((Authors' Note: The following takes place immediately after the events depicted in "Double Blessing"))

Katarina wasn't quite sure what had happened to her left glove. Though she couldn't remember putting it on in her sprint out of the house, however, she didn't notice its absence either. With the left hand now shoved in a pocket of her thin jacket for warmth, she slowed her running as the building of Locke's apartment came into view. Already she had spread the word to Juliane and Peredhil, but a smile was still firmly in place and her excitement kept her from doing the smarter thing of going home out of the cold to bed, and instead she was still wandering Rhydin in the dark, early hours.

She craned her neck up at the apartment complex as she neared the entrance. There didn't seem to be a single light on. Rubbing her arms briefly, she approached the callbox and searched for Locke's number with ease. Excitement was once again overwhelming as she all but shouted as she pressed the button to buzz him, "Locke? Locke! Si had a boy' an' girl! Locke?"

There was a longer than normal pause in between when Katarina spoke into the callbox, and when Locke's voice finally came on over the speaker. It was crackly, slightly deeper and flatter than usual, even though his first word was in the more typically musical Elvish. "Mani? Katarina?" Even when he was done speaking, the static continued to hiss, indicating he still had his end of the line open.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot impatiently, folding her arms close against her chest against the chill of the hour. "Yeah! Si had th' twins nah too long 'go. Had a girl an' boy. Jist wen' ta tell Jules an' though' I'd spread th' news!" Her words were slightly rushed and jumbled.

Enthusiasm fought with fatigue, and for now, it seemed like fatigue was winning. He sounded excited, but it was quite evident he was still half-asleep. "Oh. Oh! Aces. I'll be down in a few moments." And without any further explanation, the speaker shut off, one of the orange lights on the panel turned on, and there was a buzzing sound, accompanied by the click of the lobby doors unlocking.

Her smile grew to a grin as she stepped away and crossed her arms again. Now that she wasn't running, the coolness of the night went through her thin jacket, the closest one she grabbed before running out of the door. The sound of the unlocking door was inviting enough for her to make long strides and let herself in.

Whether it was magic or merely cleverly designed architecture, the interior of the lobby seemed to be much larger than the building's size (and it wasn't a small building by any stretch of the imagination) might have indicated from the outside. More importantly, it was at odds with what the modern whitewashed exterior and electronic callbox might've suggested about its contents. As soon as she stepped inside, the temperature was immediately warmer, like a temperate summer evening. The ground, rather than being carpeted or tiled or comprised of wood, was tightly packed dirt, with tall prairie grasses and the occasional bush. In the middle of the "lobby" was what appeared to be a tall, thick redwood tree, coming through the floor and growing through the "ceiling." The ceiling itself, however, seemed to be a depiction of a starry night, somewhere far from the hustle, bustle, and light pollution of Rhydin. The stars seemed to illuminate the room, and were it not for the corridors at each cardinal direction from the lobby entrance, it would be easy to believe one was, in fact, outdoors and not inside.

When Katarina took one step and heard the light crunch of grass instead of her footstep on expected tile, she glanced down and let out a small "Eeek!" Startled, she nearly tripped backwards, but instead just fell back against the door to put it loudly back in place in its closed position. She stayed right there against the door, blinking several times before convincing herself that yes indeed, she was inside.

Some time later, Locke shuffled into view from one of the corridors. He had put on dressy clothes, but the usual sharpness and attention to detail were missing from his wardrobe. He'd buttoned the bottom button too high on his pale blue and white gingham checked shirt, leaving the shirt tails unevenly spaced and the top button orphaned without a buttonhole. His khakis were wrinkled and beltless, and the laces on his right brown wingtips had come undone, leading him to drop into a crouch briefly and retie them. Most of his hair lay flat against his head, but there was a serious cowlick on the right side sticking up like the spiked style he usually wore.

By now she was exploring the lobby, trying to determine the height of the tree when she spotted Locke from the corner of her eye. Her eyes widened with amusement as she studied the odd lack of details to his clothing and hair. Her grin was warm, and she couldn't help but find him completely adorable in his obviously tired state. "Sorry 'bout comin' so early, bu' I didn' really hav' any control ova th' timin' er anthin', yeah?" The happy glow that had been in place for the past several hours that gave her energy in her lack of sleep returned.

