Angel of Beauty: I shall thank you again! (I hope to make this common thing to thank those who review on chapter next…) so DEAR CONSTANT READER, heh-heh… I got to say it. Gracias again! I hope to you get to continue to read and like coming chapters!

Chapter Six: 1461

Red Moon Gypsy

With a long and slender body
And the sweetest softest hands
And we'll blow away forever soon
And go on to different lands
And please do not ever look for me
But with me you will stay
And you will hear yourself in song
Blowing by one day

-Suzanne Vega "Gypsy"

The Count smiled as he pulled off his wet outfit. He could still hear the rain falling innocently outside and hoped that during the following morning it would still be falling. He opened his closet and pulled out a similar black costume. However alike, it was less militant looking. It was a pair of simple black pants and a white, wispy shirt. Over the shirt he was to put an overcoat just like his military outfit. Black and white suited him well. It suited him as if he were a mime. A quiet creature with seemingly much to hide and sadness to bear alone. Yet happiness was soon to come. Or was it already here? He contemplated with himself as he slipped the black pants on over his damp but perfect legs. He felt a strange shiver as if in warning from his chest. "Count?" He jumped when Shyriyh peeked into the room to see him shirtless. She couldn't bear to take her eyes away from his gorgeous chest that seemed to be drawn by a talented artist without mistakes… "I-I'm so sorry," she said, but still did not look away. His red cheeks darkened as he slipped the shirt on over his head. "It is quite alright," he said as he added the overcoat to the mix and walked out with the Elven Princess. She was wearing one of his older, smaller outfits that was still too big on her. The outfit consisted of long, black pants that went down to the floor on her and a thick black cloak over a white undershirt. All was very heavy and confusing unlike the simple Elven sundresses she was accustomed to wearing. The Count led her into a bedroom that was gently lit with elegant lanterns hanging from the ceiling and picturesque torches on the walls. The bed was sensually covered in red silk that seemed to shimmer in the dancing flame light. Across from the bed was a set of drawers. "Once your dress is dry we may put it in there, and anything else you acquire while staying here," the Count said as he opened one of the empty drawers. "You are free to explore. The washroom is right there," he said as he pointed a strong hand towards a small door of oak with designs of the archangels on it. It was rather… unnerving.

Gabriel stared at Shyriyh menacingly as she walked into the room to get washed up. He was threatening her with something… and she wasn't quite sure what exactly…

She slid off the Count's clothing and stepped gently into the bath of warm water heated by an unseen flame below the floor. She let her body be engulfed by the water as she picked up a cloth and began to scrub her silky skin. She wanted to present a perfect elf to the Count.

The Count walked into his own washroom and threw his clothes off before deciding to fold them neatly and place them by the door. Next he slid down gently into his own warm water wishing something that his mind dared not speak. He feared he would become as the Elven Lord had said… he rather did want to make love to Shyriyh. He would love to see her here next to him… without her dress on. Her silky skin caressing his own. He would love it so, although he feared to mention it. He smiled in exhausted bliss as the heat enflamed him. He fell into a heat-induced sleep as he slid deeper into the water. His shoulders were now covered.

Shyriyh walked out of the washroom to find no Count. She wondered if he had gone to bed for the hour was late. She knocked on his chamber door. There was no answer. Her heart started to cry out nervously in her chest. She began to think radical thoughts of things that could not very well have happened. What if the Turkish soldiers stormed the place and captured him? She thought nervously to herself as she opened his chamber door, which was a large oaken thing that took most of her arm strength to push. She wanted to be sure the Count wasn't just sleeping peacefully before she let herself fly into a flurry of nerves and heartbeats. She walked over to his bed and her heart skipped at least two beats when she noticed he wasn't there. She looked up and sighed nervously… that however was when she noticed the steam still emanating from beneath the washroom door. She breathed another sigh—this one of relief—and walked over to the door. She knocked and waited to hear his gorgeously deep voice respond with assurance. When she didn't hear that she began to panic again. What if he drowned? Her mind cried to her. "He's not that foolish," she told herself, "he wouldn't drown in his own washroom." She knocked again, this time a bit louder… and still got no response. "Count?" She asked as she opened the door gently. She couldn't see through all the steam so she walked towards the bath, which was a large indent in the floor covered in glassy tiles. "Count?" Her heart ran faster as she approached a still body in the water. She had the sudden, odd, but scary fear that he had drowned… She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. She could feel him breathing… so she leaned forward and looked at him. Took him in. She'd wanted to see him this way… for longer than she should have. She stood and walked to the other side of the bath before the inevitable happened: she slipped. "Oh!" She slid forward on the mist-covered floor and into the bath right on top of him. "Agh!" His heat-induced sleep was painfully interrupted by a falling elf. He gasped as she struggled to get up, his clothes, which she was wearing, getting soaked. "I am so sorry!" She called as she grasped the edge of the bath and pulled herself out. "I'm so very sorry Count, I just wanted to be sure you were well… I did not hear an utterance of any sort," she tried frantically to explain herself as he slid stealthily out of the bath and his behind his clothes. "M-my Lady, it is quite alright," he tried to assure her while simultaneously attempting to put his clothes on without her seeing. He was curious as to why she didn't leave… "No, no!" The Elven princess cried, "I am sorry! I just," she began. "I know," he interrupted. He put his hands on her shoulders once he had succeeded in getting his clothes on. "You just got worried. I apologize for I must have dozed in the heat of exhaustion," he told her. She felt the red in her cheeks grow darker when he embraced her. "I am sorry," she said again. "It is quite fine, you are a female after all and we are not so different in age," and with that he left the elf standing in deep confusion. "W-what?" She tried to follow him out but he was gone. "Where…?" She looked up and down the hallway after running out of the washroom and his quarters and could find again no sign of her Count. "He's like a ghost," she muttered to herself as she walked down the hallway towards her bedroom.

