Dolly and Dominik had gone to reconciling their woes and renewing their life-long friendship when pressed to the edge of a merciless cliff.  It was one way or the other, and they'd chosen to go back rather than down.  They'd come out of it seemingly older and wiser, or perhaps with fresher minds and a sort of youthfulness about them.  As far as timing went, it was strange:  it seemed congruous with the release of Dolores's latest publication, and had gone along with a new phase in Dominik's unrequited obsession with Niobe Thursby.  With March carrying them into Spring, Dominik felt like things were about to get better.

Dolly's act of leniency in accepting him back under her wing was an important event for Dominik, and he was really trying to be more available for her.  He relied heavily on Dolly, and not just because she had always been there for him.  Even when she was cross with him, her crossness was filled with spirit, with investment and with poetry.  He knew it was because of their likeness -- they were both over the top and hopelessly sappy romantics with a sort of dramatic, masochistic bent -- and out of that likeness there was a history of clashing and coming back, of stupid things and things of beauty, that had built a tempestuous tower in his head, where all things Dolly acted as the lighthouse for his wayfaring existence. 

What held him back in the darkness of his flat, brooding for months, not just from Dolly but from everything short of Quidditch, was his pining over Niobe.  He was still pining over Niobe of course... he'd just gotten to a new place in his relationship with her, or rather with his pining, where he understood that certain behaviors were plainly unacceptable, and would work quick as magic to making her disappear instantaneously.  She often would jump out of bed the second they were over, and once she started moving nothing could stop her or slow her down.  She was about business.  It was just as cute as it was infuriating, and Dominik was in love with her pride.

But if he didn't have Dolly to spend afternoons chatting with, or to take places and spoil, he might have started to go nutters on Niobe (again).  This was good for all involved, he thought.  He could spend his time away from Niobe having fun with his friend Dolores, who was as sentimental as she was playful, and when he was with Niobe he could just go wild animal on her like she wanted, until she realized she wanted more.  Dominik knew that there was some sort of strain between the two women in his life, but he really thought that he had found the perfect solution to his problem of excess time and a puppy-like need for excessive attention. 

Dominik had written to Dolly a few days ago asking if she would like to have an indoor picnic with him in her London penthouse.  She seemed to think the idea was hilarious and had agreed full-heartedly, so they had gone about making plans for lazy day of sleeping in and, later, meeting up for a special Sunday afternoon.  Dominik arrived in fine, gentlemanly dress half-past one (he'd woken up 'early' to prepare and be contrary) with a basket of bread, brie, olives, oranges and coffee with his french press and a blanket tucked inside.  There was also a hodge-podge of other items tucked inside the bottomless basket, everything from Wizards Poker decks to chocolate pastries and other delectable inebrients. 

Dominik had a lighter step in his walk than usual and was wearing ornate, layered black robes and a travel cloak as he approached Dolores's door with his usual knock, a four-beat rap made with his smaller front knuckles.  "I'm coming in," he called through the door.  "Hide your strippers and your Gnomes."  As he was speaking, he'd slipped his key in the door.  It clicked over and he went inside of his own accord.

Dolly felt...renewed? Her life was looking pretty peachy right now; her book climbing the best seller's lists; even internationally. She was already number one in America but they were a bit boorish and tacky. When she finally reached the tip top of Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet's lists she'd congratulate herself. She was also moving past some rather larger hurdles in her life. She had seen Eli for the first time since he moved to Paris. He looked delicious but then so did the woman on his arm. She had been out with friends and the evening played out calmly. There had been something freeing in that night at Calavera's, in telling Dominik that she had to choose herself this time. He had been nothing but darling and attentive since then - and while Thursby may have had his nights; Dolly held the glimpses of his soul. She could concede the battle but not the war.

For it was not a war Thursby could win, ever. Dominik was to ingrained in family tradition. He was nearly thirty now; time to start thinking about a wife and children. Niobe was a news groupie who used him to further her career. Someday - perhaps with a wee bit of help from Dazmond and Dolly he would see that. It was that idea alone that caused the devilish smile to twitch on Dolores' lips as she sat before her vanity. She had dressed with care; in quite the opposite manner she usually laid a trap for a man. The dress was modest, sweet even; her heels a pair of low sling backs. Everything eluded to the treasure trove beneath the fabric but gave nothing away. She was just adding the last curl to her hair when she head a familiar masculine voice from the sitting room. Her door was open, giving a full view of her hourglass back as she fussed with the last bit of hair.

