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asphaltcowgrrlWord of the Day Prompt:
Aberrant (adjective, noun)
ab·er·rant [uh-ber-uhnt, ab-er-]
adjective
1. departing from the right, normal, or usual course.
2. deviating from the ordinary, usual, or normal type; exceptional; abnormal.
noun
3. an aberrant person, thing, group, etc.
--
One would think that, considering he was a vampire that he’d be the aberrant one. But in fact, Dakotah was more ordinary than his wife, the witch. Or even his child, the dhampir. Can’t be any more abnormal than a half-vampire, half-human can you?
Well, you could, he supposed, but thinking things like that never ended well, so he moved on.
Sunset was a quiet time in their home, he was only just rising from his daytime of death. Austen was tucked away in his room, working on homework or reading a book. Sierra was normally ensconced in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal for her and their son. Dakotah took his sustenance elsewhere, as was to be expected.
Leaving the safety of his daylight hidey-hole, he went in search of his family. Up the basement stairs and into the house proper, he turned towards the sleeping area of their shared home, checking first on their seven-year-old son. Without so much as cracking the door, the vampire leaned in and listened, hearing the scratching of pencil on paper and disgruntled sighs of a kid who’d rather be playing than studying. Smiling, he next sought out the love of his afterlife.
Sierra stood at the kitchen counter, kneading a giant lump of what he assumed was bread dough. Words were muttered under her breath, words that for any other woman might be song lyrics or a forgotten task. Not with his fiery-haired woman, no, it couldn’t be that simple. With Sierra, muttering always meant spell casting.
Since words held intent and focus was primary, he simply observed, not wanting to break her concentration or invade her sacred space. It had always seemed strange to him that part of her sacred space was the kitchen, but the longer they lived together, the more it began to make some sort of sense. She worked some of her best magic in the kitchen. The rest of it, well, occurred elsewhere… and not always in front of her altar.
He couldn’t repress a smile at that thought.
On the granite countertop, he spotted several piles of fresh herbs, minced and ready to be added into the mix. Basil, parsley and rosemary comprised the largest piles. All herbs to promote love. There was also a small mound of thyme off to one side as well, an herb for healing and health. It was the crushed red pepper flakes that confused and worried him. Chili pepper was normally used to secure fidelity and, if she were making this for someone they knew, he might be inclined to intervene.
Concerned, he scanned the rest of the ingredients yet to be added to the mix when he spotted it: Parmesan cheese. This did not bode well. Cheese signified things coming into fruition, according to the lesson he’d gotten from Sierra once upon a time. And, when taking into account the properties of the other herbs she’d amassed, someone somewhere had been straying. Or had at least been thinking about it.
“Hey, Kotie,” Sierra said, a smile in her voice, “how long have you been standing there?”
She added the herbs and cheese to the dough, mixing the fresh ingredients in as best she could. Taking a flat metal blade, she scraped the dough off the counter and dumped it unceremoniously into a well-oiled bowl. Covering it with a damp towel, she turned her gaze on him fully.
“Dakotah? You in there, fang boy?”
“Fang bo – oh, yes, I’m in… here. Just distracted.” He looked from his lovely wife to the innocuous bowl sitting on the counter, waiting to rise and do it’s earthly duty.
Sierra washed her hands and reached for a towel. Drying, she asked, “Distracted by what?”
“You’re bread,” he stated flatly.
“My bread is dough right now, I promise, it’s not going to eat you.”
He shook his head. “No, no, I wasn’t worried about that but…”
She raised an eyebrow in question. “But what? I know you can’t eat it any longer, but why else would my bread worry you?”
Dakotah fixed his gaze on her, not trying to glamour her or otherwise influence her. He’d learned long ago that that didn’t fly with his little spell caster. “It’s not your bread so much as the ingredients you chose.”
“You going gluten-free on me or what?” Sierra was well and truly confused at this point. “What ingredients offend your delicate sensibilities?”
