[berlin] love and some verses [volker]

january 2002

“Come back to bed.” It was a soft spoken demand, layered in sleepiness. She hadn’t opened her eyes yet, wasn’t sure where Volker was, if he was even in the bedroom or not, but she could tell he wasn’t in bed with her. It was warm, too warm without her husband. If he had been next to her, it would have been the perfect combination of chill and comfort. She had a couple extra blankets on her side; away from the security of the blankets, it was very clearly winter in a flat she shared with an ice cube.

Émilie opened her eyes, once more readjusting to her new surroundings. It had been a few weeks, but she still wasn’t used to waking up in this new flat, in a room that was so clearly Volker’s. There were far too many books and a distinct lack of color, save for last night’s clothes scattered on the floor. Émilie had moved to Berlin without a second thought (read: after several long talks convincing her that it was the best idea) after they were married on a whim in Monte Carlo, but she had been so busy (re)planning their (public) wedding that she hadn’t properly unpacked. Most of her things still sat in the boxes they arrived in, untouched, save for an assortment of art supplies, fashion magazines, and her entire winter wardrobe.

She rolled over, happy to find Volker seated at the desk nearby. “Hi,” she said, leading into a large half smile, half yawn. He was a beautiful sight to behold, brow furrowed in thought, hair tied back neatly, clothes conveniently forgotten. “What are you working on?” She was really only somewhat interested, having not been able to follow along with most of the things he spent his time on. Her main concern was if whatever he was working on could be done from the comfort of his own bed.

She should have had other concerns, like the time, or making tea. But it was Sunday, time didn’t matter, and the prospect of tea didn’t seem to warrant her getting out of bed and layering up to fetch it. No, the best plan was getting Volker back into bed with as little effort as possible. She sat up, bringing the blankets up around her shoulders, blonde curls askew and out of place, clearly the perfect picture of domestic bliss. Yawning again, Émilie tilted her head toward the empty spot next to her, silently inviting him to join her.

It was warm, far too warm.

Volker wasn’t the one to wake up before Émilie, however, that morning, it felt a bit too warm for him to relax properly. It was perhaps still the thought of him sharing a bed with his beloved, even though he should have gotten used to it, as it was the new normal, and for a few weeks now. Still, Volker felt the same like any time – when around Émilie his heart conveniently fluttered, his chest felt heavy in a good way, and he felt warm. But, with her forever by his side (now that they were married, he wouldn’t let her out of it anytime soon), at least now Volker had the courage to leave the bed if he was feeling too warm.

He got up, careful not to wake up Émilie, and neatly gathered his hair, tying it to the back. Volker tried to make his way very cautiously around the room, attempting as much as possible not to step on a fashion magazine or a piece of clothing relentlessly let laying on the floor from last night. He took a seat at his desk, deciding that it was for the best not to open the door and make his way through the flat to the kitchen, as the last thing he wanted was to make any kind of noise and wake up his beloved. Émilie deserved her beauty sleep, especially after last night. Or morning. Or just a few hours ago.

The ice elemental put the pearl grey robe that rested on the desk on his lap, before gazing at the pale dusty purple parchment that rested there. It was the guest list for their (public) wedding, through which Volker had gone yesterday, making sure that everyone had been given an invitation. Their wedding was quickly approaching though, and with that in mind, a mischievous smile appeared on Volker’s face as he picked up a dark silver quill. If the wedding was approaching, then they had to take care of the seating chart, which was obviously one of the most entertaining planning processes when organising a party.

He, at least, was going to have a lot of fun with this.

Volker started scribbling on the parchment, careful to make as little noise as possible. However, half an hour later or so, he could hear Émilie’s voice, calling him back to bed. He stopped writing, and turned his gaze in her direction just as she rolled around in bed, their eyes meeting in perfect synchronisation. “Hello.” He replied with a wide smile on his face, finding Émilie particularly endearing that morning. Volker stood up and put on his robe, tying it around the waist rather loosely, afterwards picking up his parchment and quill, to make his way back to bed.

As he sat down on the bed, he leaned in, placing a kiss on Émilie’s cheek, before teasingly whispering in her ear. “I’ve been quite the naughty one.” He giggled, making himself comfortable as he leaned against a pillow, showing his wife the seating chart he sketched. “I was thinking to have fun with this. I mean, it is our wedding, so it’s only natural that we’ll be entertained by our guests.” Volker let out another laughter, this one even more playful than the other. “Like, I was thinking, having Memphis and Phridae sit right next to my cousin Eleanor and her husband Loren. Memphis and Eleanor right next to each other, you know.” He shrugged, the mischievous smile not leaving his face.

