Supervision, ~Glinda~

[Dorian Stone]

Dorian lounged against the wall, dressed in normal clothing and looking for all the world like a bored servant that had been badly trained and didn't know when to keep still and quiet. An illusion which served him quite well.

Glinda was finishing up a meeting with some representative of the Munchkins, and he would be damned before he left her in a room with any of them. He wasn't truly listening to their conversation, was, in fact, far enough away in the throne room not to be completely privy to it, but he refused to give them complete privacy. His eyes rarely left Glinda or the other guards in the room, focusing on each of them in turn to guage their reactions. If the woman he loved and protected had so much as paled, he would have been at her side in an instant. Or the bastard that was meeting with her would be in twain. It really depended on his mood should something come up.

The guard bounced his knees and looked up at the ceiling as the dignitary and his bodyguards passed by, almost daring them to try something. It wasn't until they left that his usual stillness descended. He nodded to the extra guards that weren't usually here and sent them away before coming to stand before Glinda for himself. "Is that the last of them for the day?" Beneath the politeness of the question was just a bit of hardness, an element that said that he'd be displeased if the answer was that she was going to keep pushing herself to do more today. It was already well past dinner and she needed a break... even if it was just a short one. Hell, he'd even eat dinner if it meant that she'd do it, too.

[Glinda Upland]

These 'representatives' were directly a result of Scott Talvern, that much was obvious. They were making Glinda angry, not that she would ever show it. They were insulting her at every turn, and were much clumsier with verbal attacks than she would have been. It was annoying, not that she could show it. Instead, she kept a polite smile on her face the entire time, anger stewing on the inside. She always had to internalize anger. She did not have much power, but she had enough that, fueled by her emotions (usually negative), bad things could happen if she got too unhinged. So the anger stewed, and she seemed perfectly pleasant about being insulted, not particularly well, but insulted nonetheless. Finally, the blasted meeting was over. "Thank you gentlemen," she said, managing to keep all the acid out of her voice and seem perfectly happy. "I look forward to meeting with you at a later time. Do send Mr. Talvern my regards," she said, looking past the men to nod at the steward who ushered them out.

She of course, had felt Dorian's eyes on her the entire time, but she had grown used to it. It did not bother her anymore, if anything it helped her, as the man's singular gaze spooked most of her enemies. She had noted the Munchkin emissaries glancing at the man, clearly unnerved by his singular focus. Singular focus that normally would have unnerved her as well, but less so when it kept her alive. When she was kept alive, nothing annoyed her.

As soon as the men were gone, she turned on her heels towards Dorian, the calm smile gone, replaced by something that was certainly less perfect. No where near the rage she felt, but still a little bit further from the normal look of placid interest she usually showed. She was sick of these people, sick of the pretenses, sick of the tiring meetings that never got anything done. She was tired, and she could only hope she wasn't burning out. She couldn't afford to. Oz needed her, regardless of how rude the people who met with her acted.

Dorian moved towards her as she moved towards him, until finally he was standing before her. She listened patiently to his inquiry, noting the hardness in the words that suggested he didn't have the patience or the willingness to let her have another meeting. She hadn't missed how exasperated he had become with her deteriorating care for herself. She always looked immaculate, her posture always perfect, but anyone who knew her the way Dorian did couldn't miss the cracks beginning to show. She had been trying to ignore them, but they were becoming more prevalent, and she knew they couldn't be ignored forever.

"Yes, they were the last," she answered. "It would not matter. I'm not sure I could handle another meeting as lovely as that one," she said, poison in her tone. She had half a mind to travel to Munchkinland herself and talk some sense into Mr. Talvern herself, though she doubted Dorian would allow it for the danger it would entail. She hated these blasted meetings. Not all of them. The ones that involved people insulting her under the pretense of diplomatic interest. Those got old fast.

[Dorian Stone]

Like her, Dorian shucked some of his usual masks. They knew each other well enough by now that they couldn't fool each other that much anymore even if they tried it. Some people had an inkling about his purpose in her life, but for her security's sake he tried to make sure that no one could tell that he was pulling all the strings to keep her safe. She could afford to see more about him, others could not. Dorian could keep her safest by being able to strike from the least expected places, so he did his best to make sure he could. He was able to fight face to face as well as any of his guards (better, actually) but it was risky to his Lady. He wouldn't put her in danger so he could satisfy his desire to confront things head on.