"In here, Darling, just touching up my face. You know how gnomes enjoy smudging lipstick," She threw a look over her shoulder at him smile warm and loving as it ever had been. She had a plan; only foolish women entered into endeavors without one. There was a gift, a particular family ring that stretched  back to perhaps a darker time - but one in which she and Dominik had been both happy and inseparable. Plucking the small silver box from the jars of cream and pots of color she smoothed her skirt and exited the bedroom in a grand sweeping gesture. "See how nice it is not to have to jimmy a lock or climb the terrace to get inside? Friends give one another keys," her voice was teasing as she took in the sight of him. In tied her stomach up in knots the way it had since she was all of eleven. He looked more himself again; which meant he was probably getting it regularly from the newsie floozy - but that was alright. Dolly had her own amusements - though less so lately; not for lack of suitors but lack of interest on her part, crazy as that would sound to anyone who knew her.

Without a thought to rumpling either of them she gave him an exuberant hug and pressed her cheek to his, "Oh I've been looking forward to this for days! Did I tell you I've made it to number one in America? I mean obviously it's not home but those Yanks do appreciate my garish charm," she grinned at him, one hand still held behind her back, hiding the box. "You will never believe what I found last weekend when I was going through an old trunk trying to find that picture of us in Paris; the one where Dazmond is nearly pulling us over because she drank far more than her tiny system could handle," those words linked together could have described any number of nights in their collective history with one another - but Dolly was thinking of the night; the night to end all nights. The night that had turned to daybreak and Dominik was gone. The night that had ended in a secret lost accident that Dolly had never shared with him. Some secrets she kept only for herself, she felt she deserved that much having given him full access to most all of her heart.

She didn't bring it up to hurt him of course. It was just part of the plan, to remind him of the time when they had been the world to one another; even when he had other women. It had been she who had sobbed uncontrollably at the prospect of him going away forever. And in answer to her sobs he gave her a ring - not a proper ring with a diamond like the ones she was used to being gifted now. No, it was a ring that was a part of him; a mark of where he came from and what his destiny had been. He was the Snake Prince. If the war hadn't broke out who knew what their lives would be now. She knew him well enough to know that arguing with him about the merits of being with someone his family found completely unacceptable would get her nowhere. Trinkets and memories those were the key to beating Niobe at her own foolish game... because before there had been anyone else there had always been Little Dolores; with her baby blue eyes an mop of black curls.

Dominik set the basket down to take off his cloak and boots by the front door.  He was quiet since entering and hadn't really looked up until he heard her coming over from the other room.  When he saw her though, Dominik actually grinned, which was something he really didn't do often anymore; it was that they had both dressed up so exuberantly, that sort of stilled his heart and made him nostalgic, he couldn't help but laugh inside at the display -- of their shared childhood, the family galas.  Only a purebred would dress in their finest for a picnic.  Something about formal wear, of making the body into an emblem, had buried itself in their subconsciouses. 

"Alright?"  Dominik wrapped his arms around her easily in return.  He didn't mind her comment about keys.  She usually made a comment about it, and he usually maintained some silence about it.  He only really owned one key, and that was the one he'd just used.  His own apartment was fortified by magical locks that were personalized, seven of them to be exact.  He'd never given anyone his passcodes before, and didn't plan to out of paranoia and a false sense of safety in isolation; it wasn't as if she couldn't just break in through the window, after all.  For some reason the current set up was preferable to him.

She hardly left room for a response between sharing the news of her latest success and pulling his attention toward the object behind her back, but Dominik was tickled by her enthusiasm and charm and merely absorbed the flood of sensory input with an amused smile.  The words old trunk and picture of us in Paris were highly efficient at pulling his thoughts backward.  A little too efficient, for in a flash of shadow Dominik felt he was coming too close to something, to himself perhaps.  To the elder part of himself that was only memory, stricken from the world by circumstance.  As soon as he was attracted to it he felt repelled.  A step back was all he took, his smile lessened, his brow creased.  The change in his temperament was subtle.

"What's that, then," he asked, sounding almost concerned.  What could she have found?  The past was hard territory for Dominik.  That era she had just called forward was just prior to a life-changing ordeal for him, what had led to a large sort of personality change for him, and his ill-fated stardom.   

 

Dolly often thought of herself as the only relic from the past Dominik allowed himself to have. For all of his posturing that he was dark and moody and so much changed... she was there; with her glittering and preening personality to remind him of the time before. In all the ways that life had made her hard against love; those were private changes. For all intents and purposes she was the same Dolores that he had known since she was a baby. She had always been the sort of girl to dress up and sparkle. She had always thrived on being the center of the universe. For however many ways she had changed there were so many more that she was exactly the same - especially when it came to the ways in which she showed Dominik that she cared. Privately, she had always been the soft spot; the one who read his poetry, who examined his art. She had been the soft voice of encouragement and love. No one would believe it; not then and not now, but she still was. She still wanted nothing more than for him to be truly happy... she just happened to know what would make him happy better than he did.