He passed on the parchment to Émilie, as he leaned his head against her shoulder. “And look here – “ Volker pointed with the quill at another table. “ – Prosper and his new British sweetheart, right in between Luciana on the left and Zoé on the right. But I feel this arrangement is not pleasing enough…”  He sighed, hoping that Émilie would come up with a better idea. Or, at least, add more people to that table, to spice it all up.

Émilie frowned as Volker put on his robe, but it was quickly replaced by a soft smile as he kissed her and settled in next to her. “Oh, have you?” She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow, but her hopes were quickly dashed as she followed his gaze down to whatever work he had brought with him. She recognized it immediately as the seating chart, one aspect of the reception planning that she didn’t mind relinquishing to her husband. It was a far too complicated task for the woman to handle, figuring out who went where without upsetting grandmothers and people she had never met before.

She snuggled up next to him to study the layout, pulling her knees up and wrapping an arm around them. With her other hand she pulled her blankets closer to her, the temperature finally back in that zone of perfection. “I hope they’ll leave if they aren’t fun,” she agreed, though she had yet to catch his true meaning. She was still focused on planning the perfect party to celebrate their perfect union. But she laughed when he did, the understanding of what he was talking about slowly dawning on her as he kept speaking.

“Oooh,” she cooed, that mental lightbulb going off before she could point out that Memphis and Eleanor had dated -- wouldn’t that be awkward for them? That was why it would be entertaining from them. He was so clever. God, she was so happy she was getting the opportunity to marry Volker all over again.

Émilie followed his quill to another set of names and after a couple seconds, her face positively lit up. Her eyes ran over the names: Luciana, Ariana, Prosper, Zoé. She hadn’t spoken to Luciana or Prosper since she had dropped out of school, but she had seen Zoé a tad more recently, just about a year ago. The only productive thing to come out of that conversation though, was to learn that the other ice elemental had no idea where her ice elemental was. The was the minor detail that Émilie had come out of the whole thing with slightly more respect for the younger Papillonlisse, but it certainly wasn’t enough respect to not get immense pleasure out of this seating arrangement. Zoé was still a terrible person, after all.

Anyway, they had all dated Prosper and according to Volker that whole ordeal was what made Luci want to date women instead. It made sense, after just a little bit of thought. She freed an arm from her blanket cocoon an  tapped the empty seat next to Luci, suggesting with a laugh, “How about we put Madeline next to her?” It would certainly continue with their theme of making an entertaining evening.

“I still need to find her a date. I told her I would,” she said with a shrug, readjusting so she could play with Volker’s hair as he laid his head on her shoulder. “And then she’d have the other British girl to talk to.” She assumed the table wouldn’t always bother to talk in English. “That seems to be the reason why the men I’m asking at work don’t want to go. They agree and then I tell them about her and--” she shrugged.”Too English.” She shrugged again, referring to the countless coffee cart customers she had asked to attend the wedding with her former roommate.

“Well, not before they give us our wedding presents.” Volker let out a soft laughter at his wife’s suggestion that anyone who wouldn't be fun shouldn’t stay long at their wedding reception. Truthfully, he agreed with Émilie. Anyone who wasn’t fun and wasn’t having fun would definitely have to leave early; at least if Volker himself would have written the protocol. However, he doubted that anyone would be daft enough not to enjoy themselves at their wedding; everything they’ve planned so far was absolutely perfect. How could anyone not enjoy and not make themselves enjoyable when attending the perfect event? Still, just in case, the seating chart would undoubtedly add the extra salt and pepper one’d need to be fun at their wedding. At least for them.

At Émilie’s coo, Volker realised she connected the dots and understood what he meant. A smirk appeared on his face, as his eyes slowly turned from the seating chart towards her. Even just woken up, she was absolutely beautiful. Her messy hair, her cherry pink lips, those bright blue eyes. She was fabulous, both in looks and personality. If anything, moments like this made the ice elemental extremely happy that he was getting the opportunity to marry Émilie all over again.

