Whoo! I get to try and attract readers by having all of the Moroi!Rose falling in love with Student!Dimitri (and visa versa) junk, yet I still get to pull in a one sided Ivan/Dimitri! (Are there only two people who think there were massive amounts of drama between them? Really?)
The light was fading fast, but the early September breeze stayed warm and light, carrying no hint of the autumn or winter that was fast approaching. As he walked through St. Vladimir's upper campus, Dimitri decided that he liked Montana – at least for now. No doubt the change in seasons – and school – would change that opinion. The language barrier (which was growing smaller with every passing day he spent in America) and the teachers would make a huge difference, though.
Next to Dimitri, his friend, Ivan Zeklos, was examining the campus... and the hot girls, of course. Even if Ivan preferred males for possible romantic encounters, checking out girls openly was more accepted, and he didn't discriminate with who he flirted with. That was actually how Dimitri and Ivan had met, when they'd both been at one of St. Basil's "orientations" for the soon-to-be seniors who were going to go abroad the next year. Ivan had been disappointed when Dimitri had turned him down, but Dimitri had apparently done it in the nicest way possible, so Ivan still wanted to be friends. Dimitri had agreed, mostly because then he wouldn't make a possible enemy out of the only familiar face at St. Vladimir's.
"Where are my dorms?" Ivan asked, finally realizing that he was surrounded by dhampirs.
"It's over there," Dimitri said, pointing toward where most of the Moroi were conjugating. "The one on the left, think." Unlike the dhampirs, who had only one dorm that separated the sexes by floors and stern hall matrons, the Moroi had two, one dorm for each gender. The gap grated on Dimitri's nerves. Maybe the administration would bitch less about not having enough dhampirs if they had more room for them.
Not wanting to tread on the wet grass and get mud on his pants (again), Ivan stayed with Dimitri until they came to a footpath that eventually made its way to the Moroi dorms.
"See you later." Ivan brushed his hand against Dimitri's arm and then turned away.
"Bye." When Ivan was gone, Dimitri sighed. The flirting and the touching had gone down a lot, but he knew that Ivan still had a crush on him. The boys should probably talk about that one day, but Ivan seemed to respect Dimitri's sexual orientation and wasn't obviously pining away, so why make waves and start an argument over something so small? Ivan seemed to naturally be a touchy-feely person, but it was hard to tell when he hit on almost every person he saw.
Dimitri picked up his class schedule and room keys at his dorm's front desk, and made his way up to his room. He didn't have a roommate, so the second bed seemed disconcerting.
Most of his things had been spirited up here, and the few t-shirts and books he had forgotten to pack had made their way into the backpack he wore. Using a pen, Dimitri started cutting the packaging tape that sealed the cardboard boxes and unpacking his things. His books went onto the small bookshelf that sat against the wall, between the two beds, the quilt Olena had packed for him replaced the ugly dorm-issued one.
A knock on the door interrupted him. It was a small student aide, and she had a yellow slip of paper for him. "You're supposed to go to Headmistress Kirova's office as soon as possible," she said before disappearing down the hall.
Dimitri stepped outside, folding the paper and putting it into his pocket as he locked the dorm room. Then he set off, trying to recall his mental map of the school. Luckily, there was one near the front desk for fire-escape purposes, so he studied it briefly and moved on. The fact that he hadn't done anything wrong helped abate his nerves some. He had the grades, good behavior, and had already paid for the study abroad program, and had jumped through all the right hoops and filled out the right forms to get here.
A staff member waved him to Kirova's office once he found the right building, and Dimitri entered to find not only Kirova at her desk, but also a bearded Moroi wearing flashy clothing and jewelry standing in the middle of the room. His two guardians were also standing, one against the far wall and one closer to the door. They were probably here out of habit than need – St. Vladimir, like all schools, was ringed with wards that were renewed regularly.
"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" Dimitri asked Kirova.
"Sit down," she said, nodding to one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Abe Mazur," she began, nodding to the Moroi, "is scouting out possible guardians for Rosemarie Hathaway. He thinks you're a worthy candidate so far, despite not having any real-world experience, of course. But if you make it, you'll be paired up with an older guardian to protect her."