Especially when her eyes clouded like they had. He had to physically restrain himself from going after those men somehow so he used her as his tether, fixing a stray strand of her hair and standing close. Making it so he had to go through her to get anywhere. Hearing her admit out loud that she couldn't have done more helped him settle to a point, ready to take advantage of that admittance to make sure she was fine for a little while. Maybe a nap before she started paperwork... although she'd fight him hard on that count, he suspected, and he didn't want to fight with her. He'd learned long ago not to impose his views of what was best for her on her beyond what kept her alive, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"I could run down for an errand or two. I take out enough assassins trying to get to you; playing the opposite role wouldn't be too hard." He was joking but not, protective enough and done enough with this political shit that he'd do it if she asked it of him. He shook his head a bit as though to clear the thought from it. "Not that it would solve anything really, at this point. I just like toying with the idea."

He put his arm around her and took her through one of the side doors hidden from sight which led to a hallway which would eventually lead to either her rooms or her office. "Are we going to eat some dinner or do you have some things to finish up first? A good steak might do you good. I can give you a knife and ask for them to serve it pink enough to bleed a bit for you." He smirked, amused at the image of her taking out her anger on her meal. She might choose to work a bit and calm down before eating, but he had better ways to make it so she wouldn't eat on an upset and angry stomach. Trying to tease her into good humor, to start with.

[Glinda Upland]

She noted that Dorian had allowed some of his feelings to come up in his face. Not enough for most anyone to recognize, but since she spent most of her free time studying his features for any sign of anything, when he let things loosen a tiny bit, it was like a flashing neon sign in contrast to his previous state of stone. It was nice to see that he was allowing her to be close enough to grant her some sort of access to his facial expressions. She had noticed that he only seemed to do so when they were alone, or relatively alone. She guessed he had some reason for keeping things to himself, but she had no particular interest in knowing what it was. Dorian seemed to have a good reason for most anything he did, at least in the cases when he actually cared to share what his reasoning was.

She didn't flinch when he so effortlessly moved into her personal space. Had it been anyone else, she might have. That sort of movement wouldn't have bothered her in earlier times, but when attempts or threats on your life (most of them coming from the same place under different guises, she was almost positive) were dangerously close to becoming routine, anyone entering her personal space who she did not already trust with her life was in dangerous territory in her mind. But Dorian was who he was, so he stood there quite closely with no response from her. She noted the clouds in his eyes and understood. He was using her as a roadblock to his anger. He had done it before.

She laughed darkly at his comment. "If I ever start asking you to kill people, no matter how much they deserve it, then I've lost who I am. So if I do start asking you for that..." She didn't finish the statement, she wasn't even sure what the point had been. It was true enough, though. Should she start ordering deaths then she would not be who she was. She hoped it never ever got to that point. Never. She refused to let it. It wasn't as though deaths would help anything. Killing his men would just make Talvern even angrier, and make the men into martyrs. No, death wouldn't fix anything, and even if it would have, she wouldn't have done it, so it was irrelevant.

As he put her arm around her, she slipped an arm around his waist, not particularly caring who saw them in such a way. She had stopped caring about the rumors awhile back, though she still got annoyed by the compromising looks she got because of them. She listened to his joke quietly, laughing softly at the idea of her stabbing some poor steak so brutally. "I doubt that taking my frustration out on food would do any good." She frowned. She did have work to do. "I have to plan that stupid ball to celebrate... something." She couldn't recall what the bloody thing was for, only that she had to take care of it. It wasn't that the planning would take long, it wouldn't, in comparison to some of the other things she had to plan for and take care of, but that didn't make the thing irritating.

[Dorian Stone]

Dorian paused when he heard her response to his teasing, silently accepting before he backed off a bit to give her her space. It just took a few minutes of being with her for his ire to fade into something reasonable. He knew what she was trying to say when she corrected him, but he didn't finish her thought for her. His nature was to eliminate a threat so it wouldn't try to take him out at a later date; hers was to contain it and trust that that would be enough because her soul was not the kind that could endorse needless death. It was who they were, and his arguing his view would be pointless. It was easier for him, in this case, to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

He was pleased that he'd at least gotten a laugh out of her. "Perhaps it's celebrating your superb leadership? Your utmost dedication to Oz? The adorable way you flip your curls out of your way while you're working?" It was a habit which he almost wished he didn't notice. Just one of those subconscious moves she did that reminded him of what she used to be, what her duty called her to still be. She wasn't nearly as vapid as she acted, and although it was adorable it also frustrated him that it had leaked so much into her psyche that it was a part of her.

