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It had been a little over a year since Delphine had found herself presented with the opportunity of a lifetime--travelling abroad, a chance to join up with the English National Ballet. It had been like something out of a dream, and the petite dancer had only needed the approval and praise of one person before she'd packed her bags and arranged a flight to the UK. Departing soon after, though not without first saying good bye to the small handful of others she held dear to her.

The first months had been spent in rehearsals. The production itself a new creation, and the girl had eagerly turned her full focus and attention to that. It helped to chase away the pangs of homesickness that'd strike in the calm of the night. The loneliness that would creep in from the shadows to grip her heart. Inevitably, she pined for her home, her mistress, and the life she'd temporarily left behind. It was a welcome blessing when touring began and she was kept not just busy, but boarderline exhausted by the end of each day. It left little room for anything besides the dance.

That didn't mean there weren't letters and postcards in innumerable amounts. Stroud, of course, would have received the bulk of them, along with frequent phone calls, but she'd also written to Colin and Ian, and even sent a postcard from famous vineyard to Lazarus.

The tour was a whirlwind. Exciting, difficult, trying, amazing. Delphine had found it to be one of the most difficult things she'd ever undertaken, but now that it was over--now that she was standing on the curb outside the apartment building she called home--she could appreciate just how much of a challenge it had been. Even with the lose of a year, she wouldn't have traded it for damn near anything.

"Is this the last of it?"

Pulled from her own internal musings, Delphine blinked, turning to glance back at the small mountain of luggage on the sidewalk beside her and the taxi driver that stood beside it with a bead of sweet rolling down his temple. She did a quick count to insure that everything was there before turning a radiant smile on the man, unclasping her clutch to fish a few bills from within. "Yes, thank you so much for the ride. Please, keep the change." It was an almost obscene tip, but then again, she'd returned with an obscene amount of luggage. The man smiled as he accepted the money, dipped his head, and took his leave.

As the taxi cab pulled away from the curb the dancer walked up the sidewalk to the front doors and turned to the little brass name plate to ring to buzzer for the third floor. Mistress, I'm home.

The door opened only a couple of seconds after she'd hit the buzzer, and without so much as a peep from the speaker she was standing beside. She took an automatic step back as a body emerged, pale eyes widening as she realized it wasn't Stroud or Lazarus(significantly shorter than both), but someone she was not familiar with. Not personally familiar with she amended as he spoke. One of the new agents Stroud mentioned in her letters? It seemed likely. "Yes." Surprise turned to curious interest, gaze sliding from the toes of his boots and up to dark hair before she finally settled on his eyes. "And unless I'm mistaken, you're Eion?"

His attention had slid past her shoulder to her luggage and a silvery brow arched as she glanced back at it as well, lips parting in a question that never had a chance to form before he'd drawn his phone out again and stepped to the side to make a very brief call to someone with a name that might have sounded familiar, but she wasn't entirely sure. The early hour she'd had to be up that morning, and the length of the flight itself had left her feeling suitably drained.

It wouldn't last. She knew from experience not to expect the exhaustion to last long enough to do her much good. By the time the sun was ready to start setting jet lag provide a flood of energy that'd prevent her from sleeping.

She supposed wine might provide a temporary answer...

"It's nice to finally get to meet you," she said demurely, smiling as she offered a delicate, glove covered hand. Stroud hadn't been able to put much about their new members into the letters they exchanged, but there'd been enough for Delphine to shop with them in mind.

Some parts of the Loft housing were more soundproof than others. The sequence of events, even without seeing it, was not hard to deduce. Today was an arrival, and the elevator’s movement between whole-floor apartment lofts was easy to note. The bell, with no regular solicitors making rounds to industrial housing, and no social meetings, was Delphine. One down, with no up, a second out the main entry with the heavy clang of the door. The others had found her. Smalltalk and loitering was most likely, without much else given respective genders, proclivities, and status -by-rank. Stroud’s delay behind them owed only to proper removal and storage of apron, mask, gloves and arc welder.

The Antiquarian descended, toothsome smile and smeared with light sweat from work. Guesswork of deduction bore out. Light kisses to cheeks were administered with flourish, and a hand extended back to the door before holding it open in courtesy. “ Welcome home, Delphine; you must tell me all over what you’ve been dancing. How the overseas ballet companies are, their dancers, their facilities. But first refreshment for a thirsty throat, and a space that doesn’t taste of stale. Come, come. I had professionals in to your place so that it was free of dust and Mundane. “

“We carry with our hands, not our mouth, Aelius. “ Stroud didn’t trouble to glance at the dumbfounded, lower-ranked senshi while he gawked. It was the likeliest of reasons Eion had called the other out and down, since the fool couldn’t make himself verbally presentable at this or any other current occasion. “Eion, will you be joining?”

