The past few weeks had not been easy for Dree, Akiva knew that.  He was dealing with a lot and the stress of having one of the people he cared about, a student no-less, go missing.  And then there was his article, which everyone in the Wizarding World had probably seen and only about a quarter minority of the entire community probably found a positive meaning in it.  It was a touchy subject, one she wasn’t sure how it would go over, and hope that it wouldn’t spawn a backslide of hate – or worse, the action he was absolutely opposed to.  It made her a little nervous, well, more than a little nervous, but it hadn’t seemed to make that much of a stir yet.

She had clipped out the article anyway though, and had it in the kitchen – something like her mom would do for anything she was proud of, and pinned it up.  It was their house; she thought it was something sweet.  But, more importantly, Akiva decided to take Dree’s mind off of worrying, at least for an hour or so, she took off a little earlier than usual from work – not that anyone minded, the older ladies fussed and fawned over her enough at this point, living vicariously through the newly engaged youngest member of their staff. 

It seemed everyone now had something to say, or at least contribute to her life – as though their advice was paramount to every decision she made.  Akiva smiled and took everything with a grain of salt, though she did listen to her own mother and Dree’s mum too, occasionally some of her good friends, but for the most part, she wanted to do it herself.  She wanted her and Dree to make those big decisions, rather than someone else giving them the advice.  But, it was what it was, and she didn’t mind so much, people were just trying to be helpful. 

In the face of these things, Akiva decided with her extra hour or so, she was going to make Dree’s favorite meal (expertly extracted information from his mother), and busied herself with preparation.  She turned on the wireless and bopped around the kitchen, singing along, probably only knowing about half of the words, but finding the fun in it anyway, turning on the oven and setting the table.  She had also picked up a few magazines and wanted to do some planning with Dree, hoping that it would also lift his spirits.

Who didn’t want to have their favorite meal and then talk about what was supposed to be the happiest occasion of one’s life?  She wouldn’t force the issue, but she’d give him a chance to focus on something positive for a little while.  As the pleasant aroma of a home cooked meal filled the air, Akiva glanced at her watch – he should be home soon, she thought she timed everything to six o’clock, when he was expected home, and she hoped he would be on time today.  If everything cooled, it wouldn’t be as good. 

They'd reached the dolldrums in the search -- the flurry of activity, the panicked yet efficient Apparating from place to place, constant reporting, and investigation was already dwindling somewhat. This frightened Dree more than the initial panic had. Because once the juggernaut was stopped, once the momentum was allowed to decrease, it was seldom again ever picked up with the same vigour.

And so, guiltily, Dree renewed his efforts in the search, staying later and later at the office once his own work was done to scry, to meet with people, write inquiries -- anything he could think of. But he couldn't think of enough. And, somehow, he felt guilty about this -- the late hours -- because now, with his new fianceé, with others beginning to take on more, re- enculturate themselves into their daily routines, he found it hard to justify redoubled efforts. He was supposed to be starting a new life. Spending time with Akiva. Celebrating birthdays, doing his job, helping Adon with his difficult transitions . . .

Dreogan wanted to do all of these things; it was what made him who he was. But with Sasha missing, it was difficult to find the presence of mind to think about much else. And Dreogan felt the same resentment returning -- not towards Sasha, heaven forbid! -- that he felt when his father disappeared. His own inability to move on, torn between conflicting obligations.

This time, he couldn't just leave school -- work, his fianceé, his family -- in order to pursue the search. And he was not sure that that would even help Sasha. It hadn't helped his father.

And so, Dree was trying to do both. He had decided to come home, for the first time in a few days, on time. He'd spend some of the evening with Akiva, and then he'd to back to the office. Or, depending on how tired he was, he might go in early. At four or so. With the increased distance and his natural aversion to floo, it made it difficult to shuttle back and forth and as Dreogan opened the door to their home, he wondered if he oughtn't to have just stayed at the office until eleven or twelve, to make this easier.

That was before he smelled the food in the kitchen. Dreogan gave a quiet smile, recognising the smell of mint, lamb, moghrabieh, and pomegranate. All favourites. He gave a bit of a sigh as he set his briefcase down, again feeling a bit of a pang of guilt; this was Akiva's way of communicating. She wanted him home and wanted him happy and he wanted both very much as well.

With a clear of his throat and applied determination, he decided he'd do his best to be both: home -- mentally as well as physically - and happy. "Kiv?" he called. "Smells great!"

He strode into the kitchen, seeing her humming over her cooking; he smiled, because he could not help it, the scene so typically Kiva. "Lamb and cous cous twice in two weeks! You're spoiling me," he muttered, coming up behind her to give a hug and kiss her cheek. "I didn't have another birthday, did I?"

