Dark eyes reflected the twinkling lights of the Berlin Theatre, showing some of the early attempts at cinematography. Darren perhaps didn't appreciate the film he'd just seen, the basic images of sun rises and waves crashing against rocks weren't even in the Twilight bracket, future film making having spoilt these simple clips for him.

Larten, however, teared up like many of the others in the cinema when presented with a film of a baby being fed. Clearly these basic advancements meant so much to the unspoilt minds. It was beautiful, Darren thought, in a basic sense. He and Larten would never see Egypt because of their weakness to sunlight, but to witness the sun rising over the Nile was spectacular.

"Amazing," Larten beamed still as they walked the streets of Berlin, "I cannot believe someone had recorded such images and was able to show us their travels! Utterly spellbinding! It amazes me so…truly I hope humanity continues to advance technologically. Without causing War,"

War…

Darren could still see the remains of broken glass from Kristallnacht, the Jewish community within Germany completely devastated by the hateful attack. He had tried to convinced Larten to leave with him, knowing full well what Europe had install for itself in the next few months. Already, minorities were being round up and all though both Larten and Darren held good forgery identities, Nazis made Darren's stomach curl in fear.

"Darren? Did you hear me?" Larten smiled, speaking fluent German. Darren's wasn't as good but he was fearful of being caught speaking English. "What do you think?"

"About?" Darren asked, sticking close to his friend.

"About that smell?" Larten smirked, "I smell some delicious blood ahead!"

"You promised we wouldn't feed in the open," Darren snarled in an angry whisper, "You promised we'd keep to whores in brothels!"

"Darren, I do not understand your resentment for these Nazi folk. They seem to have their priorities in check in my opinion," Larten tutted, "They are radicals, yes, but sometimes radicals are needed I think."

"Just trust me on this, it's a gut instinct," Darren growled back as they headed towards their abode a few minutes away.

Following the end of the First World War, Larten broke it off with his human lover. For a good year he'd taken their separation out on his body and ended up drinking a lot (which is why they'd ended up in the beer capital of the world) but, thankfully, not to the extent he'd been doing as a cub. Nope, Darren was glad to see Larten beginning to become the thoughtful, worldly Mr Crepsley Darren knew he would be in the next century. It was relaxing but also a little concerning. Had he managed to change the future? Would the war be avoided? Would Mr Crepsley still die or would his relationship with Larten change things?

As Larten headed up an alleyway to piss, Darren sighed. This changing the future nonsense was tricky, especially without Evanna or Tiny interfering.

"Darren, do you smell that?" Larten called.

"I just smell your piss. Try drinking some water sometime? It would do less harm than a beer," Darren said in a sarcastic tone before he sniffed the air.

A female.

A vampire female.

A familiar vampire female.

Arra.

"Wester's close too!" Larten grinned widely as he ran out of the alleyway.

His excitement was infectious, Darren's eyes widening as the two began running down the street in search of their companions. Curfew loomed closer but Darren cared very little; the smell of old friends proved of more immediate importance than the Nazi state.

They found the two at a dinner table outside, finishing up a late night meal. Wester was looking well, older with his hair sweeped back into a side parting. He had the beginnings of a moustache too, Darren recalling how the vampire loved dressing up to match the fashion of humanity. He stood when he saw them approaching, wiping his hands on his sharp suit and opening out his arms welcomingly.

"You took your time, Larten," Wester smirked as he embraced his brother tightly, "Gods, you look so much older!"

Larten laughed hard, slapping Wester's back in a brotherly manner, "I look older! When did you manage to grow facial hair? And the suit…you look amazing."

"You don't look too bad yourself, old friend," Wester said softly whilst a gentle hand caressed Larten's cheek tenderly, "Not bad at all. I heard you were in the neighbourhood…we had to come and have a good look, didn't we, Love?"

At that, both Darren and Larten cast eyes on Arra. She looked uncomfortable, wearing an ill-fitting evening gown with her hair pushed up into a ridiculous be-hive. Wester had lavished her in fine red jewellery which Darren knew was stupid; people were desperate for bread, Arra wearing ruby-like gems was almost incriminating. Equally, people were more likely to mug them.

Larten seemed in awe of her beauty, even if Arra felt uncomfortable with make-up on.