"Quite all right. I take it everything went all right? A boy and a girl, you said?" His tiredness was still thickening and deepening his voice more so than usual, counterplaying against the usual medley of British and Elvish accents that inflected his tone. He walked into the center of the lobby and leaned against the tree, looking just about ready to slide down the tree trunk.

"Yeah, an' they jist 'bout as cute as kin be." This being said about small, pink, and wrinkly newborns. "Li'l Ian an' Margaret." She approached him then, her right hand that still had the glove lifted to brush his cheek gently in a silent greeting. "Dun say anythin' ta Si, bu' I think li'l Maggie has mah nose."

"Ian and Margaret." He looked up at the ceiling stars briefly, then back over to her as she approached. At the mention of noses, he reached a gloved hand (apparently, all he'd been able to find on such short notice was the rainbow-colored pair of cotton ones that had been among the batch of Christmas presents) to tap hers. "Your secret is quite safe with me. I would never peach."

"Yeah, I know ya wouldn'." She giggled at the tap to nose, and removed her one glove before starting to fix his buttons. As adorable as the uneven shirt was, she started at the top, only unbuttoning the ones necessary to fix and work down before continuing. "I'm nah too sure where Ian came fra, bu' Margaret's th' name o' mah cousin tha' died nah too long ago travelin' ta visit Jo. Yanno," she paused as she finished fixing his shirt to give him a sly grin, "yer awfully cute when ya jist wake up."

"When I went to Uni, they had to put me in a special room, by myself, because of, well-" He tugged at one of his cheeks, for emphasis. "And when I finally moved out of the dorms, into a flat nearby, I had to rent one by myself. And when I came back here, every place I lived in, I lived in on my own." He was cringing as he detailed his living situations; it was one of the few times that his honesty was painful to him. At her last comment, he started to stammer a bit, before regaining his composure. "I-I-well, we will cross that bridge when we get to it." Suddenly frustrated, he banged a fist against one of the tree's exposed roots, reverting to Elvish that hummed with anger. "Ta il-naa van!" *

The sudden expression startled her enough to cringe and do a light bounce in place. She frowned and her lips pulled down slightly, "I know i's nah easy, bu' focusin' 'n how fair i's nah isn' gonna help anythin'. Ya know tha' people would trade places wit' ya any day ta hav' a roof ova there head, food ta eat, and people tha' care a lot 'bout them, yeah?"

"I...suppose." At best, he only seemed to be half-buying it, though the sentiment was enough to settle him down some. "I think I am just a touch cranky from being so knackered." Locke looked to the east, where the black hue of the early morning sky was slowly giving way to the molten oranges, reds, and purples of the rising sun. "Still, I suppose I should wait just a little while longer."

Her eyes followed his, and since he seemed to have settled down, she leaned against him again. She didn't say anything for a while, before she rested her cheek on his shoulder, "Yanno, I really am sorry 'bout wakin' ya up an' all, bu' 'm glad we're here. I dun 'member th' las' time I was 'wake ta watch th' sunrise. Even if 'm watchin' it indoors, somehow."

"I think I was a lad." Locke grinned at the memory. "I snuck out of my room and our flat just because I wanted to see what it was like. Mum wasn't too happy when I finally staggered back home again. I was too tired to even bother sneaking back in. Did you ever do anything like that as a child?"

"Fer th' sunrise? Nah." She shook her head slowly, "I used ta see it all th' time, doin' mah mornin' chores 'round th' farm bafore going ta mah lessons. Now, I did sneak ou' fer otha thin's, particularly durin' the summer ta a lake ta meet Jo an' Cal a' nigh' when it was nah so hot."

"Swimming?" The one word question was punctuated by a slight lift of one eyebrow.

She nodded before elaborating, "I's th' best place ta cool down, an' it was pretty deep. We'd run an' jump off the dock all evenin'." a corner of her lips lifted, "As ya kin see, there nah much ta do 'n Hope."

"But you stayed out of trouble?" His grin became slightly wicked. "Most of the time?"

She pursed her lips, "Define trouble." She then chuckled before shaking her head, "Nah, I wasn' too bad, I think. I mean, I ditched a healthy dose o' lessons, an' sneaked outta th' house, bu' tha's 'bout th' worse o' it."

"Couldn't have been too bad, or else you wouldn't have ended up here, yeah?" He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth, but not before the beginnings of a yawn escaped. "You would have wound up in prison, with none of us the wiser."

"Prison? Jist wha' kinda trouble were ya thinkin' I could git inta?" She gave him a teasing nudge, "I's jist a li'l farm girl, afta all."

