferocious snarl contorted his strong countenance as he stormed through the throng of people, most avoiding him because he looked like he might strike anyone. Brows were settled together and a deep line of rage creased through his forehead; and Argoth wanted blood. To tear the arm off the man that DARED to cause her even the slightest discomfort, and stomp on his caved in skull for flirting with her like she was just some prize to be won. Imihiy was NOT just some doll or piece of meat, or an object that was only good for sexual affection. Imihiy was....Imihiy.

And she was so much better than that.

Digits were snared around this offender’s shirt collar so fast he barely had time to react before, even in such a crowd of people, Argoth slammed the cheap businessman into the closest building. For a moment he just stared with utter madness in his eyes at this trembling, babbling thing that had dared to touch her, before with a heaving breath of insanity an almost sadistic grin curved out over his lips; baring those deadly ivories that the man did not miss.

“OH GOD...! WH-WHAT DO YOU WANT?! I WAS J-JUST FOOLING AROUND, I SW-WEAR I WASN’T GOING TO TOUCH HER I...!” He shut his trap the second the former prince put just enough weight onto his neck to cut off the flow of precious oxygen to his lungs. No one wandering by seemed to care all that much---This was New York City after all, and stranger had happened.

“Vhat do I vant...? Huhuh...It’s simple really.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, and realized what he was doing, ( practically killing a man in broad daylight doesn’t look very good for ones image), steadily letting this terrified stranger back to his feet, “ Just apologize to the Lady.” He leaned in close, so that his lips almost touched this man’s ear; hissing his thick accent so that Imihiy might not hear where she stood from, staring like a wide eyed doe.

“I svear if I EVER, fucking ever see you even glance at her again after this I’ll make sure you vake up on the subvay tracks at seven am sharp. And even before the first car crushes your body, you’ll find that you’re in the most horrifying pain you’ve ever been in. Because the night before, I’ll break into your nice little home, and grab both your ankles vhile you’re still asleep and snap them so hard they break out of the skin. I’ll break your fingers, and cut away the flesh that makes up your ears. I’ll shatter your nose, and crush your orbital sockets. And that my comrade, is all before I even drag you out of your bed.” The man was wide eyed and trembling, very near tears and Argoth let go of him completely to take a long, languid step back. A slew of babbling apologies were what broke the strange city silence, followed by the cheap gentleman screaming as he ran full on down the block---Away from the man who had threatened his life so violently.

And then, as if nothing had taken place at all, Arogth plastered that giddy grin on his visage as he put an arm delicately around Imihiy who stood there shaking a bit---She did not enjoy it at all when he was angry, that just was not the Argoth she knew. “So, you vant to see this ballet or vhat...?” Tone was bright and jocund, which caused her smile and peek out through those auburn locks which hid her face from him.

“Heheh, I didn’t know you were taking me to the ballet.” Her laughter was so sweet as it filtered into his air over the city smog, and he could not help but chuckle as well.

“Vell, it helps vhen it’s the Russian Ballet and you speak their language.” A vast smirk plastered over his lips as he ushered her inward; it was about 7:54 and it was starting at 8:15, and if Argoth knew anything about his own people it was that they waited for absolutely no one and didn’t really care if you were there or not. He had not been to the ballet since he was about 16, his mother had always forced him to go because the Tsar and Tsarina always made it a point to go to the first performance of the year.

As they made the rather slow going trek to their seats, Imihiy was getting more and more surprised at how close it appeared they were going to sit. Eventually they were right on the floor, and from what she could tell from the ticket stubs they were going to be sitting in the middle of row D; just yards from the stage.She couldn’t even fathom how much these seats had cost Argoth as her petite form shimmied down the row of seats to claim her own, Argoth’s long legs looking a bit silly crammed up against the backs of the seats in front of them. Suppressing a giggle she discovered that the Russian was staring at her, and could not help but have that color of scarlet go dancing out across her cheeks. He noticed immediately that he had seemed to upset her, and balked a tad as he tried to look at anything but her.

“Oh I’m sorry I,” He coughed hurriedly into a fist, a deep flush of crimson staining his prominent cheekbones, “ I vas just...Um...You...I just couldn’t help but notice that you look very pretty tonight.” Thick drawl was practically stammered as he fidgeted about in his tiny seat, hands grasping awkwardly at the arm rests flanking him.

Imihiy found herself only able to smile affectionately at his reaction; he was such silly man most of the time, so strangely happy. And it always seemed to warm her heart to see him smile, or laugh...A further, almost impossible shade of red flooded her face as the she wolf realized what she was thinking, amber eyes affix to the stage as music began to drift up from the pit and curtains were pulled away.

As women and men began to drift and glide over the stage with such elegance, Argoth all but forgot his ineptness and felt a strangely familiar ache of homesickness. It crushed at his throat, but it also made such a bitter, wistful smile curve out over his lips...He would give anything to be that naïve, stubborn teenager again, to be sitting at the side of his mother in the balcony seat; maybe he would even actually watch the ballet...

The she-wolf couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful display put on by these almost fairytale like dancers, completely forgetting her embarrassment as the music soothed her sensitive hearing. Imihiy turned slightly, about to whisper to Argoth that this was fantastic, when she spotted that sad little smile on his features. Biting at her bottom lip, she decided to do something that was most unlike her, and gently took his hand as she went back to watching the stage.

Argoth thought he was dreaming. A soft, warm hand was holding his own suddenly, and he could have jumped and screamed for joy had he not been in the vast, packed theater. Trying to contain his glee, he squeezed her tiny hand softly within his own calloused one.

Maybe...Maybe he didn’t really want to be 16 again...

The ballet seemed to be just perfect right about now.