[OOC: Even though we don't have much planned, I decided to write something to jostle stuff up. This begins at [strikethrough]an hour before[/strikethrough] a few hours before Dance Night. Andre and company are set to arrive in thirty minutes or so. They'll plan for a few hours, before they go off for Dance Night. Dinner's provided, buffet in the conference room. Sorry 'bout lack of info!]

Devon scanned the list displayed to him quickly – it was the final schedule for today’s Dance Night, as sent to him by Diana. The theme was musicals, mostly from the older period, at least five decades ago. The genre had not been subjected to a recent revival, so most modern musicals were, in his opinion, a whole lot of hogwash. Nothing like Cats, Evita, or Phantom of the Opera. He saw a lot of pieces he recognised in those that were going to be performed, and knew that it was a result of strong hinting on his part. It hadn’t been too hard, since most of the Arcadians were barely acquainted with old musicals, being young, themselves, and not having an influence such as his mentor, Michael Ielle, had been. Some suggestion, a few reinditions of the songs, and the magnificence of the melodies had persuaded the Arcadia that they would make this week’s Dance Night a blast.

Considering that they were inviting members of the Camenarium, or at least, those who were interested, along, too, he felt sure that at least one or two would share his interest for musicals, some of which did have some fabulous dance moves.

With an inward smirk he decided that he was, as Diana had said when he had hopefully suggested this particular theme, “an Andrew Lloyd Webber fanboy”, to use a quaint term from the past.

Then again, the words “fan” and “boy” weren’t ones that would be attributed easily to Devon Tor’Ielle. Looking at him, one would be more likely to think that he would be the centre of fan attention. And while he often was, he never seemed quite aware of it – though as a dancer, he probably, on some level, was.

He turned his attention back to the screen – all the particulars of each group was there, laid out in a both informative and easy-to-read format. He smiled suddenly, and wondered what he would do without her. It was with this smile that he turned towards the screen with their vidconference link. Diana had turned away to peruse some document, and he spent some moments just watching her, with that same smile on his face. He never tired of looking at her – in his eyes, she was perfect, right down to those strands of hair framing her face she sometimes seemed to dye most unnatural colours.

[I have mentioned I have no experience with this, right? Okay, then.]

Diana took a moment to look over her notes one last time while Devon went over the night’s schedule. Planning this upcoming raid had been an exercise in frustration, and she could have cheerfully murdered him when he came back from his meeting with the Camenarium leader and announced that Gilchrist, and others, would be joining them for Dance Night and possibly send people on this raid. She hid a sigh of frustration and blew an errant turquoise strand out of her face. She knew she was over-planning, as usual, but couldn’t help herself.

It was her turn to smile, softly, as she turned back to the link and caught Devon looking at her. “You’re staring, beloved.” She let her amusement color her voice, then went on more briskly, “As you can see,” and she highlighted a timeslot on his schedule, “I’ve scheduled us to go rather early in the evening, but depending on when everyone is hungry, “ thinking of the typical male appetite, “we can slide in almost anywhere. Corey and Eirian are setting everything up, and Jan’s around to help, so they’re fine until I can change and get down there. I’ve a packet for any of Gilchrist’s people who want to join us next week, and the information we want stored is boxed up, just waiting on the arrangements to transfer.” Diana paused a moment, considering her next words, then plunged back in. “You are, ah, were you planning on changing before everyone arrives?” She didn’t know what he had worn to his meeting, and was quite sure she wouldn’t have approved.

[Aye, don't worry, you're doing okay. ]

Devon had the grace to blush and look slightly embarrassed as he nodded meekly. He had, with Diana’s approval, prepared two sets of clothes – one to wear to the conference room, where they would be meeting Andre and the people who had expressed interest in active alliance with the Arcadia, and another for their performance of the theme for Phantom of the Opera. Like most of the performances in Dance Night, perhaps more so for this week’s theme – songs in musicals often sounded incomplete without a complement of players – they would be collaborating with another group.

Peering at what she assumed was the timeslot on his screen, he nodded agreement. “I’ve just sent Claire down to the conference room to see if she could check that the buffet people are ready. The people from the Camenarium should be arriving, I’ll be going down shortly. Yes, after I change, dear.” He winked at her. “Thank you for all the work and planning, it’s magnificent. I know this one has been frustrating because of the little information we’ve had – but we can do it, like we always will.”

