Life-Holder (Complete!)

[b]Graven Birch-7:51[/b]
 
Sitting in his usual position, with one leg crossed at a right angle over the knee, and wine glass in hand, Mr. Birch rested comfortably in his room. The empty plate of lamb and grilled caesar romaine long since finished, he had decided to do a bit of light reading to pass the time. Of the books he had brought, Gray had selected his favorite copy of the Bhagavad Gita, which he always read written in the original Sanskrit. Of all the translations he had read, none could quite capture the beauty contained in the original text… “For the senses wander, and when one lets the mind follow them, it carries wisdom away like a windblown ship across the waters.” He read aloud, smiling to himself; no European empiricist could have ever phased such troubling sentiments so gorgeously.
 
Speaking of great works of art, Gray finished his glass and noticed that he was running low on wine. He’d have to save the rest for the opening of the party, once he’d showered and gotten ready of course, a process which he hadn’t even begun.
 
[b]Maria and Graven-8:37[/b]
 
When he finally emerged from his room, Gray looked like he could have easily been mistaken for one of the Wolfs instead of a mere guest. He wore an expensive and perfectly tailored, textured grey three-piece suit and tie, betraying his own wealth. In addition he had on several tasteful rings cast in silver and sapphires, as well as an exquisite silver watch. On his sleeves were a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like an ouroboros, the symbol of cyclical existence, a snake eating its own tail. In his hand was his ever-present wineglass, which was once again full with the last of his precious vintage.
 
Now finally ready to join the party, Mr. Birch looked every part the modern gentleman. Looking down from the top of the stairs, his characteristically soft, southern smile spread graciously across his face as his descent attracted the interest of the crowd below. Unlike most people of the other guests, Gray had been blessed with the ability to carry the room’s attention with comfortable ease. He could spot a few of the other guests mingling about but the mass of wealthy Germans was what concerned him most. Who were these people? Where did they come from? He joined the mob and tried to answer these questions, but for some reason the other partygoers deflected every line of questioning back on to him. Gray would have been more understanding if only they hadn’t been so unapologetic about it, blatantly refusing to answer, unlike Maria’s clever evasions.
 
Just as he was about to start seriously wondering what the hell was going on with all the secrets around here, the doors to the ballroom finally opened, releasing all the tension building up in the room. Before stepping inside, Gray exchanged his empty glass for flute of champagne, “Stop.” The waiter commanded, though that was clearly the extent of his English, Gray discovered. He managed to figure out that he was supposed to stay behind with the other guests of the manor, and soon enough he found out why. Aptly named, Sol’s theatrics put a smile on Gray’s face; the man certainly lived up to the reputation Maria had described earlier. His outfit too, seemed to match his outgoing nature perfectly, though Gray noted with a deepening smile that he was slightly better dressed than the party’s host in his over the top, archaic formalwear.
 
Standing beside him, the twins looked absolutely stunning, though they seemed impossible to tell apart in their matching dresses. However, as Sol beckoned the guests to follow him up to the balcony, one of the twins turned and rolled her eyes at Sol. Now, that had to be Maria, Gray noted, though it was little more than an educated guess based on their previous interactions out front and then later at the piano. 

After a few songs Gray had already handed off the glass of champagne to one of the waiters and begun working the room. He had taken up a several requests to dance from some of the more confident women in attendance, but soon grew bored with them. It was then that he remembered the twin he suspected to be Maria had taken to dancing with her brother at the beginning of the party. Looking around the ballroom, he soon located the pair dancing across the room. If she was anywhere near as good a dancer as she had intimated, Gray figured Maria would make a much better dance partner than the other stiff-backed Bavarian women.
 
As the next song finally came to a close, Gray bid farewell to his partner and made his way over to the pair of Wolves. “This is certainly a wonderful party, Herr Wolf.”

“Hey, Graven!” Sol replied, throwing his hands up and stepping in close to where Gray was standing, “Glad you’re enjoying it!”

“I don’t mean to cut in, but I do believe this lovely young lady owes me a dance.” Gray smiled.

“Then you had best ask her,” Sol said, backing away and putting his hands in the air, leaving the rest up to his sister.

As Sol backed away, Gray turned to look Maria in the eye, “Shall we dance?” He asked, extending his hand out to her. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise.” He teased.

“Of course not,” she said, taking his hand and drawing him in, “Let’s see what you can do.”

“Excuse me, Herr Wolf, I look forward to speaking with you again later.” Gray said, leading Maria away and back onto the dancefloor. “I am confident you won’t be disappointed.” He smiled, leading with grace and style.

