?Oh, Lor?n Skies.? Katarina breathed as the lacing in the back of her bodice was pulled tighter. One person was working on her dress, one on her hair, and another on her face. She could not even twitch or breathe without disrupting anything. Showtime was within the next hour, and the backstage of the theatre showed the pressure. Too many bodies were running around with raised voices, making sure that all props and costumes were to be displayed in perfection.

?I need you to sew this, now!? Christine?s face was red as she held her navy ballet slipper that had a detached ribbon on its side. Though Katarina felt sorry for the woman that Christine yelled at, Katie could not help but smile brightly at her fellow dancer?s poor luck.

?Don?t move your face!? The young woman in front of her scolded and scowled.

?Sorray.? Katarina then winced as she did just as she was told not to do, and made matters worse. ?Sorray!? She heard Andy, another dancer?s laughter next to her, and she set her face to remain still so that she did not cause further disruption.

Away from the backstage, the theatre appeared as elegant as ever. Candles of varying sizes brought illumination inside the theatre and down the aisles. Ushers in simple black and white tuxedos appeared polished and patient, waiting for the doors to open and guide people to their seats. The walls and ceiling were made of both dark wood and light marble; designs both simple and bold that naturally drew the viewer?s eyes to the stage.

The lobby was already filled with early guests who anticipated the several grand doors to open. Posters of the play were displayed on the walls next to large candles, and different themes and props were cleverly collaborated to give subtle clues to those that did not know the story. Waiters came around to several groups of people with complimentary champagne flutes and hor?dourves. There were also simple flyers passing around of invitations to the after party directly after the opera.

The exterior of the theatre was bright and alive. Set aglow to set a dramatic ambience, posters were displayed, and some stamped with ?sold-out.? As more people drew towards the theatre, the workers could not contain their excitement about the first sold-out production in several months.

?Look, they?re opening the doors!? Christine cried and scurried to the secret viewing of the wall to see the inside of the theatre from backstage. Several performers gathered to these various places, in hopes of spotting friends and family. Katarina was no exception, and despite the irritation of the woman whom had been working on her face, her eyes eagerly sought out for the faces that she had invited, and others.

((Want to join in? See the OOC thread for details!))

Sure enough there was Sera, several dozens of roses in her slender arms. She was dressed for the occasion and everything! All gussied up in a off the shoulder white silk gown. It wasn't really all that eye catching and very simple. Even the ribbon that worked it's way around her tiny waist was a simple thing of black. Her hair was pinned up though and she wasn't wearing her headdress. She was, however, wearing her shawl which matched very well with the dress.

Violet-tainted blues drift over the huge crowd, nervousness welling up in her stomach. Last time she had been around so many it was close to her ordination to be the keeper. And being there alone..well she was about as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Her eyes lift to the building and up..up..she spied people staring out the window and recognized Ms. Rini. She found that comforting. Smiling she raises a hand and waves. She didn't expect to be spotted in the huge crowd but it never hurt to wave and give support!

Peredhil absently fingered the two tickets that Katarina had given him last week so that Piper and he could attend her performance. Initially excited about the opportunity to enjoy a night of culture with Piper, Johnny and Sianna, and other friends, last Saturday night's disastrous conversation had put the skids on that plan.

He regretted missing Katarina's performance, as it would undoubtedly be the talk of the town for weeks to come. Besides, it was always fun to see Rhydin's citizens decked out in their finest attire and, at least for the first few minutes, on their best behavior.

Wes entered quietly, waiting patiently until Peredhil acknowledged his presence with a weak smile.

"Make sure she gets these," Peredhil instructed Wes, reluctantly offering his bearded friend the tickets. "I'm sure she'll be able to make use of both of them."

Wes frowned slightly, but he accepted the tickets wordlessly and quickly strode out of the room.

After a final wistful sigh, Peredhil pushed the issue out of his head. There were more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

?It is the fashion, my lady, I assure you.? Miriam said once again as she tucked in the beaded pin into Sylvia?s hair.

?It just seems ostentatious.? Not only that, but it had been nearly six years since she had worn her hair up off her neck at a formal function. ?My neck feels bare.?

A gentle, understanding hand rested on Sylvia?s shoulder a moment. There were no words, but the elder lady communicated much of sympathy in that touch and in the silence. Sylvia looked down at her white gloved fingers resting in her lap. It was such a confusing night. Excitement uppermost in anticipation of a fine night out mingled with the physical memories that swelled discomfort in her stomach.

?Mum,? Cian questioned come up behind her. She felt his hand against the back of her neck. ?Why?s your hair up??

Aidan just grinned over the edge of the table like a pick-a-boo Cheshire cat. ?Pretty mommy.?

?Thank you, my little man.? Sylvia smiled and felt some of the hesitating conflict come anew. Naturally Cian would notice the change, though not really know why it was once one way and then another. It was simply different. ?Miriam says that it is the way ladies wear their hair in Yransea now.? Not adding when they are widowed tradition allowed them to wear their hair up off the neck once again.

He inspected the work, the curls and pins that adorned her hair rather in the fashion he inspected Lucky-puppy for ticks. With a nod he said, ?All right.?

She had to laugh. All right. Whenever in doubt, one of her children would always send the message that things were indeed all right. The queasy uncertainty flopped once more and rested its irritation. ?Now,? she faced them, one hand of each in hers, ?you be good boys. Avery is our guest, so be respectful of that.?

Whatever respectful meant to Aidan was unclear, but Cian was certain to get the message. She rose with kisses to their foreheads and went out of her room taking the wrap from Miriam?s hands. The carriage outside was the simple travel one, and her guard opened the door for her. When both were settled inside and the tantalizing lurch forward set the carriage in motion, the guard began, ?Master Corinsson has arranged for me to wait at his home while you are at the opera.?

?Very good,? Sylvia was glad to hear she was not to be accompanied the entirety of the evening. It was, in her mind, poor use of the guard?s time when she was to be in company of so many others and traveling most of the long distances by carriage.

The rest of the journey was in silence. Sylvia watched the colors of evening and day mix and mingles, playing their exuberant dance along the sky. A self conscious touch of her hair, she cast a glance to the guard who did not look like he noticed. Drifting thoughts of the performance brought a peaceful smile, and in all company to share it with. Friends new and old would be there, and she could, even with her hair up off her neck, feel at ease in their company and just be who she was. Nothing hanging over her for the first time in a long while, the cool feel of breeze on her nape was not the illusionary ax of trouble kissing the skin.

Maneuvering its way through the streets, the carriage came to a halt a short walk from the Blue Angel. The guard exited, took a look around and turned about to offer her help down. A smile bourn of delighted ease moved to whisper her thanks and she turned for the restaurant the beginning of a grand evening.

The Marriage of Figaro. Eva paused in front of one of the many posters around the Marketplace announcing opening night. The mid-day sun was finally starting to feel warm again, but it had done nothing to improve her mood. Eva scrunched her nose, and raised a hand to push a strand of hair back from her face. The Marriage of Figaro was a comedy, right? She could use a comedy.

Eva adjusted her course and headed in the direction of the theater. The box office was open, but a young boy was just stamping the words "sold-out" on the posters out front. Eva frowned. It was worth a try, and if she hurried, she'd have enough time to get dressed up and come back in time for opening curtain. She could wear the same dress she wore to the Masquerade Ball. It was appropriate enough. It didn't really matter that she would be wearing the same dress, did it?

The man on the other side of the box office window had bushy white eyebrows, and smiled as she approached. "Can I help you?"

"Are there any tickets available for tonight's opening?"

The man sucked in a breath and grimaced. "Not too much left, I'm afraid. How many do you need?"

"Just one."

"Just one? Then you are in luck."

Eva looked at him, then reached into her pocket for payment. "Yeah. Lucky me."

3 days before the show:

It wasn't every day that Tali got to stay up late and go to fancy parties. While dressing up wasn't her favorite thing in the world, she guessed she could make an exception for Cousin Kat. But she wasn't going to wear any of the baby dresses Mamma and the Sisters kept trying to persuade her to wear. Fifteen years old was way to old for pastels and lace in her opinion.

Miss Wisper over at Delight's agreed with Tali. She wasn't much older than the girl, and could se where being treated constantly like an infant could be bothersome. So Tali and Wisper went shopping together, and in what seemed to Tali to be the oddest of places. They went to a warehouse owned by the Falconne's where a tiny room had been set up in the back of a larger room full of bolts of material. A little old lady and her two helpers had set up shop back there, making dresses from the fabrics imported by the Falconne's.

"Pick a fabric you like little one, and I'll make you something special from it." The little old woman had seen the light in Tali's eyes when she passed a particular rack of satins. She was already thinking of styles that might suit the girl in the rich fabric.

Tali selected satin the green of summer grass and laid it carefully in front of the woman, who then took some mesurements and told the girl to come back the morning of the opening.

The morning of the show:

Tali and Wisper came back to the shop behind the warehouse the morning of the opening, to find a fairytale masterpeice sitting on a dressmakers form in the center of the room. Yards and yards of the green satin had been draped and gathered in a dress a princess would envy. A sleaveless top fitted like a dream drapped and gathered at the stomach with a mesh of tiny crystals and pearls.

When she tried it on, it fitted perfectly, and made her feel so grown up. Wisper added a tiny emerald and diamond locket, shaped like a sea shell, and tiny emerald clips for her hair completing the look.

Permission had been given for Tali to arrive at the opera with Wisper instead of the family, so that she didn't have to hurry home from work to get ready. It had been hard keeping the dress secret this long, and even harder packing the frilly pink thing Mamma had picked in her overnight case.

Wouldn't Mamma and The Sister's be shocked when they saw how grown up she looked tonight?