She felt the shift in his mood; subtle though it would have been to most it felt almost like abrupt rejection. She made a tsk tsk sound in the back of her throat, "Don't get fussy. It's a present I think you'll like to have back - especially when I tell you why you're getting it back," she took him by the arm and lead him toward the wall of windows in her living room. She waited for him to sit in the large over stuffed chair before assuming her natural spot on his lap. There was nothing sexual about it; with most men there might have been - but there was just a feeling of closeness. Her perfume was soft as it wafted toward his nose, her dark hair obscuring part of her face as she took his hand and opened the box. Without looking at him she spoke, slipping the ring off the chain she had worn it on into her early twenties, "When you gave me this ring...a number of years ago that I do not care to disclose because a lady never talks about her age," she paused to look at him, one hand resting against his jaw, "You said to me something like it was the piece of you to hold until you came back".

There was a vague note of emotion in her voice as she squeezed his fingers. The large ring had always been too big for even her... less than dainty fingers. It was big and a little clunky - not unlike it's previous owner. She had worn it around her neck until the day she and Elliot became official and then it felt unfaithful. It felt like so long since Dolly and Dom had really been friends; really been close. It had been before Elliot and certainly before Niobe. There had been a wall between them since then - she wasn't sure what it was. She was not returning the ring to be vindictive. It was a reminder, yes, of everything they had been to one another and a time when the world laid before them - but its return was also covered in a little sweetness, "You are getting it back now - not because I don't secretly love keeping mens jewelry and tokens of affection; but because I don't need it anymore. I have you back; I don't need a ring to remind me anymore that somewhere you're out there loving me...because you're right here," she gave him a somewhat teary smile an kissed his forehead. "See? That wasn't so awful," it was more of a statement than a question.

"The soul is placed in the body and is like a diamond in the rough.  It must be polished within, or the luster of the soul will never appear."[1]

Dominik looked at her curiously, but gave a little laugh as she tugged him over to the couches.  He complied, sitting down in the large armchair as she directed and opening his arms as she climbed into his lap.  As he waited, Dominik let his gaze linger on her hair.  The close proximity was comforting, her scent soft and her position grounding as his anxieties cooled.  As she opened the box and his eyes settled on the ring[2], Dominik's brow knitted and he stared at it with a curious expression.

He recalled his father handing him the ring, a coiled snake in silver housing eleven diamonds, as he explained its origins.  It was symbolic of clarity, wisdom, and ascension, and it had been his grandfather's, and his great-grandfather's and so on down the line, having been made by Wizards in the Italian Alps as a wedding ring for his ancestor of eleven generations past, inherited first by their orphaned son in 1796 on his seventeenth birthday.  Dominik was the eleventh Wiedman to bear the family ring, and had been told by his father that he was represented and immortalized in the eleventh and final diamond, the largest at the base.  The second largest precious stone carried the memory of his father, and the smaller in-laid stones represented his ancestors.

When Dominik was preparing to turn himself in for his allegiance to the Dark Lord in 1998, following the Battle of Hogwarts, he thought he'd been the final diamond, that the heritage ended with him, so assured he was that he had no future to look forward to.  He'd given the ring to Dolores, who represented to him everything emblematic about his life.  She was who would carry him on, not himself, because through the trials he was being born a different man.  A man without prospects.  The last man. 

Dolores was the one who would carry on his memory, not his non-existent son. 

He remembered vividly the way she had cried, the day he told her he would sit to take judgement for fighting on the wrong side of the war -- not because it had been wrong to follow Voldemort, but that it had been wrong to lose.  He didn't want to hide like a coward, and he didn't anticipate the interference of the Quidditch league or that his father's connections would save him from a fate in Azkaban.  She thought that he was going away, and in a sense the Dominik she knew did go away.  But the way that she had cried, it had broken his heart, it was the most wrenching way he'd ever seen anyone weep, before or ever after.  It was all he could do to comfort her, to slip off the ring and give to her his life, his heritage.  It had been an incredibly natural response to the situation in front of him, nearly eleven years ago. 

Eleven years, Dominik suddenly realized.  It was an easy correlation because of last year's decade-long Remembrance ceremony for the Battle of Hogwarts, the defeat of the Dark Lord.  Eleven years, eleven diamonds, and eleven generations.   

He looked to her in veneration and awe, something having just occurred to him.  "Dolores," he said meaningfully, but he couldn't find the words to explain.  He knew, somehow, that this meant that he was not the end of the line.  Getting the ring back, especially now, it meant that he was going to have children.  He was the last of eleven diamonds, and the father of the next eleven generations.  Unable to navigate the emotionally-laden thought aloud, he simply drew her towards him in his arms and held her close, his hand cradling the back of her head as he kissed her brow.  He had survived something, and here they were together at the other side of it almost, back together with the ring.

As his lips left her brow, it became apparent that he was grinning like a light-hearted youth.  He slipped the ring onto the index finger of his right hand, and his nostalgic sadness had morphed into a delighted optimism.  The largest diamond shined more than he remembered, seeming to be illuminated from within.  He was going to have a son; at some point in his life, he would pass on the Wiedman name.  Without warning, he maneuvered his arms, one under her knees and the other staying draped across her back, and lifted the both of them up and out of the chair, carrying her up with him in a silly display of celebration.