He giggled at the nudge. "I wasn't about to ask. I figure it is better if I don't know if I'm harboring a wanted fugitive or not."

"Ya ar' worried 'bout tha' *now*?" She laughed warmly, gently rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, "It'sa li'l late fer tha', mate."

"I'll say." He grinned back at her like an idiot, but said nothing more to support his statement.

She made a doubtful sound and aimed a poke for his middle, "Here I am, tryin' ta talk 'bout watchin' th' sunrise wit' ya, an' yer worried 'bout me bein' some kinda criminal." She pouted, sticking her lower lip out.

He tried to dodge the poke but failed, pulling away too slow. He pretended to look offended, shocked, and a little surprised, hands folded over his chest. "But you are a criminal, Katarina."

She gaped at him, " 'm nah such thing!" She mocked his position, folding her arms over her chest with a look that demanded an explanation.

"You know what you've stolen. Just confess and the judge will show you mercy." From the way he straightened up, and pretended to put some sort of wig on his messy bedhead, it was clear that he was also pretending to be the magistrate.

She raised a brow, smirked, and then leaned forward in a taunting manner, "I plead innocen', yer honor." The motion brought wisps of hair up to her face, and rather then moving them with her finger, she blew up to try and clear to face with little success.

?You mean, you haven't stolen my heart?" He delivered the line with absolute sincerity, eyelashes batting with each quick blink, though his arms were folded sternly in imitation of her earlier gesture.

It was so unexpected, that it tripped and ruined her facade. Her face blanked and her taunting pose relaxed. Uncertain to where this teasing would lead, she continued along with it and shook her head slowly, "Nah.." she faked a confident smile, " 'm thinkin' ya gav' it ta me."

"I did?" He looked surprised at first, then touched the corner of his mouth with his index finger. "When did this happen? And let me remind you, you are under oath." Never mind the fact he had said nothing of the sort previously.

She blinked, "Ya dun even 'member?!" Her hands went to her heart like she was wounded, "Do ya always give yer heart 'way so easily? Ya gav' it ta me when we wen'ta th' Teas'n Tomes."

He slapped himself lightly on the forehead, chastising himself. "Of course! How could I forget? Although-" His smile turned sly and secretive as he drew out the last syllable in that word. "I seem to recall you doing the same as well."

She sent him an "of course" look. "Well, yeah I did. Ya didn' lose it er anythin', hav' ya?" Her hands, one still gloved and one bare, set on her hips.

He made a show of rummaging through each of his pants pockets, before finally "removing" something from the back right one. He held his hand out to her, palm up, pretending to cradle something. "Does this look familiar to you?"

A doubtful look ran across her face, before her position relaxed and she leaned over to have a look at what he was holding. She contemplated saying something about him possibly having several hearts on hand, but instead she gave an affirmative nod, "Tha's th' very one."

He grinned cheekily, but kept his arm out and hand outstretched, as if asking for something more. "Would it be too much to ask you to show me my own strawberry?" He curled the fingers of his hand upwards in a beckoning gesture.

She looked up, stuck her thumb out, and patted down on her pocket-less dress. Then she gave each of her shoes a shake, as if listening for any possible sound. Finally, she stuck her gloved hand into a pocket of her jacket, and pulled out his "heart". "Nah problem. Always go' it on me."

He didn't know why, but her words touched him, leaving his smile softer and his eyes bouncing back and forth between her irises and her hand. Impulsively and wordlessly, he reached out for her with the hand that had been holding her "heart."

Sitting in a lobby that recreated the outdoors with a snow elf, who had wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and rainbow gloves should have sent several odd and unusual signs. Yet instead, she knew that there was no were else she would rather be and moved to cuddle as close to him as she dared to.

* It's not fair.

"Oh!" she fell onto her side with a giggle, away from any major roots. His grunt managed to bottle most of her silly humor, as she propped up on an elbow to look down at him, "Ya okay?" Some hair moved down to block her view, and she brushed it across her scalp and back with her free hand.

He flashed a thumbs up from his supine position. "Aces. Arwenamin." * He popped into a seating position soon after, attempting to brush the dirt off of his back where he had landed.

She sat up as well, leaning over to help assist in brushing the dirt off of his back. "I like that, *arwenamin.* But I kin't call ya *heruamin,** tha' jist dun fit ya." She frowned in thought, "Which reminds me tha' I still dun hav' a nickname o' sorts fer ya."