"Alright then. We'll let you do your work, and then you can come with me to fetch Anya for dinner with me. Isabelle dropped her off to play for the evening and she's been practicing with something involving yarn which I'm not allowed to see in my room." Anya was a true merchant's daughter; when she was told to stay put, she stayed. Well... for the most part. This was true when Dorian made the command (which he had) but anyone else was fair game. Dorian suspected this would get his little darling into trouble one day, but he didn't seem bothered by it. He was training her to be able to get herself out of any trouble she got into, and so had Geoffrey. Dorian didn't worry for her in his quarters, with the Gale members to keep an eye out for a wandering head of white gold in any given crown.

Hopefully, the bribe of getting to play with the five-year-old should she get this last thing done quickly before dinner might make it easier for Glinda to decide to relax. Sometimes, Dorian could be a real bastard when he knew where people's weak spots might be.

[Glinda Upland]

Glinda noticed his lack of response to her statement about his possible assassination of the men, but was not surprised by it. They were in two different places in their lives in a few ways. Sure, they had both lived for years under the same bastardized regime being forced to witness terrible things that no person had any business seeing, but while she had essentially been able to throw herself into the politics to stave off the horror it brought and to avoid the debilitating fear, he had had to participate in the same things that had horrified her. It was a terrible thing, and what had forced him to separate the two halves of himself, what he referred to as the man and the monster. In some ways she had to do the same thing, separate the Glinda the rest of Oz saw from who she really was, but she'd imagine that it was not as hard as the things he had had to do and see. Though no one would call what they were doing now easy, so maybe they were equals.

She shook her head. "No, no. No one would come to that ball. They'd just call me a selfish narcissist, and ignore the fact that they throw balls for themselves for exactly the same reasons you just mentioned. Besides, I wouldn't want such a ball." Which was true. She hated to keep making such comparisons to Shiz, the 'old' Glinda, or Galinda, rather, but that girl had been such a large part of her life for so long that it was hard to do. Galinda would have wanted a ball in her honor, and would have more likely demanded one, but Glinda had no desire for such celebration of herself. She would much rather continue to do her job as quietly as she could. As for the comment about her flipping her hair... Well, it had become a habit, and the part of her that was still seventeen and was completely focused on attracting the attention of the opposite sex was amused that he'd noticed and seemed vexed by such a thing. It was an unconscious movement, borne of habit, but the fact that it vexed Dorian so made it all the more interesting. After all, it wasn't as though the man was vexed by much.

Dorian, she had decided, could be a real ass when he wanted to be. He didn't try to just make her do what he felt was best anymore, though she had won most of the arguments when he had, or had just ignored him altogether, but he had stopped. He knew, though, if he knew her anywhere near as well as she thought she did, that bringing up the girl would make her take pause, and suggesting that the girl would have to wait for her to be finished would not be something that she allowed. She liked children far too much, and even if she had not been five, Glinda would not have made the girl wait on her account. She had far too much compassion, empathy to do such a thing, and she was absolutely certain that Dorian was aware of that fact and was manipulating it to his advantage, ass that he was being.

The fact that she knew what he was doing didn't faze her though. She was willing to take the manipulation over doing more work anyway. Especially since with the anger roiling around in her, she would be much more likely to do something stupid like set the paperwork on fire with her magic. Yes, ladies and gentleman, that would not be a good thing, no matter how much she might want to do it. "You can be a real ass, you know," she said, making sure he was aware of the fact that she knew exactly how he was using her personality against her. "But regardless, let's not keep your niece waiting. If she's anywhere near as much fun as you, we'll get along great," she said with a touch of sarcasm, a dab of humor. She did like Dorian, quite a bit more than she was prepared to completely be aware of, but then, it wasn't as though she'd had much time for reflection lately.

[Dorian Stone]

"Ah. Well, then, the ball you're throwing can be the Gathering of Selfish Bootlickers. We'll only be there because we need to give them something to idolize besides themselves for a while, and then we'll leave them with their mirrors when it's safe to duck out. Perfect. We should throw more balls like that." He hadn't meant to bring up bad memories and felt a bit bad that she'd gone introspective, unsure if it was a good path that her thoughts were going down or not. And the thoughtful glance the threw at him meant he'd given her another tidbit to mull over about himself. Perhaps he should have been annoyed, would have been if it had been anyone else, but he couldn't bring himself to be.