"Oh, I love you," he said excitedly, sweeping her in a circle.  He was actually laughing with joy.  "It's brilliant," he exclaimed.  "Bloody brilliant!  And you're right, you do have me.  I'm here.  Question is, I suppose," he continued on a playful bent, setting her down.  "What are going to do with me now that you have me?"

1.	Daniel Defoe
2.	Image

The air was thick with emotion between them - for the same but also different reasons. She remembered that time with too much painful clarity; how she had loved him; how she had been broken by the idea of him going away forever. She had only been fourteen; but even then she felt as though she were losing a part of herself. He held her all that night, close to his heart. She, selfishly, wanted him to be a coward. She told him a million times they could run away together. In those days she believed that was all they needed - to be together. It was a feeling he reaffirmed on his 21st birthday... until he vanished with the morning light and left her with a problem to solve...that had eventually solved itself. There was some part of her that would always be held by him - by the future they might have had. In her secret dreams their accident survived and perhaps changed them both but... they would have been together. There would have been none of this Niobe nonsense.

It had not been until recently that she realized how hard she clung to the possibility of getting those years back some how in making him love her. She wasn't sure when that idea of him changed. She some how realized in that strange distant way of things you knew all along that he loved her like a delicate china doll. It didn't matter how many ways she had been broken - he kept her on shelf because he didn't trust his oafish hands to love her properly. She was an idea from the past gathering dust because she wanted him to love her in a way that he couldn't let himself. The way he had looked at her in Calavera's that night; so lost without her... she realized he needed her to guide him home. In his eyes she saw the million was he believed he wasn't good enough for her; that if he touched her he would spoil her.

It was then and in the days after she realized that she didn't have to make him stop wanting Niobe with her usual tricks. She had to remind him that at one point he had loved himself enough to want more than someone who used him for her own personal gain. When he could love himself again...then maybe he'd remember why he'd loved her all those years ago. But even that notion came second to the idea of reminding him how their life had been; how far away from the dank hopelessness of his apartment they had lived. There was a stream of tears down her cheek as he nestled her close an kissed her forehead. She was happy that such a small gesture could make him so happy. It showed great promise.

She found herself squealing like a much younger girl as he spun her around. There was sort of a black spot lifted from her heart knowing that they could still make one another so happy; and apparently from his cheeky tone tease once another again, "Well ideally we would start with you feeding me grapes; or whisking me off to Italy," she grinned at him, brushing a wayward curl from her face, her grin almost wicked; "Or we could have a tussle for old times sake but this dress was very expensive and my shoes are very pointy," she paused picking up her foot and looking over her shoulder as if to inspect them. "I dare say they could be more dangerous than my wand," grinning at him she still had to stretch on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "Or we could spread out a blanket watch the rain and eat foods that will make me too fat for this dress".

"Yeah, no pointy toes in the groin please," said Dominik off-handedly, thinking of Northern Italy.  She pressed a kiss just to the corner of his mouth and Dominik played off her with his eyes.

"I have grapes," he said excitedly, moving suddenly toward his adorable basket.  He swept it up and started moving toward the depths of her penthouse apartment like it was a familiar territory for him, thinking the second sitting room would be more conducive to a picnic.  He looked over his shoulder as he went, inviting her deeper into her own home. 

Of course, Dolly had always treated her apartment like a sort of guest house, because like Dazmond and Niobe she was always on the go, but Dominik had always made himself comfortable there and knew his way around.  Over his shoulder he said, "I've thoroughly prepared," and he pulled out the blanket he'd brought after reaching for the fine, worn cloth inside the bottomless basket.  It was the same blanket he'd always used for excursions, an old thing he'd inherited from his mother as a dining cloth they'd used at home when he was growing up.  It was of a simple plaid design in white and green, emblematic of their family origins; coming from the word "weide" which meant, in one respect, "willow tree."  He spread it over the open floor like a little boy building a fortress.

"Come sit," he said.  "We have coffee and bread and cheese, and fruits galore.  Fit for a king!"  His tone was exuberantly enthusiastic, and as such, so thoroughly unlike him that it seemed strange.  "Come and sit with me," he suggested, drawing his wand as he lowered himself onto the blanket.  "Want some black coffee and oranges?"

Dolly watched him with bright blue eyes. He reminded her very much of the boy he'd long sine forgotten. It warmed what most people considered her nonexistent heart. It was a beautiful thing to her; something she knew no one else could ever appreciate because they had not watched him change so drastically. That was what it call came down to - other than his family their little world had been so exclusive someone like Niobe would not understand this side of him - let alone be comforted by it. She did not understand the enthrall of chasing after the other woman. There was no happy ending there. She would never be a proper wife - not that Dolly herself would have been pegged for one to tie the knot. She could have with Elliot; it'd all been set but... well that was another thought tangent for another time.

