(no subject)
TITLE: Human Resources
RATING: G
FANDOMS: Tanz der Vampire (Berlin edition)
SUMMARY: Father and son have a discussion regarding a new employee.
WORDS: 741
NOTES: *facepalms* So, I collected another variation on my Von Krolock and Herbert menagerie. I now have a Vienna edition (Barton&Kamaras), a Polish edition (Dziedzic&Wocial) and this new Berlin combination (Rebaldi&Wocial). Just what I needed. Including backstory, history and storyline for all of them pre- and post-vamping. Oy.
Also, this is for the ever charming bwinter, as a bitpart birthday present :) Enjoy, m'dear.
_____________________________
Herbert was pouting again.
Admittedly, there was good reason this time, but his father was not about to indulge the quivering lip, the jutting chin, or that tiny wrinkle that always appeared between his brows when he was aggravated.
“You should not have eaten the last one.”
“I did no such thing!” Herbert cried indignantly, stamping his foot.
Johannes von Krolock looked up from the document he was perusing, forcing his lips not to twitch. Yes, yes. There was the furrow in that perfect brow. Oh, his little one was most cross with him.
“Oh, yes,” he corrected absently. “That was the dear little boy we had before this one.”
“Yes,” Herbert snapped petulantly. “You ate the last one!”
Johannes’s expression was one of confused innocence. “I am sure you must be mistaken,” he said. “After all, the poor creature was found in the crypt of one of your little playthings. They must have been hungry.”
Herbert’s nose wrinkled. “One of my playthings, Vati? When she was all...” His expression was one of distaste as he gestured in the air, shaping invisible curves. “Voluptuous and... soft... in places...”
The ball of Johannes’s thumb rubbed in a slow circle against the tip of his index finger, and he touched his tongue to one pointed canine. “Yes,” he said, ignoring the pleasant growl in his throat at the memory. “She was rather, wasn’t she?”
“See! You! You ate her and her... her curves!”
Von Krolock started to laugh softly. “Eventually,” he agreed.
Herbert tried hard to stay very cross, but his smile always did come easily. “And then you put her in poor, silly Friedrich’s coffin. One would not imagine a soldier of the wars with the Ottoman would scream like such a girl.”
“Do you suppose he learned not to anger me then?” Von Krolock asked innocently.
“Since I threw him into the sun for eating your servant and for waking me up at a silly time of day?”
“So you did think he ate her?”
Herbert rolled his eyes expressively, throwing himself into the chair beside his father. “Father, I was half-asleep. I would have believed anything if it meant I got rid of any witness who saw me before I had combed my hair into some semblance of order.”
Von Krolock gave him an affectionate smile. “My vain little Prince.”
A touch of colour touched his son’s pale cheeks, and those pouting lips pursed again, but were no longer tremulous.
“Father...” he chastised reprovingly. Von Krolock’s brows rose mildly, looking at his son’s hair, as if it were in disarray, and a self-conscious hand rose, patting at it. Realising he had fallen for his father’s ploy, he pulled a face. “You are such a child.”
“Your father and elder,” von Krolock sniffed.
Herbert rolled his eyes again. “And still, with exactly the same maturity as you had when I was born,” he said, but his lips were close to curling upwards and he laughed openly as he avoided the prod of his father’s foot to his shin.
“Impudent, reckless boy.”
“Violent, wicked father.”
They exchanged a familiar look, eye-roll and the smiles came.
Of course, Herbert was never one to forget a grievance, and burst out, “But why did you have to get that one? He’s wretchedly ugly!”
Von Krolock laid down the papers he had been reading through. “My dear one,” he said. “As you said, I consumed the last one and you the one before that.” Herbert’s lips twitched up once more. “I thought that if we had a servant who was ugly, then perhaps, we could at least keep him out of our beds and our dining arrangements, and have the castle tidied once in a while.”
Herbert gave a great, solemn, frustrated sigh. “You mean for me to have to go out into that silly world and find someone to entertain me,” he said sorrowfully. “One would think you do not even love me at all.”
“Of course not,” von Krolock replied. “I only keep you here in order to emphasise my charm and charisma by contrast to the pitiful, ignorant wretch that you are.”
Herbert stretched and swung his feet up onto the table with a wide yawn. “I may be pitiful, ignorant and wretched, father,” he said seriously, lacing his fingers behind his head. “But at least I am pretty.”
Johannes gave a great bark of laughter, and soon, his son laughed with him.