“We’ll see: my brother is full of shit, but he’s a tough act to follow.” Maria replied, raising an eyebrow and flashing a sly grin.

“I’m certain he is.” Gray smiled, “Your other friends, on the other hand, have hardly been able to keep up. I only hope you won’t have the same problem.” His feet spoke for themselves, and his arms communicated body to body, as he led her into a spin and then into an elegant dip.

From there, the two dancers fell straight into a gradually escalating series of challenges, as each partner pushed the other to greater and grander displays of movement. Waltzing, twirling, and three-stepping across the ballroom with a flourish, the pair quickly became the center of much attention. Couples moved aside as they passed through, giving Graven and Maria room to take the room by storm.

[b]Marci and Graven-1:06[/b]

The night was starting to wind down, and finally those crazy Germans seemed to have gotten their fill of Gray’s warm, southern baritone, at last giving him the chance to slip outside for a moment of fresh air. Standing silently out on the porch, Mr. Birch stared wistfully out across the manor lawn. As he raised the fine, hand rolled cigarette to his lips, the aging gentleman wondered how long he had left on this earth. Too long, he thought, taking a long drag of smoke deep into his lungs. Everyone had a right to their vices, he supposed, holding the burning ember in front of his face as the smoke escaped his tired lips. Gray was drunk. And not the cute kind of drunk he had been on the plane… No, Gray was utterly wasted this time, but in a practiced, almost disturbingly composed sort of way. People who were drunk were supposed to be vulnerable, but not Graven Birch. It was only when he was sober that his real demons ever showed their faces.

For a while, Gray just stood there, watching delicate tendrils of smoke rising up and dancing off the end of his cigarette. Alternating between drags and drinks, he eventually worked his way down to the filter (of course he rolls filters into his cigarettes, it’s not World War II anymore, folks) and tossed it aside before heading back through the great wooden doors to the manor.

Inside, Gray heard the clacking of heels coming out from the ballroom, accompanied by a cheery exclamation, “Ooh, you!” The voice called out. It was female, and obviously not German, he noted. As he looked up, his suspicions were confirmed, catching sight of one of the young ladies from earlier, “You're one of us. Done with a smoke? Ah I probably shouldn't have another one anyway. Sad the party's all done. Humph. Not done dancing…” She said, rambling on as she made her way over towards Gray, waving her clutch about as she walked.

The hall was mostly deserted by now, giving her words a hollow, lingering echo as they wrapped around the room. “I am indeed,” Gray answered, forcing a tired but genuine smile, “It’s always the best nights that are over too soon, and the worst that never seem to end, isn’t it, Miss..?”

"Marci. Call me Marci." The girl said, adopting a silly pose, with a smile on her face, and a hand beneath her chin. "I never did catch your name, even though you were probably the most memorable from that waiting room. A man who chooses wine over beer is... [i]sometimes[/i] good company."

“If you can stand the company of an old antique like me, perhaps! A man with a taste for wine has many stories to tell, and few still left to write.” Gray joked, accepting Marci’s offered hand and bowing slightly, as he raised her hand towards his face in a casual mockery of the old southern gesture, “Graven Birch. But please, just call me Gray. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marci, you’re actually the first of the other guests I’ve gotten the chance to talk to.”

“Oh really? Wonderful. Fantastic. Lovely to meet you, Gray. I like your ink, by the way.” Marci lifted her hand from his to touch Gray’s forearm for a moment before dancing away a little to the stairwell. “I'd like to see them again when I'm not so…” She said, trailing off and letting a silly drunken chuckle finish the sentiment. Pushing her messy hair out of her face, Marci tilted her head towards the stairs, “Going up?”

“You’re far too kind, I’m not used to getting compliments from ladies in such pretty dresses.” Gray teased, “You’re right though, I guess it’s about time to head upstairs.” Turning up his glass, Mr. Birch drained the last of his wine and made his way over to join Marci up the stairs. “Shall we?” He asked, offering his arm to help stabilize a drunk Marci, ever the gentleman.

Marci flashed a flirtatious smile over her shoulder at Gray’s teasing. “Thank you very much.” She said, taking up her skirt a little in one hand and Gray’s arm in the other as they started slowly up the stairs. “So, Gray, you're from the states, yeah? With that accent, you must be. I'm terrible at guessing so I'm asking.”

Gray let out a warm laugh, “All those years in South Carolina always come out whenever I’ve been drinking.” Gray answered, his good mood slowly coming back. “But you’re right, I was born a New Yorker, and raised in that amazing city, though I’ve lived in many other wonderful places in my time, too. You’re American too then, I guess?”