Volker followed Émilie’s arm and gazed at the parchment, as his better half tapped on the empty seat next to Luciana. “Madeline?” The German inquired, pausing for a moment, not knowing whom this person was exactly. The name sounded vaguely familiar, and he was pretty sure that he had to know whom she was. As Émilie continued talking, Volker connected the dots himself and realised that this certain Madeline was his wife’s former flatmate. “You want Madeline to be Luciana’s date?” His voice trailed, an eyebrow suggestively arching. Volker was highly aware of the fact that he’d told Émilie that Luciana had given up on men after dating Prosper, just so his wife and she would get along well. However, he was sure that their friendship would also deepen once they found out of their common dislike: Zoé.

The ice elemental ran a hand through his hair, toying with one of his almost ash locks. “I’ve never seen Madeline, now have I?” He asked, still looking at the seating chart. “I mean, I also have English friends.” Or Welsh, or Scottish, or whatever everyone else British at the Council was. “But they never had such issues. I mean… dating or finding a date never posed a problem to any of the British I know. For example, this Ariana’s got Prosper on a very tight leash.” Volker tilted his head, his gaze still focusing on the empty seat next to Luciana.

While he wouldn’t openly tell Émilie, Volker loved Luciana, let it be as a best friend or in a manner which was similar, if not identical to the sentiments he held for his own younger sister, Anke. Consequently, Volker was unsure if the earth elemental would not only enjoy being set up by him, or being set up with an English out of everything. What if Prosper’d think Luciana was copying him? Volker didn’t want that. While both of them were his friends, the German was positive he wanted Luciana to also have a date that would make her shine brightly, especially since Prosper was bringing along the woman who literally took his heart away.

“Too English.” He repeated Émilie’s words, and laughed. “Is this Madeline beautiful?” Volker asked, without hiding his belief that the witch in question might not be attractive at all, hence her having trouble finding a date on her own. “I mean, is she good enough for Luciana? In the end, let’s face the facts, she did date Prosper, so her standards are pretty high.” The ice elemental sighed, not sure that this combination would work. If Émilie’s Ministry official friends didn’t want to date her, Volker was sure Madeline wouldn’t be a good fit for Luciana.

He straightened his back, and let loose of his pony tail, gently running his free hand’s fingers through his hair. Then, Volker continued. “Plus, doesn’t she bake and stuff? Wouldn’t she be too fat for Luci?”

“Really, I just thought she needed a seat and there was an open one there, but…” Émilie trailed off in thought; now that Volker had mentioned it, that idea really was better than her continued search for a Ministry man to accompany her. “Sure, why not? Luciana likes women, Madeline is a woman, it’d just make my job a lot easier.” She laughed and offered a shrug, happy she had married such a smart man with such smart ideas, always making her life easier for her.

She shrugged again, knowing full well that Volker and Madeline had yet to meet. The conversation where she told her she was moving all-of-the-sudden to Berlin was hard enough; Émilie hadn’t wanted to rub in the fact that she had found true love and was now leaving Maddie to be alone, for possibly forever. Seeing Volker would only make her feel that much worse, surely. She shrugged again for what felt like the hundredth time as he claimed his own British friends had no trouble finding their own dates. Nor was she about to comment on Prosper’s taste in women, her mind flashing back to that other ice elemental once more.

“Is she beautiful?” Émilie repeated the question, torn between being amused or offended. “She’s my friend, of course she’s beautiful.” She rolled her eyes though she was was smiling. To even imply that she would be friendly to anyone unattractive was absurd, let alone be actual friends and live with them. Of course, her offer for a total makeover had been declined, though Maddie had continuously let herself be roped into Émilie’s many new home-spa adventures.

Dating Prosper didn’t make Émilie think any higher of Luciana or her tastes or standards, but she wasn’t about to get into that now, simply shrugging instead. “I suppose you’re right,” she conceded, moving right back into figuring out who next to ask on behalf of her friend. She was distracted near instantly, however, as Volker began toying with his hair; she paid close attention to his fingers, almost missing his next question.

“I ate most of the leftover pastries she brought home, so…” she trailed off with a dramatic sigh, but she smirked after a few seconds. “Never mind that Luciana doesn’t have a date of her own, so can she really afford to be so picky?” She again tapped the parchment with a finger, drawing attention to the open seat next to the Italian. “Surely you have some single cousins, no?” She would be surprised if any German was able to find love, never mind that she was married to one. He was the exception to the rule.