Juliane sat curled in the corner of the window seat, clad in her dressing robe. Feeling rather guilty at having avoided the Studio for another day, a sketchbook and pencil rested in her lap. Endless waves of blonde hair rested damply against her shoulders, drying in the warmth of the sun pouring through the windows. She had taken extra care with her grooming, fearing the stray splatter of paint or ink to mar her appearance and prove to be an embarasment. And not just to herself, but to her family and to Katarina... and to Jolyon. It had been kind of him to offer her his extra ticket and she did not wish to make him somehow regret having to spend the evening with her. The level at which he dressed casually had intimidated her in lieu of such a formal event.

But it was useless to even try and sketch. Her mind was wandering in a most counterproductive pattern. Sighing softly, she dropped the book to the floor, pencil caught between the pages. Crossing the room, she gathered up a bag and returned to her seat. Fingers running through the cool locks indicated that they were still to damp to set. The shopping excursion had yielded a bit more than just a dress, regardless of the fact that the salesgirls fell over backwards with compliments in hopes of increasing the sale that much more. A long arm reached into the bag bearing the shop's moniker and withdrew a pair of simple shoes. "Ballet flats" the salesgirl had called them. Appropriate in name as well as stature, they were a soft shade of twilight grey, much in keeping with her dress. "Good thin' I didn't let Katie talk me into those high shoes..." she mused aloud. "I'd have been a head taller than everyone else there." The observations were accurate. Having always been tall for her age, there was no sense in exaggerating the obvious when in public.

Again her arm dipped into the bag, this time retrieving a smaller box. Lifting the lid, she tugged lightly on the silver chain to free it and held it aloft, the pendant twisting and turning in the light. It was a square cushion-cut jewel that had the appearance of a smoky grey topaz. It had had a name and she furrowed her brow in thought. "A black diamond, yeah?" A nod to self. That was what it had been called. It was just costume, nothing of inherent value really, but it had been pretty and seemed to suit the dress. Matching earrings twinkled from the box as if to remind her of their presence.

Glimpsing into the bag, all that remained were the unmentionables, a cashmere evening wrap, and a long pair of opera gloves. No need to pull those out just yet, they remained as they were. Her mind turned excitedly towards what was to come tonight. Her heart swelled with familial pride over her own cousin dancing in such a grand event that had the whole town talking. Katie and the opera were the cake to Juliane's icing. She was more than pleased with what had been found, and the thought of wearing such a fine garment put a lift in her chin. It was, to date, the most feminine and flattering garment she had ever thought to call her own. She hoped it would not be her last. On Hope, practicality had far outweighed peacockery. And as Katie had reminded her last night, they weren't in Hope anymore.

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Juliane crossed the room for the thousandth time, double checking that she hadn't forgotten anything. Well, she had forgotten something -- a suitable bag for the evening. Lucky indeed that Marian, her mother, had managed to unearth a beaded bag in a soft pearl gray that had been Grandmother Smith's. It was the right size to hold handkerchief, compact, and lipgloss and she mustered herself to make do with the fact that the clasp would not stay shut. Seemed rather fitting that she'd have to keep tight hold of a "clutch" as it had been called. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she paused.

She didn't recognize herself. It looked as if the dress had been meant for her. A dreamy dove grey satin with a lace bodice that did what every good bodice should do - lift and separate without the help of straps. The empire waist was set off by a silk ribbon in a darker shade of grey and gave her figure a genteel elegance. Turning slowly, the floor-length dress moved like a stream of moonlight with its accordian pleat giving the satin an extra shine in motion.

The knock at the door startled her out of her reverie and she was quick to gather up her wrap, gloves and bag. Coming to a full halt at the door, she turned and placed her hand on the box with Katarina's gift in it. Smiling softly in anticipation of her reaction, Juliane slipped over the threshold and down the stairs.

It had been a long while, to put it conservatively, since Connar had been to any formal gathering, aside from the occasional gala in the Great Hall. Even then, he usually had no idea that anything special was going on, so his attire was rarely, if ever, planned. This night, however, would be different.

Katarina had graciously given him one ticket to the performance, a performance that he had teasingly mocked for the most part, threatening to bring a keg or two of ale as gifts for the groom-to-be. And as the ticket seemed to place him very near front and center, he decided that he would be rather conspicuous were he to attend in his normal warrior-gone-Rhydin-tourist attire. This was soon remedied by several visits to the marketplace and several more visits to the taylor.

As the carriage slowed to a halt before the theatre, Connar stepped from the platform, white dinner jacket over a crisp white-collared shirt. He had abandoned any hope of figuring out how to make the ribbon of black fabric into anything resembling a bow, so the collar was worn open. He wore black trousers with the hint of black satin striping along the outer edges. Black boots polished to a high shine completed the ensemble.

He looked every bit the modern gentleman. And as he walked up the steps and presented his ticket at the door, he could only hope to live up to the part. As he moved through the grand entryway, Connar handed one of the doorman a bouquet of flowers and asked that they be delivered to one performer in particular. Then he set about trying to find something to eat.

The royal carriage of Westridge rode up to the Opera House, pulled by four white horses. The coachman stepped off the back of the carriage and opened the door. Gavilean Starfare stepped out of the carriage and stood at the door and then helped his beautiful wife as she regally exited the coach.

The King and Queen of Westridge were dressed not in their customary regalia of Westridge, but in more modern fashion; Gav in a full and modern tux and Tera in a one-of-a-kind outfit made with gold and silver threads woven into the elaborate pattern. Around her neck she wore pearls set displayed in a lovely pattern with small rubies, sapphires and emeralds that gave it a unique pattern that matched the top. Diamond earrings hung from her ear and her hair was worn long and styled in the way Gavilean loved it the most. Gavilean and Tera never missed a formal affair, and tonight they were anything but the bartenders and reporters that they often volunteered their time for the sake of the city.

Gavilean offer her his arm and they walked to the door and inside the Opera House. ?I?ve been so looking forward to this, m?love. The Marriage of Figaro is one of my favorite operas. I just love the way it starts with the room be measured off for the marriage bed. Mozart is pure genius. I never tire of his music.?

They continued to speak in whispers and greeted those whom they met in the lobby. When it was time to enter they walked to the door and Gavilean took the tickets from the inner pocket of the tux and gave it to the gentleman at the door.

?Good eve, Your Majesties,? said the man taking the tickets. ?You are patrons of the arts and a benefactor of the opera, I feel foolish taking your tickets.?

Gavilean smiled, ?If we had no tickets, I?m afraid our seats would be fully occupied when we arrived.? He took the stub and let the usher take them to their seats.

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x174/Flyguyii/GavNDes.jpg

?Act II

In her boudoir, the Countess bemoans the Count's infidelity . Susanna has told her about the Count's plans to seduce her. Figaro arrives. He knows that the Count is plotting to help Marcellina. He has his own plan: through Basilio, he will send the Count an anonymous note about the Countess's "lover.". Meanwhile, Susanna is to agree to meet the Count in the garden, only it will be Cherubino, disguised as Susanna, he will be wooing. Figaro goes off to get the boy.

Cherubino arrives and, at Susanna's urging, sings the Countess a love song that he wrote for her. He shows the Countess his regimental commission, which he had just gotten from Basilio. She and Susanna realize that it has no seal on it. Figaro has told Cherubino of the plan, and Susanna begins to dress the uncomfortable boy as a woman. When she goes into another room to get a ribbon, he takes advantage of her absence to declare his love for the Countess. At that moment, the suspicious Count bangs on the door, and Cherubino dives into the closet.

The Count demands to know to whom the Countess was speaking, and she tells him it was Susanna, who has gone into another room. He shows her the anonymous letter that Figaro had written about her "lover." A noise from the closet obliges the Countess to say that Susanna is in there, not in the other room. Susanna re-enters the room, unseen by the Count and Countess, and realizes that there's some kind of problem, so she hides behind a screen. As Cherubino cowers, terrified, in the closet, the Count orders "Susanna" out, but the Countess forbids it. As they argue, they warn each other not to go too far and create a scandal. Susanna remains behind her screen, horrified by the situation. The Countess absolutely refuses to open the closet, so the Count brings her with him to get something to break the closet open, locking the door behind him. Susanna lets Cherubino out of the closet. In a panic, he escapes through the window, and Susanna hides in the closet.

When the Count and Countess return, she finally admits that Cherubino is in the closet, claiming that it was just a joke. He doesn't believe her protestations of innocence and threatens to kill Cherubino. Drawing his sword, he flings open the closet door. They are both astonished to find Susanna. The Count, abashed, is forced to beg his wife's forgiveness. She and Susanna explain that the episode with the closet, and the anonymous note, were all a prank. Figaro arrives to announce that the wedding is about to begin. Questioned by the Count, he denies writing the anonymous note, to the consternation of Susanna and the Countess

Now Antonio the gardener barges in, complaining that someone jumped from the Countess's balcony onto his flower garden. Susanna and the Countess warn Figaro, who had already seen Cherubino jump. He claims that he himself leapt from the balcony. But Antonio claims he saw a boy. The Count immediately realizes that it was Cherubino. Figaro, sticking to his story, claims that Cherubino was on his way to Seville. He explains that he was hiding in the closet waiting for Susanna. After overhearing the Count shouting, he decided to escape by jumping, and injured his foot. He suddenly develops a limp in order to prove his story. But Antonio produces Cherubino's military commission, which he found in the garden. Figaro, confounded, throws the gardener out. Prompted by the women, Figaro triumphantly explains that the page gave it to him because it lacks a seal. Marcellina, Bartolo, and Basilio now come to demand justice, claiming that Figaro entered into a contract to marry Marcellina in exchange for a loan. The Count agrees to judge the case, to the joy of Marcellina and the consternation of Figaro.?

Once again, the dancers and the chorus eased transitions, and added comical humor. When Cherubino sang his song of love to the Countess, Katarina along with two other dancers were off to a corner of a stage, as if they were eavesdropping onto the conversation, and they all swooned. Later, when Cherubino jumped through the window, the same three dancers rose on the hard tops of their slippers, and fluttered after him.