Before meeting Dree, Akiva had very little experience with cooking lamb and some of the ingredients that were favorites of his.  Her family was Eastern European and English, not exactly widely known for the use of lamb or couscous, but she was willing to try to make anything – and eat anything, really.  Unlike Dree, she was adventurous with her food and liked to make a variety of things.  Though she had grown up on blintzes, knishes, and apple cake, she would integrate as much of everything as she could.

It certainly smelled as though she had done it right, which made it worth filing away with her recipes - one day she'd have to compile them into a more organized book, rather than collection of notebook pages and plain, white paper.  Until then, she'd just constantly shuffle through them and her cookbooks, this recipe had been verbally given to her though, since Hestia didn't require a recipe for this particular meal anymore.  She knew his mother’s cooking would probably never be able to he surpassed, the woman was a genius with what she did, but Akiva was going to give it a try.  So, when she heard the door open, she was glad that he made it on time, rather than coming in later and later, usually by the time she was ready to pass out. 

She knew it wasn’t his intention to spend far more time at the office than at home, and she couldn’t demand that he stop what he was doing – it was important, and she could only imagine what was on his mind all of the time.  She sought to relieve some of that, and hoped she was doing a good job of it - maybe it was somewhat old fashioned, but if things weren't going well everywhere, she wanted their home to be somewhere that was relatively negative stress free (there were positive stresses, of course, and she hoped for plenty of that).  She smiled and looked over her shoulder from the counter, getting ready to fluff up the couscous with a fork, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her waist and a kiss on the cheek. 

“It’s what I’m supposed to do,” she smiled primly, sticking the fork into the freshly fluffed mixture with a happy giggle, “I thought since you’ve been working so hard, and I know a lot of things have been bothering you,” she rubbed his shoulders a little, sliding her hands under the front of his jacket, over his shirt, feeling how, despite his smile, tense he was. "I would make some comfort food," she kissed him briefly and felt another knot in the back of his neck - stress did that to people, and thought, if he stayed home long enough, she could give him a proper neck rub.  Maybe she would use that as incentive to not kill himself with worry and work...

But, for now, Akiva was content with settling on a good dinner, which would be ready in a few minutes.  Before the oven went off, however, she had just finished the couscous before he distracted her, and with the person she was making dinner for right here, she decided he could be the official taste tester. 

So, she dug her fork into the cinnamon and herb spiced mixture, she held it up for him to taste, her hand cupping underneath it, “Try this,” she half-asked, half-commanded, waiting for him to take it with a happy smile, hoping that she had done this right, “taste good?”

"It's what I'm supposed to do," Akiva responded priml and Dree shook his head. No. He didn't want her thinking that -- that he wanted a little wifey who took care of him; he was there to take care of her. They took care of each other. And recently, he had been taking too much. He wasn't comfortable with that.

He was, however, comfortable with her touch. He smiled more broadly and leaned in for another kiss, only to get a fork-full of food which he did not much object to. It was also delicious.

"Taste good?" she asked and Dree savored the taste, considering all the flavours in it ."Mmmm, mmhmmm," he managed, not wanting to wolf it down just yet. Finally, he swallowed and sighed happily, thinking of all the positive associations with the food. "Kiva," he said, thoughtfully, "how is your work going?" He began to open various drawers in the kitchen, trying to find the plates and flatware and placemats. Dreogan didn't spend much time in the kitchen -- the new kitchen -- and so he did not know where things might be. But he was determined not to ask her help. He'd be helpful. Even if helping her took twice as long.

He looked back at her, expectantly, as he moved over to the table and began setting the places. "Water?" he asked as he laid the glasses out.

The indication that he was pleased with what she had made was more than enough to make Akiva happy.  She thought, to some degree, that he would probably say anything she made was good, but was content to not push too hard to find out if it was what he really thought.  She thought it tasted fairly good when she had sampled some of it, so to confirm her suspicions was probably good enough – and no one had ever complained about her cooking before, so it could not have been too much of a long shot to assume he was telling the truth.  So, with that in mind, she briefly pecked his lips – having missed the more intimate contact that was replaced with work before each of them went about preparing the kitchen for dinner.

She was happy to bop about, the music low in the background with the fragrant aroma of lamb and couscous and spices floating about.  It was really a comfortable setting for them, so when he broke the silence with asking about her work, she was slightly startled.  “My work?” she parroted, stopping for a moment to look over with big, doe eyes. 

“Oh, normal,” she laughed softly, finding that her work was far less interesting in comparison to his.  But, she did not pass up the chance to say something, at least, “lots of sorting through and cataloguing, first shipment of the month, you know,” she smiled and laughed a bit, the journals having come in the previous day.  It wasn’t a big job, very seldom did anyone storm the library for the new journals, but it was something they had to do.  Akiva didn’t mind doing it, and it was a job she was very easily able to put off until the next day, which had been helpful in attempting to plan this meal.