She followed him through the penthouse; struck for the first time how very much at home he seemed here. There were very few personal touches in the entire "house" - but it only felt like a home when she was with him. It was a strange sort of feeling in her stomach when she considered it. As a rule anything that felt remotely strange was pushed down an saved for later; and since later never technically came she never had to deal with it. Slipping off her shoes, her toes polished a vivid red as she carefully knelt on the blanket across from him. She was the picture of "ladydom" legs folded gracefully beneath her hands braced to the side to keep her from toppling over. She had never seen anyone so excited about coffee and oranges before.

Her lips flickered with a smile before she said to him, very seriously, "You forgot the golden palm you're supposed to fan me with and the Cabana Boys dancing around me for my amusement," she scooted around the blanket; both to be closer to him and also to see out the large window as the rain ran down the glass. "You know, this really was a charming idea. I didn't know you thought of charming things anymore," she looked over her shoulder at him with a grin before plucking and offering him a grape; "Have you started reading Witch Weekly then? The section on a Witch's ideal date is both fascinating, naughty, and sometimes just hilarious". When he finally let her slip the grape past his lips, she leaned against his arm and took an orange segment for herself, "You know I've thought about writing in myself - but I can never decide if i should be completely honest or absolutely vulgar," grinning at him with half the section poised before her lips, "what do you think? honesty or hilarity"?

Dominik had unsheathed his plumwood wand and sent a little blue-white string of magic at the basket.  A whole slew of things spread out and went into motion; the floating knife buttered the baguettes with brie; the coffee brewed to a dark black inside the French press; the oranges peeled in neat spirals and sectioned off in mid-air, landing in little porcelain bowls; hor d'hoeuvres and condiments arranged themselves deftly on the tray.  Dominik leaned back in repose, looking out the window.

Honesty or Hilarity?  It sounded like a philosophical question, almost the lapis of his own existence.  "Hm," said Dominik, setting his wand down beside himself as he finished munching on his grape.  "I can never tell....  both always end in trouble, and cycle round and out.  I don't know that the Wizarding world is even ready for honesty, for real art.  Best to keep honesty inside, and isn't that what we've done?  Many people wouldn't understand Truth.  They don't understand the hilarity, either, but at least they can revel in it.  If I went honest I'd set the whole collective unconscious spiraling."  He sort of laughed before taking a bite of bread.

He wasn't sure if he really believed that.  It was just simpler to answer with something that could justify his current lifestyle rather than something that would require a reformation on his part, or else imply hypocrisy.  Dominik longed for honesty -- his desirous obsession with DP Reporter Niobe Thursby had become synonymous with his desire for honesty in producing art in the liana of his brain.  Repressing romantic outbursts left him in a perpetual state of longing.  He hadn't even painted in weeks, because all he could paint was her or her window and she was having none of that.  In a way it seemed his own Honesty had been put on hold after keeping to the shadows for so long.

Hilarity was, more lately, his game.  He couldn't help but make a fool of himself when pent-up frustrations unleashed themselves upon the world through the vessel of his body.  It happened routinely, and in public venues.  Whatever anger management programs the Ministry might have put him through, they clearly hadn't done much to still his violent warrior's spirit. 

"Hilarity, that's me," answered Dominik at last, popping an olive in his mouth.  "You be honest."     

Dolly watched him with intensely interested eyes, though a small smile twitched on her lips. Dominik never could let himself be happy long; it was of course the main thing standing in the way of their life before and their life now. They had been so spoiled by one another; lazy summers spent draped between he and Dazmond the laughter brought tears to her eyes and made her side ache. Being allowed into his inner circle of the Posh Snake Pit at only twelve, she missed the way he smiled at her back then. She missed the way he smiled period. The deft almost defiant curve of his lips - when that smile was for her it made the world spin a little faster. She worried sometimes, more so lately, that that smile was dead - or the most horrifying of thoughts that he shared it with Niobe between dark sheets. Of course deep down Dolly knew that history had too strong a hold on him for him to smile.

"You, my darling boy," she paused to tap the end of his nose, "are the only man alive that could not only turn a joke in which I talk about being completely vulgar intoa philisophical debate; but also purposfully neglect to ask me what that vulgar thing I was planing on writing happened to be". Actually most of the men in Dolly's life wouldn't have even bothered to unpack the food basket as they would have been too busy unzipping her from the smart little day dress. That was how it worked though - there had been exactly three men in her life who truly appreciated the fact she had any mind of her own at all. She'd pushed the other two away in favor of the one sitting before her. Smart as she was, at times she acted as daft as the papers made her out to be. Now there was Tappy, whatever the devil they were doing she didn't even know.