She was getting angry and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like it when she got angry because it stirred things in him that were better kept hidden. Those primal instincts that need never rear their ugly little heads in her presence. He tried another tack. “Your herbs. You chose basil, parsley and rosemary, all associated with promoting love. Then you also chose thyme, an herb for promoting health.”
“So a loving, healthy home worries you?” She took a step towards him. He immediately took a step back.
“No, my love, it doesn’t. But the chili pepper flakes do.”
Suddenly she laughed. Laughed like she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world and he was the punch line. “Oh you poor thing. You poor, delusional bloodsucker.” Her laugher overcame her, causing her slim frame to double at the waist. Hands on her thighs, her body shook with amusement.
“I take this to mean you think somebody’s possible infidelity is amusing?” His eyes widened and his nostrils flared, preparing still for the possibility of battle to come.
Sierra forced herself upright, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Oh no, no one has been unfaithful, Dakotah. Not that I know of anyway. I was just…” The rest of her sentence was lost in more laughter.
The vampire had lived a long time. He would hopefully live for a long time after this moment. He could wait.
Eventually, her guffaws subsided and she faced him again. “Honey, you’ve misunderstood. I’m making spaghetti for dinner tomorrow. This is going to be garlic bread.”
Oh.
He was quiet for a moment, gathering his errant thoughts. “This is your doing,” he told her quietly. “You insisted I understand what you do and the reasons and methods behind all of it. You explained your herbology to me and I did my best to remember. I watched and I came to a conclusion. One that was obviously incorrect. And now, I’m going back to the basement. Some days, it does not pay to crawl out of the proverbial coffin.”
The surly vampire stalked away, sulking because he could hear his wife laughing at him from over his shoulder.
“Oh but Kotie, I still love you,” she called to his retreating back.
Dakotah stopped briefly, turned and flashed his fangs at the auburn haired temptress and stomped off to his daytime hiding place.
And he was supposed to be the monster. Not in this household he wasn’t. Ridiculous humans and their rotten senses of humor, he groused.
But he loved her, irritating or not… and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Aberrant (adjective, noun)
ab·er·rant [uh-ber-uhnt, ab-er-]
adjective
1. departing from the right, normal, or usual course.
2. deviating from the ordinary, usual, or normal type; exceptional; abnormal.
noun
3. an aberrant person, thing, group, etc.
--
One would think that, considering he was a vampire that he’d be the aberrant one. But in fact, Dakotah was more ordinary than his wife, the witch. Or even his child, the dhampir. Can’t be any more abnormal than a half-vampire, half-human can you?
Well, you could, he supposed, but thinking things like that never ended well, so he moved on.
Sunset was a quiet time in their home, he was only just rising from his daytime of death. Austen was tucked away in his room, working on homework or reading a book. Sierra was normally ensconced in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal for her and their son. Dakotah took his sustenance elsewhere, as was to be expected.
Leaving the safety of his daylight hidey-hole, he went in search of his family. Up the basement stairs and into the house proper, he turned towards the sleeping area of their shared home, checking first on their seven-year-old son. Without so much as cracking the door, the vampire leaned in and listened, hearing the scratching of pencil on paper and disgruntled sighs of a kid who’d rather be playing than studying. Smiling, he next sought out the love of his afterlife.
Sierra stood at the kitchen counter, kneading a giant lump of what he assumed was bread dough. Words were muttered under her breath, words that for any other woman might be song lyrics or a forgotten task. Not with his fiery-haired woman, no, it couldn’t be that simple. With Sierra, muttering always meant spell casting.
Since words held intent and focus was primary, he simply observed, not wanting to break her concentration or invade her sacred space. It had always seemed strange to him that part of her sacred space was the kitchen, but the longer they lived together, the more it began to make some sort of sense. She worked some of her best magic in the kitchen. The rest of it, well, occurred elsewhere… and not always in front of her altar.
He couldn’t repress a smile at that thought.
