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Not such a long time ago....

A family cherished the birth of a gentle soul, something many did from time to time as the joy and mystery of life prevailed in the increasing dangers of the world. The young and confused cry of a baby soon grew to the sound, confident male that had learned much in the years that had passed. The mistakes he and others had make only made him stronger but the greatest of mistakes might do more than that.

Years upon years ago two families had joined together in a fight to hold the darkness in the chains as it threatened to cover the world. Teeth of steel and the unstoppable thirst seemed to be unstoppable at the time. That was, until a newer and stronger force was found, or created rather.

Vampire hunters had been new to the world and had been single-handedly responsible for the fall of the major clans of vampires in the early 1200's. The Queen Vampire fell after a long and tiresome battle, her poison black blood seeping from her wounds. A aspen stake, embroidered with the silver writing of god, had been thrusted through her chest, the final blow.

All seemed to end, the families parting for the time being. But they hadn't heard the deathly whisper escape from her cold parted lips.
'Cursor A veni La spre Aceia Cine Dorinţă La spre oprire Înăuntru meu Murdar Pînză'

And so a curse was placed on the two families, a curse that they would never find out about until their not so dearly depart.

A small "chingaling" rang as a tall figure pushed the tea shoppe's door open. Dusty blue wool wrapped around his neck and a brown cotton hat concealed his silver hair under it's brim. There wasn't much to be said of him clothing. Brown pressed slacks stretched over his legs, ending at his polished black dress shoes. Cotton white covered his chest, a tight vest pulling in his sides and holding the buttoned shirt beneath closed except for the part that hung open around his neck. His scarf resided against his flesh, within the folded collar. It was nearly the begining of fall yet he could swear that it was colder than mid-winter.
Nodding to a elder gentleman as he passed, he walked up the the polished oak counter.
"Bună dimineaţa, any deals on the morning's tea?"
A well padded man smiled as he met the new man at the counter.
"Hallo şi Bună dimineaţa. As for a deal I'll do anything for a good Romanian man. What can a get you?"
"A half pence worth of White Honey Tea."
The man stared at him for a moment.
"Thats an odd request son. Not exactly a morning tea."
A smile stretched across the young man's face.
"Ah, I know. Pass it over anyway."
A placed a half pence on the counter and watched as the man departed. A growing tension had been raising the hairs on the back of his neck since he had arrived and he slowly shifted his blue gaze towards the shoppe's darkly corner.

His paranoia must have deceived him for what he saw was truly nothing to fear. A young lady of sorts sat before him. True, she was odd, staring at him and the like, but she was very beautiful either way. He tried to force his gaze away from her and failed until the man at the counter came up and set a warm cup down in front of the lad with a light "clink".
"Here ya are," he said briskly (but with some kindness for he wasn't that of the rude nature) and left, taking his pay with him.
The room felt cold for him but the cup that he brought into his grasp offered a freedom from the chill. He was still newer to the town and everything that came with it, including the weather.
A few silver strands fell from out of his hat on to his young (and some would say feminine) face. Giving a small sigh and breathing in the soothing scent of the tea, he turned the rest of his body and looked out over the room.
"Where to sit,... oh where to sit...." he muttered to himself as his silver-flecked blue eyes looked over the empty seats.
Not to his surprise, most of the seats in the small corner cafe were taken up by the townsfolk expect (Of coarse) in the one corner with the odd girl.
He shift his foot slightly, causing it to slid in the corner's direction, and took a sip of his tea as he slowly decided to move away from the counter.
It was then that his mind really registered what color her hair was. In day to day life it was odd enough to see someone with sterling silver hair (not to be confused with grey), but purple was truly a unique color if not completely odd.

The gentleman's response wasn't that of concern but rather, a statement of sorts.
"Oh really? Too sweet for a lass like you? Forgive me. Perhaps I'll simply drink out side. The early day's air seems to be, though nippish, very welcoming."
He pulled away from the corner and casually strode to the door, nodding to the counterman who had grown stiff as he neared the door with the white glazed cup.
To his pleasure he found that the lad settled against the brick wall next to the front window. It was there that he finally released his hidden hair, allowing the sun to stroke it with it's gentle rays. He messed it up slightly, adding a "poof" that had been flattened by his hat.
The steam from the warm cup and his breath mixed as he lifted the cup to his lips.
He pulled a folded newspaper from his pocket, along with a pair of slim glasses. The metal frames rested gently against his face and he unfolded the paper and began reading, his drink resting casually in his grasp.

.: He didn't just run away. Really. :.

The man spoke though his eyes never left the paper.
"Perhaps its a tad colder than I mentioned."
He paused to turn to the next page in his newspaper.
"You really should wear more than that simple fabric."
It was then that he pulled his gaze from the stark black words and allowed them to rise to her sculpted face. It was then that he noticed her strange hair color. Hers was purple with a sheen he had only seen in his own silver hair.
He held his gaze from trailing down her gently flowing body, though it was hard for a young and healthy man like him to do so. He had to retain some sort of his gender and if feeling such thoughtless feelings were it then he wouldn't keep himself from having them.
His hands tightened as the thought of her skin beneath them came to him. He bit the tip of his tongue quickly and pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
'Not now, not while your speaking to her! Have /some/ type of decency.'
As difficult as it was he managed to keep his train of thought on what her response would be and less on what she'd feel like.

Her accent was easy enough to place,Russian. He smiled as he took a moment to articulate.
"Ya,... Its is. Has been that way since I were a young boy. But not many people ask. They simply mark me off as an odd one. And yours, since we're on the topic."
His accent, once Romanian, was now one of central Russia. Being a scholar's boy he had learned much from traveling with his father and heard equally as much from the people he met.

"Its hard to get a nice color this light with dye. But I understand your curiosity."
He paused and looked at her gently, the look that a pleasant and interested stranger can tell the are giving yet have no want to hide it. The look that ever love struck girl has replied to. Yet, in this case, it was simply a look of pleasure. A pleasure that had been spurred by her quaint reaction and response.
"Where are you heading to?" he asked simply, slowly folding his paper (A slowness that is one waiting for a promising response).