Dobromir Kruk
Brigit Clary Gold knelt in the rose garden at the park, her presence as captivating as the vibrant blooms around her. It was a warm afternoon, and the scent of roses mingled with the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil. The sun was burning down today yet she was alive. Yet to give into the reality of war and no food. Her brunette hair, cascading in soft waves down her back, was adorned with a simple straw hat to shield her from the sun. The delicate silver flowers pinned in her hair glinted in the sunlight. Brigit’s deep, thoughtful brown eyes focused intently on the task at hand. Her fingers deftly pruning the roses she had failed to keep alive this year much like many things in life.
Dressed in a cream dress, practical yet elegant, that flowed with the gentle breeze. With a grace that belied the quiet intensity of her care for the garden. It was in truth the way her mother found an abandoned home with a built in garden in the middle of Chicago that she even found a love for plants. Plants. The one thing on the planet that could not really mame without intent. In her hands, she held a pair of pruning shears, the metal worn but still effective. Much like Brigit herself . nurturer of life and beauty, a beacon of wisdom and grace amidst the colorful petals and ve
In the spring of 1932, baby Jolanta sat contentedly in her stroller. On days like this it was that charming vintage pram with ornate ironwork and a soft, lacy canopy. Her bright blue eyes, full of wonder, peeked out from beneath a delicate bonnet, and her chubby hands clutched a small, plush bunny. The stroller, lined with floral fabric, gently rocked as the breeze rustled the leaves around her, making Jolanta giggle with delight.
*The view of the rose garden emerging from between the park trees was probably captivating, but Dobromir, standing in the shade, as always, admired the work and charms of Brigit Clary Gold, not the flowers themselves. These little symbols of life, beautiful but quickly fleeting, were barely a background for the skillfully moving and captivating silhouette of the beloved Clary. The cream dress that she wore with the grace of a queen in the salons of Versailles, although it was her ordinary attire, often worn for the work she did, seemed to make her shine with its unobtrusive elegance.Yes, Clary can wear anything and always looks equally good* - thought Dobromir, still watching his beloved working with the scissors. Perhaps little Jolanta will inherit at least some of her mother’s charms. Thinking about this, Doromir decided that it was high time to stabilize everything properly and settle down in a nest, a property that would match the durability of their vampire nature.Clary, you know how much I avoid the scorching sun, even when I’m dressed in full-coverage clothing. Would you like to join me and discuss an issue that has been on my mind for some time? he called in her direction, waiting for an answer.
Clary was still human, she knew very little about his world but she asked questions at this rate all the time. Everything she did was slow to movement now. She was sick most days as the Belladona agent in her blood slowly worked away at what youth and mortality she had, She was always pushing off being turned into a vampire, asking for more time, more time. This is the time she was running out of. Clary paused her work going over to him with the pruning sheers. She handed them to him before going back for the stroller. She moved the little girl into the shade with them both before sitting at the blanket they had brought.”
“what bothers you ?"
“We need to get a better or bigger home. There are more of us - Dobromir pointed with his chin towards Jolanta. We must develop a way to obtain funds to buy a house, arrange it according to our needs, so as to stay away from people’s eyes. We need freedom and peace. I have some ideas on how to use my gifts to raise funds, but I will need your hand in furnishing our home, our safe haven. Would you like that? Will you choose the right location to meet these needs? We can simply buy a house or land and plan everything from scratch, build it from scratch. What do you say?
They had spoken of this before and anytime she brought up the shop: Dobromir would bring up the fact she was constantly sick as the summer had worn on. She sighed a little in defeat. She knew he had his resources. “where do you think she should go?” she placed a hand on his arm, her eyes met his and she nodded a little " I must admit... I find myself falling asleep often while working...” her thoughts mixed to a house she closed her eyes " it, would be nice to explore some of the lands, maybe find a nice place in the bigger city... closer to your kind..”
“ Our kind. You know very well that I will not allow you to defeat yourself through the indecision and resistance with which you welcome the opportunity to accept the “gift”. “ I can take over your mind, I can simply do it by force, but I still believe that you will accept the “gift” willingly and with understanding. It is important for me. But no matter what you decide, I won’t let you destroy yourself because of your choice. Perhaps you will put me in a position that I have not wanted to put you in for so long - making decisions for you and against your will, but I will do whatever is necessary. Although you still have some time and you can accept the new path with dignity and gratitude. Your own will to do this would be the first step into a new world that you will take as your current you. I believe, as do some initiated members of the secret brotherhood, that this gives the person being transformed greater power. That’s why I delay, respecting your choices, but also caring about their future consequences. Dobromir fell silent now, tired of the long speech, unsure of the results it would bring, and aroused by the hope with which for some time he had been imagining the creation of his own vampiric family, nestled in a well-chosen household.