When the act ended, the curtains closed and candles were lit once more. A brief intermission was given to both performers and viewers alike, before the final half of the story would be untold.

((Please feel free to post anything done within the intermission!))

?They?re amazing!? she whispered excitedly to her date for the evening, green eyes all aglitter and still spinning from the leaps and songs that had just occurred. Her smile spilled over to him, fingers curling around his forearm. ?Ta?. For bringing me.?

This being her first opera?and really, her first professionally crafted theatrical production?intermission snuck up on her. As the people around them began to get up from their seats, she looked perplexed. Where were they going? Why were the lights on again? The program she?d been studying so faithfully (and quickly, so as not to miss the performances) was consulted again. ?Ahhhh?? she exhaled, nodding as she understood now. It was a break! ?Will you excuse me while I freshen up?? was her question for Locke, paired with a lift of her brow, as she tried to tip her nose up regally in her attempts to fit the part of a lady. Before he was able to get a response in, however, 'Lanta had already stood and was smoothing out the chocolate, satin dress she?d scrounged up last minute. She was particularly proud of it, having spent a little more of her measly savings than her normal weekly allowance to buy it and some simple jewelry to go with; she?d even sprung to get her hair done! It was all worth it, though. Atalanta looked and felt like she fit in with the elegant audience, this time. Her bigger satisfaction was managing to appear put-together next to the dashing blue elf. She forgot her unease in her high heels, for the time being, able to pull of a graceful step into a small crowd exiting, confidently prancing away with them to find a washroom.

A trio of women broke off from the gathering she?d joined, leading her to the door she was seeking. After entering behind them, she went and stood by a mirror, dabbing on a bit of lip color as she observed the handful of others swirling about. She smiled as they moved around her, admiring them in between checking the bit of make-up she'd worn, which, coincidentally, was the same amount she trusted herself to put on correctly. The trip was not just useful for people-watching, though. One female, able to actually understand the dialogue, was translating lines she found amusing and important to her non-fluent friend. The woman also put some of the love song into terms 'Lanta could better comprehend; though, the performer had done a splendid job capturing the mood well enough to be understood in spite of the language barrier. Ecstatic for this bit of insight, Atalanta listened in and learned, frowning once the pair was out of earshot.

The frown lingered a moment longer as she wondered: would she be able to find her seat, again?

To say that the Marriage of Figaro was not what Eva expected was an understatement. She knew it wouldn't be in English, but goodness it was all rather complicated. Halfway through the first act she had given up trying to follow the story in her program by the dim stage light, and just sat back to watch the music and the dancing.

That's not to say she wasn't enjoying herself. Once she stopped trying to figure out what was happening, she found she could take it in much more fully. There was a spirit and energy to the show that Eva couldn't help but admire. In some ways the performance felt more alive and vibrant than real life.

After the lights came up for intermission, Eva rose with her small handbag and moved into the aisle to let out the elderly couple that was sitting beside her. From her position towards the back of the theater, she could see a lot of familiar faces from the Inn, some she knew and some she didn't. She nodded over to Locke, catching him alone, having missed Atalanta's move to the powder room, and a moment later raised her hand to wave over to Gav and Des.

The sudden movement of people, up and down the aisle, in and out of her row, made Eva a little self-conscious. She reached a hand to the back of her backless dress to make sure it hadn't slipped down too low, and smoothed it out to make sure it was falling properly. Then her hand drifted up towards her neck. She was wearing the locket Tucker had given her for Christmas. It didn't really go with the dress, but she had wanted to wear it anyhow. Now she felt a little foolish.

"Why that's lovely, dear." The old lady who had been sitting next to her was paused beside her before re-entering the row, and was looking up at the white gold locket between Eva's fingers.

Eva released the locket and blushed. "Thank you."

"I used to have one just like it, but it got lost some time ago. My husband's been promising to buy me a new one." With that the old lady shot a dirty look towards her husband who was waiting rather impatiently behind her to return to his seat.

"Darling, you're causing a jam-up. Leave the poor girl alone and go to your seat."

"Oh no, that's alright - " Eva smiled.

"Oh, shut it, Gerry." The woman rolled her eyes, and then sent an apologetic look to Eva before moving past her to take her seat.

Once the husband had seated himself as well, Eva sat back down in her own seat and leaned over, her voice low to the old lady as she confided. "I didn't think the locket really went with the dress."

The old woman patted Eva's hand gently. "Something meaningful is beautiful with any outfit."

Wes had passed by Piper's workshop to drop off the ballet tickets as Peredhil had requested. When no one answered his knock, he was on the verge of pushing both tickets beneath the door when he caught sight of a trio of beautiful ladies dressed in strapless evening gowns, chatting excitedly about tonight's performance as they scurried down the street.

A smile blossomed as he rapidly slipped one of the tickets into his pocket. If Peredhil was going to use him as a lackey, the very least he could do was enjoy himself. The ballet itself did not interest him much, although personal experience had taught him that female dancers tended to be pretty and fit. That did interest him.

Ticket in hand, the only obstacle was suitable clothing. As he rode through town, the streets were mostly deserted. The clock on the watchtower signaled that the show was set to begin any minute and there was nary a soul who could provide him with directions nor a store that remained open.

He was beginning to think that this was a hopeless pursuit when a small store attracted his attention, lamplight flooding out through the open door. Drawn like a moth to flame, Wes dismounted and strode through the door. A slight, elderly man peered at him through thick glasses when he entered.

"Good evening, sir," Wes began, twirling his cloak in the grandiose manner that was his fashion. "Might you have any tuxedos left that will impress the ladies of this fine town?"

"All sold out," the man responded in a clipped tone. "Big show tonight."

"What a shame," Wes responded, not believing the man for a second. So the shopkeeper wanted to play hardball? "I was prepared to pay a good sum of money to rent a tuxedo for the night."

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed as he studied Wes, then he said, "Do have one left." As he disappeared into the back, Wes chuckled. The power of money was truly incredible.

His smugness was short-lived, however, when he saw the tuxedo the man had returned with. "Not for rent," the man said. "Only for sale."

Wes blanched, his face going pale. Not only was the lime green suit one of the most hideous things he had ever seen, but it was probably four sizes too small. Wes was already shaking his head when he remembered the ladies he had seen before. There would be lots of classy females at the performance, and artsy events like this one seemed to bring out the romantic in everyone. There might even be an after-party. Maybe the suit would give him the look of a bohemian, a bit eccentric but intriguing all the same.

Swallowing his pride, he paid the shopkeeper and asked for a dressing room. Hurriedly changing, he stepped out and studiously ignored the grin that formed on the shopkeeper's face. With buttons nearly bursting and pants stretched to the limit, he waddled towards the theater hall, his stallion in tow.

"You look good, Wes," he told himself through gritted teeth. "You always look good."

The attendant received his ticket with an amused smirk and showed him to his seat. As he lowered himself slowly into the chair, the sound of his jacket ripping was the first indication that this might be a big mistake. At least it hadn't been his pants.

He would've ran a hand through his own head of hair (artfully tousled and razor cut into mussy, stylish ice-white layers), but his hands were tied, so to speak, holding his gloves and leaning against the wall, respectively. He did reach up with his left hand to touch the collar of his white tuxedo shirt, then the top of his crimson tie, smiling at Seliandre. "Thank you most kindly for the compliment, mate. One could say the same for you. I thought of wearing something a little more vibrant, but, well-" And Locke leaned a little closer to the other elf, stage whispering in elvish. "Re mela mor. 1" He laughed, though it was closer to a giggle, as he leaned back and continued. "So I had to go with this. But as I was saying, or as I meant to say, you look rather fit and fetching, if I may say so."

"Re?" His brows shot up in carefully moderated surprise, such that he almost missed the compliment, and that was saying something. "Lle caela... arwen? Lle lakwenien?" He chuckled, trying not to sound too shocked. "Uma re sinta tanya lle quen a' n?r ve' tanya? 2" For the moment, Seliandre ignored the comments on his attire. This bit of information Locke had provided was shaping up to be much more interesting.

He seemed a little...annoyed at Seliandre's reaction, though it was more in the expression on his face than in the tone of his voice. It was hard to sound irritated when speaking in elvish; the language sounded like a songbird in spring. He straightened up out of his lean against the wall, quickly putting his gloves back on again. "Uma. Re sinta. Quenad ve' tanya naa' il karnelad. Savvy?" He paused, grinning a bit. "Lye yuuyo quen ve' tanya a' gwaith. Ta crona uuner. 3"

Seliandre paused for a minute to process that, oblivious to Locke's annoyance. After a moment or two of looking perfectly pensive, he broke into a rather conspiring grin. "Uma re maa quel? Amin n'dela ele lle term?red yassen ni ya n'naa vanima. 4" He laughed at that, a mischievous glint in his eye.

At Seliandre's words, Locke put his hands over his heart, head tilted up, eyes lifted skyward and white lashes fluttering. "Re maa quel." And then he looked down at Seliandre, a more serious look flashing across his face, especially in his cobalt irises. "Nan' eller naa ner. Cormre naa tanya tel'raa." In that moment, the ice elf looked at once earnest and vulnerable, a rarity even for him, as emotionally open as he usually was. The look didn't quite fade out of his eyes, even as he smirked and sent a playful elbow jabbing toward's Seliandre's ribs. "Nan' uma. Vanimre sila tiri. 5"

He took the jab in stride, making sure his coat hadn't been mussed by Locke's elbow. "Tira ten' rashwe yassen lanne," he chided almost absently, though nothing was really behind those words. Rather, he pressed on with an impish, "Lle caelava cael amin govannon he. San', amin sintava n'nai he oa tuulo' lle. 6" Following the other's lead, Seliandre sent a light elbow Locke's way, though his grin seemed to suggest that he really thought he was perfectly capable of what he jested about.