Devon looked distant for a second – rarely was there a day of intensive planning and training when both of them did not wonder whether all this was actually going anywhere, but like he said, they always came through. Then the moment passed, and he asked, “Anything else?”

[I blame that second paragraph and Diana's mood entirely on you, Jenn. I've had "Bring on the Men" in my head ever since you announced musicals as the theme.]

She sighed. "I should thank you for not letting me cook. You were right; I would have gone crazy trying to do everything. Other than that. . ." Diana riffled through a stack of hardcopy and glanced at her inbox. There was always something else to go over: scheduling, testing, discussions with the other two leaders, the thousand and one details that come up during the week. . . She shook her head irritably. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. Or Monday." She collapsed against the back of her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Did I mention I handed out ocarinas this week? Monday sounds nice. I think I'm going to stay in bed and hide from the world this weekend."

She opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it as wicked grin crossed her face briefly before she could suppress it. No, inviting him to join her would not be a good idea, at least not this early in the evening. Last time. . . she shook her head again to clear it. Fun as that had been, she couldn't risk abandoning their guests tonight.

"Alright," she recalled herself and sat back up, "I'm going to finish getting ready and check on Corey and Claire." She laughed as her latest stray hopped on the desk and slid on the papers. "And feed the kitten," who looked up bewildered from its sprawled position on the mess that was her second year's tests. "Unless you'd rather have me along to greet the Camenarium with you, I'll meet everyone in the conference room." Diana righted the little calico again and tapped a finger against the desk, trying to remember what she had wanted to ask him. The kitten watched her hand, crouched, and pounced. "Oh, do me a favor?" she tussled with the kitten while talking to Devon. "I left my flute in your apartment last night. Would you bring it down when you come down? I haven't had a chance to get it yet."

[Short post because I don't want to shift completely to his viewpoint - and it's about time for Meri to join in. ]

Devon looked around quickly, then went, “Aha!” as he spotted the flute in its case, perched on the coffee table. Moving out of the vidcomm screen to retrieve it, he made a waffling motion with the hand that could still be seen.

"Flute, yes? No problem! Going to change, too." Moving into the screen once more, he undid the first few buttons of his shirt, flute case nestled protectively against his chest, lips slightly parted. Then his eyes gleamed, and he grinned and waved before disconnecting the vidcomm line.

The 'cars drew up to a couple of empty lots and eased in. Two 'cars. Andre looked grimly at the colours reflected in the windshield. Two 'cars and only seven people. It was an awful turnout. What an embarrassment. He had hoped that the Camenarium would show more support for the proposed raids, but this - this could prove a staggering blow, to him, to his leadership, and worst of all, to the relationship between the organizations. But he would not compel anyone who was unwilling to follow him. He had tried his hardest to persuade them, but if they would not see that this was what he honestly believed to be the best path they should take - he would not compel them. Andre was not one to force others to do things against their will.

He got out of the 'car silently. Slammed the door. The others - the ones who had volunteered for the mission - gathered around him. Debbie and Vadun came to stand by his side. Debbie was quiet; Vadun threw him a broad grin, as if to say, "Well, here we are, comrade. Let's go!"

He nodded and smiled to reassure his people. "In we go, then."

The group headed for the door.

Devon knocked, then entered the conference room without waiting for a reply. Glowering, he stalked to a metallic chair, dragged it screeching out, and sat on it. Removing his wristwatch and slapping it on the table so the digital 3D characters jumped from the sudden shock, he turned to address Claire, who had frozen at the buffet table where she had been chatting with Diana when he had entered. "Can you please go down to the lobby and call me when they're here? The people from the Camenarium. They're late by more than half an hour, I'm tired of waiting."

Claire nodded and quickly left the room with a quick wave at Diana, aware of Devon's less-than-pleasant mood. The two of them alone, Devon slumped in his chair and put his head in his hands. His voice issued from between his fingers, muffled, "I thought they were serious, you know. It's not so much the waiting, but...standing there, I was unsure. Their leader seemed like a good enough guy, but even he wasn't certain of his members. That kind of organisation...did I do wrong to ally us? Michael...would Michael have done differently?"

[You had to pick the busiest Friday afternoon in months to start writing in earnest ]

Diana licked her lips against their sudden dryness. "First, you need to quit roaring about like a wounded dzrekh; you scared the girl," she practically scolded him (scared me, hanging in the silence) as she crossed to the table. Her voice softened as she pulled the locket watch from under her blouse and continued. "Second," and she picked up Devon's watch and compared the two, shook his, held it up to her ear as if it were the old-fashioned one and placed it back on the table, “you seem to be running a touch fast."