He saw, brief anger flash in her eyes, she looked away from him at her daughter, he had lectured her many times for wanting the girl. Still she wanted more... wasn’t that all very human? ” I had hoped we could avoid the topic if I agree’d to move with you. I don’t know I don’t like it, when you tell me you will choose me.” Clary pulled away from him now and went to the young girl who could only just sit up. She scoops her up in her arms. There is this soft tension in the air, he sees it as planly as a cloud in the sky “ You know, I want more time with her as a human, this is not about power, it is about life… her life..”
“My dear, time is a currency that you should especially value in the form you currently have. If you really love her, you will take care of a future in which little Julia will not have to endure it without her beloved mother. Look at me” His voice softened, took on a caring tone and he was now radiating warmth. “Please look at me. Can you deny my feelings that I have so deeply for both of you? Some things change, but true love, as they say, and there is truth in it, remains timeless and immortal. It’s funny how deep these words meanings in the case of my species, don’t you think?"Dobromir took an expectant pose, wanting to hear it from her, words assuring her trust and faith in the truth of his feelings. Sometimes he thought that the human part of him, the one before the transformation, had to some extent influenced the form he now represented. He really could still love, even though his heart no longer beat like it did when it pumped warm blood many years ago. He was now tenderly caressing his beloved with his eyes, in a silent song telling about everything that was inside him.
" I will grasp for as much mortal time as I can, you nor anyone else will stop me.” She could not meet his gaze, she knew the look he would give her. The softness he would pour from his eyes and she would think for only a moment his way was slightly better. Still , to sleep like he and others like his friends did , in a freezer or ice baths, to not feel the sun. Or taste food. The thought of her life being over, of having nothing more , of having to leave her mother to die alone. “No not until my Maithar. has passed.’” She used the Irish term to refer to her mother.
“Your loyalty makes you shine even more. Just please don’t turn into the sun,” Dobromir joked to defuse the situation. He knew that arguing wasn’t always the best way, and it usually only strengthened resistance instead of crushing it. It hardens the opposite argumentation of people whose minds are not weak. He also knew that Clary mind was as attractive as her physical assets. So it was in vain to try to break it, not wanting to resort to tricks or vampire abilities. And that was exactly what he didn’t want to do... Unless he was forced to do it someday.
“Ah, Dobromir, always the charmer with words,” Clary replied with a wry smile, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and challenge. “You know me well enough to understand that my mind isn’t easily swayed by flattery or coercion. If you ever find yourself forced to resort to tricks or your... vampiric abilities,” she added with a pointed look, “just remember, I’m not one to be easily manipulated.” Her tone was firm yet laced with a hint of playful teasing, suggesting a deep understanding between them despite their differences.
“I appreciate your honesty, Dobromir...” Clary continued, her voice softening slightly. “Trust is built on mutual respect, not on domination or manipulation. If ever our paths lead us to such a crossroads, I hope we can find another way. After all, there’s more strength in collaboration than in coercion.” She paused, meeting his gaze steadily, her expression thoughtful yet resolute. “Let’s focus on what unites us rather than what divides us, shall we?” Clary suggested with a gentle smile, extending a metaphorical olive branch. She valued their understanding and knew that navigating their differences with respect was key to maintaining their mutual trust.
Clary’s expression softened even further, a tender smile playing on her lips as she gently redirected Dobromir’s attention to their immediate surroundings. “Look, Dobromir” she murmured softly, nodding towards the roses blooming beside them. “Just like those in the park last summer.” She paused, her voice warm with nostalgia. “Remember how little Jolanta wasn’t here, now she can barely hold her head?" Clary, glanced over at Dobromir, her eyes reflecting fond memories. “Time flies, doesn’t it? Moments like these, amidst the roses and under the stars, remind me of what truly matters...′ Clary continued, her tone gentle and reflective. “It’s the connections we nurture and the moments we cherish together.”
