tryphon zarezan | heart is a drum | elitza

As his wand tapped the familiar pattern of protection charms across the black oak door, Ivan almost immediately realized that the house had fallen into a silence it had not known since the earlier hours of that morning. Since moving in with Elitza, both families had settled upon their home as a common grounds for any major holidays. It wasn't much of an inconvenience; their certainly had the room to accommodate the large number of guests. With Milen literally everywhere it seemed, their house was also more than prepared for the rambunctious, and multiplying newer generation of anklebiting cousins. In fact, the only casualty had been a half bottle of Chianti. They had certainly supplied most of the noise for the day, though the kitchen counter indicated that the adults would have certainly begun contributing. There were enough empty bottles scattered throughout the home to fill their wine cabinet threefold, a mess they would most certainly wait to deal with the next morning.

As Ivan made his rounds throughout the house, he found his son asleep, hanging halfway off of a sofa in their front sitting room. It wasn't often that the entire family got together, so it was always an exciting time for the boy, and equally exhausting. He retrieved a warm blanket from a cupboard down the hall, draping it over his son. He would take him up to bed in a bit, but for now it was probably best to allow him a few more minutes of rest. He gently brushed hair out of Milen's face; the boy was becoming increasingly in desperate need of a haircut, but he seemed to be adamantly against the idea, so he and his mother had decided to forego the battle of enforcing something so trivial. He left the boy to rest, deluminating the room with a flick of his wand as he exited.

It wasn't until he had settled onto a couch in another room in front of a dying fire that he realized how tired he was himself. Tryphon Zarezan, while endlessly enjoyable, was a much longer drinking binge than he was used to with his work schedule. It wasn't uncommon for he and Elitza to drink through a bottle of wine or two with dinner and the hours preceding and following. They even had an impressive liquor cabinet, which seemed to always be emptying out itself, but for the most part, he had certain amounts of which he drank. By his best estimate, for he really wasn't sure what time family had started arriving that morning, he had been drink in hand for a solid twelve hours, if not longer by this point. He couldn't complain, though; that was the name of the game for the holiday. Some of his older relatives truly bought into the superstitious affects of consumption on fertility - and his grandmother certainly seemed to insinuate she thought Milen could use another sibling on more than one occasion - but he simply enjoyed it for what it was. A time to enjoy copious amounts of wine with his loved ones.

He wasn't quite sure where Elitza had made her way off to, or even if she had already retired to bed for the night. Either way, out of habit he had brought a second wine glass along with the Malbec he brought with him to the couch. The familiar slush of wine from bottle to glass harmonized with the cracking firewood, appreciating the sudden change of pace in his day. He reclined back against the cushions, loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes; his tongue found the familiar taste rolling across his lips for what felt like the hundredth glass that day, allowing his mind to lull as he stared into the whittling flames across the room.

She couldn't decide if she was drunk or just tired.

St. Tryphon was the Bulgarian patron saint of gardeners, more importantly, of vine growers. In short, it was wine day in the household and they'd had family around for most of the day. Elitza had been playing hostess, a role which didn't sit that naturally for her. She'd been running around like a chicken with it's head cut  off, refilling glasses and making sure children weren't escaping. Her back was sore from all the bending down to the oven, preparing and cooking food. Her back was also sore from the towering heels she'd stupidly chosen to wear for the day.

"Okay! Thanks, bye!" Elitza called, her pleasant voice high and clear as she stood on the doorstep and waved goodbye to the last stragglers before slamming the door and pulling a face. "Urgh," she complained, slipping off her shoes and throwing them carelessly across the foyer. The coldness of the tiles made her sigh with pleasure as her throbbing toes benefited from it. Slowly mincing her way down the hall, she winced. All she wanted to do was take a long, hot bath.

Her onyx coloured hair had started out in glossy waves but now was a little messy. It had been a long day and it was starting to show. Her low backed black dress was still in good order, however. It was an appropriate length with sleeves and a nice shape but it was cut seamlessly and hugged her curves in an almost irreligious way. She'd seen a few of her cousin's husbands' lingering glances and it had cheered her up immensely.

The kitchen looked like a bomb had hit it so naturally, she avoided it. With her wand out, she flicked various things back to where they should be, sending items soaring around her. She really wanted a lie in. The idea of industrial sized cleaning was not an appealing one at all. Milen was now old enough to walk and talk so he could tell her exactly what he wanted. Most of the time it was plastic dinosaurs and custard.

Elitza had expertly and gracefully avoiding questions about her love life; were she and Ivan getting married? Would they be having more kids? At the moment, the answer to both of those things was a huge no. They were at a fairly good place in their lives at the moment, there wasn't much point in jeopardising that right now. They were living together in a plush, expansive house with a nice garden and things close by. Milen was happy. He got his dad to tuck him in at night.

Her long legs wandered down, closing various doors as she went before finding one open. Hearing a fire, she poked her head around the corner and her full scarlet lips spread into a smile. Slipping in, she closed the door quietly and walked to the sofa. Without skipping a beat, she twirled and flopped down on the sofa, her head landing on Ivan's lap with her long legs hanging over the arm of the couch. "Mmm," she said as she closed her eyes, visibly relaxing as the fire crackled away as she snuggled in lazily.

Wiggling her bare toes, she tilted her head back to smile up at him. "Hi," she told him gently. "I feel like I've not seen you all day." They hadn't. This two minutes was the most they'd spent together in hours. The house was quiet. Elitza could hear the slow ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Mixed with the warm fire and the wine buzz, it was making her feel horribly sleepy. Absently, she took the hand that wasn't holding his wineglass and pulled it, forcing him to drape it across her chest so she could intertwine their fingers together and she gave them an affectionate squeeze. "I think I've drunk so much wine, I'll be sick if I see another glass." Turning her head, her dark eyes saw the glass of red wine on the table. "Could you pass me that?" She asked, ignoring her previous statement completely.

