The dressing rooms of the Shanachie Theater were always a bustling place when the ballet was in residence. With The Nutcracker, that bustle was magnified tenfold with the addition of volunteers who had never danced a professional step in their lives, let alone been allowed backstage in a theater, and the collection of young dancers from the STARS and the dance studio. They, however, were always the first to leave at the end of the show, with the professionals taking longer to extract themselves from costumes and return to something approaching normality.

Thankfully for Merry, she was sharing a dressing room with Christian and Jamie, and Jamie was very quick to change and leave, eager to get back to his husband. Which meant that Jamie didn't see the entertaining wriggling that involved trying to get Merry out of her Spanish costume every evening. The costume ladies had decided to sew her into the thing every interval, and it was proving a challenge to get out of.

"Is it still stuck?" she asked, peering over her shoulder to where Christian was trying to maneuver the skirt down over her hips.

"Why in God's name didn't they add a zipper?" Christian asked, obviously having a little trouble getting the thing and half-tempted to cut her out of the costume. It was certainly lovely, but a pain to get in and out of. Thankfully, it was the last costume of the night, and she didn't have to worry about making a quick change, which would have been impossible anyway.

"We should be grateful they only sewed the skirt on," Merry pointed out. If the ladies had sewed her into the whole thing, this would definitely take a lot longer. "At least the bodice is a part of the leotard." She drew her stomach in as far as it would go, hoping like hell that would give her husband enough room to get the skirt down from her hips.

He didn't want to rip it, but there was no way she was going to get back into the thing anyway. "This ....is ....ridiculous," he grumbled as he gave the thing a final tug, upon which there was a distinct tearing sound. "Merde," he muttered under his breath as he eased the skirt over her hips and huffed an exasperated sigh. "Sorry, cherie. There was no way around it."

She smiled, more relieved to be out of the thing than worried about a small tear. "I will apologize to the madame tomorrow," she assured him, stepping out of the skirt and bending to pick it up, inspecting the seam that had split ever so slightly. "Oh, this is an easy fix," she said confidently. "I could fix this myself." Her hand gently touched his cheek as she smiled at him. "Be glad you do not get sewn into your costumes, melamin."

"I would insist on a zipper, cherie," he replied with a grin, relieved her costume wasn't completely ruined. He hardly had to worry about a zipper when most of what he wore was made of spandex. "If they are going to sew you into it every night, the least they can do is unsew you our of it."

"I will talk to them," she promised. "Once they realize we are having to use brute force, they may tell me where we can cut the threads safely." Turning away, she hung the skirt over the costume rail, already working on sliding out of her leotard.

He wasn't sure why they hadn't figured it out during costume rehearsals, but there were always a few leftover kinks that needed to be worked out. "I miss dancing with you," he told her as he, too, started to peel himself out of his costume, not having even half as much trouble as her. After all, he finished the night in his Russian costume, which didn't even include tights.

Merry's smile softened at his confession. "We were spoiled with Onegin," she said, hanging up her costume before setting her attention to peeling out of her tights and the skin-tight leotard she wore to keep all her bits from bouncing around. "But to dance not one, but two roles in The Nutcracker ....it is a treat that few others have experienced. And besides, it is a new challenge for us, to dance together without touching."

"I'm not sure how much we'll be partnered this year, with so many other talented dancers," he remarked with a frown. What was fair was fair, and he was just happy to be dancing again, but he couldn't help admitting that he missed dancing with her. "We will have to do something special for the gala," he said as he peeled off each piece of his costume and hung it in readiness for the next performance. The gala was looked forward to by all the dancers, in good part because they were able to choose which dance they wished to have featured.

"We did not dance together for a whole year when we first met," she reminded him, shucking out of her dance underwear to pull on something far more comfortable. "And we dance together every day. Is it so very much worse when no one can see us?"

"Well, there is no applause," he teased with a smirk and a wink as he looked her way, while he, too, got himself dressed. She was right, of course. It didn't really matter whether they had an audience or not, though there wasn't a dancer alive who didn't appreciate the applause of an appreciative audience.

"Ah, then I will have to remember to applaud you when we finish each time, then," she laughed, sighing in relief as she pulled on her street clothes. She loved dancing and performing, but at the end of a long evening, it felt wonderful to be wearing something that didn't require several yards of what felt like duct tape to keep your posture perfect.

"Each time, cherie, no matter the dance?" he teased, a gleam of mischief in his eyes, as he tugged on his boots. "Do you want to join the others for a drink or go home?" It didn't matter much to him either way, though it had been a long day and he was looking forward to relaxing at home with her for a little while before they went to bed and started all over again the next morning.

"I want to go home," she said without guilt. There would be plenty of time to socialize with the rest of the company and their new friends on other nights. Tonight, Merry wanted to go home and relax with her Christian, and she didn't think he would mind too much. "We will invite them out another night."

Once his boots were on, he moved to his feet to help with her coat. "Tres bien," he replied in his native French Canadian. "Tony tells me there's going to be a party in a couple of weeks," he said as he slipped her coat on over her shoulders.

Rising to her feet, she smiled as he wrapped her shawl about her shoulders, tucking her loose hair back behind one pointed ear. "That will be nice," she mused, reaching up to pull his lapels straight. "I suppose you will expect me to wear shoes to this party, yes?" Her pale eyes danced with teasing amusement. It wasn't that she didn't wear shoes when it was necessary; more that she didn't really enjoy the sensation of having her feet covered.

He chuckled at her question, though it didn't really surprise him. "Unless you want frostbite, I'd recommend shoes," he replied, smiling in amusement as she straightened his lapels. "Ready, ma belle"" It was a short walk home from the theater, weather permitting, and the fresh air would do them both good after spending so many hours in the stuffy theater.