Dimitri mused over that, trying not to let his ego inflate too much. The Hathaway family, though not nearly as small as the Dragomir one, had been targeted by Strigoi more and more lately, probably because the last Dragomir was safely in school. They'd never been a huge clan like the Ivashkovs, and if you added in several house fires and a long history of liver failure via drinking, the family diminished even more. Currently, there were about fifty Hathaways, but most of them were older, and those who could have children would have to be picky about who they had those children with or risk either losing the bloodline or inbreeding. Luckily, there were more than enough potential marriages, so they were fine in that respect.
There had been some doubt that Rosemarie had the bloodline to be considered a true Hathaway because Janine refused to name the father of her child, but a few years ago the father's grandparents had finally been located in Turkey. Their bloodline had been examined, and it was found that every descendant had enough Hathaway blood (well, except for one, but she had died as a small child). Rosemarie hadn't been cut out of the family, and sighs of relief were breathed. She was the only female able to bear children – one cousin was infertile, another had a husband that was infertile (because she married for love instead of money, it was always said, she couldn't have children), while a third was mentally unstable and locked away in an institution. There were male cousins, of course, but it didn't stop people from putting Rosemarie up on a pedestal.
"I don't know what to say," Dimitri said. "Thanks, I guess." He looked uncertainly at Mazur. The man smiled, flashing white teeth.
"Brilliant, Ellen," he said, turning his smile on Kirova. "Thank you."
Mazur had an accent Dimitri couldn't quite place, and he made a mental note to search around on the Internet to try to find a site that clips of different accents. Of course, the region the person came from would also make an impact... Dimitri let the idea go.
He tuned back into the conversation, listening quietly as Mazur checked on Rosemarie's status at the school. Her transcript had finally been mailed over (Dimitri got the sense that whatever school Rosemarie had gone to had a chronic organization problem, and it hadn't changed with the new Head), so they were making a few edits to her schedule, transferring her over from PreCal sixth period to Calculus seventh period and adding in a web-design class to fill the space that PreCal had left.
Dimitri touched the schedule in his pocket, noting that he too had Calculus seventh period. It'd be a good idea to see her face-to-face. He wondered about her personality. Not all royals were snobs, of course, but a good proportion of them were. So many people following the Hathaway family drama might give Rosemarie a complex.
"You can go now," Kirova said, waving Dimitri away.
"Thank you for coming by," Mazur added, giving him another smile.
Dimitri got up and left, tossing the yellow slip into the recycling bin as he did so.
By now, the lights were on around campus, and the sun was down. Dimitri went to his dorm and finished unpacking, discarding the cardboard boxes at the end of the hall along with the rest of his floor. Then he headed toward the cafeteria for breakfast.
Ivan was in line, squinting at a small container of something pink. His lips were red, indicating that he had just come from the feeders. "What is this?" he asked Dimitri, showing him the container. "Does it say?"
Dimitri scanned the label, doing some quick translating back and forth in his head. "It's something strawberry," he finally said. "Just eat it." It looked like yogurt, but he couldn't actually find the word on the label and didn't want to get it wrong. Not many cultural differences had been taught in his English class, so eating or watching TV was sometimes a terrifying experience. His mouth filled with the flavor of Mountain Dew and he winced at the memory.
Ivan did take it, and also got a drink from a vending machine.
Dimitri kept it simple, grabbing a muffin and some pancakes, and sat next to Ivan, who already was chatting up a girl. Her long hair was platinum blonde, and she had the typical Moroi body type – super slim and tall, with not much of a chest but good-looking everything else.
She smiled kindly when Dimitri sat down. "I'm Lissa," she said, reaching out for a handshake. Dimitri shook it.
"She's the last Dragomir," Ivan said, smiling widely. The news overjoyed him, and Dimitri picked up the mostly-empty can of soda, sniffing it and scanning the label. It was an energy drink, not a soda, and caffeine-sensitive people – like Ivan – weren't supposed to drink it. Sighing, Dimitri put the can down.
"You're having a muffin next time," he said.
"Why?" Ivan, Dimitri noticed, was already trembling.
Lissa picked up the can and read, "'Not for caffeine-sensitive persons.' This is you to a T, isn't it?"