She sighed and, as much to hide her unsteady hands as to calm him down, began to rub his shoulders. "It's only been a half-hour. Any number of things could have delayed them." Diana kept her words slow and soft, trying to use her voice and her hands to ease his tension him. No, to soothe them both. "As for being uncertain, you are in better shape than I am. I am scared, so scared I can barely breathe." Her hands moved up the column of his neck, down his arms. "What keeps me going is you." Kneeling in front of him, still trembling, she took his wrists and pulled his hands down to look into his eyes. "I trust you. I trust you, or I would not be here. Michael trusted you, or he would not have wanted you to take over for him. You are doing the right thing. We need help, and family stands together. They are Kalla, as well. Trust in that." She took a shaky breath. "And trust yourself a little more, too. Oh, beloved. I wish you could see what I do."

[thank you for that post, it was spot on. and don't ask me what we were doing writing at 3am in the morning (our time). Insanity, perhaps? ]

Devon groaned, and submitted to his lover's comforting touch, his eyes gazing into hers and finding nothing but love and support for him. Momentarily, he felt ashamed for overreacting, and reached out impulsively to hug her, moving out of the chair so that he, too, was kneeling on the floor. "You keep me going, too. Thank you, Di. Trust, yeah, I can do that."

He took a deep breath, resisting the urge to nuzzle her soft hair, and disengaged from the embrace. Still holding her by the shoulders, their faces close to each other, he smiled and hoped she would too, that that worried expression would be replaced by the joy he was so fond of seeing. "And...a wounded dzrekh, eh?" He tried to pronounce the unfamiliar word as well as he could. "Dare I hope that that describes a handsome beast, however prone to stress, who greatly appreciates the strength of this beautiful woman who has chosen him to be with?"

[yes, I'm setting them up. I'm sorry, I can't help myself.]

"Not quite," Diana laughed softly before brushing a gentle kiss on his lips. She stood up, drawing him up along with her and pulling him back into her arms. They stood there, forehead to forehead, eyes closed, her arms around his neck, his hands at her waist, drawing the strength they needed from each other. At that moment, she didn't care if the Camenarium were at the door; Devon's outburst had unbalanced her, and she needed this to regain her center.

"Not quite," she repeated, smiling. "The dzrekh is a very large, very nasty, very ill-tempered beast with a distinct fondness for Charan nestlings. Unfortunately, they have enough intelligence to find their way into the créche. They are, however," and here she leaned forward, her voice dropping lower with each word, "very soft, supple," she ran a hand through his hair and back down his neck, "and very, very tasty." She leaned in for a kiss.
[cue Andre ]

[okay, no, I'm not sorry ]

[I can't help myself either. Meri/Jo was even having "high hopes" hanky panky would happen, while I vainly tried to suppress my ahemness rating while writing. But tada, we still end up here. Can't say I'm unhappy, though! Amanda, if you want, feel free to interject between my paragraphs - like with the Savant posts, if you're keeping track of those. Just have a sign of which part you're inserting something in; I'd love to have her reactions if you have an idea of them, or not if you don't. It's good either way. Now...]

Devon raised an eyebrow, and suppressed a groan as he felt the feather-light touch of Diana's hand on his hair, his neck, angling his head to allow her a better angle in preparation for the inevitable meeting of their lips. This lasted no more than a second, barely enough for either of them to deepen the kiss, before he pitched his voice lower, seductive, and spoke, against her lips, "This dzrekh disdains Charan nestlings, in favour of a sweeter morsel.." He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes. "..that he can devour. Not once.." He turned his head slightly, lowering his head to kiss the mysterious junction of her collarbone and throat.

"Not twice.." He moved the focus of his attention up, and nipped Diana once on her earlobe, gently.

Looking into her amber eyes with a devious smile on his face, he finished his sentence, "But many, many times." With that, he captured the honeyed heaven of his lover's mouth, tracing the line of her lips with his tongue, gently but passionately.

When his watch, placed on the table, vibrated in an alert, both of them were too distracted to noticed. On its face, 3D letters jostled each other for attention as they displayed - "Claire Kaisa calling. Apprentice, yo."