It also had the ability to give her time to think and consider and just… spend time with herself, which was what she was recommended to do sometimes.  Looking over as she put the lamb into a proper dish – rather than the pan it had been in, Akiva smiled, seeing the table set and Dree with glasses in his hand, “Water is great,” she affirmed with a nod and moved to put the tray on the table and get the couscous. 

“Sit down,” she motioned toward the chair and looked at him in a playful sort of way, “I’ll make you clean up after,” she teased and then plopped down in her usual seat – a few more chairs in the set that Akiva already had some semblance of a plan to fill right up, “What about you?  You’ve been working so hard,” she frowned slightly, knowing it wasn’t just work that was bothering him, but she could at least get him to talk about a little of what was bothering him, more so than she had gotten out of him as of yet anyway. 

Leaning over, she started to serve the food and glanced at him curiously, searching his features – which looked a little more tired than usual for a response – she didn’t know why she tried sometimes, she wasn’t very good at reading him, though she felt like maybe she was getting better.  “You should take a day," she proposed gently, "maybe we could do some holiday shopping?" It was still a present-time of year, even if it wasn't really a focus on Christmas for them, but Akiva was more of the mindset that she wanted him to just enjoy himself a little and stop thinking so much.  Maybe it would be  nice for them to do something together like that.  She looked at him hopefully, waiting to put food in her mouth for a response.

Dreogan smiled, shaking his head at her quick summation of her job. Kiva's humility was one of his favourite things about her -- she was beautiful, funny, smart, beautiful . . . intelligent . . . and those eyes -- but she didn't act like it. But sometimes, sometimes he wished she would; that she wouldn't think herself less in comparison to others, least of all himself; that she wouldn't dismiss her own work and needs for his.

Because he . . . he was just Dree. And she? She was Kiva. She didn't realise that, and that allowed for the pampering, which Dreogan was not entirely against, particularly as he inhaled the scent of the dinner. He was aware that if she caught on to her own superiourity that that'd be the end of things like this -- but sometimes, perhaps, she could see herself the way he saw her. There wasn't anything she did that was insignificant. He loved the way she tied her shoes.

Nodding at her request for water, Dreogan gestured with his wand and filled up the glasses on the table wordlessly.

"Anything interesting arrive in this shipment?" he persisted. "I'm surprised you get anything done in there; if I had your job, I'd steal books from the shelves and go read in the back room." He paused a moment, considering their first meeting. "Or fall asleep," he added sheepishly.

He raised an eyebrow as she commanded him to sit down, a playful, bossy tone that he imagined she must have lorded over her stuffed-animals with as a child. It sounded like playtime-mothering. With a light shrug, he obeyed, feeling a bit like a dog with his tail between his legs. "Well," he said, looking at her with equal mirth, "as long as you don't let me off the hook."

He didn't really have fears of that -- for one, he didn't let her. For two, no one was letting him off the hook these days. Particularly at work. "Work's busy; I've not been spending as much time on it as I ought to, perhaps. They're wanting me to go to Saudi next week, but I told them I can't." That hadn't gone over well. But Dreogan refused. "I told them I can be in two places at once, though, and would be happy to arrange the magic for a long-distance conference. It's because --" He smiled more broadly now, the haggard look dwindling as he sat more upright in his seat, looking at the glass of water before him.

"So, I've moved away from mirrors and am using silver basins of water," he transitioned abruptly. "For scrying, I mean. And I'm using a method used by the Aureates* of -- I'm not sure when. . . long ago. Perhaps the fifteenth century. It was in that book you had showed me earlier on conjuring. At any rate, we use silver basins of water; the surface of which is  quartered -- I mean divided into quarters with glittering lines of light. Imagine! It is that easy! I don't know why I hadn't thought of it sooner," he said wistfully. "All those years, and really . . . for the magical world, all those centuries of the art forgotten!" He took a breath, realising with his quickened pulse, which he felt in his head -- as he usually did when exhausted -- that he was getting ahead of himself. "So, the quarters were then represent Heaven, Hell, Earth, and the Magical world; you employ a spell of election which will determine in which realm the person or thing you seek is. . . I've had to modify it some; it takes far more presence of mind than I've had to search everywhere or even to determine the quarters one ought to search in, but I've made progress." He was quiet a moment before he said, "I know for certain he is not in Germany. And never was."

Dreogan's mind was wheeling, hurling again as he considered where he ought to look next. It was tempting to go with entire continents, giant spaces to eliminate and cross off a list; but those were far less accurate and inconclusive. Dreogan was going much more at a snail's pace. It was accurate, but tedious. He narrowed his gaze at the glass of water as though he could see into it, not through it.