The elbow bounced harmlessly off of his black coat, and he giggled childishly at first. Locke's words back were teasing, playful, but his smile was a touch tight-lipped. Why it was like that, he wouldn't say. "Quel marth, mellonamin. Amin n'dele ten' lle." He wagged a finger at him. "RhyDin caela nir' edainmerim. Amin onuva sen a' lle. 7" He flashed a wolfish, knowing grin at that thought.

"Onu sen a' amin?" he near-repeated, his tone a touch incredulous. "Amin n'anta onalle." Seliandre gave his hair a self-conscious toss, and he smiled a far-too-sly grin in Locke's direction. "Amin anta ?qua enga amin. Nir? Ron mela amin." He laughed even as he twisted on his heel back toward the theater. "Hama saesa yassen i ty?le." Melodramatically, perhaps in open imitation of Locke's rather animated behavior, he clutched his hands over his heart. "Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'. 8" He tossed a grin over his shoulder before strolling back into the theater, composure quickly regained as he offered polite greetings and flashing rather winsome smiles to those he passed.

Locke lingered a moment or two longer than Seliandre in the cool outdoor air. By the time he re-entered the lobby, the other elf was long gone, and nobody else of interest was in his line of sight. Sighing a touch at that, he made his way forward to the auditorium, pushing open the doors and heading back for his seat. He found it right away, but decided to stay standing first. He wanted to wait and make sure that 'Lanta found her way back, and what better guidepost than a blue-skinned elf in a fine tuxedo?

1. She likes black.
2. She? You have... a lady? Are you joking? Does she know you that you talk to women like that?
3. Yes. She knows. Talking like that is not making love. Savvy? We both talk like that to people. It harms nobody.
4. Does she look good? I don't see you staying with a woman who isn't beautiful.
5. She looks good. But there is more. Her heart is that of the lion. But yes. Her beauty shines bright.
6. Be careful with the cloth. You will have to have me meet her. Then, I will know not to charm her away from you.
7. Good luck, friend. I am not worried about you. RhyDin has lots of women. I'll give them to you.
8. Give them to me? I need not your gift. I need nothing except myself. Women? They love me. Have pleasure with the play. My heart shall weep until it sees thee again.

(Edited and adapted from live RP.)

Des? eyes were sparkling as the lights came back up. She didn?t understand the language but the troupe?s performance was so vividly portrayed that along with Gavilean?s whispered explanations she perfectly understood what she was watching.

Many was the time she had to raise a hand to her mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter. Miss Partinger?s training was doing her no good at all when there was so much comedic activity occurring on the stage.

She gave a squeeze to Gav?s hand and glanced over to him inquisitively. ?I notice several people here that we know. Shall we go and get some refreshments and maybe say some ?hellos? if time allows??

?I notice several people here that we know. Shall we go and get some refreshments and maybe say some ?hellos? if time allows??

Gavilean had to chuckle. ?Des, m?love, is there anyone in Rhydin you don?t know?? He stood up and held Des? hand as she gracefully rose up with him. Then with her hand holding his offered arm, and his opposite hand on top of hers, they walked up the aisle.

He saw Sera sitting there and smiled, ?Sera, good eve, m?lady. How lovely you look this eve.? They continued up the aisle, giving greetings to many of those present, and then they exited out into the lobby. He leaned in towards Des? ear, ?May I get you some punch, my gorgeous queen?? he asked with a gleam in his eye.

As the curtains closed and the house lights slowly came to fill the room, Connar looked about as members of the audience began to quietly converse amongst themselves while others headed for the lobby. He smiled as he rose from the comfort of his seat and decided to do likewise.

Katarina had explained that the play would be in Italian, but he did not recall her mentioning that it would be practically all delivered in song ? a minor detail. He enjoyed hearing a language that reminded him of his distant home and lands once so oft visited.

As he moved out into the open corridor, now filling with a varied ensemble of patrons and guests, he nodded politely to those he knew in passing. There was an energy and excitement that filled the room as conversations buzzed about the performance witnessed thus far. Des and Gav seemed quite in their element as he saw them mingling with the crowd. He gave them a short greeting in smile before moving on down the corridor.

The tall ceilings and tapestry- and painting-laden walls made the theater appear even more grand than the view from the exterior. As he continued down the corridor, the wall decorations gave way to long, tall mirrors spaced evenly on either side. Connar stopped before one of them, looking at his reflection, the first he had done so in quite a long while, at least in a full-length mirror.

The smile quickly faded from his face as he looked at the person standing before him ? a figure he barely recognized. The formal jacket, pleated shirt, and finery mocked the distant gaze coming from his eyes. He looked down to the floor, but even his shoes scorned his conscience. He lifted his eyes to the mirror wondering where the servant of the people had gone and why a pauper now stood in his place.

He could see the faint glimmer of light catching the crystal pendant hanging around his neck, a reminder that, while the city and its citizens were regaling at the opera, others close to his heart were absent ? lost and missing to unseen causes and swirling darkness. His mind drifted to Elessaria and to others?to purposes and causes in his own world and time which he had let fall to the wayside. He felt suddenly, awkwardly out of place and consumed by haunting shame.

Moments later, Connar retraced his steps, moving steadfastly through the corridor and back through the bustling lobby, his eyes never straying from the path directly before him. He paused briefly at his theater seat, draping his jacket over the chair back, a single rose and a note left in the pocket if Katarina were to come looking for him at the conclusion of the performance. The note would simply state how appreciative Connar was to have been invited to such an extraordinary performance, and that Katarina had stolen the stage each time she graced it. He would also regret that he couldn?t celebrate her success at the performance?s conclusion, but knew that she would be lauded by all in attendance.

Before the theater lights would dim once more, heralding the beginning of the next act, Connar was moving quickly through Rhydin?s streets, seeking out the inn on the edge to town, to shed himself of the masquerade, and take up his journey once again.

There was nothing said, but Ewan saw the look from his wife's eyes and her nod towards the necessary rooms that she needed to tend to matters. He gave a nod, and took up a space near one of the walls to watch those taking the break to stretch their legs, and keeping a particular eye out for those he knew well.

With Sianna off to the powder room, Johnny had moved out to the lobby to see if there were any refreshments available, and to speak with those he knew. Proud of Katie's performance so far, he was beaming happily.

There were many faces Sylvia recognized, some few she knew, and her smile was one of pleasure in the evening so far. Ewan spied Sylvia and the Smith/Fraiser party, and careful of the crowd, he moved from the wall to give them greeting in bows of his head to the collective.

Stepping out into the lobby with Sylvia, he paused long enough to look around at the mingling crowd, and then smiled in greeting as Ewan came over. "Latha math, Ewan. How dae ye be enjoying th' show??

Sylvia harmonized that greeting, "Evening, Ewan. I hope you and Storm are enjoying the performance as much as we are." And Hudson had to chuckle as Sylvia's words beat his out, with their similar sentiments. Sylvia gave a sidelong glance up to Hudson, the light smile finding that moment humorous.

"Th' two 'a ya are startin' ta ge' bad as Si an' me. Ewan, how ya doin', bro? Where's Storm at? An' ain' Katie lookin' somethin' special ou' there?" Johnny grinned at the group cheerfully, and then looked around for the absent Storm.

"Very much," Ewan gave a congenial smile to agree with his words in reply to them both. "Storm is here," with a look towards the necessary room.

Black eyes gleamed with humor as Hudson looked from Sylvia to Johnny. "Aye, yer cousin be possessed o' an amazing talent. E'en if I dinnae ken th' words a bit."

Ewan turned a smile to Johnny, "Please convey our appreciation to your cousin for the tickets."

Curious, Sylvia asked Ewan, "Are you understanding the words?"

He knew what Sylvia was trying to do, and he shook his head, "Not the majority of them."

A smile for Hudson, "We are not alone in just enjoying the sights and melodic sounds, caraid."

"That be a reassuring thought." He smiled briefly with a shake of his head. "I dinnae feel such a fool now."

?Course. She'll be glad ta know ya like th' show. She was nervous tha' people wouldn' like tha' kinda' thing here." Johnny grinned and shrugged at that.

"I think it is safe to say the opera is a smashing success, and a good thing, too." The liveliness of Sylvia?s smile showing the truth to that.

Giving a nod, Ewan said, "I have to agree. I, for one, am glad to see something of good flourish in this town," though his words spoken with more solemnity. And at Ewan's words, Hudson nodded agreement.

"Speaking of," Ewan turned to Johnny, "If you have the time, I have another commission to make of you in the next few days. This one is no rush," a well humored smile. One slender brow rose in curiosity of this commission, but Sylvia would pry it out of him later.

"Good thin', too. I been workin' rush jobs all month, seems like. Wha's this'un fer?" An absent shrug settled down the tuxedo jacket more comfortably.

"For Spring Festival," Ewan hoped that would satisfy Sylvia's curiosity.

So it did. "Ah, I see." She nodded and then took some secret delight in watching ladies give Hudson the twice and thrice over.

A curious expression crossed Johnny?s face as well, and then he grinned. "Jus' stop by any time, bro. But yer goin' ta hav'ta give me more details when ya come by."

A low, brief laugh, "I will be certain to do that. Even bring the damaged item and give a full explanation then."

When Hudson turned and caught the lingering gaze of yet another female, he shook his head and looked back at the group. "Ye'd think they'd ne'er seen a kilt before. I ken full well I be nae th' only man here tae wear them."

"Well, no, you aren't, caraid, but you wear it so well." A teasing smile up at him. "And you are not alone," reassuringly to Hudson, "Johnny is getting several looks twice, too."

Johnny?s smile broadened at Ewan's words. "I been doin' a lot'a repair work lately. Shouldn' take so long ta fix as make new, dependin'. Oh, an' hey, go' somethin' fer ya when ya come aroun'."

Well schooled in keeping his expression unable to be read, still Ewan did not like the exchange between Sylvia and Hudson, but Johnny now had his curiosity. "You do?"

