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Going to see the movies was a process. Even though it had grown slightly, rather than diminished like many similar places in this young, rebellious, overwhelming century, the village right next to the castle didn’t have a theatre, in fact, they’d only found out of the existence of these places through the newspapers.
They had to travel farther, to see them, to the nearest major city.
(The aforementioned village, which Thomas liked to pass through, was always quite thrilled to see Ellen, for it was a very rare thing, though less rare than it had been in the previous century when she’d felt she might put the mortal world at great risk just by touching it.)
(Then the war had arrived and Ellen was certain any destruction she might cause the mortals could not surpass that which they could make for themselves, so she gathered up her courage and joined them and found some peace in seeing humans again she needn’t kill. She made sure to give an especially kind greeting to the now forty eight year old Maria.)
They could manage the trip stepping quickly through shadows in the course of a night easily enough, but once they arrived in the city they had to find a mausoleum to sleep away the rest of the day, saving their planned activities for the night after.
The early evening was spent on seeing the movies, sometimes a few short ones they would play in a night, and sometimes it would be one longer movie. Afterwards they’d roam around the city, looking at the new fashions displayed and possibly sneaking in and snatching some if they drew the eye and were around their sizes.
(They both had their decades of distaste where they simply stuck to wearing all the clothing they’d already obtained, and waited for it to pass. Ellen had been particularly confused by the popularity of the bustle skirt. How relieved she was when they faded out of style. Then 1887 had brought them back but worse.)
The next few decades after that had been astounding. The dresses had become thinner and thinner, showing more and more. (Is this what they thought of her mothers generation? In their thin straight dresses, the waist line just under the chest?) These days women walked around with half their calves bare. Gone were the many long layers of undergarments, now they had just brassieres and bloomers and garters for stockings.
Boyish was the goal—lose and uncinched, and Ellen had seen the entirety of the transition, and still the change from her youth, so like a figure eight, to the boxiness of these days was startling. And the hair—so many women with hair almost as short as men’s in her time! It was absolutely thrilling.
She did like these new fashions, but at the same time—they could make her feel almost more naked than she had felt in her night gowns.
(Sometimes she would catch Thomas flushing when he looked at her in these clothes, though he’d seen her completely bare so many times before.)
For the most part she could see less of Thomas in this generation's clothing than in her time—with the cut being looser—but he had a few “sweaters”—that’s what they called the wool vests—he might wear over a white shirt, quite charming and it made her want to bite him.
Orlok always seemed more inclined with taking them off, regardless of what styles they had taken up over the years. He was rather uninterested in the changes, and had only ever truly been affected by them on occasion choosing to wear the traditional clothing of his own homeland.
Always when they left, now that they were permitted to travel so far, they felt their sires' presence intermittently enter into their minds to check if they were actually wherever they said they would be. At this point it rarely occurred when only one of them was away from him, as he seemed certain now if they were to slip away, it would be as a pair.
(If a rat in the city seemed particularly too comfortable with humans and watched particularly too closely, and Ellen happened to notice, glare, pick it up, and drink it to its death, that was neither here nor there.)
Tonight they were particularly startled to see, when the arrived at the theatre, their sire’s more legendary namesake plastered on the sign above it.
It was with wide eyes they looked at each other, checking to see that they hadn’t gone mad, that they were seeing the same thing.
“What,” Thomas said “what—how?”
“Maybe it’s just about some other creature like him,” Ellen said, though not entirely certain enough for true comfort.
Still Thomas became more relieved at the point, yes, likely it was a vampire movie, but obviously it couldn’t be about him.
So they went inside, hearts still beating faster, as they waited for the projector to be set up, and then the musicians started playing.
Then the character sequence appeared with their names.
Again Ellen and Thomas looked at each other to assure themselves they weren’t suddenly hallucinating. Struck speechless they could only continue to watch as their life played out before them.
In any other case it might have been—uncomfortable to see the worst weeks of their lives on screen—and certainly some moments they needed to hold each other's hands for. Thomas being sent away, and Ellen being drained, but for the most part—well, it quite silly compared to having lived it.
At some point, slightly offended, Thomas whispered to Ellen “he’s ridiculous—I wasn’t like that was I?”
And Ellen whispered back, with some amusement in her voice “you remember how they are in these, everyone’s so overly expressive.”
They both frowned a little at the misrepresentation of the Hardings—though the movie getting some details slightly off was more reassuring than anything.
Ellen herself was more annoyed that the movie’s Ellen seemed so much less affected by the whole thing, enchanted yes, but where was the convulsions? The blood letting?
It wasn’t until they got to see the movie’s version of Orlok that they could no longer contain themselves and burst into giggles, earning the glares of everyone else in the room. With great difficulty they hushed themselves, but every so often when he came onto screen they would fall into as silent a laughter as possible, and still they were noticed and glared at. But how could they not?
Though when they exited the theatre it was with some melancholy than humor. As they considered the more terrible possibility they might have been left with. Without each other. They chose to sleep in the same coffin that night, even with it being more uncomfortable.
And when they returned, as they always did, and saw their sire again, he was greatly offended when they looked at each other, and burst into uncontrollable laughter again.