It felt so much bigger than just...well the night at Signature and the night at Hogwarts. It was a very delicate situation; partly because of the memory of Judy but also because she didn't want to break him. She didn't want to ruin him on other women because he needed something she couldn't seem to give anyone. She wanted him to be happy, to have a life - something bigger than writing books and waiting for the wee ones to be grown and leave the nest. It was a matter completely unrelated to Dominik and yet she felt stuck in the same way. She knew Trishna did not approve - but she also knew he didn't know the whole story. He was meant to hate Dominik because he cared for her. Sipping her coffee she considered everything Dom had to say and just shook her head, small laugh in her throat, "you are full of such utter shit Dom".

Adjusting on her knees to reach for a piece of baguette, "you're also going to make me fat; it's part of your diabolical plan so no man will want me," she stuck her tongue out at him before biting down a million happy little bursts of flavor causing her to close her eyes and smile around the morsel between her lips. She chewed and made happy little noises that were neither wholly moans or mews. "I think you tell yourself you have to play the big bad quiddy star who bloody burns people with cigars and seems to go vampire blood lust in the damned tents at fan events because you think they would mock you mercilessly for being a punk poet". She leaned over and offered him a bite of her baguette with a smirk, black curl falling over one eye, "You did tell me to be honest Lovey - you know I only do so brutally," she pressed a kiss to his cheek before settling back against him, "I do say it with love of course - because our versions of the truth and reality are two vastly different things; mine just happens to be right".

Dominik let out a quick breath as if to laugh and shifted his position to lie on his side.  He studied her as she spoke at first, content to rest his eyes on her aesthetic pose.  Sometimes he could be lulled into a wayward meditation watching a woman exist.  Dolly did inspire him to such heights of the imagination... but he was, nonetheless, touched by her acknowledgement that he had a higher intelligence than the usual bloke she might've picnicked with.  He did want to play big brother of a sort to Dolores, to make believe he was good enough to protect and to please her.  Dominik only smiled with brightened eyes and reached for a cup of coffee to hide behind.  He nursed a long sip from the mug, his face half-obscured behind a rush of steam, eyes still watching Dolly.   

She fleetingly wrapped his life into a single sentence with an unmatched expertise, topping it with a Dolly-esque bow.  Dominik couldn't help admiring her syntax as well as her swift exactitude as she distilled his personhood.  He could hardly deny that it was true, either -- and his spontaneous chortle was an indication of that.  "You know me," he said in a matter of fact sort of quip.  "Bloody world on me shoulders," he grinned as if sharing in a joke. 

Accepting the last morsel of her bread that she insisted on hand-feeding him, Dominik couldn't help but feel delightfully mollified.  He relished the attention like a little boy with belly full.  If only Niobe Thursby would feed me like that, he thought.

He chewed looking sidelong at the ceiling in brief thought before his eyes slid back to Dolly with a sense of renewed interest.  "Hey Dolls," he said.  "I've been meaning to ask....  You didn't happen to meet -- I mean.  The, uh, Witch I've been seeing -- she said you were sortaaa...," he drew out the last syllable delicately. 

"Not friendly?" 

Evil Eye was more the terminology Niobe had used.  He knew his friends' disapproved of her as much as Maggie disapproved of him.  But, in his delirium of unrequited obsession, and in his affinity for the honest truth, he felt alright bringing the defense of his personal life to the fold this way.  Dopily, he anticipated reasoning with Dolores and having her see that things were okay in his relationship with Niobe.  It made some sort of poetic sense -- had to, in fact, with how dependent he was on its actuality. 

He did a little smile to show he was still conversational, and said, "Wanna comment?"

Dolly gave her own chortle as he commented on the weight of the world, "I would feel much more sympathy you know; were it not self imposed Darling," she patted the curl back in place. Dominik took on the world as though it were a weighty thing. He carried it around like Atlas; as though he must be punished. She knew, after the war, there were... people who felt he had gotten off far to easy for the crimes he had committed. She knew what he was accused of - and understood implicitly that the list was actually in fact much longer. She loved him despite all of it. She had always been able to look into the void he claimed was his soul and see the spark (real or imagined) of the man he might have been. She could no more let go of that spark than she could stop breathing... because even when you hold your breath there will come a moment when the need overtakes you.

She could only arch an eyebrow as he brought up Niobe. Well, so much for a day with no fights in it. Sipping her coffee she let her eyes trail away from his face and out the window. The rain fell steady, little rivers forming as it flowed down the glass. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time she'd danced in the rain. She'd ruined a very expensive pair of heels, actually, and been very drunk on pink champaign. It was a good memory that she tried to hold onto in spite of Dominik's words worming their way into her ear. With a sharp turn of her head blue eyes were back on him, lips pursed, "Darling why must you bring up things that we both know will only end in argument when I tell you what actually happened? Honestly Niko," she sighed and toyed with the serpent at her throat. No one could annoy Dolores St. James faster - alternately she wouldn't begrudgingly forgive anyone else for being a complete and total dope.