***

Downstairs, Claire frowned and apologised to the leader of the Camenarium - Mr Gilchrist, he had said? - and said, "I'm sorry, Sir, but he's not attending to my query." It was odd, she thought - wasn't chois communication supposed to be a very loud mental alarm? At least, if you were wearing the piece Devon had created -- in his case, in the form of a watch. So..either he was ignoring her, or he had taken it off. Huh. She considered trying to contact Diana, but became aware of the patiently waiting guests in the lobby. Blushing, she bobbed her head apologetically again, and led them into the elevator.

"I'll be escorting you to the conference room instead - I'm sure he's just making sure preparations for the buffet have been finalised." She smiled graciously, and hoped they wouldn't notice her nervousness. There were not too many of them - she thought the Camenarium was a reasonably big group in Lausanne, but, well, she was sure it didn't consist of only seven people.

Mr Gilchrist was obviously the leader - she could tell he was somewhat troubled, though she was too polite to ask. The atmosphere in the elevator froze into a stilted silence. None of them spoke in the air-conditioned environment, soft muzak sifting through the speakers, as they climbed towards their eventual destination, the tenth floor.

[Y'know, I hadn't planned on embarassing them quite this much, but this is too much fun It's not so much not knowing her reactions as not wanting to interrupt your flow.]

"Not twice.." He moved the focus of his attention up, and nipped Diana once on her earlobe, gently. She didn't bother to hide a hum of pleasure as he easily found her hot buttons.

they climbed towards their eventual destination, the tenth floor. . .

***

Diana's accent was thick, her voice husky as the broke for air. "This morsel trembles in fear. Feal her heart," she brought his hand up to her chest, then dropped her own to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. "How fast it beats. She can barely stand for terror of this beast." She tightened her grip and molded herself against him. Pushing aside the nagging feeling that they shouldn't be doing this now, she concentrated on kissing him. Her tounge danced with his, tasting paradise.

***

The elevator doors opened again quickly at the second floor, and Eirian bounced in, still in her school uniform. "Hi Hi." She didn't seem to notice the visitors as she punched the number for Diana's floor. "Di said I can raid her closet. Mum almost hit the wall when I said I was going to a party tonight. I wasn't about to push her by changing." She frowned, "Not that a lot of Di's stuff'll fit me, but. . ." She bounced in place, watching the floor display, still oblivious to her surroundings. "Tonight is going to be great, wonderful, fantabulous." Bounce, bounce, bounce. "Are you sticking around for the meeting? Di said I can stay and observe if I'm quiet. Corey already has five francs on my not lasting ten minutes." Bounce, bounce, bounce. She looked around at Claire's silence and finally realized there were other's in the elevator with her. Wide eyed, she tried not to talk, but the awkwardness became too much for her. "Maybe that orange ribbon dress will fit. Not that orange is my color, but. . ." Bounce, bounce, bounce. "I hate being short. Maybe if I were taller, guys would notice me. Works for Di, doesn't it? I'm babbling, aren't I? She just reminds me of one of the step-thing's swords - he's a SCA nut - and yet. . . I mean, have you seen her ex?" Bounce, bounce, bounce.

[should we give them a hint what they might be walking into?]

[ Ahahaha no! This is fun... And I'm just watching. Do I hear cries of 'voyeur'? Heh. Hmm ok I think I'll add a little in-elevator chunk. Jenn, you'll be editing everything later? Splice the bits together so the scene toggles back and forth? Methinks that'll be quite nice. ]

Andre thought he heard a chuckle-snort come from somewhere behind his shoulder which quickly became a cough. Vadun. He half turned his head and gave the other man a warning look, and caught glimpses of a few hidden smiles. Debbie was staring studiously at the floor. Claire was obviously embarrassed, but his people seemed a little tense.

Well thank God for small mercies. But his mood was a little too grim at the moment to find the girl's entrance amusing. He knew he should be making an effort to be pleasant though. So he mustered up a smile and nodded to their guide, as if to say 'perhaps an introduction here...?'

[Claire is alluding to another possible interruption, yes. I'm not sure about the switching, generally kept what y'all wrote intact, have a look at it when we're done with this. (should take a while, yet. XD)]

Claire smiled wrily at Mr Gilchrist, who had given her a nod at Eirian’s entrance and ensuing rapid speech. She was as excitable as always, this girl. Since their visitors looked somewhat bewildered, she decided to quickly stick in an introduction during a pause. “Eirian…these are our visitors from the Camenarium – they’ll be attending the meeting you speak of. I’m escorting them there, then going down to the basement to help Corey prepare for Dance Night. Mr Gilchrist, ladies, gentlemen, this is Eirian Argall – apprentice of Arcadia’s second-in-command, Diana Constantinescu.”