A proper welcome, indeed, waited patiently for any and sundry prepared of freshened rooms with laundered linens, a bouquet of fresh cut dahlia, delphinium and ranunculus already staged on bedside table, and bottles of Mascota Vineyards Unanime, 2013, already chilled and waiting in a small, two chambered portable in the kitchen.

There was every chance of a continued conversation had Delphine and her new friend had the time for it, but the door was opening again, and yet another young man she wasn't familiar with stepped out and gave the captain a curious look before simply verbalizing the question. The petite dancer didn't bother to answer, she saw no need to interfere in the dynamic that was already in place here. Eion nodded towards her luggage, Delphine smiled graciously, and the doors to the apartment opened a third time. Just as her name fell in a question from the purple haired boy's mouth.

It managed to steal away her attention from Stroud for all of a minute as she gave him a puzzled, questioning look, but how he knew her was really the least of her concerns at that moment. Not with the way silvery hair caught the light or emerald green eyes dazzled. Delphine's lips parted as she looked up at the tall beauty, and she had to close fingers at her sides to keep from throwing herself into the woman's strong arms.

Kisses to cheeks were returned, and she held taunt reign to her composure as she smiled beatifically up at Stroud. A sight for sore eyes. I missed you. More than words could relay. "So many things I've been waiting eagerly to share with you," she agreed with restrained delight, falling into step beside the tall woman as she gestured back towards the doors, dark eyes widening at the lengths Stroud had taken to celebrate her return. "You spoil me, ma'am." She loved it.

A glance at Eion at his mention, and another softly puzzled look crossing delicate features at the flicker of expression she saw before she was being ushered into the lift and up to her apartment. His request had painted lips pursing, and when they'd entered the lifts she'd glance up at him again. "I'm not certain I can be anything but." But it came with a small smile, and she hoped the knowledge that she would indeed belay any complaints regarding the other young man being a poor neighbor.

On the second floor. She'd expected clean, what she found as the door opened was pristine house keeping and the wonderfully domestic scent of fresh laundered linens and cut flowers. Thin chest rising and falling, Delphine drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Perfection." It fell as a whisper from full lips as she crossed to the flowers, drawing her gloves off her hands so she could stroke the tip of a finger along the softness of a thick petal.

The Mascota wasn't noticed right away. Not until she'd drawn her attention from the flowers to shrug out of her jacket so she could lay it on the counter. "You certainly know how to make a girl feel welcome." She smiled over her shoulder at the Antiquarian.

What Tiberius knew about Delphine was extensive. He knew her basic stats like height and weight, he knew her bust size (pitiful), and he knew that she was some 'papered bird' that Mistress kept. He knew these things because Mistress kept a goddamn file on her pets as a good General should - so it wasn't like the Mauvian was going in blind where Ceraskia of Scorn was concerned, powered or otherwise.

He even knew when the breastless chicken would be arriving and made sure to do a thorough inspection of her quarters beforehand - good thing he did too, for the cleaning crew seemed to have been remiss removing some unidentifiable (but edible) something-or-other from under Delphine's bed. Tiberius had no issues lending a helping paw in cleaning that little mess up, but it seemed to have a soporific effect so he ended up dozing behind the dust ruffle until the merry sound of voices roused him from the depths. Best come out and greet the humans...

Tibby's stomach made a curious burbling sound as he heaved himself onto his feet.

Oh.

Oh no.

Apparently whatever had been under the bed...wasn't edible after all.

Or at least not safely edible. Tiberius felt his body rejecting the thing he'd eaten, powerful cramps gripping his furry body and ripping upward. "Hnnngggnna--"

Tiberius backed up, head moving side to side as he backed up until his head was over his haunches before making the sound under the bed again. "Hnnngggnna--" Some of those present would recognize the sound and a call to arms, a reason to fear - a reason to run - others were blissfully innocent of the warning and threat it represented.

A thick, bushy tail flicked out from under the bed, then a broad, fluffy a** followed; Tiberius backing up further and making his godawful, wet, gagging noises of Doom. All two and twenty pounds of Mauvian made it out, backing over Delphine's last-season shoes, the cat's bodily jerking growing more and more frantic as whatever was in his stomach worked its way up his esophagus until finally flying out of his mouth in thick wads and foam.

Was that rat poison? Oops-- s**t, did I get her shoes? Can't tell, eyes watering-- "s**t, sorry. Hnngaarbhrfhlfhagllbhnngg pttoo-- That ********' tastes--" The cat spat onto the hardwood, "like--" again, "death." and again, foam hanging from his jaws as though he were some weird, rabid raccoon or something.

'I'm not certain I can be anything but.'