"Do you have a roommate?" Dimitri asked. "Someone who will find your body if you have a heart attack? Otherwise, you're going to have to stay out here in public."
Ivan actually giggled, and then stopped abruptly, covering his mouth with a hand. "This is bad," he said. "This is really bad. I'm going to go sit in the nurses' office." He got up, taking Dimitri's muffin with him.
"So, you guys are exchange students?" Lissa asked once Ivan was gone. Dimitri nodded, ready for the follow-up question. "How do you like it so far?"
Dimitri shrugged. "It's strange, but I like it. My English teacher only taught us the language, though, so the cultural differences are weird. And then, there are always labels to mess you up." He looked at the can sitting between them.
"Does that happen often?" Lissa asked, with a little head-nod in the direction that Ivan had skipped off to.
"A few times," Dimitri said. "But Ivan knows that he freaks out with caffeine in his system, so he's pretty good about avoiding those kinds of drinks."
"Have you been friends for a while?"
"Just the summer," Dimitri replied, shrugging. "We met at the end of the school year."
"What me to show you around campus?" Lissa asked. "There are a few teachers on my schedule who I've never had a class with, and if I need the practice, you definitely do." She wasn't trying to flirt with him in any way – she was just being nice. He smiled, liking her motives.
"Sure." He finished the last bite of pancake, and then scooped up his plate and the trash Ivan left behind, dumping them in their respective bins – trash for the plate, yogurt container, plastic spoon and fork, recycling for the can. Then he followed her outside.
The crossed the quad and went over to the buildings that housed the classrooms. Lissa showed Dimitri the art, math, and English departments, and then they traced their afternoon schedules. The pair shared Calculus and English at the end of the day. Lissa showed him around the magic classrooms – she hadn't specialized yet, she told him, so she was getting put back into the basic freshman class... for the third time. Lissa didn't have many complaints, though, except that the freshman kept on getting more and more immature and stupid. Then they left that wing and went over to where Dimitri's guardian classes were – the ones that didn't take place in the gym, that is.
"When I was talking to Ivan, we shared our morning schedules, and we share two of the same morning classes," Lissa said as they went back out to the quad, "Moroi Politics and Russian Social Studies. So I can show him around then."
"Did your teacher tell you about cultural differences?" Dimitri asked. It was a sore spot he couldn't help poking at. But she probably didn't remember – if she was in Russian Social Studies, then she took the Russian Immersion program, which taught you the language from day one of preschool. St. Basil's had that program for English, but Dimitri hadn't taken it. He learned to speak mostly from his family, who then had taught him how to write and spell during school breaks so he wouldn't fail his high school English classes because he didn't know how to write properly.
"Not really," Lissa said, wincing at her ignorance. "I mean, I know some of the foods you guys have, but... now it's kind of too late to learn." She made a face. "None of my Russian classes are about Russia – it's about other stuff, in a language I don't totally understand. And I fail at speaking it – never practiced after class or during the summer – so I can't go and ask the teacher."
After hanging out in the quad and griping about horrible teachers they'd each had the misfortune to meet, it started to sprinkle outside, so they decided to go to the library. Lissa prodded Dimitri a few more times for details about his home life and aspirations, making Dimitri admit his visit to Kirova. Lissa reacted with surprise and a little bit of awe, especially to the news that Rosemarie would be attending St. Vladimir's. She too mused over the girl's personality. They had met when they were little, of course, and their mothers had attended the same conference, but that had been over ten years ago.
Ivan found them at lunchtime. He was still jittery, but able to keep a mostly straight face. Some of Lissa's friends had joined the pair by then, so the table was buzz of activity and noise. Lissa continued talking, telling the boys who was who – which royals to avoid and why, who had gotten suspended last year, which girls probably had herpes from sleeping with so many people.
One of "those girls" was sitting at the table. Camille Conta laughed, but contested Lissa's assumption of her, saying, "I didn't sleep with all of those guys, but I don't deny that I made out with every single one of them. It was fabulous, even if I was totally drunk."
Lissa laughed, "I'd call you a Slut with a Heart of Gold, but I haven't actually read about that trope yet and don't know if it's accurate."