That got a low laugh from Hudson. "If ye think that, caraid, ye should see Alleyne in his formal wear. Th' lasses swoon tae that, braw an' bonny man that he be."


Sylvia asked, "Is that so? Perhaps I will have the day to see Alleyne in his formal wear."

Johnny nodded to Ewan, then waved one hand in an absent gesture toward the shop. "Someone lef' a sword, one'a th' best I ever saw, an' never came ta... wha'?" That interruption came at Sylvia's remark.

"Returning to fishing soon, Hudson?" Ewan broke into the conversation of clothes worn well in attempt to turn it.

(adapted from live)

"Abuse is it?" Sylvia placed her hand to heart in mock hurt of the words.

Johnny returned the smile with a broad grin. "Ya should see wha' Sianna does ta get her way." A shake of his head before he continued. "Real abuse is seein' a great meal bein' held out'a reach 'til ya give in."

"Fine kettle of fish you will be in, my lad, if you keep this up." At Johnny's words, Sylvia gave a nod, "See there. Could be worse. I could...think of something." As she did not really have anything to keep him from, it was a rather toothless threat.

Hudson chuckled at Sylvia's gesture of mock-hurt. "Aye, abuse that ye heap on a puir benighted soul with nae refuge tae hand. But tae refuse tae feed a man? What be worse than that?"

Her hands set to hips, the pinky finger of her left hand tapping as it did when the dagger hilt was there; it was a rare thing to trade barbs with friends, and she was feeling rather out of practice. ?Trust me, there is something much worse than keeping a meal from a man.? Far gone days, when innuendo danced around as easily as anything, she could play this game, but too many years and too much safety and she was rusty at the trade of jesting stings.

Well, that just got puzzled and curious looks from both men before Johnny spoke up, sounding truly baffled. "An' wha's tha'?" Then Johnny yelped, as a passing woman bumped against him and used the excuse to make a solid grab for his backside.

Taking the protection of the men in her company seriously, Sylvia turned a scathing look on the passing woman. She used no words, but the look was clear.

The woman paled at the look and moved on hastily through the crowd while Johnny edged closer to Hudson and Sylvia. "An' here I though' I was jokin' abou' needin' protection."

To further her point, she sent a similar look to others who might have it in their minds to have a touch of what they couldn't have. Sylvia brightened her smile again from Johnny to Hudson and back again. "In Rhydin? I should have worn my dagger, but I think it would have clashed with the dress," she laughed. "Next time I will know to be on guard when out with you two. It is like bees to honey here." She glanced to the powder room. "Do you think I should rescue Sianna? Maybe there's a conspiracy to keep you two apart."

'Tis odd - and just th' opposite tae home, where there be far more men than women. But I think ye be right about th' clashing of dagger with dress, caraid." Hudson smiled warmly, then followed the direction of her look.

She shared the warm smile with Hudson, "Thank you, Hudson. I do think it does better without the dagger."
"Well'n... I don' wan' ta make ya leave here if'n yer enjoyin' yerself - but I can' imagine wha's keepin' Si so long." It was with a sheepish smile and a shrug that Johnny admitted that.

"Conspiracy," her joking suggestion as to the reason. "The question is, dare I leave you two in the dangerous waters and go find out? Think you can watch out for each other?"

Hudson shared a look with Johnny, and then smiled. "We'll try tae manage without yer stalwart protection, mo ionmhuinn. I ha'e my sgian dubh if th' needs becomes sae dire."

"I have no idea what that is, but I trust it is good. Good man you are, caraid." She placed a hand on his arm as she would a comrade in arms. "Be brave my friends. I am off to rescue a damsel in perhaps distress." She turned for the powder room and refrained from walking the manner of a warrior, but kept to the more ladylike graceful steps.

With a warm chuckle, Hudson leaned and patted the dagger sheathed at one leg. "Th' best o' luck tae ye then, caraid, as ye venture tae rescue my sister."

She sent a sly smile to Hudson over her shoulder before disappearing inside.

((adapted from live play))

Katarina and the rest of the dancers did not have time to enjoy the intermission. They were too busy changing costumes and ballet slippers. When she had a few moments, she finally had a chance to look at what Andy said was on her chair; two bouquets of flowers. She only had time to bury her nose in each and barely look for a note before she was going called away again.

?Act III

Alone, the Count ponders the confusing situation. Unseen by the Count, the Countess urges a reluctant Susanna to go ahead with the plan and tell the Count that she will meet him in the garden later. Because Cherubino is gone, the Countess will impersonate Susanna. The Countess takes herself off. Susanna overhears the Count talking to himself about Figaro marrying Marcellina. Emboldened, she approaches him, claiming that she has come to get some smelling salts for the Countess, who is having a fainting fit. He tells her that she should keep it herself, because she is about to lose her intended husband. She counters that she will repay Marcellina's loan with the dowry the Count had promised her. But the Count claims he can't remember any such promise. She has no choice but to flirt with him, and the pact is made. But as she is leaving, she runs into Figaro, and the Count overhears her saying that they have "won the case." Enraged, the Count threatens to punish them for their betrayal.

The judge Don Curzio arrives with Marcellina and Bartolo. He announces that Figaro must marry Marcellina or repay the loan. Figaro claims that he is of noble birth and cannot marry without his relatives' consent. When the Count asks who they are, Figaro replies that he was stolen as an infant, but hopes to find his parents in 10 years. Bartolo demands proof, so Figaro shows him a birthmark on his arm -- a birthmark that reveals that he is the love-child of Marcellina and Bartolo! The reunited family embrace as the frustrated Count rails against Fate. Meanwhile, Susanna, unaware of this development, arrives with the money to pay Marcellina, only to be enraged by the sight of Figaro and Marcellina fondly embracing. But peace reigns when all is explained to her. The Count storms off with Don Curzio. Bartolo now proposes to Marcellina. Bartolo gives Figaro and Susanna a dowry, and Susanna adds to it the money she had come in with. The four, chuckling at the Count's frustration, go off to plan a double wedding.

The Countess enters, wondering if their plan to catch the Count will work, and recalling sadly the loss of their love. After she leaves, Antonio and the Count arrive. Antonio tells the Count that he knows that Cherubino is still in the vicinity, because he found at his house the woman's clothes that Cherubino had been wearing. They run off to look for him. The Countess returns with Susanna, and the two concoct a note, from Susanna to the Count, asking for a meeting in the garden. They seal the note with a pin, which the Count is to return if he agrees to meet her. Barbarina and some peasant girls, including Cherubino in disguise, come to serenade the Countess. Antonio and the Count return to unmask Cherubino. The Count threatens to punish the boy, but Barbarina persuades the Count -- who had once, with kisses, promised her anything she wanted -- to let her marry Cherubino.

Figaro arrives, eager for the wedding preparations to begin. The Count begins to cross-examine him again, and Antonio produces Cherubino as proof that they've caught Figaro lying. But Figaro cleverly claims that it's possible that both he and Cherubino jumped into the garden. The wedding march begins, and everyone goes off to get ready, leaving the Count and Countess alone. She refuses to discuss the matter with him. The wedding party returns in procession, singing another paean to the abolition of the feudal right to sleep with the bride. Susanna slips the sealed note to the Count. As the couples dance the fandango, the Count opens the note, pricks his finger on the pin, and then drops it. Figaro watches him with great amusement, believing that it's a love-note from some unknown lady. The Count finds the pin, thrilled at the prospect of meeting Susanna later, invites everyone to magnificent wedding banquet.?

For the second half of opera, the dancers? costumed matched the colors of the wedding. In this act, they were scene more in the background, fluttering on their toes from one side of the stage to the next. This was to help ease the more serious scenes back into humorous moments.

?Do you think they liked it?? Andy said to Katarina through his smile as they lifted their joined hands and bowed again.

?Ya think?? She replied through her own bright smile, and tried to contain the urge to laugh as a rose was thrown and hit his face, ?I?s crazy full ?n there.?

Their exchange of words was cut short as the long line of people took a step back to let the curtain fall. Everyone was ushered off stage to file into the backstage, where conversations could be kept silent through the walls of the theatre. The low levels of conversation increased as many talked off the energy of the performance. Boisterous noises and sounds of opened corks accompanied Katarina as she hurried to get ready for the after party.

The bright blue dress that Sera made for Katarina fit her to perfection, and the bead work was exceptional. The flowing bottom complimented the dancer?s graceful movements, and the straps that laid diagonal on her back brought a creative touch to the elegant dress. ?Hey Andy, help me zip up??

?Yeah,? his nimble fingers helped the zipper on her back in it?s silent path, ?who?s all the flowers from??

?I dunno, somebody jist brough? it bafore th? show. Dun see a card o? anythin?. Thanks.? Next she worked on her hair, unpinning it from its low bun to cascade in curls over her shoulder. She was trying to be quick and punctual, but many performers were already leaving to join the after party that had already started.

?C?mon, Rini.? Andy said as he finished tying his bow. ?You have to show me all the people you were talking about.?

Just as she slipped on her low-heeled silver shoes, a young boy dressed as an usher approached her, ??Cuse me, Miss Katarina, but I think someone left these for you.? He handed over a white dinner jacket, a single rose, and a note.

She took the items, smiled for the boy, and met Andy?s curious gaze. ?Go ?head an? go. I?ll be ou? ?n a minu?e.? She sat in her chair now, the backstage quiet and near empty. Unfolding the note, the other items were at rest in her lap as she read and reread the note. An unknowing smile was placed on her lips, and she looked at the other things on her lap. What was she going to do with Connar?s jacket?

Carefully placing it on the back of her chair, she set the note and rose next to the other bouquets, and started for the ballroom. Rather than dwell on the absence of her friend, she looked forward to the friends and family that were already celebrating the opening night of the successful opera.

After countless curtain calls for the performers and a standing ovation that roared enthusiastically, it was time to head to the after-party. The celebratory reception was being held in the ballroom, which was located in the eastern wing on the second floor.