"We have much to do today," Shyriyh heard above her head. It was the voice that seemed to cover her in silk like her blankets. "Count?" She opened her eyes wearily a few morns later to see a darkened room and rain still falling… just as she knew the Count was hoping for the past three days. "Arise for it is late and we must be off," he said with a gentle smile. Shyriyh knew that if she were to touch that smile it would be worlds softer than her silk sheets. "Where are we to go?" She asked with a teasing smile… she knew exactly where they were going. "Do you remember the ball we are to attend in celebration of June's coming Red Moon?" The Count said with the same smile. She sat up and smiled before embracing him. "Thank you greatly," she said as she squeezed him ever tighter in her strong grip. "For what?" The Count asked. "For inviting me to your lovely ball. I shall be honoured to be courted by you," she explained to him in a seductive tone, which she surprised herself with greatly. She was surprised how attached she had gotten to this man within the five or six days of knowing him… and yet—she knew him all along. She knew she did. She knew him all the time and loved for just as long. She would love him until infinity… past then even. "I am glad you are in such joy of it," he said. "Shall we prepare?" He took her hand and led her out of her room and into his own. "I have found this for you. I had my servants clean it and it is ready to be worn by a princess," he said as motioned her towards his wardrobe. "I wanted to keep it as a surprise until tonight when you are finally ready to put it on but I could not. So treat thine eyes, present," he tore open the wardrobe doors with such boyish pride that Shyriyh could not help but smile. He seemed like a child trying to please one he admires. She looked up and gasped when she saw the gown he had picked out for her to wear. It was a lovely ice blue with a darker shade flowing down the creases of the skirt. It was sleeveless but the neck was full and it covered the manikin's whole chest except for a small slit just above her cleavage where a necklace lay in the shape of Shyriyh's celestial ruler: Venus. It was a lovely golden symbol of her beloved planet with a dark blue jewel in the centre that matched the streaks on the skirt. The tiara on the lovely manikin's forehead was the same gold with similar blue jewels dabbing the tips of the crown. She suddenly wondered how much this dress had cost him. "Count… it is beautiful… it leaves me… breathless," she said as she turned to look at the Count who was in one of his envisioning modes: he was imagining her in the dress… "So, shall we gather the coach and head off. It is a long ride to Budapest," he said as he shook of his vision. "It is in Budapest?" She asked. "You mean your father's palace for the summers?" The Count nodded. "Indeed, he left it to me in his last will and testament," he said with a slight bow of his head. Shyriyh smiled and strung her arm around his as they walked out. A tiny, girlish, young woman in a sweet but childish dress came skipping into the room to gather up the dress and load it and the other necessities into the Count's coach. She was rather angry when her mother sent her to work as a servant but she decided after a few years of working for the Count that she really didn't mind being so… in fact she couldn't complain. He treated her like a great friend and he paid her handsomely…

"Such a lovely coach," Shyriyh said as she examined the golden and silk interior of the Count's carriage. "Why thank you, this as well was my father's. He… sort of gave me my luxurious life. The only thing I do is keep it together… I owe him about ten percent of my happiness," he said with a smile. Shyriyh smiled too. "And to whom my dear Count do you owe the other ninety percent?" She thought she knew the answer but she wanted to hear him say it. He grinned widely, he knew she knew… and she wanted to hear him say it… he'd be glad to say it. "You," he told her. She smiled and reached a hand across the coach to touch his just as the carriage began to move. "Where did you say you had other palaces?" She asked. The Count had to think about this for a moment. "I have my home in Transylvania… my summer palace in Budapest… I have an estate in England… that was my mother's… and another estate in France… that was also my mother's," he said… trying to mentally count out if that was all his homes. "Wow," the young Elven princess said. "I have only traveled as far as Ruse in Bulgaria… and you have traveled Europe. I wish to go with you someday… to travel the world we will. We shall be gypsies you and I," she said with a bouncing smile on her face. The Count smiled gently. "Indeed we shall. Perhaps we shall spend the rest of the summer in France, it is lovely there. We shall see," he said as they went off down the road.