Just as she finished, the elevator emitted a soft ding as the doors opened at the tenth floor. Peering at the panel, which still showed floor number Diana’s apartment was on lighted up, Claire held the “Open” button as she waited for the people of the Camenarium to exit. “Eirian, are you coming with us, or going up?” Lowering her voice to a whisper, “If you want to go to the meeting, this’ll be your only chance – it’s not nice to enter later, in the middle of it. It wouldn’t only be an interruption, it would cause the participants to feel awkward.”

________________________________________

Devon groaned as Diana efficiently managed to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, momentarily reminded of how he had done the same less than an hour ago via vidcomm. Rueful, he tried to keep his mind on the right track – though this right track seemed to consist of sending a chois to lock the conference room doors, and ravishing Di right on the table. With his hand on her chest, feeling the heave of her bosom, that seemed a very good idea, so he performed the first quickly with a flick of his free hand toward the place he thought the doors was.

No, no, right track, that meant Claire was probably escorting Andre Gilchrist and company towards the conference room at this instant, or were already just outside, if they were unlucky. He ignored the voice that said they might not even be there yet – that would be being too lucky.

Refusing to surrender to base desires, he broke the deep kisses they were sharing, and captured her hand in his, twining their fingers together. As the both of them gasped for breath, he whispered, hoarse, “But I am a man. And now…now, we do not have the time.” He smiled wrily, shuddering slightly as his body willingly and quickly responded to the feeling of her on him, so right, so right, the right track…Andre Gilchrist…and the…Camenarium…control…”I am a man, and I will take my time with you. And when I will it – then, I will bring to you the meaning of not wanting to stand.”

Reluctantly, he separated from her, their only point of contact now their linked hands, as he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling flushed. Focus… Opening his eyes again and grinning apologetically to soothe the feeling of emptiness the both of them probably felt at this sudden break, he said, “I thought it was only right that I do it, this time – you’re always the voice of reason when we have other engagements.”

“Though…” His eyes darkened with vulnerability and heat as he looked at her, breathing heavily. “I still want you.” Unsaid but implied was that he always did, no matter what, that they belonged, that they were right, together, with each other, supporting each other.

[You say “base” like it’s a bad thing ]

Refusing to surrender to base desires, he broke the deep kisses they were sharing, and captured her hand in his, twining their fingers together. She moaned in denial and brought her free hand up to rest against his cheek, her lips to his ear to murmur protests before resting her head on his shoulder, trying to bring her reeling mind back into focus. As the both of them gasped for breath, he whispered, hoarse, “But I am a man. And now…now, we do not have the time.” We have time, plenty of time; she wanted to object, fighting the rational part of herself that agreed with his words. She burrowed deeper into the crook of his neck and nibbled, tasting salt-sweat, inhaling the wonderful familiar sent of his flushed skin. He smiled wryly . . .

Reluctantly, he separated from her, their only point of contact now their linked hands, as he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling flushed. Deprived of his support, Diana collapsed gently into the chair Devon had vacated a small eternity ago and watched him through her eyelashes. Focus…

“Always,” she replied, squeezing his hands, and it was a promise, one they made to each other countless times before, though never formally. She looked away and suppressed the urge to kiss that vulnerability away – wasn’t that what got them into this situation in the first place? – and started up as she caught sight of Devon’s watch and the message it bore. “Ryan! How long. . .?”

***

Eirian whispered thanks at the quiet advice. “I’ll join you,” she said more loudly and walk-danced with Claire to the front of the group. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Gilchrist.” She held out her hand and nodded to the rest, walking backwards to face them. “I want to apologize for my unfavorable introduction. I have a tendency to ramble when I’m nervous or excited and, well, everyone is thrilled that you’re here. We’re in Room 3, right?” she looked to Claire for confirmation. “It’s one of our largest. . . ” counting heads again, she continued, quickly, “well, we weren’t sure how many people to expect, and, well, better too much room, right? We’ll have plenty of room to spread out.” A shrug “New cup, new cup, move down, move down, new cup new cup move down,” she sang out and turned quickly – only to plant herself rather heavily face first against the door. “Oomph. Hello, door.”