"If you ever picked up a paper you'd have known already we met. She interviewed me for Prophet. You know I refuse to even speak to that vile beauty potion chugging hag Skeeter," she patted her hair one more, looking down at him, her tone was light but there was that subtle glint of malice in her eyes. You could do a lot of things to irritate Dolly before she'd actually... bite as it were. However Niobe had committed two very grave and unforgivable sins; first she got in Dolly's way and then she had the audacity to look down the bridge of that crooked little nose of hers. Now, apparently she had committed sin number three - tattling; honestly were they three? Who just happened to say to the man they were shagging, "Your friend was not very nice to me," if Dom actually had the gaull to try and correct or scold her...  well few people could withstand a Dolly freeze out and Dominik's tolerance was lower than most.

"Now let's make one thing very clear Niko - you know as well as I do I don't bare fangs unless provoked. I was perfectly lovely to her; so lovely in fact I probably could have gotten into her delicates much faster than you," Dolly had never made any secret of the fact that she often preferred women to men. The only real problem with sleeping with a woman was that, well, they didn't have the mindset of a man. It always came with strings, emotions; well actually with a lot of men it did to at some point but that was really besides the point. "So, are you asking yourself yet what it is exactly she did to turn me from a gin sipping pussycat to razor tongued Asp" she looked at him expectantly but didn't give him much of a chance to say anything. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He would look at her with those pleading eyes and beg her to beg off and just let him have his little corner of misery. Deep down he knew, he had to know, there was no future with her... no in the long run; not if he wanted heirs. His family had sent him into war to kill people like her - right or wrong, they both knew what side of the war he had fought on. They both knew what he was capable of in the name of family.

"People fool themselves into thinking a lot of things Dominik; about me, about life, about where the chips fall when the world crumbles," she looked at him with her red lips drawn together for a moment, hand resting on his cheek for a moment. There was no malice now, in her voice or in her eyes - it was something else, something darker - and frighteningly more honest, "You have your fun, you live this little fantasy life where some day Niobe Thursby wants to wake up next to you every morning and the way she will lovingly dote on you. You have that for as long as you need it Niko - but remember who knows you. Remember who has looked into the void with you and never backed down. Remember who your friends actually are and what that actually means...because the thing about the fantasy is it always has to end - and when it's all said and done we know who is going to pick up the mangled pieces she leaves behind when she's done with you".

There was a marginal pause as Dolly's last words hung in the air. 

"She's not using me," clarified Dominik.  He had grabbed a bowl of tangerine sections and was popping them into his mouth for little explosions of flavor.  He seemed unaffected by Dolly's sudden turn toward frustration and continued to take on a thoughtful tone.  "She likes me, and why is that so hard for anyone to see?  Doesn't anyone think I'm smashing?  Besides," he said, turning down toward his oranges.  "My bedsheet business is my own, isn't it, and I just don't want her scared off.  I care about her."  He slanted his brow in an imploring gaze as if to ask for agreement as he looked up.  "Yeah?"

He popped another tangerine piece in his mouth as he regarded her, closing off her heart at the mere mention.  He had only just recently become fully aware of his relationship to the main love interest of her books, Devlin.  Namely that he was him.  As he looked at Dolores, it seemed he was watching for her reaction in a way.  He had to test his own reality, to ensure its strength lest it dissolve into a requiem.  He had to substantiate the wispy willows of his heart.  "Why," he asked genuinely.  "What'd she do to you?"  Settling disputes was a domestic task and thus one he'd always loved to pursue. 

She was right to bring in family, then -- as that had always been the hottest topic in Dominik's life.  He was if nothing else devotedly loyal.  But that loyalty had extended itself to the one whose pondering on gave him life in its sweetest essence -- Niobe was a goddess he rested all the worries of his soul on.  Since October, his personal saga of mythological romance had grown into something illustrious and fortified.  The thought of his fortress being brought down to the ground by betrayed-feeling comrades was considerably important to avoid -- and that was why he was sure he'd find a reasonable explanation for why raising children with Niobe would renew the purity of their blood with poetic force.  For when it came to Niobe, Dominik was uncharacteristically optimistic.

He had a durable relationship with Dolores but there seemed to be a thin patch of ice between them.  She granted him his fairy tale and he sought to validate it historically.  If Niobe was jealous of Dolores, wouldn't that implicate her having deeper feelings for Dominik than she let on?  And did it work in reverse?  His honest eyes were devoid of hilarity as he searched for the kinds of clues that filled in vital gaps.  Just where was he in his life?  Dominik had to wonder.