The man smirked, beginning to lead them towards his quarters. "Can I? Perhaps I'll have to work on that." Chuckling, he squeezed her shoulders lightly before easing up again. "You'll like Anya. She's a sweetheart for all that she's a terror." There was genuine affection in his voice, something rather unusual for the cold man. He'd been through a good deal, had had a lot happen to him or to people that were supposed to be under his care. Caring for anyone was incredibly hard for him, which he was working on changing. When there were so many scars on someone's soul, though, it took time. Which was why it worked out that he cared for Glinda... she had just about the same amount of scars on hers.

Dorian knocked on the door which was at the head of the Gale Hall, where most of the officers lived near Southstairs. He rapped on the door with his knuckles, his voice hardening as though speaking to a recruit. "Pumpkin, we're coming in. Anything you don't want seen needs to be thrown under a pillow." And with that he opened the door, stepping aside to let Glinda in before him and also looking back into the hall to give his neice time to hide the yarn-covered thing.

[Anya Filatova]

Anya kicked her feet contentedly, her little fingers clumsily working to thread the yarn on her needle through a plastic mesh guide. It was something she'd been practicing. She wanted to make a gift for her favorite Uncle, well, her only one. So she was trying to make little xs in the mesh to make the shape of a lion. It would give him something to look at in this sad room.

There was nothing on the walls. Nothing on any of the surfaces besides papers with a lot of writing on them and a picture which Momma had had made of their family when Anya was much younger. There was a bed, a dresser, and a desk with a chair and that was that. Dorian needed pretty things to look at so he wouldn't get bored. So Anya was going to fix that problem. Starting with this silly lion if she could manage to make the mane not look like cotton candy... maybe she shouldn't have decided to use pink yarn to make it.

Dorian rapped on the door and she jumped almost a foot off the bed. It was a good thing that Dorian took a little longer to escort the pretty lady into the room. She took his suggestion and thrust her needlework under his pillow, sitting on it and trying to look innocent like she wasn't doing just that. "Hi, Unka Dorian! Is this the Good Lady?" Anya leaned towards Glinda and cupped her hand against her mouth so Dorian couldn't see her lips, whisper-speaking. "He says you're really nice." Solemnly, she nodded at Glinda and then grinned at Dorian, her expression promising trouble behind the adorable glee.

[Glinda Upland]

"As much as that would be," she began sarcastically, smirking at the though, "I don't think people would be very appreciative of the ball being referred to as the Gathering of Selfish Bootlickers, no matter how appropriate the title may be." Not that Glinda had much room to talk about people being selfish or bootlicking. Less than two years ago (had it really been so little time? She could hardly believe it) she had been one of those selfish bootlickers. Now she happened to have moved up in the world and be the one whose boots they were licking. "We already throw balls exactly like that, it's all the balls are, just without the fun and amusing names." Luckily though, her growing connection with Dorian had insured that she at least had someone to talk to now who didn't make her want to strangle them or knock her head against a wall. Well, not often, anyway.

Glinda shook her head at his response to her comment. Of course he found it amusing that she was exasperated with how well he knew her and how well he knew how to twist her feelings. Of course, she could have fought him on it so it wasn't entirely his fault, but nothing was entirely anyone's fault, generally. "Perhaps you should," she said, but not meanly, instead with a touch of good humor. She loved Dorian for the fact that he had been able to banish most of the anger that had been building within her, threatening to explode. It was still there, but it wasn't nearly as potent. She was happily surprised at the affection she heard in Dorian's voice. She knew he loved his niece, but it still surprised her when he decided to show his affection. "I'm sure she's just as terrible as you," she said, though the statement came off sounding like a compliment, still tinged with just a bit of mischievous sarcasm.

Glinda nearly started giggling at Dorian's tone in contrast to the content of his words. Pumpkin? She was going to have to store that one away to tease him about later. He had his arsenal of things to tease her about, and she was going to build up hers. Starting with Pumpkin said in the tone she'd heard him use with the younger guards. Only he could manage to make such a bizarre contrast acceptable. She stepped through the door when he opened it, not surprised in the least to see that the room was about as spartan in furnishing as a room could get. She would have been more surprised if it had been decorated. But it wasn't, so there were no surprises there.

