A/N: This story is not 1000 words. Not even close. Sorry. :( It's still possibly worth reading. ;)

Eleni is not cold, tired, or hungry when the storm clouds roll over the village, but she notices that everyone else in and around the marketplace seems to be. The dark skies invited her to venture outdoors before nightfall, and even though the sun is obscured by an approaching storm, Eleni carries a black parasol to shield herself.  She longs for the comfort of the black sunglasses that obscure her eyes most days, but in this world, they make her as foreign as when she arrived that first night.

Little trouble has befallen Eleni since her arrival a day or three ago, and Eleni has brought little trouble to the village. The innkeeper at the place she calls home reportedly had a breakdown after having disturbing visions in the night, but that certainly isn't Eleni's fault. After all, the innkeeper is still alive. Most in the village agree, too many long nights and a mind approaching sixty years of age typically cause such afflictions.

The new innkeeper appeals to Eleni far less, a severe-looking woman of about twenty who is already exhausted by children and poverty. The new girl is the old innkeeper's daughter, which is perhaps what makes her undesirable. Eleni gives her a smile in passing every night and says little.

She has no idea how long she will be in this village, why she was sent, or where the treasure is hiding. There's certainly no indication her roses are here, nor any other luxury. Still, Eleni loves to shop and she desires a memento of her adventure. The food and weapons hold no appeal. The jewels, forged in simplicity and of the most basic quality, call to her. The storm isn't a reason to stop shopping. Eleni admires a bracelet forged with gold and a sparkly stone she suspects to be amethyst.

A little old lady appears by Eleni's side, too close for comfort. "Hello." She greets Eleni as if they should know one another. "Can I help you?"

Eleni shakes her head, feeling slightly bewildered. She can't help but smile at the old woman, who has an air of refinement and evokes memories of a different time. Being near the woman reminds Eleni of a home lost long ago, although this lady speaks with a clear and unmistakable British dialect.

"I'm sorry. Have I done something wrong? I was interested in buying this bracelet. I assumed no one would mind if I tried it on." Eleni widens her eyes, panicked for a moment that yet another moment of cultural confusion is about to occur. The last thing she needs is to be branded a thief in a medieval village.

"No, dear. Haven't you noticed everyone scrambling? The storms here are long and violent. A lady simply cannot be caught alone in a storm. It will be the death of you--- and over a bracelet no less. Silly little thing." The elderly woman clucks at Eleni in reproach, but the woman's eyes are alight with interest as she dips a small curtsy. "I'm Avise Renshaw, dear. That parasol won't be nearly enough to shield you from the storm. Let me invite you to my home for dinner. I pride myself on knowing everyone in town. You, I'd remember meeting you, so that must mean I haven't."

Eleni's lips turn upward into an amused smile as Avise curtsies, but she offers a slight bow of her head in response. The first merchant she met thought she was a prostitute. With nothing but a bartered gown, uncomfortable slippers fashionable as actual shoes, and the collection of jewels she sports, Eleni can tell Avise now mistakes her for a grand lady.

"Thank you, Madame Renshaw, but I would hate for you to go to any trouble for me. I've never been a person of any great appetite. I'll dry out. I only have to make it as far as the inn."

Avise almost shrieks in dismay. "The inn? No, no, no. That will not do. You'll come with me and have a proper meal. It is certainly no trouble. Mr. Dev will be wanting his supper, too. We'll both be delighted to hear the tale of how a lady like you ends up a guest at the inn."

Eleni relents, her heart softening by the moment. Avise is a kind creature. While Eleni can sprint fast enough to avoid the storms, Avise's fragile body can't. "You're right, Madame Renshaw. The storms are approaching quickly, so we should go." Eleni, a deceptive and lethal creature, realises she'd feel tremendously guilty about causing a kind old woman to be drenched by a storm.

She doesn't feel guilty about sliding the gold and amethyst bracelet onto her slender wrist and walking away. The merchant is tending to other things, oblivious to Eleni's presence. Getting Avise home safely is certainly more important than the formality of paying for a trinket.

Eleni links arms with Avise Renshaw. She can see the old woman's hands are clutching a satchel for dear life and Eleni suddenly feels protective over the fragile human. "Please lead the way. I'd be honoured to be your guest for dinner. Please tell me, though---who is Mr. Dev?"

**

Avise Renshaw prattles on all the way to her home, the sport of interesting conversation with a stranger making her almost oblivious to Eleni's brisk pace. Eleni wants to get the old woman home safely without giving her a heart attack, two things that seem at odds with one another. The storm seems to follow them and moves far more quickly.

On the way, she learns that Avise is a retired schoolteacher. Once employed in teaching young ladies etiquette, deportment, and the fine art of how to strangle a chicken, the widowed Avise now resides with Mr. Dev, who helps with the upkeep of their modest home.