“You should take a day," Akiva commented from a distance. "maybe we could do some holiday shopping?"[/i]

Dreogan frowned into the glass, the expression dissipating like a puff of smoke -- sudden and diffuse -- as he sensed the silence and looked up at her inquiringly. He considered her a moment with much the same intensity he had direct at the glass before giving a sad and boyish smile. "I'm sorry. . . I missed what you said."

* A term used to denote the ancients, also called Mages, Magi, Maguses, Lucients, or Sages.

She did not know why he tried so hard to make her job seem much more interesting than it was.  She always thought of it as a profession that, although essential to efficiency, was not nearly as interesting as some others.  She kept order, yes, but order so much as the system allowed for it and kept it available for others when they felt like they wanted to explore something crucial.  Supporting character, more or less, like the female friend in a romance film. Of course, that was only at work, at home, she felt very differently about her role.

The question, however, required answering and Akiva smiled slightly, feeling much more comfortable talking about the books rather than what she did with them.  “Well, I never said I didn’t take breaks, Dree,” she teased playfully, the corners of her lips forming as sly a smile as Akiva Katz could manage.  “There are a few interesting things-  to me anyway,” she giggled softly, thinking of the astronomy texts she put on the shelves, taking time to browse through. 

“There was a new book about the development of proper astronomy, which was interesting… and then, of course, the practical application of arithmancy was updated, not that I spent very much time cruising over it,” she started to plate the meal as she stood, both plates in front of her and her attention directed at them rather than on Dree as she spoke, “some newly adjusted formulas about families and planning,” she added in the most off-hand sort of way, an attempt to maybe stir up that conversation, if it would elicit any sort of enthusiasm from him. 

It was hard recently to get Dree to be excited about much – he seemed to be handling things, but he was busy, he even acknowledged that business and she frowned as he indicated that he told his superiors he couldn’t go with a smile that seemed to indicate that perhaps she was supposed to be happy about it, though she could not figure out why she was not – perhaps the implication that he might not because of her, she didn’t want him limiting his opportunities because of her… he didn’t seem to mind, but as she put the plate in front of him, Akiva gave him  a small, reassuring smile and sat down in her usual seat.

There was a small sense of relief when he continued and revealed that he was not going for a very different reason – one that was not tied to her keeping him at home, feeling like some sort of zoo keeper if that was the case.  No, it was something he had taken on as a sort of obsession, a talent turned manic when it was a necessity to locate a young man he had taken under his wing.  Akiva listened with an interested, but sympathetic ear.  She did not want Dree to exhaust himself and come to disastrous ends, but she did not feel it was appropriate to bring up that possibility.  He was trying very hard, and probably would have gathered if something dangerous had happened, if he was doing something in vain. 

He was excited though, and at least he was able to show some enthusiasm for something, and she listened, nodding along with his explanation, even if she did not understand most of it – it had never been her strong subject, but she supposed that’s why it was his thing and not hers.  She took it seriously though, as seriously as she could take something she didn’t fully comprehend, and examined his face as he continued to talk.  He was so passionate about it, so into what he was talking about, it appeared to be slightly overwhelming. 

So much so that he totally missed what she had said.  It didn’t really matter, of course, she had not indicated anything important, but with a shrug of her shoulders, dismissed the sentence. “It’s okay- it was nothing important,” she smiled and placed a forkful into her mouth, “I’m glad you’re making progress,” she added as she reached across to touch his hand and smile warmly at him, “You still need a break though,” she hoped it would register, “Maybe after this conference?”

"A book about -- of. . . what?" Dreogan asked, caught off-guard. His brows knit, eyes widening. "You . . . they need formulas for that?" He gave a bit of a smile, shaking his head. "How does that even work?" Families were already complicated enough without trying to pin them into neat lines and elegant equations. It couldn't be done. Some things just couldn't be quantified. That was what magic was: the space between symbols. That gap between signifier and signified. It was what was left out in human expression and simply needed to be felt in order to be experienced and understood.

Dreogan shifted his food onto his fork, looking up at Kiva with knit brows. ". . . Is it worth reading?" He lifted the fork to his mouth, still anxiously reading her face to find his mouth closing in around metal. He looked back down at his plate, where his food still lay and gave a light sigh, trying to hide a blush. He wasn't sure how old he'd been the last time he'd missed a bite. Maybe five.

He made a second attempt, waiting until the food had reached its destination before thinking of what else she'd said: a break. The thought of life after the conference was unfathomable, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. It was small, distant, warped. Life after the conference should mean life with Sasha back. Life without a heavy workload and Adon's investigation of Trevor Reid. He didn't know what any of these would, or could, look like. "I didn't mean to -- It is important," he insisted, putting his fork down so he could reach for her hand. His breathing was heavier and through his nose. The frustration made him grit his teeth together. He was losing a grip on things.

