Arabella thought that she might be as close to heaven as she could possibly ever get while still alive. The smells from the great fire were mouthwatering; a mixture of venison, beef, pork, and poultry that melted in beautifully with the scents of grass, water, and burning logs. Though there were plenty of fires around the camp as a whole, the giant fire that had been built to accommodate the wedding feast was the primary source of light for the evening. Arabella bounced on her feet to the rhythm of music surrounding her as those who could play instruments provided their skills for the celebration. The primitive tempo thudded to the beat of her heart excited and air-light heart, playing to a part of her soul that only a gypsy could ever truly understand.

Sarima sat on a long wide bench next to her husband as her mother behind her unbraiding her hair and tying a dicklo about her head to indicate her married status. Everyone was smiling, laughing, dancing, and chatting with excited animation. She had never seen a happier couple on the first night of their wedding feast, and it was difficult to let the sight of her friend so happy hurt her heart with the knowledge that she would never share such an experience.

It was getting late, and most of the gypsies were already well on their way to extreme drunkenness. Arabella was reluctant to spend the evening around her father, considering his slightly more lenient behavior as of late, but she also didn't want to trouble her grandmother. It was also completely out of the question to go to her grandmothers' tent and spend time there alone. No one would question her behavior, but she felt her absence might only make her stand out all the more… and it was not a reason she would want to be noticed.

As her eyes wandered the revelers, she took notice of Erik sitting on a stool just barely out of reach of the firelight, his torso and arms nearly lost in a much too large rusty red-brown shirt. His legs looked better off in the black trousers, although they stopped only two or three inches past his knees. He'd apparently taken it upon himself to get creative, as there was a scrap of cloth over his face which had artfully been transformed into a mask with eyeholes. She wondered how he'd managed such a thing without a knife or scissors…

It was clear no one was paying any attention to him – except maybe to steer clear of him altogether. Considering she was being left just as much to herself, she decided it was finally time to take some time and speak with him again. It had been much too long since they'd done more than ask briefly after one-another's health. As a matter of fact… she couldn't remember them every doing more – beyond the two nights in which she'd discovered his singing voice and he'd heard her fairy tales. That didn't seem to count, though, since it hadn't involved much active conversation.

She wandered over slowly, peering around out of curiosity to see who might notice her approach and conversation with Erik. Even Adnah, who seemed so wary as of late over her being anywhere near hi, was nowhere to be seen. As she grew closer, Erik took notice of her approach and turned his body to face her, eyes alight and reflecting the blazing fire. Beneath his simple cloth mas, his lower 'lip' curved in a slight smile. It was the same welcome she recognized from the night she collapsed in his arms.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Arabella." He greeted with a voice that was calm and toned as golden as his eyes.

"Hello, Erik." She replied with a broad smile. "Have you gotten enough food? I mean… it's hard for anyone to refuse you in all this confusion."

His own smile broadened into something close to a grin.

"I never did need much food." He admitted. "Thank you."

She stood there with her hand laced together at her waist, palms pointed to the ground so that her arms stretched. She continued to bounce on her toes with restless energy, glancing about once again casually. There was a flash of eyes looking in her direction, but she couldn't tell who it was through the crowd of revelers that chose that moment to dance in the way. When they had moved, the eyes were gone, and they could have belonged to absolutely anyone in that area.

Erik shifted slightly beside her, leaning forward so that his forearms rested against his thighs and his head tilted to one side in curiosity.

"Is that all you wanted to know?" he asked in amusement.

Arabella shifted her gaze back to his and smirked.

"I guess so." She admitted. Another glance around had her relaxing her grip on her own hands, and she motioned towards the revelers. "Have you ever danced before, Erik?"

He followed her gaze, seemed to squirm and maybe even blush behind his makeshift mask, and then shook his head a little.

"Not really." He confessed. "I mean… I was taught some steps… but nothing like this."

He motioned vaguely towards the campfire.

Arabella tensed, but not from stress or fear. She could actually feel the way her own eyes lit up.

"I could teach you how." She offered instantly.

Erik nearly reared backward in his surprise, and immediately began shifting even more nervously, his eyes peering around as though waiting for the punch line to some awful prank.

"Oh, no…" he mumbled. "Thank you. That's… not necessary."

"Oh, Erik!" she giggled. "Don't you ever just have fun?"