"Why," she paused to look at him, "do you insist on ruining perfectly lovely days by breaking the rules?" there was a thin note of emotion in her voice as she looked away. He wanted to play nice - he said he did; so then why did he insist on ruining everything by bringing her up? It served no purpose but to upset Dolly on all fronts and she wouldn't stand for it. She could and would freeze him out. She had more than proven she could cut him off - and she thought he finally understood how empty everything was without her not Niobe. He had stalked her down, he had gone to Calavera's that night, he was the one that wanted to make up.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek she refused to look at him as she reached for her cigarette case, she folded her arms over her chest and watched the rain as she used a table lighter to spark the tip. After a few drags in terse silence her posture relaxed a little as she mulled over what she might say. "You can fuck the entire team for Manchester - but I wouldn't let them look down their noses at me either. You have yourself fooled into thinking this is about you," she finally glanced over her shoulder at him blue eyes narrowed, "in fact it has very little to do with you at all. It has to do with the fact Niobe Thursby got too damn big for her britches and I cut her down to size because she thinks she's better than I am". Exhaling a slow plume of smoke she pushed her coffee away and stood up. Suddenly she didn't want to be near him...it made her sick to her stomach.

Walking to the window she leaned against the frame, reflection looking back at her. Why did he have to make her so angry? Why was he always so difficult? "You should know better than anyone the low tolerance I have for being treated like a tramp professionally".  The wiggle and the giggle were a part of the package - but at the end of the day it was all a game. Dolly was just honest about the fact it was a game. It pissed her off when people - especially women tried to act like they'd never used body and mind to get where they wanted to be. Everyone was a whore it was just a matter of price - even Dominik. Give him hopeless love and devotion you were invisible but he'd sell you his soul for a cold hard smack.

"You should be less worried about why I hate her and more concerned about why your mother does, why your father will, and just what Daz might try to slip in her drink if you bring her to a family dinner," if he was going to ruin her day she was going to crush this stupid fantasy he had about some how his family accepting someone less than pure; less than society into their family. Dazmond running off and marrying Nate had been one thing; Daz had always had a strange relationship to the family beliefs, but giving them heirs that did nothing to further the purity of the bloodline? Unthinkable and unforgivable; she couldn't believe he thought differently. Merlin he could be a stubborn git. Of course...it wouldn't hurt so bad if she didn't love him. Bastard.

"Breaking the rules," echoed Dominik, put off by her frigid use of words, her contrary body language.  He kept to the silence that grew between them, but looked on, waiting for her to say something as the seconds dragged by with nothing but the sound of the rain on the window.  Then suddenly:  There it was.  'She thinks she's better than I am'.

Dominik shook his head, and fished in his pocket for a cigarette of his very own.  Dolly's emphatic dislike of his pursuit of Niobe was beginning to infect his nerves.  His patience was being tried in all manner of ways, in his life in general.  It was frustrating to want one thing so badly, and to have everything in one's life reject the possibility of it coming to fruition.  He didn't know what he would do if he lost the ability to take it out on the Pitch.  He felt he would probably explode.  In fact he felt a little bit like he was in danger of exploding right now.  And it'd been just such a simple, lovely day.

Aha!  He should have known something was lurking round a bend; those days, they never happened.

He reached forward across the old family blanket to retrieve Dolly's muggle lighting contraption, and lit his pre-rolled fag.  Clicking the metal case closed, he slipped his engraved smoker's box back into his robe pocket. 

"I don't know what happened between you," he started.  "But I'm not going to have this conversation, the one about blood.  Not right now."  He was thus far managing to keep his cool, but his voice was on the edge as he struggled to keep close to the beautiful lie in his heart; he felt personally attacked and alone and fragile, and his voice wavered.  "My mother doesn't know," he said dramatically, then dropped his voice with a sense of weariness as he added on, "let alone my father."  He perked up excitedly all of a sudden: "-- and I intend to keep it that way!" he said, "-- not forever, just till... whatever, I just -- I don't want to talk about it." 

With that he dragged his heels in the sand.  He looked to where she was standing up, over by the window, like a caged bird, her reflection shining back at him in the glass as a stray spot of sunlight shone through the silver clouds.  He couldn't understand fully, why she was so distraught over all this.  Dolly and Dominik were not lovers.  Though, sometimes when they fought it certainly felt like they were.  He knew that, if he let the argument escalate, his anger would inevitably morph into a monstrous desire; he would be forced to leave, frustrated and stunted.  He tried to keep some level of peace about them, for whatever it was worth.

"Why are you really upset?" he asked following a long pause.  "You --"

He had to stop himself, as he'd been about to turn tables on her.  He took a breath instead -- a breath of smoked tobacco, all the same.... 

"I don't even know," he said, "what I'm doing, who I am, what might happen with my life....  And all the same it keeps happening.  I can't lie about it to myself, because I feel things.  It's good but it's not, really.  I know that, right.  But without that I feel so--"  So alone.  Suddenly he whined, "I'm shit without you, so could you just be on my side?"  He'd probably stepped over a line with that one, but Dominik could only control so much when he felt like a wounded, wild animal -- looking for love with an unattractive howl.