“Yessir. Born in Jersey and raised in New York City. My beloved shithole.” She laughed, leaning against him in the drunken familiar way. “Way different from here, that's for sure. How was the ball for you, anyway?”

“Believe me when I say that I’ve been to countless, equally incredible celebrations all across the world, and I have never seen so much wealth and extravagance in my entire life.” Gray replied, while Marci hummed the melody of the last song that the band played. “And dear Lord, those Germans never quit, do they! I haven’t danced so much in a very long time… How about you? Did you enjoy yourself?”

“You know, I really did. I'm usually a downtown bar type but this luxury and sparkling champagne is really fun, isn't it?” Gray turned towards Marci as she spoke, noticing a sort of confident, alluring sway in her hips as they ascended the stairs. “This dress they gave me is sure as hell more expensive than a weekend tab, too. Did they leave you this?” She asked, tugging gently at his sleeve as she casually rested her head in the crook between his jaw and shoulder.

“This is actually one of mine. I never really checked the closet I guess, but if our beloved hosts threw a tailored Brioni in there then I’d... Ah- well, nevermind all that…” With all the night’s festivities, Gray had almost forgotten this wasn’t another of those God awful art galas he was always having to attend... “Suffice to say, it’s always a treat for me to have the opportunity to enjoy a fine wine, and the company of a lovely young lady like yourself.” He smiled, “Though I must say, I’m terribly excited to explore the manor’s grounds tomorrow, I’ve been told there’s a beautiful lake nearby and I do love to swim.”

Marci lifted her head again and looked excitedly back at Gray, having finally made it up the stairs, “That's incredible, we should all go and explore! I'm sure it's beyond - beyond gorgeous around here. But we should leave a breadcrumb trail so we don't fucking get lost.” She said, laughing at her own seemingly excessive concern. Letting go of his arm, Marci danced away again, throwing her arms up in the air, “No but really, I would be so down for that. Of course, if you don't want company, just be sure to let me know where it is.” Marci added, a smug grin spreading across her lips, “Ah.. Where are you at?”

“Down at the end there.” Gray said, pointing over at his door and pulling the key from his pocket. “I’m assuming you didn’t get the world travellers deluxe suite, too? It’s funny, there’s art in there from all the places I’ve lived.”

“Mm, no, my room is quite minimalistic. Just the way I like it. It's a little weird, if you think about it... How on the nose they've gotten my tastes without having met me before.” Marci replied, a little offhandedly as she opened up her clutch and fished around for her key, “I'm in that room.” She added, pointing to the room on the other end of the hall from his own. “Lynn and I share a balcony, isn't that lucky? Tomorrow morning I will be hungover as all hell but at least I'll have a view. More to draw.” Mumbling to herself, Marci finally found her key and raised it up in triumph.

“Are you an artist?!” Gray asked, “You absolutely must show me some of your work! Are you thinking of making it into a profession? I might be able to help you out if you are, you know.” 

“I am! Well, artist in progress. But yeah, I've got a degree in it so I suppose I should be bragging somehow, hm?” Marci played with her key a little nervously, twirling it about in her fingers, “So you're a patron of the arts? That's great, that's really great. I would love your help actually. It gets tiring watching my pieces sit in my living room. I will most definitely show you when I’m good and coherent. Artists always need some type of affirmation.” She joked.

“Quite the patron indeed, I’ve actually been dealing in art for a while now, ever since I moved to Charleston. I’ve got a few galleries there, and one up in Asheville, and though I primarily deal in old, foreign works I do know a lot of dealers who work with contemporary artists that I’d love to get you in touch with.” Gray was obviously very excited about the prospect of meeting another artist, but he eventually reigned himself back in, “Anyways, I don’t want to keep you from what I’m sure will be a splendid rest if you’re tired, I think we’re all a little drunk, to say the least.” He laughed, throwing his head back a little and running his fingers through his hair.

Marci’s happy smile brightened up the late hour, “That sounds fantastic! I would love to see them some time. I've never been down there but hopefully now I'll have a reason to.” She said, her excitement then shifting into playful innocence, “Only a little. But it was really good to meet you, Gray. I'm sure I'll see you in the morrow. You have a wonderful sleep yourself, kind sir.”

The two shook hands goodnight, “Sleep tight.” Graven smiled as Marci danced on back to her room. After a pause, to make sure Marci got inside alright, Gray turned and headed back to his own room, and tossed his jacket down on one of the chairs and kicked his shoes off. Moments later, he was passed out on the bed, eager to make his way into the adventures of tomorrow.