He clasped her hand. "You're the most important thing in my life, right now. Okay?" he ran his fingers over hers, feeling the engagement ring there. "I'm sorry I haven't been here." Trying to life more food onto his plate single-handedly was becoming difficult, but he didn't want to let go of her hand just yet. "But a break . . . sounds good," he said, trying to lighten his mood with a smile. He loved her, but Kiva was not the best mind-reader. If he looked frustrated, she'd probably think it was at her. "Did you have something particular in mind?"

His reaction was not… horrible.  It was definitely not even anywhere near negative – just confused.  She realized very quickly during the picking the house project that they had a vastly different mindset about how to do things and how to make decisions about things.  She was methodical, very calculated, and balanced her logical brain with her emotional impulses, which were often tied up in the ways she did things.  Dree felt more, which was odd, as she had never really dealt with a man like that, having been raised by a mathematician. 

So his surprise at the use of arithmancy, well, it wasn’t exactly completely unanticipated.  Shrugging, she entirely missed the lost food and faint blush, ready to sit and relax with him more than focus on the nervous behavior behind some very big decisions.  “It was just a section of a book,” she corrected gently, hoping that would relieve some of the anxiety, “and it was interesting – just giving some insight into some of the bigger decisions based on some basic information – life numbers, ages, birthdays, location, some other things....  I didn’t read much, but I think I’d like to give it a closer look.” 

Truth be told, she had looked at it a little harder than she would have admitted outright, genuinely curious about what numbers could offer.  This was clearly an entirely new subject area to breach, so it was important to think about in advance.  Again, different styles of planning, she wasn’t even sure Dree had thought about it before tonight.  It wouldn’t have surprised her.  Clearing her throat, she smiled softly, examining his face as his mood shifted slightly. 

He looked pensive and a little… out of sorts.  She wondered what he was thinking about… definitely hoped he wasn’t looking that way because of the implication of her little bit of research.  Hopefully it was something different, something on another track entirely, which would probably make sense.  He seemed to jump from one subject to the next in his head without so much as a word from her and she hoped that this was the case.  It would be very disheartening to know her fairly new fiancé had very different feelings about family than she did.  She highly doubted it, however.

The smile at her was an indication that at least she wasn’t bothering him – it seemed genuine enough, and he took her hand, which she loved – the feeling of holding hands.  It was so… nice.  A flush appeared on her cheeks, embarrassed by his declaration of her importance – always nice to hear, and pleasant from the touch.  She shook her head though, before meeting his eyes, “You don’t need to apologize.  I know you’re busy and though it pains me, I’m good at sharing,” she teased gently, smiling at him only the way a person in love could smile at someone else. 

“Maybe we could take a weekend holiday,” she offered at his question, “I’d love to show you my grandmother’s house in the country, if you’d like to do that.  It’s very relaxing, and if it’s not too cold, there’s a tree swing,” she laughed, trying to make the idea even more appealing.  She was already sold as soon as she thought of it, definitely hoped he would be too. 

“You don’t need to apologize.  I know you’re busy and though it pains me, I’m good at sharing."

It was her understanding of his needs, his stress and his limited ability to deal with various pressures at once that made Kiva . . . so perfect. So extremely patient. Dreogan knew it couldn't be easy, living with him. Loving him. He even had trouble with it himself, sometimes; for years as a teenager. But he didn't want the necessity of this sort of perfection: to watch and wait without question. She deserved better. She deserved all he could give and more; Dreogan could only offer a part of himself.

He kissed her hand before deciding, finally, that wasn't good enough. Leaning in across the corner of the table, he gave her a brief kiss on the lips, pulling away reluctantly and giving a slow smile. "You are. . . but I'm not good at splitting myself up," he confessed. Truth be told, he felt Akiva was always going to be there. Sasha's abduction, on the other hand, was extremely time-sensitive. The longer he remained away and unaccounted for, the stronger the hold on him would be and the more difficult he would be to recover. But Akiva --

Dreogan knew he shouldn't think like that. If he did, she might not be around forever.

"A weekend away sounds wonderful." It would be the lie he would tell himself until he believed it. He would put it all away -- even Sasha -- if it meant keeping this relationship. Moving towards marriage. "A tree swing, hmm?" He closed his eyes to envision it for just a moment, his smile becoming more serene. "Is there a fireplace and couch for snuggling? It's time I see this fabled haven," he said, a boyish smile on his face. He looked down at his food, serving up another bite. He took the built-in time it took to chew and swallow to think of how best to breach the next topic.

"So, er," he tried to keep his voice casual and calm. "Did that section of the book talk at all about . . . when might be a good time for . . ." he looked up at her. Bad idea. Back down to the food. "--a wedding?"