Now that his day had finally reached a point where he was able to slow down and unwind, Ivan was having to actively fight the wine from sedating him into a lull on the couch. His head had fallen against the back of the couch, and his eye lids feeling heavier than ever. He was still impressively managing to maneuver the wine glass from the table to his mouth, not quite ready to stop. The day now seemed like a blur, and the morning felt like an  entire lifetime ago. Every sip allowed him  to slip further and further into a nice alcohol induced lull.

The fire must have been just loud enough to conceal any other noises within the room, or maybe Ivan had been much closer to sleep than he intended. Either way, his eyes immediately opened up as he felt the body against his lap; out of habit, his hand tangled itself between the familiar auburn locks, softly massaging the scalp beneath. His head tilted down to match her gaze; Elitza's slow movements were evident as he watched her, and he couldn't help but smile at how the wine had caused such a departure from her typical demeanor. He had been so busy with everyone else, as she pointed out, Ivan wasn't sure he had been with Elitza for more than two minutes excluding once they finally managed to get everyone gathered for dinner. However, when he had seen her, like himself, she was always found with a glass in hand, so he was fairly certain they were in the same boat.

His thumb had begun to absentmindedly glide across the back of her hand, appreciating the familiar softness of her skin. "The good news is, we won't have quite a crowd to deal with until Milen's birthday. And hopefully not nearly as many bottles lying about;  am fairly certainly your cousin, Luben, drank us out of five Merlots single-handedly."

It only took a moment after realizing Elitza had spotted her intended glass for Ivan to start leaning toward it, moving just a bit slower than normal as to not spill it. As full up as Elitza claimed to be, he knew her well enough to know that she would be asking for it at any given moment. He was careful reclining back, shifting his weight under her as to disrupt her as little as possible. He held onto the glass a few extra seconds, securing it in her, hoping she found her equilibrium while still laying down. His hand swung over the arm of the couch to retrieve his own once more. He lowered his glass to hers, and clinked the tops together, the wine sloshing from side to side within the rounded glass.

"Cheers, to Saint Tryphon, family, and our current lackthereof."

This was nice. Lazily sprawled across the sofa and Ivan, the warm fire and the fuzzy alcohol-fuelled feeling was entirely enjoyable. She yawned, murmuring softly as her eyes closed as his fingers moved over her scalp. He was great. Or rather, he was now after Elitza had trained him to be. "Mmm," she sighed, goosebumps rising on the skin of her bare forearms. The day had been hectic. Their families were okay as far as families go but there were about a hundred wine bottles dotted around their home. It wasn't exactly child safe. She'd need to dash about and collect them before Milen knocked one over.

Lazily, she interlinked their fingers, allowing him to stroke her pale skin as she looked over the dimly lit ceiling. She winced. "I can't believe that's come around so soon," she whispered to Ivan, her full plum coloured lips down turning into a frown. It seemed like only yesterday that they'd gotten properly drunk at her birthday party and slept together. It was inevitable, really. They were always destined to end up together. She didn't like the term "soul mates". It was soppy and childish but appropriate nonetheless.

Tutting darkly, she swatted at him. "Us Angelovs like a drink," she told Ivan casually. "besides, it'd be rude not to finish an open bottle of wine. He was just being polite," she replied as she snuggled up, adjusting a little, the fabric of her dress was rather tight and constricting and she wiggled a little. As a result, her skirt lifted a little, revealing an expanse of her pale, smooth thigh as she yawned again. Warm and fuzzy. Fuzzies and warms. Lovely.

Bless Ivan for doing what he was told. Her slim fingers wound around the proffered wine glass, tilting her head back to grin at him before cheerfully clinking their glasses together. "Cheers," she said cheerfully, careful to take a sip and let her head flop backwards into his lap. "I still think your dad's a bit of a dick though," Elitza told him frankly, drinking more of her wine. She and Pietro never did get along that well. He disproved of her and thought his only son could do better but she wasn't going anywhere and he'd just have to get on with it. She'd tried so many times to be the perfect host, mother, girlfriend but he just turned his nose up. So, she'd joined him. She offered smiles and biting remarks left, right and centre. He chose to pick on the wrong Bulgarian. She wondered if he'd rather Ivan marry a dim heiress.

Resting the glass of red wine on her flat stomach, she ran her fingers absently over one of Ivan's palms, just thinking. She wasn't usually so affectionate. Elitza was rude and prickly. Ivan was sweet and lovely. Why they were even together was a mystery sometimes because he could do so much better.

"Do you remember Stella?" She asked him softly, tilting her head back to look at him. Stella was one of his mental ex-girlfriends. In fact, Elitza had actually tried to drown her in a fountain a few years ago in Neroli. Whoops. "I wonder what she's doing now," she said gently, sipping her wine. "I hope she got fat," the brunette said harshly, pursing her lips into a thin line. Plus, Stella had an annoying and a really shit haircut. Like weird, short curls. And she had a laugh like a flippin' donkey. On acid. Yuck.

"I was going to get into my pyjamas but I can't be bothered moving," she said sleepily. "You might have to carry me to bed," she informed Ivan. Or he could just let her sleep on the sofa. She was worn out. She had a headache and her feet were killing her. There was a small burn on her left hand from a hot oven tray and her bra was digging into her ribs something ruthless. Shifting to place her glass on the table, she sat up a little, smoothing her glossy dark locks over her shoulder. "Unzip my dress for me?" She asked Ivan. It looked great on but it was tight and she was tired and she needed to get it off if she could.