"Darren, Larten, it's been too long," she smirked, shaking their hands with that manly grip of hers.

"Far too long," Darren mused, "Perhaps back at your mating ceremony?"

"Oh yeah, probably," Arra nodded, before quickly changing subjects, "I heard you were in the Trenches?"

"Aye," Larten informed, "But I think we should skip that topic," he told her firmly, pointing at his head with a weak nod.

"Human warfare messes bad with one's head," Darren said for him, the pair staring at the ground miserably; Shell Shock was yet to be fully understood, but Darren knew; he remembered history class from when he was a human. He knew that Larten couldn't help it but dive under a table at the clatter of a dropped pan or shoe. They were working through it together though, "Where are you both staying tonight?"

"Well, we assumed you would put us up for the day," Wester laughed, "I haven't seen either of you in decades! We have so much to catch up on,"

"Aye, brother, we do," Larten grinned before slapping Wester's back, "Good thing I have one of the finest bottles of port on the market back at our apartment!"….

Mariendorf,

Tempelhof-Schoneberg borough,

Berlin.

23:29

…Arra didn't look comfortable, Darren thought, watching her sitting distantly from Wester. Her mate had an arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders but she was sitting as far away from him as possible. She was focused on what Larten had to say and only Larten and Wester seemed to notice it too; he tightened his grasp on her.

"Love, maybe you should go to the powder room,?" Wester asked in the most pompous 'She's-mine-Crepsley' way possible, "Your beautiful hair is starting to come loose,"

Arra looked up at Wester, face burning crimson. She looked completely mortified. What's more, Darren and Larten had no idea where to look. For the sake of being polite, Arra smiled and nodded, looking at Larten for directions.

"Third door down the hall," Larten said with an amused expression as Arra stood and headed to the bathroom.

"Your clutch, my Love," Wester smiled brightly, holding out a red bag.

What would Arra Sails keep in a clutch bag?!

Darren vaguely remembered the powerful, vixen of a vampire since before his time travel stint, Wester was playing with fire treating her like that.

"Oh, my mistake," Arra giggled in a shocking girly manner, accepting the bag from Wester, "I don't know what I'd do without you, Sweetheart!" she smiled, walking away with an obvious attitude.

"So, you and Arra?" Larten asked, Darren seeing a similar puzzled expression on Larten's face as Darren was experiencing.

"It happened shortly after you ran away from us," Wester said firmly, a stern glare crossing his face, "You recall your fight with Mika? You left him blind in one eye,"

"So I heard," Larten sighed, "Darren told me,"

"He's a Prince too, you know?"

Larten shrugged, "Deformities are obstacles to be overcome. I'm sure he is widely respected and I am sincerely glad he made it in his life," he concluded before pouring them all a glass of port.

"None for Arra," Wester shook his head, "She's getting water; I don't want to contend with her even slightly tipsy,"

"That's not really your call, is it?" Darren asked, sipping his drink with a slight shudder; he still didn't have a fondness for booze, "Don't Vampires and Vampiresses have equality in their relationships?"

"Aye. If the Vampire agrees," Wester smirked, "I'm a traditionalist. I like to dress her up in nice clothes and hold the door open for her. She's my property."

"Larten?" Arra smiled as she sat down, "I failed to find the light switch. Could you be a dear and-"

"Of course, M'Lady," Larten said politely, heading to the bathroom.

Arra smiled, cosying up against Wester after offering him a sickly sweet kiss on the cheek.

Larten ventured into the bathroom and reached for the light switch, confused as to how Arra hadn't been able to see it. It wasn't half obvious against the ugly green painted walls.

That's when he spotted the message.

Sprawled in Arra's terrible handwriting across his mirror were the words:

'Five Minutes?'

with an arrow pointing down at a cigarette laying upon the sink. Even with his limited literacy, Larten understood. Wester mustn't smoke which was perfect because it meant he had the opportunity to have a quiet word with Arra out of Wester's presence.

Smirking, Larten began to clean the lipstick from the surface. It made him laugh to think Wester's pretentiously expensive makeup he'd bought Arra was being used to send messages to other men. He supposed he should feel guilty that he and Arra had to sneak around for a few private words but equally, Wester was being a royal bastard.

Hope you're keeping well, Freda