Sometimes it was hard to say it was alright for him to be gone so much.  She desperately wished, at times, that she could be selfish and tell him to stay home and neglect other things, but it wasn’t fair for either of them.  It would create resentment on both ends, her for knowing he’d rather be spending some of that time on other pursuits and him for having been kept away from things for her.  It would calm down eventually, she reasoned, and when it did, they would be able to enjoy a more normal life, they just had to get there.  Until then, it’d be a lot of compromise on both parts. 

It was much easier to compromise when there were kissed involved though, and Akiva relished in the chivalrous moment that he kissed her hand and then basically soared as he leaned over to kiss her on the lips.  Grinning she squeezed his hand and sighed as he pulled away, sorry that it had ended so quickly and tried not to frown, finding it easier to avoid when talking about her grandmother’s house. 

Akiva could not help but smile broadly and excitedly when he closed his eyes, envisioning a place that meant so much to her.  She could still smell the fresh baked bread that her grandmother so loved to make and hear the wireless playing in the kitchen as they cooked together.  At the time, the apron had been oversized and the young girl was far more of a hindrance than a help in the kitchen, but her grandmother had been so patient. 

She still remembered the baby blue, plush chair that she leaned against as her grandmother told her stories and the swing her father pushed her on in the spring, both laughing and pretending it was really a rocket to the moon, flying through space and up toward the stars.  It really was a haven, and she laughed softly, also imagining the rest of the living room around that blue chair, the larger sofa and a fireplace that was perfectly suited for an evening in. 

“As soon as you can, we’ll go and you can see everything for yourself,” she assured him, glad for the opportunity to get away from the city even more so than they already had in their new house.  It was really a wonderful place; she loved sharing it with him when he was around.  It would be even better when the whole thing came together, the wedding issue still looming. 

They had not talked on it much before this point, being that life was busy and it wasn’t really in anyone’s best interest to pile on another stressful event.  The idea of a wedding did not actually matter very much to Akiva, she could have considered herself married now, and living in such a state, but Dree had voiced his preference for ceremony.  So, they were doing it on the time they had – and conveniently, Dree had brought it up this time. 

Clearing her throat, she did not want to appear too over-excited on the matter, and subdued her excitement in every way she could, though she was something of an open book she had been told – her eyes said everything.  “There was a bit on it,” she couldn’t lie, she had read it fairly closely as far as her break could take her, and she felt a familiar flush from that type of excitement.  “Early summer was noted, something about the balance of mutual winter birthdays,” there was a little more to it than that, of course, but it wasn’t necessary to explaining and the hurried equations on a piece of ripped parchment weren’t anything to be spoken of, really.

“I’d personally very much enjoy late May or early June,” she smiled, “stereotypical, I suppose, but it is that way for a reason.”  She felt herself babbling a bit and looked down at her plate for a moment, “What do you think?  Something traditional or should we push it back, make it slightly less conventional?”  She teased and took a mouthful of couscous, examining him for his answer. 

Dreogan smiled, enjoying the change in Akiva's face that happened whenever she talked about her grandmother. "Does the house have a large backyard?" He wondered. Perhaps a reception there -- Dreogan wanted her to enjoy it as much as she could, the wedding and the ceremony; he couldn't imagine a better way to achieve it than to make it as personally significant as possible. "I can't wait to see it," he assured, listening intently as she explained her preferences in wedding dates. He was determined to give her as much reign on the matter as she liked. Which was why, when the question was put to him, he looked up from his food abruptly.

Dreogan's mock-scowl, scrunched nose, and teasing air were reminiscent of  three or so months ago; he felt Times plodding steps hasten away until they were just a whisper down a corridor. He wasn't sure, really, what time it was, or what time he'd get back into the office tonight or tomorrow morning, but really, it didn't matter. This did. "Traditional? You're not really asking me, you know." Conventional or no? The question needn't be asked, where Dreogan was concerned, and Akiva knew it. She teased him about it constantly. Dreogan gained some assurance in the significant matter that the only truly comical thing about him was his constancy. It wasn't a bad trait to have. As he looked down at his food, he grinned, preparing another bite which, by the time he brought it to his lips, had to wait several moments longer as Dreogan tried to reign in the smile. It was not conducive to chewing.

"Late May. I like that. That way, it doesn't conflict with Shauvot, and. . ." Hogwarts might not be out by then, he figured. "But, you know, maybe mid-June would be best. . . That way, it wouldn't conflict with the Hogwarts schedule." He thought of plenty of other people he'd want there. Tulo -- absolutely. Isaac for certain as well. And, well, the first person who'd come to mind was Sasha. . .