Johnny turned from the standing ovation to grin at Sianna, beaming proudly. "Tha' was fantastic, don' ya think? Ya go' Katie's presen' handy fer th' party?"

"Aye, ye had me place it in my bag, remember? Safe and sound it is." She was as proud as he was. "And it was a smashing success. But let's get tae th' party, aye? I dinna wish tae be waylaid by silly women trying tae get at ye or my brother anymore tonight."

Bright smiled with the wonderful performance, Sylvia shared that pleasure filled smile with Hudson. Her hands held the program close as she relied on the others to lead on to the party.

Offering his arm to guide her through the crowd, Hudson returned Sylvia's smile warmly. "Sae will ye be protection through th' party as well, caraid? Sianna be there tae guard Johnny, but I dinnae wish tae catch a grope as he did."

Johnny laughed at Sianna's comment as they moved slowly through the press of people. "Jus' as long as yer aroun' ta keep away th' harpies, we'll be fine."

A merry trio of notes laughed, as Sylvia rested her hand on his arm. "If you feel the need for protection, then you shall have it."

With Ewan's hands red with the long string of applause, he turned to Storm. "Did you want to go to the after party?" He always made sure she was not becoming overly tired with late nights.

Catching her brother's request, Siana flashed him a shocked fein followed by a quick wink to Sylvia. "And if we're busy protecting ye, who's going tae protect us from th' women wishing tae scratch our eyes out for having such men tae walk beside?"

"I have confidence in our abilities, Sianna, to keep such creatures at bay." Spying the woman from before, she repeated the warning look.

"I would like to at least thank Katarina." Storm reached for his hand, before starting to follow the crowds towards the different room, "You can at least pretend to enjoy his company, yes?" She knew that he would know who 'he' was.

"Oh, well, th' way tha' woman jus' abou' fainted at Sylvia's look, I'm thinkin' tha' th' two 'a ya'll manage jus' fine. Don' they say th' females are th' dangerous ones?" Johnny was laughing as he broke the crowd to enter the ballroom.

With Storm's hand in his, he gave a nod. "Of course I can. I am a well known actor." He gave a smile as evidence.

"I would not know." Warning passed, Storm offered a loving smile for the undertone of her meaning.

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming, beloved. I will not cause a scene. We are here to celebrate your friend's opening night."

"If I would have ken that th' Opera would bring out th' fighter in me, I would've slipped a bottle or two into my bag. They're verra handy when I need tae handle someone."

Hudson chuckled when he caught Sianna's remark. "Sae ye remain well-trained in th' low tricks o' bar fighting, Si?"

"I had bemoaned the fact I did no have my dagger, but well, that being said, there are other ways to win at such battles." Arriving in the ballroom, Sylvia had an enigmatical smile arrive on her lips.

"No, you will not, if you want the rest of our evening to go to plan." A sharp smile, Storm's expression not giving away if she was serious or not. She brought their joined hands to her lips, and was nearly crushed between the moving people, and she scooted closer to Ewan along the way.

"All the better," he smiled. A nod indicating the direction of others and leads her into the ballroom.

"Just th' ones ye taught me, a charaid." A wink for her brother and a chuckle at the comment. "Aye, I'll set th' harpies tae smoldering wi' jealousy and enjoy watching them squirm."

"I may enjoy watching that a little too much, Sianna."

Trying to weave through the crowd heading into the ballroom, Storm might have made it difficult for her following husband as she headed for Sylvia and the rest.

"And if ye still feel th' need for a blade after yer other ways, caraid, I ha'e th' sgian dubh ye be free tae borrow." Hudson smiled merrily at the exchange between Sianna and Sylvia.

Sylvia could not help but laugh, and grinned broadly up at Hudson. "Should I reach for it myself if the need arises?"

A giggle for them both as Sianna squeezed Johnny's arm a bit tighter to her side, hand slipping down to entwine with his.

Seeing the direction, knowing his wife had sense of direction like a compass to those she wanted to see, he went along with a fine smile.

As if testament to Sianna's abilities, she gave a pinch-faced young woman shooting daggers her direction a sickening sweet smile.

Hudson had to laugh at Sylvia's question. "Aye, mo ionmhuinn, if ye feel th' need that pressing, make yerself free." And as Ewan and Storm approached, he turned the smile to them as well.

At the approach of Storm and Ewan, she relaxed the impish grin into a serene one. "Enjoyed the rest of the opera?"

"Yes, very much. The songs only add to the humorous story." She smiled brightly

At Hudson's reply, she knew there was a blush unable to be kept at bay. "Very gracious of you," she tried for an easy manner to the words.

Then looking to Sianna and seeing her stare daggers, Storm laughed lightly, "Glad to not be on the edge of your gaze, Sianna."

"Storm," he felt obligated to explain, "understands the language."

Johnny grinned at Sianna when she shot the sweetly poisonous look to the girl, then bent to speak in her ear. "Ya know, if'n there's room, we could do a bit'a dancin' later."

Ewan took a look about and spying some refreshments asked, "Would any of you ladies care for something to drink?"

"Ye get them wi' kindness, aye? So sweet they nigh choke on it." She had looked over her shoulder at Storm, but at Johnny's whisper, whipped her head back around. The arch of her brow asked a clear question.

Sylvia answered, "Yes, thank you, Ewan, just a glass of water for me if they have it."

Johnny was a silent, looming presence behind Sianna, which might have contributed to the man's discomfiture. Johnny smiled broadly at the merchant. Again the rotund little man bobbed his head like a banty rooster. "Why ehm yes, m'dear, most certainly did."

Sylvia moved in a slow circle around to the other side, but not closing in, she just wanted a better view. Hudson watched the confrontation with some amusement, following in Sylvia's wake, and then he leaned closer to speak to her quietly. "I think th' man be about tae experience a grand scathing." She looked up to him and leaned a bit back to whisper in return, "I think, caraid, you speak the truth."

Grinning like the cat who had snatched the mouse, Sianna leaned forward slighty, her voice dipping dramatically. "Then I suggest ye keep yer tongue tae th' two subjects ye seem tae ken anything about and dinna mention a word about my family until hell freezes over...or yer mouth can kiss yer own arse. Whichever comes first, aye?" Another debilatating grin and a low curtsey as she turned on her heel and stalked off, the man a thousand shades of red in her wake.

"You know, they might tease, but I know all the ladies are looking to you." Storm danced near flawlessly with him, and leaned to whisper. "I have the best gaze to keep them at bay." She was grinning from ear to ear. Whispering back, "Now you tease, beloved. But I cannot deny your gaze is a powerful one." The sign of laughter in Ewan's emerald green eyes.

Storm laughed lightly, and to prove her point, she set her eyes to their unusual glow. "Dancing like this we may not be long for the party," he drew in their joined hands to kiss the back of hers. Her eyes took a more impish hold, "We can last a little longer, no?" Though her eyes watched as he kissed the back of her hand. "You have the rest of the night with me. Just me."

"Precise and done with a smile," Sylvia grinned in equal measure for Sianna's bold words and the man's flumoxed expression. "Aye, my sister has always had th' way with words. 'Tis what makes her such a fine bardess." Hudson smiled merrily and shook his head in admiration.

"Do remind me, leannan, not to get on Sianna's bad side." Sylvia moved in Sianna's wake away from the man looking near to bursting. Hudson had to laugh, and nodded courteously to the vivid red merchant as they passed to rejoin Johnny and Sianna. The merchant sputtered out an apology and fled

The couple moved easily around the floor. "That may be why we do not last long, but, aye, as long as you wish and are not pushing yourself beyond tired." She managed to sneak a kiss during the dancing, "I am not tired, I promise. I have been excited to spend the evening out." She glanced towards the group. "It is nice to be out with friends, also."

"Yes," he said without a hitch, though his eyes rested a beat longer on Hudson, but he found his smile when looked at Storm. "Yes it has." She tried to act like she did not notice, "You have had a good time, then?" She danced just a touch closer to him. "Very much. I have been in your company the entire evening. It could not be less than a grand night." He adjusted the step and his hands for her nearing.

Sianna took a happy sip of her drink, a normal grin on her face as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Johnny grinned as Sianna sipped the scotch. "M'love, yer a dangerous, dangerous woman. So d'ya wan' ta dance, now tha' ya've had yer fun with th' poor guy?" A dark brow arched slowly as she lifted her head to regard him a moment. "Ye mean ye dinna fear tae hold such a dangerous woman in yer arms?" Wickedly clever smile as another sip was taken.

The water finished and set on a passing tray, Sylvia's hands folded together before her in perfect ease of the moment.

"I may be slow from time ta time, bu' I ain' a fool. A'course I'm scared. But there's a thrill in th' danger, too, ya know?" Emerald eyes were sparkling as he teased Sianna, and offered to guide her to the dance floor. Putting her scotch in her brother's hand, she dipped in a curtsey and allowed herself to be led to the center, giggling all the way. "Well, ye canna be called a scairdy-cat, leannan..."

Hudson shook his head slightly as he watched Johnny and Sianna move out to the floor, with the glass now in his hand. "They be a good couple. A good match o' heart and mind." His voice soft to Sylvia. "Very much," she nodded to that truth. "And I am happy for them."

Storm's eyes caught as Johnny and Sianna came to join on the dance floor and she smiled for them. "You always spend evening with me, beloved." A gentle tease and wink. "That is not true, and that does not mean I will not hold each one as special against the future." He need not speak further. The unsaid was understood between them. She simply smiled and nodded, knowing what he meant on not wanting to focus on that. Her eyes drifted to Sylvia and Hudson for a moment.

Johnny led Sianna through a spin on the crowded floor, with a grin as they passed Ewan and Storm. "Don' know how much longer we're stayin' - got a beautiful woman here I wan' ta take home."