Eleni remembers too many etiquette lessons of her own to ask if Mr. Dev is Avise's lover, a servant, a relation, or a combination of all three. Of course, she wonders.

To Eleni's surprise, the cottage that is home to the unlikely duo is pleasantly decorated, well-kept, and larger than the word "cottage" implies. The sunflowers that grow in front make Eleni smile. It pleases her that this kind old woman lives a happy, albeit simple, life.

"Come, dear. I'd show you around a bit more, but once that storm begins, you'll be grateful for the fire." Eleni swallows hard, realising she'd obligated herself to spend the night pretending to eat dinner in front of a fire. Her masochistic streak was obviously alive and well.

She obediently follows Avise into the cottage, her eyes drawn to a large man with a complexion that reminded her of coffee perfectly blended with cream. He is older but still enticing, and Eleni's lips curl up into a beguiling smile. This time, she takes it upon herself to make the introductions, her desire to charm the man with her presence an instinct too great to ignore. "You must be Monsieur Dev. I've heard so much about you."

He looks up, hard eyes barely acknowledging her as he focuses on chopping potatoes and carrots atop a wooden block. "Who are you? I've heard nothing about you. All those fancy jewels and peculiar way of talking, I'd say you must be one of Avise's girls, all grown up."

"Be nice. We have visitors." Avise raps Mr. Dev on the shoulder. "This is Miss Eleni. She's passing through town and I couldn't let her get soaked by the rain, now, could I?"

Eleni looks equally put out with Mr. Dev, though she tries to hide it. The man should have dropped what he was doing in order to greet her. Between her proximity to him, her purposeful smile, and her focus on manipulating the man's emotions into finding her a charming diversion, his reaction shouldn't be focusing on potatoes and carrots.

Something was wrong.

"Sorry. The woman wants to eat, then she don't want me to do the work. She thinks food cooks itself. Nice meeting you, Eleni. Dinner won't be nothin' fancy, but we got sugared plums for dessert and plenty of small ale to keep the chill out from the storm." He gestures to the chair, not bothering to pull it out for her, as she expects. "Make yourself at home. Avise, at least get the girl a drink."

Mr. Dev talks too loudly, calling out to the old woman, even though she is five feet away. He also isn't charmed by Eleni in the slightest. When she moves to sit down, she finds a crumpled-up brown dress. It's far simpler than the red and pink gown that Eleni wears, the outfit of a peasant woman. Almost instinctively, she holds it up to herself.

"Oh, don't mind that old thing, dear. It's rubbish. Toss it where you like. Now, if you'll beg pardon, I've got to start cooking or the chicken won't be done until bedtime." Avise turns to move to the kitchen. Noticing Mr. Dev is almost oblivious to her presence, Eleni sets down her backpack, pulling out a tin of chocolates and a multi-coloured scarf in order to make room for the brown rubbish dress. It is too big, but far better suited for running home through the woods.

"I hope you don't mind, but I have gifts for you both to thank you for the hospitality." Eleni tries the smile again, giving the tin to Mr. Dev. "Here you are, Monsieur. I hope you enjoy sweets."  He grunts and chops in reply, but when Eleni gets up to follow Avise into the kitchen, she can see him opening the tin with sparkling eyes.

Avise looks up as Eleni enters, her face breaking into a smile at the sight of Mr. Dev and the chocolates. "You see, dear, he's not so stern-faced as all of that. He even smiles once in a while. When he's in a good mood, there's nothing he loves better. Some days, it takes some work to get him that way."

The kitchen causes Eleni's stomach to do flip-flops. It smells of sour milk, old bread, and something else she can't place. On the stove, she sees a worn and tarnished saucepan, holding what was once a fish. It must have been there at least a week, accounting for the smell.

Eleni does her best to hide her revulsion. "This is for you, Madame Renshaw. You've been kind and delightful company. You've helped me more than you know." She wraps the scarf around the old woman's neck. It's the way her mother would have worn such an item, and that thought makes Eleni feel pleased with herself.

"Thank you, dear. It's lovely. I don't have much need for lovely things, not at my age and living as we do. I still enjoy them. Remember this, dear. No matter how old you get, you'll always want to feel beautiful." Avise waves her away as the almost two-hundred-fifty-year-old vampire bites her lip to hide a smile. Compared to Eleni, Avise was a young woman. "Go and converse with Mr. Dev, please? We both want to hear the story of how you came to us."

As Eleni moves into the other room, she regards Mr. Dev warily. For some reason, he doesn't respond to her the same way the rest of the world does. That in itself makes her distrustful, but she is determined to be congenial. She can hear the rumbling of thunder and the sound of rain battering the roof. "Avise?" Mr. Dev ignores Eleni and instead calls to the kitchen in his too-loud voice. "I thought I told you to get the girl some ale? Vegetables are done, too. I'll throw some wood on the fire and light the candles."

