What a tedious day. One would think that for having lived for almost seven hundred years, slow days would not feel nearly as tedious. Apparently not. Vasilica spared a moment to think about the fact that she was nearing seven hundred years - although it was still twenty one years away. She doubted that it would be notably exciting. Hardly much to be looking forward to.
Meandering around the bottom floor of the shop, Ilica picked up a small jewellery box, turning it over in her fingers. Hearing movement on the stairs, she glanced up as Margareta came back into the shop. "Still as quiet as ever," she said, placing the box back down onto its bench. One would also think that she might enjoy days of quiet considering all the adventure that she had seen in her life. Apparently not.
Margareta descended the stairs slowly, one of her hands sliding down the banister, and her eyes locked on the door of the shop as if she expected company. She never expected company, but she did hope for the occasional lonely pureblood or someone to actually purchase one of the "for sale" antiques that would only clutter their residence as well as the shop if they didn't get rid of it.
She responded first in English ("It's never really quiet enough") then spoke in Romanian: "Can we afford an impromptu indulgence?"
She wanted blood. Margareta wanted something to keep her distracted, and chocolates or fresh pies might have satiated a small part of her craving, but nothing could quite stand up to the satisfaction of blood. Nothing could really distract her from the painful memories and the cries of her dying family either, but she tried nonetheless, now as much as she did over six hundred years ago.
At the bottom of the stairs, the older vampire stopped and stared at Vasilica instead of the door.
Her eyes lingered on the small box that she had placed back onto the bench. She already had a few like it sitting on her bedside table, over in their residence, but that didn't stop her from wanting to add this one to their collection. However unnecessary that it was. It was a pretty little box. "Well it could stand to be a little busier," she said in English, and took her fingers away from the box. It would fetch a pretty price if sold.
Switching to Romanian like Margareta had, she gave a light shrug of her shoulders. "I doubt anything is going to happen here in the next little while," she peered out the window. "The weather is abysmal. Sensible people will be tucked up somewhere." Though they could certainly hope for some not sensible people roaming out alone...
Marietta let out an elongated sigh and lowered her head on to the banister of the staircase she had just descended. "I'm terribly bored, Vasilica," she breathed out.
Accustomed to a life of politics and academics before being turned into a bloodsucking fiend, she wasn't one to let her brain work without a purpose. She couldn't work at the Ministry of Magic, and anything she might write would have been lost in the crowd, never properly appreciated or appraised. This work was nice, but it wasn't properly satisfactory.
"I long for a greater purpose than resting my head on a banister and hoping an unsuspecting wizard will walk through those doors at any moment."
Vasilica watched her mother in law descend down the stairs, and gave a light shrug of her shoulders. "Are we ever not?" she questioned. The world was a remarkable place, she could admit that. But things turned easily tiresome when you had lived for almost seven hundred years. Or maybe this was just an particularly uninteresting period of her very long life. She'd been easily bored as a human, flitting from activity to activity to keep her interest. It hadn't been that hard then, a member of a royal court, there was a great deal more to do.
"And what would you care to do Margareta?" she questioned, moving away from the small jewellery box to another part of the store.
"In our day, our lives as actual living humans, we accomplished great deeds," Margareta said wistfully. "We influenced politics. We bore magnificent families. We were warriors with the pen while our husbands were warriors with weapons, and now we're killing people for their blood and selling antiques."
She did so love antiques, but she had never imagined a life where she relied upon them. The older woman walked over to a bench and sat. It was probably one for sale, but no one would mind. Probably no one would even buy it anyway.
"Our partners, the magic thieves, they move too slowly. I'm very unimpressed."
"Well you would find a way to make killing people sound boring," Vasilica murmured, watching her mother in law. "We've had a great deal of past, Margareta, there really is little point stewing over it." It wasn't as though they could bring the people that they had been back.
"You would think they could move a little quicker considering they don't have centuries of time to achieve it in." Would the amount of time even make a difference? Though Vasilica was not quick to say that things could not happen, she had seen an awful lot of things happen that had once never seemed possible.