Then we stay workmates. The remark earned pause only due to the lone looming, dominating presence in the room. The presence that starred the eyes of their returning ballerina. The presence that ordered the cleaning crew, the prepwork, the wine. The presence that drove his life inexorably out of his hands. Eion sighed in resigned exasperation.

That exasperation transferred seamlessly to Aelius in a half-turn of heel. "She didn't bring the living room with her. Not the dining room. Not the kitchen. Leave them in her room." I needed that wine half a minute before you spoke.

Heartbeat-rhythmic horking led Eion's mouth to sour, to flood with a salty tastelessness that he was wary to swallow. Soon, shoes were ruined — last season though they were, they seldom deserved that kind of treatment. And when the smell inevitably wafted his way, the hardwood would need another cleaning unless he could make it to the sink first. The cat ever proved his proper place as a thorn in the side of all but perhaps Stroud, and if she weathered it, she never showered her discomforts. Eion preemptively held his nose between narrow index and thumb. "No, he doesn't get better," he provided helpfully, albeit nasally.

And while Eion waited for distress over shoes and hardwood and cat vomit, Stroud provided her own commentary and suggestion. If, projected Eion's continually plummeting outlook on the recruit. Would Aelius ever improve to such an extent that he could patrol alone? He showed progress already, crawling and dragging his lead-weight legs behind him while whining all the more of thirst and hunger and a dearth of heart comforts. Aelius trawled himself over a minefield while catching every one of Betty's barbs with ribs and fattened limbs. Present need was only for him to obey, however; nothing more toward critical thinking or planning ahead or consideration for others should be expected.

Lids fluttered shut in quiet acquiescence. "Yes, Mother." Delphine could hold the cane, too, if Stroud wished it.

He looked to Delphine, demure and debutante, again. "Aelius — Heliodor — joined in late December. He has so much to learn. But he seems to know you —" Eion's gaze followed the recruit hawkishly, "maybe a familiar face will help him. Bring out his better qualities." The teen's head tossed lightly. "Whatever they are."

Eion’s waspish reply was… not unexpected, but the purple haired teen moved to comply without any remark or expression displaying hi dismay. Aelius nearly tripped over himself and the luggage when he moved towards the bedroom, saving himself as gracefully as one could without dropping the precious cargo. With a layout identical to his own it was no guesswork which door led to the room he needed to drop the bags. Though ‘drop’ he didn’t do. With care he began to place the menagerie of things down by the bed just as a large fluffball of a cat slinked his way out the door.

Even in the bedroom he could hear the tell-tale signs of a horking feline and Aelius couldn’t help the cringe as he left Delphi’s pile of belongings to rejoin the group in the main living space. In perfect time to catch the ballerina’s response to Tib’s ‘welcome home’ gift to her. Aelius felt instant remorse for the soiled shoes and understanding for the reaction it elicited from the petite woman.

He offered no comment though, especially when he noted the three glasses standing proudly on the counter despite there being four people present. Instead, the young man opted to maneuver himself to an out the way location closer to Eion who had become a grounding point for the newest recruit. Keeping out of the way, golden eyes followed the silvery-haired woman that the General seemed rather fond of if the lack of commentary towards her was to be noted. It was....odd, staring at someone he knew but knew she couldn’t possibly recognize him. Then again, even if he was still Rowan, the chances of her actually remembering him were unlikely. Interaction had been minimal at the theatre considering his standings as a corps. Dancer and her a highly regarded soloist within the company.

In some odd way though, it was comforting to have a familiar face from his past life step into his new one.

Suddenly those soft eyes were turned towards him and a question was being asked of him. “I…” He paused, unsure how much he could...should, reveal at the moment. Eyes glanced to Eion first then Stroud. With a tongue darting out to moisten lips he offered a smile. “I used to take lessons as a child there before officially joining Destiny City’s Ballet Company as a corps. dancer.”

Webs were interesting things to attempt, so far down in the abyss as the youth had thrown himself. There were spiders that swam, but their tactics tended to be a different sort of subterfuge. Patches of light from turned-glass reflections, followed by hazel, glanced his uncertainty, her lack of suspicions, Eion’s practicing at weighing scales in his mind. Corks shouted at them. Wine poured instead of words for a moment. No. It stumbles around looking for softness for free, not weaving. Weeks. Worth something to behavior science for its resistance.

Scorn’s question was of a caliber. To ask why a cat goes anywhere. Further a Mauvian involving a senshi. Tactical advantages will need to be reviewed. All the difference in a moment shown, good grief.

“The corps de ballet is no stage of Shakespeare. “ Stroud extended glass to one then the other of the more proven officers. “Precision, Aelius. You’re not Tiberius; ‘Diction’ doesn’t come from your d**k. Speak with purpose in mind, if you have none then that of your commander’s. “

“Small wonder the soloists and principals to speak to the press. I hope you’ve managed some practice of it, Pigeon?”