On the granite countertop, he spotted several piles of fresh herbs, minced and ready to be added into the mix. Basil, parsley and rosemary comprised the largest piles. All herbs to promote love. There was also a small mound of thyme off to one side as well, an herb for healing and health. It was the crushed red pepper flakes that confused and worried him. Chili pepper was normally used to secure fidelity and, if she were making this for someone they knew, he might be inclined to intervene.
Concerned, he scanned the rest of the ingredients yet to be added to the mix when he spotted it: Parmesan cheese. This did not bode well. Cheese signified things coming into fruition, according to the lesson he’d gotten from Sierra once upon a time. And, when taking into account the properties of the other herbs she’d amassed, someone somewhere had been straying. Or had at least been thinking about it.
“Hey, Kotie,” Sierra said, a smile in her voice, “how long have you been standing there?”
She added the herbs and cheese to the dough, mixing the fresh ingredients in as best she could. Taking a flat metal blade, she scraped the dough off the counter and dumped it unceremoniously into a well-oiled bowl. Covering it with a damp towel, she turned her gaze on him fully.
“Dakotah? You in there, fang boy?”
“Fang bo – oh, yes, I’m in… here. Just distracted.” He looked from his lovely wife to the innocuous bowl sitting on the counter, waiting to rise and do it’s earthly duty.
Sierra washed her hands and reached for a towel. Drying, she asked, “Distracted by what?”
“You’re bread,” he stated flatly.
“My bread is dough right now, I promise, it’s not going to eat you.”
He shook his head. “No, no, I wasn’t worried about that but…”
She raised an eyebrow in question. “But what? I know you can’t eat it any longer, but why else would my bread worry you?”
Dakotah fixed his gaze on her, not trying to glamour her or otherwise influence her. He’d learned long ago that that didn’t fly with his little spell caster. “It’s not your bread so much as the ingredients you chose.”
“You going gluten-free on me or what?” Sierra was well and truly confused at this point. “What ingredients offend your delicate sensibilities?”
She was getting angry and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like it when she got angry because it stirred things in him that were better kept hidden. Those primal instincts that need never rear their ugly little heads in her presence. He tried another tack. “Your herbs. You chose basil, parsley and rosemary, all associated with promoting love. Then you also chose thyme, an herb for promoting health.”
“So a loving, healthy home worries you?” She took a step towards him. He immediately took a step back.
“No, my love, it doesn’t. But the chili pepper flakes do.”
Suddenly she laughed. Laughed like she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world and he was the punch line. “Oh you poor thing. You poor, delusional bloodsucker.” Her laugher overcame her, causing her slim frame to double at the waist. Hands on her thighs, her body shook with amusement.
“I take this to mean you think somebody’s possible infidelity is amusing?” His eyes widened and his nostrils flared, preparing still for the possibility of battle to come.
Sierra forced herself upright, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Oh no, no one has been unfaithful, Dakotah. Not that I know of anyway. I was just…” The rest of her sentence was lost in more laughter.
The vampire had lived a long time. He would hopefully live for a long time after this moment. He could wait.
Eventually, her guffaws subsided and she faced him again. “Honey, you’ve misunderstood. I’m making spaghetti for dinner tomorrow. This is going to be garlic bread.”
Oh.
He was quiet for a moment, gathering his errant thoughts. “This is your doing,” he told her quietly. “You insisted I understand what you do and the reasons and methods behind all of it. You explained your herbology to me and I did my best to remember. I watched and I came to a conclusion. One that was obviously incorrect. And now, I’m going back to the basement. Some days, it does not pay to crawl out of the proverbial coffin.”
The surly vampire stalked away, sulking because he could hear his wife laughing at him from over his shoulder.
“Oh but Kotie, I still love you,” she called to his retreating back.
Dakotah stopped briefly, turned and flashed his fangs at the auburn haired temptress and stomped off to his daytime hiding place.
And he was supposed to be the monster. Not in this household he wasn’t. Ridiculous humans and their rotten senses of humor, he groused.
But he loved her, irritating or not… and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