She didn't miss the fact that the girl hid something under the pillow, clued in by Dorian's warning as he opened the door, the girl's furious movements, and her attempts to look innocent. She knew the face because she had done it herself many times. Her fakery was a little better, but she had years more of practice. The girl was only five after all. She quirked her lips in amusement at Anya's calling her 'the Good Lady' and telling her that Dorian said she was really nice. Oh yes, this was going to be a conversation ripe for teasing later. For the moment though, she could appreciate the glee of the girl, finding it endearing. "Does he now? Well, I think he's rather nice myself," she said kindly.

[Dorian Stone]

Dorian chuckled. "You never let me have any fun. I could name a ball without starting a war..." He let that hang, amused by the prospect. It would take a good deal to convince him to behave were he allowed power in a social situation with the people who had been pissing off Glinda. He managed just fine in the past to say the right things, talk to the right people, network his way from being just a guard into becomming a ranking member of the Gale. But back then, they were just people he had to associate with. He'd had no reason to want to see the rug pulled out from beneath their feet, figuratively and physically speaking. Now it would just be gratifying, but he'd let Glinda keep him in check. He didn't want to cause any ruckus that she couldn't smooth over later... at least, not necessarily.

He flashed her a quick smile, there then gone, when she teased him back mischeviously. Dorian had opened up to her, that was true, but he was still who he was. Open displays of certain kinds of affection just really weren't his thing. Glinda may see him smile with true abandon, as might Isabelle and Anya. They may be able to catch glimpses of the man he might have been if he hadn't been enlisted as young as he was to slaughter men and Animals in cold blood, to torture... no, the man he was now was not the one he was before he met the wizard. Honestly, though, he had no regrets. He was mostly happy with the life he had now, and that's all he could ask for. Mostly happy and aware of his position in the world was better than being a confused and miserable sheep in a herd of believers.

"I don't know about that." Dorian gave her a look, his dark eyes dancing. "I've had more years to practice being terrible. She has eons of catching up to do." While he was joking, the phrase cut him just a bit. Anya really was so innocent... a blank slate, if you would. Dorian saw his neice as the opportunities he never had, the one that would have a life as pain-free as he could make it and a chance to choose to become whatever she would. Not because it was the best option for the family, but because it was best for her. People like Anya were why he and Glinda stumbled through their daily routines, fighting to make the world a better place. How much success they had, they didn't know, but it was worth a shot, right?

He glanced at Glinda and couldn't help but wonder if this was a good idea. This was a side of him which she hadn't seen before... the family man. He wondered briefly what her thoughts would be, or were, but left it at that just as quickly. Thinking about crap only made it more complicated. It was easier to act and accept the consequences later, so he quickly returned his attention to his niece.

"On your feet." His voice cracked through the air, joking and yet not. He towered over her at the foot of the bed, legs partially spread, left wrist held in his right hand behind his back, chin up, eyes twinkling. "Fall into position, now." He waited until she had obeyed before turning to stand beside the young girl, keeping his position as he flanked her. "Your Goodness, this is my niece, Anya Filatova. First in her class for conniving, plotting, and general mischeif. Second for trying to use the fact that she's adorable to make friends. She stands before you ready for service." He was mocking how Gale members were formally introduced, his voice switching to subordinate addressing a military superior when he spoke to Glinda, inviting her to join in the game.

[Anya Filatova]

Anya was about to reply to Glinda when Dorian's voice cracked through the air and she responded without hesitation. He'd trained Glinda to accept when he went into his protective mode while an assassination attempt was in place easily enough, it was no surprise that he'd been able to do the same for Anya. The girl was not a slave, did not respond with fear, but she knew better than to give her uncle any chance to dicipline her. Not that he'd ever truly hurt her, but Dorian was scary enough when he was angry that he didn't need to talk to make the girl wish she'd not left her bed that morning.

She jumped off of the bed until her feet touched the floor, skewing the pillow enough that something bright and pink poked out enough for Glinda to probably see most of it. Anya didn't seem to notice, though. The girl fell into the same military position as her uncle, standing beside him with her chin raised just a bit too high. She was wearing a jumper decorated with cherries, lacy socks, and Mary Janes, and her hair was done in pigtails. She probably looked ridiculous pretending to be stern, but she did her best. While her uncle listed off her abilities, though, she couldn't help but make a face. Anya did not fall out of position, she just scrunched her nose a bit and tried to glare sidelong at Dorian before offering Glinda a winning smile.