"I am hardly royalty." Even so, he stuck his nose snootily into the air, before looking down at her with a wink and grin. "You don't have to nickname me. I rarely use any of your nicknames, Katarina. And you certainly seem to have a multitude of them."

"Bu' everyone tha's involved wit' a Smith has a nickname. I's jist th' way thin's ar, yeah?" She looked at the rising sun, before laying back down on the soft grass to stretch out her limbs and put her hands behind her head. The last of the stars were fading away, but she paid them little attention as she looked back to Locke, pursing her lips in thought.

"I await my dubbing, then." He reached over to grab the shoe that had fallen off, putting it back on his foot and retying the laces, before laying back on the grass once more.

"Kin I call ya 'heart thief'? I dun think I know tha' one 'n Elvish. Ya haven' taugh' me tha' yit." she giggled, before making loud, obvious motions to scoot closer to him.

He sat there and pondered it for some time, watching as she moved closer to him. He sat up and scooted as well, to bridge the gap between them that much faster. "Cormwethrin."

"Cormwethrin." She repeated the word, and moved onto her side while propping her head up. She stared at his face, trying to see if that was a fit, "I dunno, wha'cha think?"

"Or Cormaminwethrin. 'Thief of my heart.' That might be a touch too long for a nickname though. Hard when your name's as short and punchy as mine though."

She nodded in agreement, "Yeah, it is. An' cormwethrin suggests tha' ya go 'round stealin' all sor's o' hearts, an' tha's jist nah shiny." Her hand reached to lightly tickle the top of his middle, "I'll take th' challenge ta find th' perfec' one."

He squirmed and laughed as he was tickled. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going anywhere. Take all the time that you need." He flopped onto his stomach and rested his elbow on the grass, handing resting on his chin, in imitation of her earlier pose. He was looking at her with a ridiculously wide and goofy smile on his face.

Her eyes narrowed slightly with interest on his comment before adjusting, but now his wide and goofy smile was contagious, and she was showing it back. It felt like one of those smiles that she wasn't quite sure what the focus was on, ".. wha'? Somethin' funny?" She self-consciously patted her hair for any signs of grass.

"Nothing's funny. I'm just wishing you didn't have to go home, and I didn't have to go back to bed. I'm starting to feel quite knackered, now, sadly." The smile drooped into an exaggerated frown, complete with pouty lower lip and wide, puppy-dog eyes.

"Well, then let's jist... sleep ou' here." she laid back down to spread out her limbs in exaggeration, "Ya kin rough it a li'l, yeah? Jist fer a few hours." Though her voice was completely humorous, she made no movement.

He looked at her with a mixture of doubt and longing. "I...don't know if I can. If that is a good idea. My clothes keep me safe, but...I've never risked sleeping somewhere that wasn't cold."

"No worries, mate. Who's heard o' a prima ballerina roughin' it, anyhow?" Her response was almost too quick, but she was determined to guard the unexpected sadness away from her face. She turned again so that she was close to him and on her side, "Thanks fer comin' down, an' watchin' th' sunrise wit' me. I'll always think o' ya wheneva I see one." She brought her gloved fingers to her lips, kissed them, and then gently brushed them against his lips.

His eyes fluttered shut as she brought her fingers to his lips, and a tamer version of his earlier smile returned to his face. "It was my pleasure." His next words in Elvish almost sounded like a lullaby, quieter and slower than usual. " Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'." ***

"An' mine yours. Bu', ya hav' it, so I dun think it kin be too bad. Amin autien rath." **** She winked and then stood, tired limbs protesting as she offered a hand down for him.

He took the hand, pulling himself to his feet and immediately moving to wrap her up in a tight hug. He whispered in her ear as he did so, his breath cold like the winter wind. "I will. Be careful going home, salkaamin." ***** Finally, reluctantly, he pulled himself away from her, hands moving up to keep busy by attempting to smooth his hair again.

She matched the closeness of the hug, what energy she could muster went into holding him tightly. His cold breath tickled her ear and nearly sent a shiver down her back. "I will. Git some sleep, cormaminwethrin." She squeezed his hands once last time before they released. Sending him a warm smile, she then turned and put her energy in putting one foot in front of the other out of the building and to track down the first carriage on sight.


* My lady
** My lord
*** My heart shall weep until it sees thee again.
**** Hold on to it for me
***** My dancer.

((Edited and adapted from live RP))