<div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d91/DarknessBound/RP%20characters/Micah/PostMicah3.png">[ img ]</a><br/><span style="font-size: 136%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #539999">i know to be there. when and where, i'll be there.</span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #539999">you know what's to be said. we said out loud. we never said.</span></span></span></div><br/>He studied her reactions, the way she moved, the sutile ways her eyes changed. Everything about her was beautiful. No, it was beyond beautiful. He found himself hypnotized by the Spanish woman as if she was the vampire and he the human prey. He hated the customs, the traditions. Were she a woman in his country, even the poor Russian man would have stood a chance in taking her hand. This was not like his home country though. The warmer air could be felt to his bones in the moonlight. If he were to choose, he wished that his birth took place here rather than as a poor son to a wifeless farmer. Everything about him was different. His rough hands and clothing made him stand out more than anything. That was something he one day hoped to change. If anything, to impress upon this woman who had no idea the heart she had stolen.<br/><br/>He wouldn't admit his disappointment. Milek understood, of course. That did not mean he felt as a failure in asking her such an obvious question that would result in a denial. His breath hitched in his chest as he nodded. If the disappointment was across his face, the man could not tell. Nor did he get much of a chance to show it. A voice pulled her away from him. His eyes looked at the male approaching them. He could only take this man as her father. He seemed proud, strong. Almost as if he was everything Milek was not. It made him jealous, angry. Who was this man to command a woman in such a way? She should be allowed as much free will as the gender he was born in.<br/><br/>But it really wasn't about gender, was it? Milek was a poor man. He did not own much. He owned nothing, in fact. There was no hidden well of wealth lying about for him to tap into. So the truth of the matter was that he meant nothing to Bellen and especially to her father.<br/><br/>Taking a step back, he lowered his head in respect to the man. There was no need to make an enemy out of the man who held the fate of the woman he desired. He didn't even watch her go. That alone drove daggers through his still beating heart.<br/><br/><span style="color: #539999">"Forgive, sir. I am distant traveller,"</span>he replied, his accent thicker than before.<span style="color: #539999">"My custom different than your own. I mean no disrespect."</span>His gaze rose slowly to look into the eyes of her father's.<span style="color: #539999">"I curious to find work. I told you may have job for poor outsider like myself."</span><br/><br/>While his intentions were to only get closer to Bellen, Milek was in search for more work. He had skills that were handy for those with farms and livestock. He had grown used to this hard work from a time almost too long ago. That didn't much matter to the Russian man at this point. He had to make a life for himself and this was probably his only chance to do so despite the distraction he now faced with the blonde haired beauty.<br/><br/><span style="color: #539999">"I know farm work. How to handle horse and cow. All I ask is for some coin and help with language. No need for place to sleep."</span>