Ewan smiled, "I can echo your sentiments on that for my own part, I have been trying to woo her from here. I must not be enticing enough." The hand on his shoulder slithered down to give him backside a pinch at that. Brows bounced up at that attack to his backside. "You press me and I will simply carry you from here."

"It would not be something new. You have done so before." Storm grinned impishly, and leaned to whisper again. "I think given my current circumstance, it is safe to say you are incredibly enticing."

At the man's approach, Sylvia was undisturbed. It was not uncommon for her to dance with others at events. She curtsied to his gracious offer and went on to the dance floor as well. Polite exchange of names and comments upon the opera as they danced.

"Aye, and I be right glad ye were here tae enjoy th' performance. Would ye ha'e a message tae pass on tae Katarina afore ye gae?" Hudson's smile was warm to the departing couple.

"Just thank her for us, yes?" She tried to hide her snicker like Sylvia, and failed. "I am sure to catch her later and thank her myself, also."

Ewan bowed to them, and added his own sentiments, "Walk safely." Then turned giving Storm an 'aren't you proud of me' look as he escorted her from the ballroom and building.

"Aye, o'course. Oidhche mhath tae ye both." As the pair turned to walk away.

"Good night!" Storm called and then she was following Ewan, her look showing that he would be reported for his mostly good behavior.

"It seems I have slipped my guard and Ewan. Dare I wonder if I am safe?" Sylvia?s tempered laugh brightened her eyes.

With a shake of his head and a merry smile, Hudson resumed the dance. "Ye've a braw Scotsman tae keep ye guard, and I've a fearsome protector tae scare away th' chattering lasses. I think we both be safe enow."

Matching his cadence into the dance again, "Yes, I think perhaps we are safe." She thought back, there was a question he had asked. "Oh, you asked if you knew my musician friend. Yes, you met her when in Seansloe. Kiema."

"Oh, aye - and th' pretty eyes she had. I remember th' lass, and I should ha'e kenned she be a musician, for th' lilt tae her voice." Easy turn and lead through the swirling crowd on the dance floor.

"Yes, very pretty eyes." She tried to recall if Kiema had been lazy with keeping her secret around him or not. Dare not press the matter if she had, she continued. "She comes to Rhydin but seldom these days." There was an easy manner in the way she moved with him. His dancing was superior to many, and she spoke of it to him. "You prove yourself a very fine dancer in pairs as well as solo, caraid."

"Aye, well, our Gran insisted on th' teaching all o' us th' dances such as this, along with th' jigs and all th' rest. If I remember aright, th' words she used were, 'Ye mun learn tae lead if ye wish a lass tae follow!' " And the mischief-filled smile reappeared as they turned around the pair of their abandoned partners, the man still futilely trying to get the girl to still her chatter for a few moments.

"Oh, I do like your Gran." She smiled and then could not help but look a little sympathetic for the man suffering through the torrent of words from his partner. She leaned in a little to whisper to Hudson, "I think, perhaps, he could take lessons from you on changing partners."

The low chuckle was more of a rumble in his chest, and he glanced again to the pair before he leaned back to return the whisper. "But then I'd ha'e tae be careful o' my partner being stolen away again."

"Well, don't show him all your tricks." Her grin a wicked one. "Besides, I do not get transferred too easily unless I am willing."

"Ah, then it's flattered I am that ye consented tae th' trade in th' first place." With another brief flash of smile, he tilted his head toward the refreshments. "Dae ye wish tae continue, caraid? I think I need a wee dram, but I be sure ye could find another tae accompany ye for th' few minutes it would take."

"No, I think I have had my turn upon the floor. It has been some time since I danced, and one should not overdo it." She gave a smile and accepted his escort from the dance floor.

He nodded as they reached the table with the refreshments and the server there. "A glass o' water for me - and another for ye, leannan, or would ye care for sommat else?"

A slight shake of her head countered her smile, "Thank you, but no. I am well as I am." A kind smile to the server as well. "Water is what you're having for your dram?" Inquisitive to the sedate choice.

"Aye, well, th' shouting and cheering followed by th' dancing puts me in need o' a glass o' water. Besides, th' evening seems a wee bit formal for a mug o' cider, and that be what I'd truly like wi' perhaps a splash o' sommat tae liven it." Hudson shrugged and raked net-scarred fingers back through his hair. "I cannae be but what I am, caraid."

That last perplexed her to an extreme. Confusion pulled slender raven wing brows together, her mouth dropped open the space of a breath.
"I should think that of course you cannot be but what you are. Did you think there was some fault in who and what you are? If it is cider that you want and its addition, I see no reason to mark you for it." She felt a misunderstanding has happened, but not quite sure when.

With a shake of his head, he frowned and started to answer, only to interrupt himself as the server returned with the water. "I may be mistaken, but I get th' feeling Ewan has taken a dislike tae me, and I dinnae ken th' reason for it, except maybe that I be one'a th' foreigners that be sae distrusted in Yransea right now. Sae I tell ye plain, I dinnae intend tae change much, and if that puts me tae conflict with yer Master-at-Arms, perhaps 'tis best if I dinnae keep on with th' warehouse, ye ken?"

Her back stiffened at his beginning reply, her eyes lifted to his, and her head held high while he explained. "I understand," she spoke formally. "The choice is yours, and I would not have you remain where you do not feel comfortable. As to Master Corinsson's manner towards you, that is a matter I can only guess, and would not dare to speak those guesses should they prove false." Those guesses to which even she did not want to contemplate. "No one expects you to change, Hudson, least of all me, but you do what is best for you."

Again he frowned and raked one hand back through his hair. "I didnae mean tae trouble ye on such a fine night, caraid, for true, nor tae let ye think I'd abandon my commitments. But..." And he was at a loss for words, and shook his head. "And now I ha'e made a right muddle o' things, confused and troubled ye, and generally spoiled th' party. I be verra sorry for that."

The performance was over before they knew it - a sign of a most excellent production, and one that was sure to get rave reviews. Katarina had impressed him, and he was one who was not easily impressed - by anything.

Talomar and his date for the evening had arranged to meet with the King and Queen of Westridge after the perfomance so that they might go to a little out-of-the-way place that Talomar knew of, that they might discuss the recent changes in the city. Besides, he still considered his charge of protecting Destre to be in effect, and it didn't hurt to refresh the business partnership.

He agreed to leave the Opera House in their royal coach - after all, he was only a Count.

Talomar had to smile.

"Oh that was just marvelous! Wasn't it marvelous, dear?" The old lady sitting beside Eva applauded enthusiastically, leaning over towards her with bright eyes.

Eva smiled and nodded. "Yes, it was very well done."

As the crowds started to filter out towards the after party, Eva stepped out into the aisle, the old woman beside her, her husband trailing a little behind. Eva opened her handbag as she walked to retrieve her coat check ticket.

"You're not going to the after party?" The old woman took Eva's arm as if she were her escort. "Oh you must! I'm sure it will be delightful."

"I... I don't know anyone here."

"I'll introduce you!" The old woman tugged Eva along with the crowd towards the double doors that led to the ballroom. "I'll say that you're my niece! Won't that be fun?"

Eva smiled, laughing inwardly. Grand-niece was more like it for the distance in their ages. She couldn't imagine what would make being introduced as her niece particularly fun. But the woman's enthusiasm was contagious, and Eva found herself less reluctant as they approached the double doors.

Then she saw that there would be dancing. Eva full stopped in the slow flow of people, feeling the old woman tug on her arm as she continued ahead, and the well-heeled couple behind her nearly colliding with her back. Oh no. No dancing.

"What's the matter, dear?"

"Oh... I just... just remembered something I have to do... I'm sorry... sorry I can't stay." People started to maneuver around them to continue into the party. "It was nice meeting you... nice meeting you both." The old woman's husband joined her, and Eva pulled away from them, backing awkwardly through the crowd, then turning against stream to make her way to the coat check and out.

Jolyon was all smiles as he walked with Juliane to the space just off the theatre building where the horse and curricle were waiting. He offered her a hand up into the seat, before he went to the other side to collect the reins and set them towards her home. "It has been a wonderful night, Juliane. I hope you have enjoyed it as well."

"It was marvelous, yeah? Seems hard ta believe it's all over. Jus' like a dream." She settled back into the curve of the seat, her wrap draped about her shoulders. Lowering her nose to the corsage he had brought her, she inhaled the rose's fragrance. A scattering of stars hung low overhead.

"In many ways. I had an angel on my arm, complete with halo." He smiled. "And I did not see one mistake in that opera, though perhaps Kat would correct me on that. I," he slowed the horse a bit who had gotten a little enthusiastic, "think dreaming will be a nice thing tonight."

She chuckled softly, a gentle blush deepening the cold's nip at her cheeks. "Never been called an angel before, halo or no." A small grin. "Thank ya for such a compliment." Attempting to shift the topic, she ran her gloved fingers along the seats tufts idly. "But what do ya plan ta dream about? Dancers on trampolines?"

It was a heady sort of laugh, though he had not had a drink at the after party. The high was the event and his company, and it revealed in each smile he sent her way. "I think I will dream of many sights and sounds, but it would be a strange thing for them to show up just as they are in real life. Perhaps I will dream of a golden circle."

"A golden circle?" A lift to her brows revealed her na?vet? and her curiosity. "What makes ya think that will be a possibility, yeah?" Large bulbous clouds were pushed from the moon by an easterly breeze, the moonlight catching in the folds of her skirt. The only color the meadow green of her eyes from beneath the shadow of the curricle's cover.

"It could be lights of the theatre or a halo." He meant for it to be a glance alone, but he was caught by the purity of those eyes and did more of a double take. He blushed some, and tried to think of something clever to say. Failing at it miserably, he fidgeted with the reins and cleared his throat. "Think you are inspired for your artwork from tonight?"