"Mmmm, a stew," Margareta replied absently. Sometimes she craved the joys of food, the human pleasures that kept her going, but they were pointless now. Blood was the only pleasure she needed--blood and the thrills that came with acquiring it. "A blood stew," she corrected, and then she sighed a little sadly.
"Maybe we should take over," the older woman suggested. "We could do a much better job, and it would keep me occupied." She turned to her daughter-in-law with a wicked grin. "Could you imagine, Vasilica, how much better the operations would go?"
Sometimes Vasilica wondered if her mother in laws many years were sending her a little senile. Over seven hundred years was probably a reasonable point for that, she supposed. "Well there's plently of blood if you wish to make a stew," she said, sounding vaguely impatient.
She looked at Margareta with a faint amusement as she suggested taking over. "Well it would certainly have some more excitement to it," she mused. "But imagine all the dreary idiots you'd have to deal with, being in charge. That would almost take away from the fun."
Margareta waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, there are several idiots," she said quickly, "but no more waiting around and hoping they communicate with us. We would communicate with everyone. We would demand respect. Sometimes it takes a few idiots to ensure that things run smoothly. Too much intelligence, too much independence, and you have to worry about a coup at every turn."
Vasilica regarded her mother in law for a moment. Was she serious? Did she really think that taking charge was a good idea? It could potentially be, but was it worth the mess that it would cause? She'd been alive far too long to care about cleaning up messes. "Did you never learn that demanding respect is not how you get it?" she asked lightly. "You can demand obedience, you cannot demand loyalty."
"We have lived through enough coups to want to live through any more," she agreed, tapping her fingers on the table.
Margareta sighed and went over to a seat to drape herself across it like a dying woman on stage. "I suppose you're right, Vasilica. You were raised a smart woman, weren't you?" she commented lightly. Vasilica was family, and so that was enough of a reason for Margareta to keep her around, provided the younger woman didn't try to kill her in her sleep; but it certainly helped that Vasicila was sharp and bright.
"At the very least, we should set some plans in motion ourselves. For ourselves, if we must." What? She wasn't sure yet. She just hated standing still for too long.
"I was," Vasilica agreed, but did it really matter now how she had been raised. Those small handful of years compared to all of the others that had come since... that time with her family had been fleeting. Of course it had not felt like it at the time, but with all the things that she had experieced since... that life was a world away.
She regarded her mother in law. Sometimes she wondered if the title was still fitting. Were they still related if the person that had bound them was gone? Were you still a mother if you had no child? She'd been a wife, a mother, and now she was neither of those things. "And what sort of plan are you thinking of?" Sje questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Margareta lifted her head to look at Vasilica with narrowed brows. "I don't know yet," she admitted. "Existing in this world is much different from the many worlds we've come from." The politics of what had once been their home felt like child's play now, as if they had just shut themselves up in one room and played Politică the whole time.
This new world was far different. They had adapted, but they had adapted to survive, not to thrive. Margareta wanted to thrive. She wasn't a middle class kind of lady, even if she no longer had need of bountiful feasts and fancy decor.
Okay, there was always the need for fancy decor, but still, she was a vampire now, not a member of royalty.
"What do you think about these days, Vasilica?" the older woman asked as she let her head drop back. "What occupies your mind?"
Empty plans. Empty thoughts. She could understand the desire to do something, there was so much time in eternity to simply watch it go by. With all they had seen in the world, all they had done, all the history that they had watched unfold... it was a stark difference to sitting in this shop, buying and selling antiques. To many people that would not appreciate the items that they were buying, just desiring pretty things. Not that she could scoff at that too much. Pretty things were nice. "So many of the places that we have been in the last nearly seven hundred years differ from each other," she said with a shrug of her shoulder. "We adapt like we always do." But for what? What was there to gain? Or were they just going to sell pretty antiques until they decided to move along? To who knew where.
What occupied her mind? She regarded her mother in law as she thought over the question. "They say that time heals wounds, but I think with enough time, they get corroded open again," she gave a slight shake of her head. "Do you think there's a purpose? To life, to us living forever? For us to be the ones that got bitten? Or was it just... bad luck."