There was a slightly guilty expression which flickered across his face as he now seemed very eager to fill his mouth with food in order to purchase time for thought. "Ah . . ." he said after a swallow before reaching for water. He'd need water. Yes, news like this couldn't be delivered in a shaky, parched sort of voice. He set the glass down, looking at her and reaching out for her hand again. "Em. . ." He ought to, Dreogan chided himself, have thought of this beforehand, before he'd made the offer to Sasha. Before, well, everything. "It, well, may not come to anything," Dreogan began, a reassurance perhaps to her, but one which brought a sickening twist to his stomach to think that, perhaps he'd never see Sasha again. Or, when he did, he'd not want Dreogan in his life. Maybe those letters had been sincere. "I ought to have told you before." Dreogan tried to read Akiva's expression, trying best to figure out how to proceed.

It was as though she instantly felt about ten years old when she talked about her grandmother.  The same joyful feeling that accompanied knowing one was about to go to the most comfortable and carefree place in the world would fill her up when she thought about it now as when she knew she was going to be spending a weekend in the country back in her youth.  So, any question about the house was easily answered.  Closing her eyes for a moment, Akiva imagined the place and smiled, recalling the rolling hills surrounding the home.

“Very large,” Kiv sighed, “I don’t think there is another house for at least three acres,” the houses dotting the countryside were most assuredly not closer than that.  It was the beauty of being in the country.  At one point, it had been cheaper than living in the city, but now the house was fully taken care of and it was a blessing, such a beautiful way of getting away from everything, with a bit of land and the tire swing.  It was the greatest place in the world to a ten year old, and still upheld that reputation to this day.  It also continued to make a wonderful holiday home, which she intended on talking to her parents about possibly sharing, still had to work on this house first before taking on the responsibility of sharing another.

There were too many other things to deal with anyhow, including the date of the wedding which probably needed to be established sooner rather than later, particularly if it was going to be coming up.  She knew it was not preferred that they take their time, and the engagement wasn’t going to be a terribly long one.  Not exactly everyone’s favorite (particularly Dree’s mother) situation – them living together without exactly being married.  They wouldn’t say it, but she knew her parents felt something of the same way, but seeing as she was twenty-eight and lived on her own for quite some time anyway.  Dree was probably anxious too, as his sensibilities leaned more toward traditional, causing her to grin as he looked up at her – knowing exactly why this time. 

He was far more conventional than she was, and she knew the answer.  He would see things her way, especially on this issue, and the date was important.  She wanted him to have a say in it though, she didn’t need to control everything.  He was as much part of it as she was, and she wanted to make sure that happened.  She wasn’t the type of bride who needed everything to be exactly her way.  She didn’t want it to be that way; she wasn’t marrying herself, after all!  And his input was valuable! He considered something she hadn’t even thought of – Hogwarts!

There were clearly people involved that she wished to be part of their day.  Without some of them, she might not have even made it to that point, so it was necessary to have them around – Fauna popped into mind, along with Tulojow.  Those were her main concerns, and nodding enthusiastically, Akiva smiled, leaning over the table to give him a kiss on the cheek, “You’re a genius,” she praised, “Mid-June sounds perfect.”  She could not help but giggle a little and smile slyly, looking at him, “Your temple or mine?”

Oh, terrible joke. The humor died down a little though as Dree’s expression changed.  It would have taken a truly blind person to miss the shift.  He was buying time, and she felt a nervous pattering in her stomach, what was wrong?  Was he leaving again?  She hadn’t seen him glancing at the clock, but perhaps he had to leave.  Slightly disappointed, she let him take her hand without a fight – it certainly sounded like he had to go back to work, might have come to nothing, should have told her earlier… a sigh escaped her lips and she lifted her other hand up to her hairline, brushing the long, brown strands back, putting on the understanding face. 

“I know. It’s okay,” she had to say it – even if it wasn’t.  “If you have to do it, I won’t argue with you.  Just be reasonable? I don’t need you getting sick over something so silly,” she gave him a gentle squeeze of the hand, wishing that it didn't really have work this way, but she understood.  Responsibility called.

The lower voice, downward glancing eyes that skimmed the table surface -- Dreogan had perhaps conceived that these might all be responses to the news, but he knew Akiva well enough to know she was no clairvoyant. He hadn't shared his news yet, but she was here, reassuring him of something he knew was not the case.

He just didn't know what, particularly, she was trying to let him to.

"What's silly?" He said, with a light laugh as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Kiv --" he grabbed her hand, trying -- dearly trying -- not to laugh. He sobered, feeling the fleeting moment of opportunity drawing to a close. If he asked for her explanation -- what was on her mind, which he would; he promised -- then they would spend the rest of the night addressing that. Which might be the best policy, really. If she was concerned about something. But then it might be nothing. Truly, what he ought to do would be to tell Kiva about Sasha. Yes. Sasha.