She scooted closer to Volker, bringing her blankets with her and resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Do we have any of those croissants left?” She had brought a few home from Paris the other day, still not trusting Berlin to provide her with a proper pastry.

Volker laughed as Émilie commented on the pairing of Madeline and Luciana. It seemed that his darling wife had even forgotten, let it be momentarily, that he’d told her that his close friend wasn’t interested in men. At first, it had been only to avoid Émilie disliking Luciana, just as she’d disliked Zoé, but now it seemed that his beloved’s mind didn’t even focus on the former Ombrelune. His plan had worked, amazingly so.

Émilie’s reaction to his question was half-expected. In the end, Volker’d have reacted the same way should she have asked if one of his friends was handsome. Nonetheless, the German had a hint of doubt. If a supposedly beautiful woman was unable to find a date for a wedding, then obviously she wasn’t beautiful enough. It occurred to him that Émilie could be talking about Madeline’s inner beauty, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that. In the end, one couldn’t make out with a personality. If it was up to him, Luciana wouldn’t be seated anywhere else but next to the best looking guest. At this point, the most logic solution was Vanessa, his older sister.

Still, he had to make sure Émilie wouldn’t be too bothered about his comment. “Well, liebling… “ Volker drew closer to his partner, placing a soft kiss on her cheeks, before retrieving back to his initial spot. “To me, all women fade in comparison with you. I mean, once you see perfection – “ Émilie, of course. “ – everyone else just seems ugly. So not only Madeline, but literally any other member of the female gender is just…” Volker shrugged, deciding not to flat-out say the word ‘repulsing’. His words were true, as Émilie was nothing else but perfection and beyond when it came to looks.

Volker tended to be superficial when it came to appearances. People looked either beautiful, or ugly, there was no in-between. Attractive though? No. Never. Émilie was the only appealing person in his eyes. However, as long as he wouldn’t be asked to look at any other person from a particularly superficial perspective, Volker wouldn’t find them especially repulsing. Still, ever since first laying his eyes on Émilie, he hadn’t looked at anyone else in that manner. Consequently, even if a bit overstretched, yes, he did believe everyone was ugly compared to his wife. Taken singularly, Volker could guess that some were decent. Perhaps Madeline was decent, however, nobody but him was beautiful enough to share a house with Émilie; that was certain.

Émilie’s comment about Luciana made Volker’s left eye gently twitch for a moment. He wasn’t going to start talking about how even just theoretically an Italian was clearly superior to a British in every possible way out there, but the ice elemental did narrow his gaze a bit sarcastically in Émilie’s direction. “Luciana will surely have a wonderful date. She hasn’t confirmed it yet just because she has too many admirers to pick out from.” Volker sighed, a bit dramatically.

“Luciana will definitely have her own perfect date, so I guess I could ask Klaus to sit next to Madeline.” His German cousin would most likely accept, however Volker was positive even Klaus would be particularly reluctant to sit next to a British. “I will have to gift Klaus something nice though, as thanks.” He commented, hoping that Émilie would have a good idea for a present. Still, he hoped that she wouldn’t suggest that Madeline herself would be the actual present. In the end, it’d be quite hard for a Durmstrang graduate especially to deal with a British, a huge sacrifice actually.

“Croissants?” Volker arched his eyebrow, aware that Émilie meant specifically the ones she brought back from Paris. “Well, unless Chat had a midnight snack, there should still be some left.” The ice elemental was about to ask if Émilie wanted him to bring her some, however, the idea of having breakfast in bed (or lunch, actually) during the weekend wasn’t that appealing. “How about we go out for brunch? There’s that magical art café I’ve yet to show you.” Volker asked, as he started toying with one of Émilie’s more rebellious curls. “The owner is part French, so there should be even better pastries than croissants there.” If Émilie missed France so much, Volker could only do his best in finding places owned by French people in Germany. In the end, travelling to France daily wasn’t the most pleasant of feelings, and Berlin was very inclusive. Much more so than Paris, if one were to ask him.

Volker was determined to make Émilie notice Berlin’s obvious superiority to Paris and, therefore, would further insist on them going out during weekends. “They’re also looking for artists whose work they can exhibit, so I was thinking you could meet him about that too. French café, French artist, what would be better than that combination?” The ice elemental asked, further encouraging Émilie to go out with him and explore Berlin.