His glance made her think that something was perhaps out of order with her appearance, and a gloved hand went up to check that her hair had not come undone. The words he spoke, caught her off-guard. "Mmm, I s'pose, yeah? Not like I write music or could really make heads or tails out of all th' hoopla in th' story. But th' emotion makes me want ta paint it."

A shrug, "I thought maybe an image or two. Something just symbolic. Like you say...the emotion of it. I thought it was crazy, but funny. Could you imagine going through all of that?" He smiled again.

She shook her head, chuckling as she had throughout the opera. "No, not really. Then again, it's no' like I have a lot of experience in th' realm of love triangles. Or whatever geometric shape Mozart crafted wi' his story, yeah?" A furrow of thought as she paused. "Th' only symbolic thing I could picture would be a piece of string art, dartin' back and forth between all th' different characters."

It was such a bold laugh the horse skittered a bit, and Jolyon made sure to quiet down and get the horse back on course. "That would be perfect and just the thing. It was a bizarre sort of configuration of people, was it not?"

"And th' one lady tha' wanted ta marry him ended up bein' his ma!" She laughed and the horse unsettled again. "Oooh, sorry, yeah?" Controlling herself a bit better. "At times it was so unbelievable, seemed like Mozart must'a written it after visitin' Rhy'din."

"Just so!" He laughed again, but this time with a bit more care to the horse. "The man must have been here. Maybe he went through a portal as well."

"Mebbe so, Jolly. Ya'd almost have ta figure that he did somehow. No other way for him ta gotten it right. Unless he jus' read th' gossip papers and wrote it from tha'." Grinning softly, highly amused with the thought.

His eyes could not leave her, and thankfully the horse knew to keep to the road. ?The opera of Rhydin could not have been done any better."

"Or any more confusin', yeah?" She lifted her face to the sky above, not aware of his regard of her. "Nor could it have had a better night ta have everyone out and about. Ya can almost smell th' spring comin', can't ya?"

He took in a deep breath and nodded. His anticipation just as palpable. "That you can. I cannot wait."

"I'm sure, and then ya will be very busy wi' things in the vineyard." A soft smile over at the man, giddy like a child awaiting the arrival of a birthday or holiday. "Then I guess Katie an' I will have ta be content in keepin' our own company. Early mornin's on a workin' farm don't mix well wi' late nights."

His smile went from thrilled to a dismayed slight gape. "You won't be around then?" At the boldness of his words, he cleared his throat and lifted a thumb to scratch at a brow. "I mean, well, naturally you'll have things to do, too, won't you?"

"Of course I'll be around. Now tha' I'm free of th' workin's of an active self-sustainin' farm. Jus' figured that ya'd have more on yer plate than ta let ya make th' two of us a priority, yeah?" Her fingers still traced along the seat's tufts. "Not tha' I think we are, ya know? Jus' tha' ya won't have as much free time." Biting her lip and cursing her sudden tendency to ramble.

"My friendships are always a priority. Especially with you," it was a beat or two before he thought to cover up the admission with the additional truth, "and Kat. I have Hamish, and if I get the job then I will be in town and maybe we could make it a regular meeting after my work or something like that, if you want, that is." His own rambling starting to take hold.

"Ya, a good way ta catch up on our weeks. No' really sure what Kat's gonna do if th' troupe takes off or if she makes principal next go 'round, but she's been tellin' me I need ta find more excuses ta no' be in th' Studio so much, yeah?"

"Excellent," he said with a cheerful nod. "I would like that very much. I could see your continued work as well. Perhaps we could meet at the studio so I could see the latest creations."

"Johnny and I don't really let people in th' Studio, " she half-truthed. "Try ta keep it private so's not ta disrupt th' other or have somethin' happen ta a project accidentally. 'S'one thin' if I knock somethin' over, yeah?" Her smile still there, reassuringly. "I'll jus' have ta bring somethin' wit' me ta show ya or have ya stop at th' Lark ta see what I've put in th' gallery. B'sides, ya will see plenty of m'work if ya decide ta go ahead wi' th' mural, yeah?"

Searching for something to turn the tide of the mood, he asked, "What is your favorite thing to draw? Real things, or things you make up, or...what?" A squeak of a hinge caught his hearing, but it was not bad enough for alarm. He would check it tomorrow. For now, he relaxed back against the comfort of the leather seat and listened for her reply.

She smiled softly and giggled. "Only if ya promise ta do yer darndest for me in th' same situation, yeah? Too many years on th' farm nearly made me a hermit." Nestling back in the curve of the seat, she sat facing him, her head turned to watch him and the path ahead simultaneously. "Somethin' based in reality. Ta see if I can capture it ta paper. Like th' labels, yeah? Trees and streams are real, but I get ta put 'em together ta suit my mood an' all."

He smiled, a breeze soft laugh, and a nod that he would see to that promise. As she spoke of the artwork, he listened with unobstructed attention, the horse left to its devices not to run into anything. "That's the fascinating thing of it all. That you really do capture the feel," he emphasized it with a raise and drop of his hand, which gave a bit of a flick to the horse who sped to a brief trot and then slowed to a walk again. He gave more attention what effect he was having on the horse and where they were going, but went on. "The feel, yes, you manage to put that on paper so others feel it, too. That makes the difference there between the skill and the talent."

She shrugged lightly and bit her lower lip at the compliment. "Yeah, I s'pose. Started when I was younger. Thought that if somehow I could draw it well, it would make it real. Like a secret place tha' was all m'own or somethin'."

He felt there was something more to those words, but was afraid to pry too far too soon. What made her need a secret place of her own, he wondered. "What did some of your secret places look like when you were little? Mine were all cellars and attics and hidden closets." He smiled to encourage her to share what she would.

"Oh, it was always changin', yeah? A vale in springtime where th' butterflies were thick while the snow piled up ta th' windowsill. Jus' a place ta be other than where I was. Hard ta find a bit of rest an' quiet on a farm wi' such a family as mine." A soft smile, her eyes clear and bright.

"Such a family as yours? You mean with your brother and sisters and the work needing to be done? Must have been hard at that to find a moment to be just you with your own thoughts." He gave a glance back to her from the road, and the poor horse was left to its own devices once again when the light struck those meadow green eyes. Like the vale she described, there was something completely other worldly there, but, if he let that thought linger, she was in fact other worldly in the strictest sense. He blinked twice, thrice, and managed to get his eyes back on the road, but not without a nervous rub at an eyebrow.

"Yeah, an' work always ta be done, and th' younger girls eager ta be right atop of me. Only wi' Johnny and Maggie could I really be m'self. Didn't have ta fight ta hear m'self think." She smiled softly again, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Not tha' it was all bad, yeah? But I guess it's th' curse of th' artist, th' balance of quiet ta work in an' lettin' yerself hide away, likin' yer work more'n th' world."

"You know, I think I can understand that in some ways. My father always had something harsh to say about how I spent more time of my life hunting out and learning about the past world than the one I was living in."

"Yeah, so did mine. Had lots ta say about everythin', really." Her gaze clouded a moment before she forced a smile a bit wider. "But they had their lives ta live, right? They don't get second chances by livin' in ours, yeah?"

"No, they don't get second chances, and at some point, they've got to let us try our own thing and make our own mistakes. Maybe that's really what they're afraid of happening. That we'll make a mistake and be unhappy." He did not like the way her smile looked forced, and he wanted to see her smile easy again. "But, you're happy, aren't you?" He ventured somewhat on shaky ground, he felt.

She had nodded at his words and her smile bloomed in earnest at the question. "After a night like this one, ya even have ta ask me?" As she turned her head, her cheek brushed against the petals of her corsage, eliciting a soft laugh. "Wi' flowers ta boot, even."

"I don't like leaving things unknown, I guess, but I am certainly happy to hear it." His laugh was warm. "If it weren't for the demands of time and what faces us tomorrow, I would drive this rig around the block until the horse just refused to go further." Still, the curricle had turned back onto the street of her home.

"Ah, but then ya'd never be able ta ask it ta pull yer curricle again." A trained eye noticed how the mare was drooping. "She's been good and steady t'night. We can't make her keep totin' us about forever, can we?" Another chuckle bubbled forth. "Ya'd need a hovercraft and th' ability ta stop time I guess, in th' land of too much perfection."

"The land of too much perfection?" It was a spirited laugh. "I rather like that. We should visit it sometime. Our secret place." He smiled as the horse was drawn to a stop before her house. He stepped out of the carriage, and while it may look like it was eager, it was only because he would be able to touch her hand with good reason by handing her out of the carriage. He wanted that touch, something to let him know she had been really there and not just his imagination riding away with him.

Gripping his hand firmly, the other attempted to hold bag and skirts well away from the wagon wheel as she descended, Juliane came to a stop on solid ground at last. She chuckled at the idea, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Ya'll have ta tell me what it looks like so's I can draw it, yeah?" Her hand still resting in his, the moment seemingly paused.

"We will work on it together," he was not going to let go until she did, but his hand did not grip hers, only a gentle touch of fingers. His gaze traveled over her face, the way moonlight, stars, and distant lamplights touched highlights in her hair and played delicately upon her lips. He lifted her hand and bowed over it, the briefest touch of his lips against the back of it, and he rose again. "Thank you for the wonderful night, Juliane, and I hope to see you again soon."

She blinked at the touch, caught entirely off-guard as he kissed her hand. "Ya don't have anythin' ta thank me for, Jolyon." Using his full name instead of one of the myriad of nicknames she'd concocted. "Ya were th' one ta let me use th' ticket an' no' be an outcast in m'own family. Ya know how much I appreciate that, yeah?" She squeezed his hand lightly before letting the contact break, her hand hovering at her waist. "An' yeah, I'm sure ya will." A glance to the house and then back to him. "Goodnight."

"Good night." He watched the entire time as she went inside, and even a bit longer, taking slow steps backwards until he ran into the curricle. That jostled him from his observation, and he climbed inside and sat where she had been sitting. Another look to the house, and with a resigned flick of the reins, turned the horse toward home.