"Kiva," he persisted, running a thumb over her fingers as he held her hand. He'd wanted to prepare her for unexpected news; she'd, however, expected that she had been expecting it. Best to press on, then. "When Sasha came into town last month, he was worried that if his parents were ever told that he was a wizard," he took a breath. "That he would be thrown out. It was all he could think about; the worry was ruining his friendships, his schoolwork. . . Kiva, I told him that if it came to that, that he'd have a place with me if he wanted it." Of course, Dreogan had not meant "me" -- he was not thinking in terms of "me" at that point. He'd asked his mother for the ring in October. "I ought to have asked you before I said it, but I did not know, at the time, that that would be what he would need from me." He gave a guilty smile, the sort that attempted to plead for forgiveness without words. "But I knew it wasn't just 'me' . . ."

To Dreogan, this was providing Akiva information. For this one, rare instance, he was not asking her input. He would stand by this. But he did not wish this to feel wholly out of her power, either. He knew better than to corner a person. He therefore redoubled the sincerity in the pleading smile, rubbing her hand all the while.

Dreogan felt himself in the position of a ten-year-old, asking to keep a beloved pet. He knew that Sasha didn't belong in the world Akiva and Dreogan had been imagining together, but now that Sasha was there -- even if he was not -- he was determined to keep him.

Oh. Well. Kiva’s cheeks colored a deep shade of red.  She never should have assumed anything, she realized, because most of the time, Dree confused her like no one else.  Maybe she was just that bad at picking up on things, which was a scary thought – she had never realized how bad she was at it.  Maybe it was just with him – she prayed that if they ever had children she could read them better than she could read him or it would be up to Dree to figure out a majority of problems.  It made her nervous for a minute – what if she couldn’t do it?  Shaking her head, she realized that it wasn’t the problem right now.

Dree had something else to tell her – that clearly wasn’t that he needed to get back to the office.  Running her hand over her face, she tried to hide the embarrassment of jumping to conclusions.  She chewed on her bottom lip momentarily and avoided looking at his eyes, especially when he looked as though he might start laughing at any moment.  She nodded and glanced over at him, reaffirming that she was still listening by giving him another hand squeeze, happy at least that he had restrained himself – not that she doubted he would, he was very good at that sort of thing.

It was another concern entirely what he was actually going to tell her about.  She frowned softly and decided to get over what had embarrassed her and look at him to try and see what exactly he meant.  She wasn’t going to guess this time, but rather she looked at his face and noticed that he was very serious.  Something was really concerning him, and that made Akiva’s heart start beating a little faster.  If something had happened or there was something important he needed to tell her, she wanted to hear it, and leaning forward, she pressed her lips together, anxiously rubbing her heel against her ankle under the table, trying not to show many of the outward signs of anxiety.  Rather difficult when she could be something of an open book. 

She tried though, and as soon as he started mentioning Sasha, Akiva felt her chest constrict a little.  Dree felt a deep responsibility for the young man and was very attached to him, she could only hope this wasn’t some sort of warning that he was going to get up and run around the entirety of the continent looking for him.  She had only a moment to brace herself for that before she actually found out what he was getting at.  The news was different from what she had expected.  She couldn’t understand how his parents could be like that; first of all, regardless of what one’s children were or what they would do, they were your children!  That was perhaps the more disturbing part of the news he delivered, until he declared that he had offered Sasha a place with him. 

Now, of course, this was a sticky situation.  Sitting up a bit straighter, Akiva opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, unsure of how to respond.  She had to admit; she wasn’t sure how she felt.  The pang of guilt she felt for being a bit upset about the whole thing.  The impulse he had to take the boy in made sense, but it also was a bit of a big decision to make alone.  Akiva hadn’t given even a thought to taking in a fifteen year old that had been disowned, it never crossed her mind!  It just made her feel a bit heavy in the chest and light in the head.  Nodding slowly, she took her time in answering, trying to craft an answer out of what she was feeling – a mixture of obligation, concern, nervousness, even a twinge of anger and guilt. 

Looking at Dree, some of the anger dissolved in the face of the pleading smile, he cared, she could tell, but he didn’t exactly ask her opinion on the matter either.  She exhaled deeply out of her nose, inhaling once again – grabbing at her water, mouth suddenly dry.  “I… well… if that happens…” she didn’t know what to say, so she said the first thing that came to her mind, “I’d never turn down a child in need, you know that.”  It was true, she might be upset the decision had been made without her, but she’d never let the young man have nowhere to go when they could do something for him.  Perhaps though, the boy was overreacting – who would actually do that to their children? She supposed she couldn’t even begin to understand, and looking at her plate, she felt markedly less hungry. 

“Do you really think his parents would do that?” she asked the question that was really bothering her, to think that someone would actually do that.  She shook her head, in disbelief at the entirety of the situation - her first impulse to go back to the piece that she had the most trouble understanding, “I mean, to their own child? Really?”