A shiver runs through Eleni, but she isn't cold.

**

Three hours later, the stale and sour smell of the cottage is instead welcoming and human. Somewhere around the part of the tale where Eleni found a village instead of the roses, Mr. Dev became interested, even cheerful. She helped Avise to set the table and drank the small ale slowly, knowing it was about as much as she could handle. Dinner would be a chore, as it always was with humans. Fortunately, Eleni's size practically advertised the fact that gluttony wasn't one of her sins. In Eleni's day, being petite was a trait to be praised and envied. In this world, it was a reason for people to want to feed her everywhere she went.

By the time bread and pottage fills the table and the familiar smell of roasted chicken and vegetables come wafting from the kitchen, the three are chatting amiably like old friends. Even though Mr. Dev isn't charmed by Eleni, he enjoys her stories. Avise enjoys having anyone to take care of.

Eleni holds the brown rubbish dress on her lap, every now and then sliding bits of food into it She hopes for a dog or a pig or even a goat to be on the premises. She still has hopes of rescuing the dress out of pure practicality. Survival is worth the sacrifice of her beloved chocolates.

"You'll have to stay here tonight, dear. I told you the storms were relentless. We don't have much to offer,  but there's a small room that'll suit. You don't take up much space." As always, Avise is gracious. As much as Eleni doesn't want to stay, she also does. There is something kind and simple about this world, and just for tonight, she enjoys pretending she belongs.

Mr. Dev's spoon clatters against his bowl, an irritated tap-tap-tap. "Avise, we talked about this sort of thing." His eyes focus on Eleni. For a moment, she wonders if he knows the truth. His eyes look as if they see through everything she wants others to believe she is. "Not meanin' to offend, love. It's just Avise brings home anything and everything needin' to be cared for. I like you, though. You're good company and a sweet-natured lady. I'll make you a deal, then. You give me something I want, you can stay."

Eleni is aware of the fact she looks like a deer caught in the headlights. For the first time, it occurs to her that old people aren't necessarily any safer than anyone else. She's forced to take another sip of the small ale to maintain her composure, stirring her thick pottage with a spoon.

"What is it that you want?" Eleni's azure gaze moves between Mr. Dev and Avise, who doesn't seem surprised by the condition whatsoever.

"I want you to make me laugh." The startled look on Eleni's face must have said it all because Mr. Dev slaps his thigh and smiles wide. "Well, that's a start, but a real laugh. There's nothing I like better in the world than good company and a good laugh. The world is kind of short on both."

Eleni moves her spoon around delicately. Avise merely clicks her tongue at Mr. Dev. "Where are your manners, Mr.Dev? Don't torment the poor girl. Putting her on the spot like that, I swear." Avise looks kindly at Eleni. "You have the patience of a saint, dear. Of course, you're welcome here. Ignore him. I do, much of the time."

Eleni watches as Mr. Dev drinks deeply from his glass of ale. "It's true, she mostly does ignore me. That don't mean you can, love. I'm serious. You need a place to keep dry, I need a laugh. It's a fair trade."

Avise practically hisses at Mr. Dev, while Eleni continues to move her food around in her prim, restrained manner. She forces herself to blush lightly, which is harder than usual, for some reason. It's a skill she can usually accomplish at the drop of a hat. "I'm afraid I'm not by nature a humourous person, Monsieur. I do enjoy fun, of course, but the skills of being a jester--I don't know, such things do not come naturally."

Mr. Dev stares back at Eleni, not relenting. It's almost a challenge in his eyes, a warning that her usual act isn't winning him over. Whatever Eleni is selling, this man isn't buying, and it unnerves her to no end. "Well, you should try. I'm not the kind of man who'd be happy to put a pretty young girl alone on the street and our barn ain't good for sleepin'. So, make me laugh!"

Avise gets up from the table, obviously annoyed by the conversation. Eleni wonders if it's a game they've played before, or it was invented just for her. Whatever these two were to one another, they had a strange dynamic. "I'm bringing in the chicken and vegetables, so make sure you have plenty of room!"

Avise has a note of merriment in her voice, and Eleni is grateful. The meal isn't extravagant, but it is more than filling for any person. Eleni understands how wonderful the little things can be, even a laugh.

When Avise passes into the kitchen, Eleni lowers her spoon, leaning in toward Mr. Dev. She drops her voice so Avise can't hear what she's saying, and her eyes unflinchingly meet the old man's. The prim and proper affectation is absent from her voice. "You want a laugh? Alright, we'll try. Let me tell you a little story about a man from a place called Nantucket."

Eleni's features break out into a broad grin as she repeats the bawdy limerick without any shame or self-consciousness, hoping Mr. Dev will reply with a hearty laugh before Avise returns.