She rolled her eyes at him, laughing at his teasing. She was wearing boots today; good protection against the snow and ice on the streets they were about to walk through. "May we take a detour on the way home?" she asked him almost uncertainly. "I should very much like to see the light displays in the darkness, when almost everyone is already gone home."

"Baste yourself?" he echoed, chuckling again. "Merry, I do not think we will need to do any basting. I am more than willing to father a child, whenever you are ready. All you need do is ask."

"I thought I just did," she chuckled, touching her cheek to his shoulder. Her eyes strayed forward to look at the festive lights spread through the trees ahead of them. "Oh, aren't they beautiful?"

He didn't remark any further on the prospect of a child any further, but she had the wheels turning in his head and it had nothing to do with turkey basting. He could do a lot better than that. "Oui, they are," he said softly as she rested her cheek against his shoulder, but he wasn't looking at the lights, but at her.

It had been a long time since Merethyl had worn her glamor, confident enough now to allow her naturally pale appearance to shine forth. It was easy to see why her people were named moon elves; there was a silvery quality about her that reflected the light of the full moon above them, seeming to give her a gently glowing aura as she lingered at his side. "Of all the things that I have seen," she said softly, "the most marvelous is the simple way light can change the world."

"Love," he corrected gently. "It is love that changes the world," he told her, though whether he was talking about the world in general or just their world was uncertain. It could be argued that there was a certain light in his eyes that wasn't there before he'd met her, but there was nothing magical or mystical about it. It was simply love.

"No, I mean ..." She raised her head to look into his eyes, and her words trailed away, transfixed by the loving light that shone from his gaze. A tiny smile curved her lips as she held that gaze, warm and soft and deeply touched simply by a look. "Oui," she whispered, choosing his native tongue to agree with him. "Love is wonderful."

He smiled, knowing what she'd meant, but touched by her commentary on love. "I cannot argue with that," he said, as they approached building where they were renting an apartment. "Have you ever been to Earth?" he asked, curiously, though there was a reason for his question that he wasn't telling her.

Merry shook her head. "No, I have never thought to visit there," she admitted. "In the time period I traverse, it seems a strange place in the stories - so cold and clinical, without care for the world and nature. But it produced you, so it cannot be so very cold, can it?"

"Like any place, there's good and bad. Why did you leave Faerun?" he asked further, though she might have told him that before. He led the way up the stairs, fishing his keys from his coat pocket to unlock the door and step inside.

She laughed softly, knowing she hadn't been entirely truthful about this the last time it had come up. "I told you it was to learn," she said mischievously. "The truth is ....I left because no one had done it before. Everyone told me it was impossible, so I had to prove them wrong. And when I go back, there is a part of me that is going to thoroughly enjoy rubbing their faces in a bit of impossible."

He noticed how she'd said "when", not "if", though she hadn't mentioned any plans to return as yet. "Nothing is impossible," Christian murmured. He was proof of that. He waited for her to follow him inside before closing and locking the door behind her and starting up the stairs to their apartment. "I would like to visit someday."

Unhooking the shawl from about her shoulders, she paused for him to lock the door before heading upward. "Would you?" she asked him, genuinely surprised by that interest. "I had not thought you would be interested in the world I came from. We are, in many ways, quite primitive compared with the worlds you know."

"Why wouldn't I be interested in where you came from?" he asked, a thought occurring to him as he asked that question. Maybe it wasn't possible for him to visit there, or maybe she was ashamed that she'd mated with a mere mortal. It would explain her reluctance to return there. He unlocked the door to their apartment to let her in, unbuttoning his coat as he stepped inside.

"Because I've never found it a very interesting place myself," she shrugged, following him inside to turn and lock the door securely behind them. She offered him a half-smile, raising her hand to gently touch his cheek. "Would you truly like to see my world, melamin""

"I would like to see the place where you are from, and I would like to meet your family," he replied in answer to her question. "Unless you would rather I do not," he added with a small frown.

"Why would I not want to see it, to meet them?" she asked him incredulously, her face lighting up with a laughing smile as she reached up to curl her arms about his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "You will always be welcome there, melamin. My parents would enjoy meeting you."

"I am not an elf," he pointed out, a hint of worry in his eyes. Here in Rhy'Din, it didn't seem to matter, but things might be different in her world. He wasn't even sure if humans existed in her world; he knew so little of it. "If we visit Earth, you will have to appear human," he pointed out further, though that seemed to be a simple enough trick for her to accomplish.

"I can do that," she promised him, brushing the tip of her nose to his. "A glamor is an easy thing for me to create and hold, melamin. And you do not need to worry that you are not an elf. You are my choice, my soul's mate. No matter your race, it is something to be celebrated."

"Your parents wouldn't mind that I'm not an elf?" he asked, despite her assurances. There were few places he knew of where people weren't prejudiced at least a little. There were prejudices back home on Earth and even here on Rhy'Din. He'd be surprised if her home was an exception to the rule.

"They may be a little sad," she admitted reluctantly. "But they will be happy, too, that we have found love together. It is a sadness born only from the knowledge that I will leave them long before they, themselves, are ready to go. They will not be sad because of anything you are."

"Do your people not believe in an afterlife?" he asked further, as he took her shawl from her and turned briefly to hang it on a hook, before shedding his coat and hanging it, too. He knew her people were long-lived, if not immortal, but what did they believe came after that"

"We do," she smiled. "We believe that we will pass into the realm of Arvanaith, where we will live with the Seldarine and those who have gone before us. I refuse to believe that the Seldarine will part us, melamin. My gods are not cruel."