RATING: G
FANDOMS: Tanz der Vampire (Berlin edition)
SUMMARY: Father and son have a discussion regarding a new employee.
WORDS: 741
NOTES: *facepalms* So, I collected another variation on my Von Krolock and Herbert menagerie. I now have a Vienna edition (Barton&Kamaras), a Polish edition (Dziedzic&Wocial) and this new Berlin combination (Rebaldi&Wocial). Just what I needed. Including backstory, history and storyline for all of them pre- and post-vamping. Oy.
Also, this is for the ever charming bwinter, as a bitpart birthday present :) Enjoy, m'dear.
_____________________________
Herbert was pouting again.
Admittedly, there was good reason this time, but his father was not about to indulge the quivering lip, the jutting chin, or that tiny wrinkle that always appeared between his brows when he was aggravated.
“You should not have eaten the last one.”
“I did no such thing!” Herbert cried indignantly, stamping his foot.
Johannes von Krolock looked up from the document he was perusing, forcing his lips not to twitch. Yes, yes. There was the furrow in that perfect brow. Oh, his little one was most cross with him.
“Oh, yes,” he corrected absently. “That was the dear little boy we had before this one.”
“Yes,” Herbert snapped petulantly. “You ate the last one!”
Johannes’s expression was one of confused innocence. “I am sure you must be mistaken,” he said. “After all, the poor creature was found in the crypt of one of your little playthings. They must have been hungry.”
Herbert’s nose wrinkled. “One of my playthings, Vati? When she was all...” His expression was one of distaste as he gestured in the air, shaping invisible curves. “Voluptuous and... soft... in places...”
The ball of Johannes’s thumb rubbed in a slow circle against the tip of his index finger, and he touched his tongue to one pointed canine. “Yes,” he said, ignoring the pleasant growl in his throat at the memory. “She was rather, wasn’t she?”
“See! You! You ate her and her... her curves!”
Von Krolock started to laugh softly. “Eventually,” he agreed.
Herbert tried hard to stay very cross, but his smile always did come easily. “And then you put her in poor, silly Friedrich’s coffin. One would not imagine a soldier of the wars with the Ottoman would scream like such a girl.”
“Do you suppose he learned not to anger me then?” Von Krolock asked innocently.
“Since I threw him into the sun for eating your servant and for waking me up at a silly time of day?”
“So you did think he ate her?”
Herbert rolled his eyes expressively, throwing himself into the chair beside his father. “Father, I was half-asleep. I would have believed anything if it meant I got rid of any witness who saw me before I had combed my hair into some semblance of order.”
Von Krolock gave him an affectionate smile. “My vain little Prince.”
A touch of colour touched his son’s pale cheeks, and those pouting lips pursed again, but were no longer tremulous.
“Father...” he chastised reprovingly. Von Krolock’s brows rose mildly, looking at his son’s hair, as if it were in disarray, and a self-conscious hand rose, patting at it. Realising he had fallen for his father’s ploy, he pulled a face. “You are such a child.”
“Your father and elder,” von Krolock sniffed.
Herbert rolled his eyes again. “And still, with exactly the same maturity as you had when I was born,” he said, but his lips were close to curling upwards and he laughed openly as he avoided the prod of his father’s foot to his shin.
“Impudent, reckless boy.”
“Violent, wicked father.”
They exchanged a familiar look, eye-roll and the smiles came.
Of course, Herbert was never one to forget a grievance, and burst out, “But why did you have to get that one? He’s wretchedly ugly!”
Von Krolock laid down the papers he had been reading through. “My dear one,” he said. “As you said, I consumed the last one and you the one before that.” Herbert’s lips twitched up once more. “I thought that if we had a servant who was ugly, then perhaps, we could at least keep him out of our beds and our dining arrangements, and have the castle tidied once in a while.”
Herbert gave a great, solemn, frustrated sigh. “You mean for me to have to go out into that silly world and find someone to entertain me,” he said sorrowfully. “One would think you do not even love me at all.”
“Of course not,” von Krolock replied. “I only keep you here in order to emphasise my charm and charisma by contrast to the pitiful, ignorant wretch that you are.”
Herbert stretched and swung his feet up onto the table with a wide yawn. “I may be pitiful, ignorant and wretched, father,” he said seriously, lacing his fingers behind his head. “But at least I am pretty.”
Johannes gave a great bark of laughter, and soon, his son laughed with him.