He looked up at her again skeptically, locking his hands around his knees. His feet, on the lowest rung of the stool he sat on, remained locked in place as his legs swayed from one side to the other. She slowly lost her broad grin as she realized that he might know about fun… but that his concept of it was far different from hers. She shifted a bit more nervously, glancing around yet again, beginning to feel as though they were up to no good and ought to be watched.

"Is this your latest errand of mercy?" he asked. "To teach the new Freak how to get along so that his life will be so much easier?"

She flinched slightly, looking away. It was surprising how such a mildly given remark could b so scathing.

"That is not how I show mercy." She stated simply, trying not to clear her throat and reval the moment of discomfort. "I show mercy by dressing wounds, and providing creature comforts. What I'm attempting now is called friendship."

His eyes widened beneath the cloth mask, and she found herself distracted by the thing before he could come up with a proper response.

"Why do you wear that thing?" she demanded abruptly. "It looks more ridiculous than if you just showed your face."

Stiffening, Erik turned slightly away from her.

"We don't all have the luxury of beauty." He reminded her, making her blush slightly. She couldn't figure out if he was being self-mocking, or whether he was trying to give her a genuine compliment. "I am stared at more than enough during the daylight hours, when there are no longer deep shadows to minimalize the effect my face has on the poor, unsuspecting public."

She hesitated a moment.

"Erik… I won't stare at you." She promised in a low voice. "I just think that a mask is silly. There are so many ways people without your problems wear masks to hide who they are. You really don't need a physical one to make people see what you want them to."

In his case, she remembered, he had more than most people did. He had the cunning, no doubt about that, but he also had that miraculous tool he called a voice. She probably would have called it something else entirely, depending on how he was using it. When he performed for the masses, she might have called it liquid poison. When he'd been comforting her, it was liquid gold.

He glanced over his shoulder at her uncertainly, clearly not certain how to respond to all the words she was offering him.

"You shouldn't have to be ashamed of what you look like." She continued quietly. "There are plenty of reasons to feel shame without worrying about how you look. I don't mean you personally, of course. I just mean… people in general."

Very slowly, he turned back to stare up at her.

"What do you have to feel ashamed of?" he whispered, his voice almost lost in the sounds of the wedding celebration.

"I…" Arabella squirmed uncomfortably. "Well… that's the point of being able to hide things. You don't have to share them if you don't want to."

He stared at her a moment longer, and then nodded with another soft mile curling what very little she could ee of his mouth. She let a long moment pass before deciding it was time to return to the original subject at hand, and clapped her hands once in determination.

"So." She began "I will make you a deal."

"What deal is that?" he asked, standing slowly so that she had to crane her neck slightly to look up at him. Really, he was extraordinarily tall for anyone even close to her own age… and he had plenty of years of growing left in him!

"If you come and learn a dance with him, then I will let you teach me one of yours."

Erik barked out a startled laugh, looking around at the dancing that was already taking place. It was clear there was very little structure to their way of dancing, and he was so used to the severe rules of etiquette his mother had drilled into him – even during their rare lessons on the dances she knew and was bored enough to teach him just to pass the time. He remembered barely being tall enough to reach her shoulder with his hand, but she'd been insistent that he must place his hand there and nowhere else. God forbid his arm get tired and his hand slip somewhere out of place!

By the looks of things… gypsies could put their hands essentially anywhere they pleased, although they still respected the single or married status of the opposite gender. The flirtation in the eyes alone of many of the revelers was something absolutely awe-inspiring to him. He'd never imagined that the passion he knew so well through music could be interpreted into something physical.

"Please, Erik?" Arabella urged, drawing his gaze back to her as she tilted her head back a little and gave him a one-sided smile.

Even Bella, who he'd witnessed that very evening trying to avoid any chance encounter with open flirtation, was capable of unconsciously using her own wiles. Erik found himself wanting to blush, but managed to keep himself under control – not that it would have mattered. It wasn't as though she could see his face beneath the cloth mask; and his face probably didn't show reactions the same way others did. He doubted he could get enough color in his face to manage even the vaguest hint of a blush.

"All right." He agreed with a richer, warmer laugh. "It's a bargain."

They shook hands, laughing at the silliness of it all, and they were each astounded at how comfortable it was to so easily take hands in friendship. Erik had never really expected her to lay a finger on hi unless she was trying to care for his wounds… and had expected never to touch her unless it was for the same reasons. Arabella didn't seem to think much of it, but he was learning how much freer with themselves gypsies were than the few examples he'd seen of his own civilization. She didn't even fully release his hand once they were done sealing their agreement. Instead, she turned with just their fingertips latched together, and dragged him towards the light of the fire as the musicians began another more lively and frenetic tune.