Émilie shrugged. After Volker had ceaselessly complimented her, there was really no point in paying attention to what else he had to say. Plus, Luciana wasn’t important enough to her to get upset about who she may or may not be sitting next to. She’d continue on her quest to find Madeline a date, and when her English friend showed up with a gorgeous man on her arm, it’d just put Volker’s friends to shame. It was the least she could do.

She nodded. Croissants. “Oh, good.” She was please, of course, that she hadn’t eaten her entire stash in one sitting, and was patiently awaiting her husband to offer to fetch one for her as it was probably a tad too far for her to accio properly. Hi idea was much better, though. She sat up straight and clapped her hands together. “That sounds perfect.” The part about it being a cafe all about the arts, not the part about it being a brunch that was possibly completely German. Maybe the good could outweigh the bad.

Either way, Volker would be there, so she would still enjoy herself.

“Which part of the owner is French?” Émilie asked with a smirk, knowing full well what he actually meant. Probably. And whether or not there would be better pastries, she was still going to eat a croissant before they left. Can’t have too much of a good thing. Plus, she was burning a lot more calories these days now that Volker was back.

“You think?” She nodded, already lost in thought about having her own exhibition, even it it did have to be in Berlin. “I do have an idea for a series,” she mused, turning to look at Volker properly. “But I’ll need your help with it,” she added, placing a quick kiss on his nose before scrambling out of bed. She started pulling her hair up, planning to just pin it up and wrap a scarf around it. Now that they were talking about food, she was genuinely hungry. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

She hurried to get ready, applying her makeup and getting dressed. She might not have thought much of Berlin, but she still put effort into looking presentable for it. “Ready, mon chou,” she said, though her act of pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around his waist was her silent way of asking if her really wanted to leave the house.

“Of course it does.” Volker let out a soft laugh, as he placed a kiss on Émilie’s cheek once again. “You’ll love it.” He whispered in her ear, shifting in his place as he was preparing to get up from the bed, and start getting dressed. He stopped at the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair, preparing to tie it up until he would finish getting dressed. Later on, he would leave it loose – it looked too nice today to keep it tied up. Far too nice for that.

Émilie’s question regarding the owner came unexpectedly, causing Volker to pause for a moment, hands still in his hair for half a second as he took in her question. “Oh, I don’t know.” He replied as calmly as before, turning his head around just one tiny bit as he slowly took off his robe, letting it fall off his shoulders. The ice elemental arched an eyebrow as he playfully smirked in his wife’s direction. “Which part of him do you want it to be French?”

He turned around completely, and leaned in for a treat, only to be disappointed, for Émilie just quickly kissed his nose. “Yes.” His gaze followed her, as she wrapped a scarf around her hair. “I’ll help you, of course.” He replied to her earlier remark, regarding the idea for her paintings series. At her saying she would take a few minutes getting ready, Volker simply nodded in approval, as he got up as well, changing in a dusty amethyst suit, with a white shirt. “Ready as well.” He commented, letting his hair loose as Émilie was wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Mon ange…” Volker started, while checking his hair in the mirror one more time. “Save that for desert.” He then took her hand into his, and together they left their flat, enjoying a nice walk until the Berlinois magical art café. Volker then presented Émilie to the owner, Serge, and allowed the two to discuss about plans for future exhibitions. He’d make sure that Émilie would love Berlin, even if he had to take her to all the art-related places within the city.


[[out]]

She'd love it. Either that, or she’d have an awful time and then he’d make it up to her once they got home. Either way, she’d win.

Émilie pouted as her husband rebuffed her advances, though she couldn’t blame him for being distracted by his hair -- she was having a hard time herself stay focused. She supposed that time spent with Volker was time well spent, no matter what, exactly, they were up to, but still. Just because they had the rest of their lives to be together didn’t mean that she’d be good at waiting.

Bundled up, she walked hand-in-hand with Volker, but even his presence couldn’t distract her from picking out things to compare to Parisian ones. The café certainly wasn’t Besettes, but it would do if it had to , which she guessed it did. She got closer to forgiving Berlin for being Berlin the more she talked to the owner, who seemed almost intrigued by her proposed idea, the one she needed Volker’s help for. Finish a couple of those and they could talk more, apparently.

It was a very good thing that this idea for a series involved Volker in the nude, because she didn’t want to waste any more time.

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