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Vladimir Valentin VII

Invite What’s in a name? A rose by any name would smell as sweet.

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Melbourne ☆ Master Cellist/Conductor of the MSOSanctusX
28 year old Halfbreed Dhampir ☆ He/Him

With decent temperatures and weather abound, Vladimir saw no qualms in the day's events as planned.

The lake had always been a fascinating area in Narrie for the man, even when he had been attending at Tally as a boy grown to man. Generally secluded, calm, away from the hustle and bustle of everything and everyone. What better a place for a picnic with his Ruella? His self from a year ago would have scoffed at the notion that he could be genuinely happy - that his life would finally have more of a meaning and a purpose than it had had for years. That he could, and had, found proper and true love. It gave him a strength that was different from the blood that Améa would provide him with, and different from all other relationships. 

It made him want to positively sing. The maestro of his own personal orchestra, one voice.

And yet Vladimir made careful to not make their relationship overtly obvious, as was for the best. A part of him did not want to risk shattering what he and Améa had been building - that his luck would run out and something or someone would tear them apart and to pieces. That if indeed Mary or Stuart found out there would be hell to pay. But neither did he want to deny what was so clearly true and obvious... It was a quandary that Vladimir often set aside to let his feelings govern. He loved her after all.

"Here," Vladimir had suggested, picking a space under some trees for shade, keeping them secluded and away from anyone normally walking the pathways. Blanket set, basket on the ground now, Vladimir offered to help Améa sit and get comfortable before he took his own seat next to her. He let out a sigh of contentment, one that he only permitted Ruella to hear. He was at true ease.

Vladimir had been looking forward to this for some time. Any time he was able to spend with Améa in true and perfect solace let his muscles relax and his posture slacken in a way that he could not truly put words to. Only that Améa was the source of his good feelings and he did not want that to change as he reached for her hand and clasped it in his own.

And, with them all alone, he let himself speak the words aloud that he always did when they were finally able to be together without interruption. "I do love you so, Ruella," he said plainly, his fingers idly rubbing against her own as he held her hand. "I would, if you will permit me of course, like to read to you some poetry, if that is to your liking."

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