"All right." She began, entirely businesslike even though her eyes were dancing with merriment. "The first thing you need to know is…"

Well… rules and guidelines he could master!

For the first time in his life, Erik discovered that fun wasn't just a chore you did to amuse yourself, or a prank you pulled on someone for lack of anything better to do. Fun was a kind of freedom he'd never expected… and it was all the more exciting when you had someone to share it with. For nearly an hour, Arabella brought him through her styles of dance, often giving way to her own bliss in the music and bringing him close to heady dizziness as she moved in circles around him. Once he'd gotten the grasp of what she was doing – clearly something that barely needed much grasping on his part at all and no planning from either of them – they spoke freely while they moved. There wasn't very much that they wanted to divulge to each other about their pasts, but there were still topics that could be safely broached.

Arabella told him about her grandmother, and how she earned a living as a fortune teller. She explained how she'd been an apprentice to Tsifia on and off for most of her life, learning simple medicinal skills like the ones that helped her care for his wounds when he first arrived. She was able to tell stories about her grandfather before he passed away, and of the delightful times she'd spent with the now married Sarima. Erik, in turn, told her all about his extensive learning in architecture, music as a whole including his ability to play the piano and violin, and the dog that had grown with him since his earliest memories. He'd even delved deep enough into his own emotions to share about the tragedy of the poor animals' death, and how it had been the catalyst that drove him away from home.

She was very glad to know that he'd experienced at least some kindness in his youth, even if he wouldn't go into too many specific details about the people who showed it to him.

"All right." She eventually decided, as they caught their breath from the latest energetic dance. "It's your turn to teach me a dance. I've always been curious about how the civilized world entertained itself without deigning to flock to gypsy fairs."

"Well…" Erik thought a moment, not quite fidgeting as the motions of one dance came to mind. "There is one that's a great deal like the one you taught me earlier… just slightly more constrained and structured."

"Good." She held her hands out in front of her and to either side, palms up. "Teach me."

So… he explained the beginning steps, going through the same speech – roughly – that his mother had given him. They were required to circle each other three times to start, switching directions after each rotation. During these circles, they would start with their right hands facing each other, inches apart, while their eyes must remain locked. Then they would repeat it with the left hand, and finally with both hands. The fourth time, their hands would finally touch and their fingers would intertwine.

"It's supposed to be easier with more than two people dancing." He admitted almost bashfully. "I think it's meant to be some form of a reel."

Arabella nodded thoughtfully.

"Well… let's start with that then." She suggested.

Several times they tried, but Arabella kept clapping her hands onto his and they would both burst into laughter and giggles. By now, many people were taking notice of the two of them dancing and laughing together like fools… but by that point, neither of them noticed or even cared. Everyone was having a good time, and Erik was not doing anything to try and escape. No one had any good reason to try and stop the fun they were having.

"This music is no help!" Erik exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Let's move on to the next part…"

So they continued, until Arabella had mastered at least half of the dance, even if her over-exuberance continually ruined the intended atmosphere. While giddy music continued on in the background, they wound up with a hybrid of their two worlds in the dance.

Then, abruptly, the music shifted. Erik and Arabella glanced around in something close to confusion. The revelry was continuing… very few people had turned in for the evening… although the bride and groom were long gone. Still… the mood had clearly shifted. The music become slower, something closer to a sedate march, and something Arabella had absolutely no familiarity with whatsoever. Erik's eyes, however, had lit up. He had never heard such an arrangement before – the gypsies were putting their own special spin on it – but he recognized the work.

"Ah!" he smiled broadly, rolling one hand on its wrist gracefully. "Shall we, Mademoiselle?"

Arabella raised her eyebrows at him, still smiling, and then attempted the dance once more from scratch. This time, in spite of the remnants of humor their eyes held from all their laughter, they managed to keep from cracking smiles and dissolving again. Their gazes really locked for the first time, and she kept from slamming her palms into his. Still… their hands were so close that it was almost too much not to close the gap and let flesh touch flesh.

Her eyes widened slightly at nearly the same moment his did, but they kept on dancing.

Oh my God… Erik thought. His mother had never explained the… intimacy of the first moments, and how it led into the following ones.

Arabella felt like his gaze had seized hers and made them his prisoners.

Oh my God…

Dicklo: A head scarf worn by married women.