The child brought her Mary James together with a click and in the same motion let her left arm fall before putting her right across her chest, her hand in a fist above her heart. It was the Gale salute, which Dorian hadn't had to teach her because she watched enough people around him to get the gist. "I await your command, Good Lady. What do you... will of me?" The girl looked up at her uncle, wanting to make sure that she asked the question right. Her face was screwed up a bit into a perplexed frown. "Is that like asking her what she wants me to do?" Dorian hadn't just given her phrases and told her to recite them, but she always had questions as to what exactly she was saying and why. Even though he'd told her many times, he never seemed to mind reminding her what she hadn't grasped yet in his 'training.'

[Glinda Upland]

Glinda shook her head. "I doubt that. I have a feeling you'd name the ball with the intention of starting a war," she said, voice filled with mirth. She knew Dorian, and she knew how little patience he had with the politics and the nonsense it entailed. The fact that he had seemed to come much more exasperated with it once they had become.... whatever they were (she couldn't quite put a name on it yet) had not passed her by. Apparently their relationship made him become more exasperated the longer the bullshit went on. She hoped, though, that she would be able to keep his feelings from spilling over to anyone apart from her. Anything else could mean disaster. She did not particularly like the way politics worked, but that was the way things were, and anything Dorian did wouldn't change it. If anything, it would make it worse.

The smile was unexpected, and she had never really seen it before, but when it happened, she blinked, so shocked she was by it's appearance. Dorian smiling. It was a strangely beautiful sight, and she quickly memorized everything about it, carefully noting it in her head with no intention of ever forgetting it. It was rare and she loved him for showing it to her. It was one of the things that she cherished most about this, this relationship, that she got to see more of Dorian, more of the wonder that was there, than most people ever would. It was her gain, and she cherished everything about that gain. The Dorian who she had previously known would never have been so willing. That didn't detract from the wonderment of seeing Dorian smiling, happy. It did cut her though. If Dorian wasn't here, if he hadn't dedicated himself to this job, who would he be now? Would he be happier for it? Did he regret the choices he'd made? It was a train of thought to be pursued for another time. A train of thought that cut her surprisingly deeply. What if he regretted this? What if he regretted ever meeting her, because meeting her had meant he had given up what he could have had? What if her keeping him here because he was the best guarantee of her safety was making him resent her? What had Dorian lost because of her?

Private pain because of the new and sudden train of thought aside, she caught on immediately to the game that Dorian and Anya were playing. It seemed, then, that Dorian was unable to separate the military man from the family man, at least often. After all, he certainly had the young girl well versed in the military facts of his life. She had no way of knowing if this was a game or serious business between the two people, and maybe she didn't have the right to know, not yet, anyway. But she could, for the moment, take part. That permission to be a part of this interaction was admission enough. And it wasn't as though the game didn't seem serious enough. Anya certainly understood her military gestures, and seemed to be more precise than some of the real Forcemen.

She accepted Dorian's introduction with a clipped military nod that she had stolen from Dorian's interaction with his own men. "Pleasure to meet you," she said in a military tone almost as precise as Dorian's, the same tone she used when first introduced to a new soldier. She almost always softened, she couldn't help it, but she found it was usually helpful to be rather clipped at first, a little bit more military than they would expect. On the one hand, it helped build respect, on the other hand, it helped her to have them be a little bit off balance by her first introduction. Off balance people made mistakes, and when people were at their weakest in the wake of a mistake was usually when she learned the most about them. She had picked up quite a few things from Dorian and the other military men she had met in her life, and the knowledge had served her well.

She nodded crisply at Anya's textbook report to service that all the guards made when reporting. She noted the inquiry, doubtless aimed at Dorian. So the girl wasn't a perfect soldier, she still had all the inquisitiveness of a child. While she allowed Dorian to answer her, she noticed what appeared to be a bundle of yarn that had appeared from under Dorian's pillow. What was that? She had no doubt that it was what Dorian had meant when he had told the girl to hide anything she didn't want them to see under the pillow, and normally she would have just let it go, but she had some curiosity in her,and she didn't want to leave the girl with nothing to do, so as soon as Dorian had answered her question, she addressed Anya in the same precise tone she had borrowed from Dorian, "First you can explain what that is," she said, tipping her head in indication of the yarn peeking out from under the pillow.

[Dorian Stone]

"Just because soldiering is all I know doesn't mean I intend on being crude. I'd only start a war if I thought it was best for us." He didn't mean us to be Oz in general. If it was best for Glinda, then he'd bring Oz to its knees, or anyone else for that matter. It was just who he was.

He didn't notice her sudden silence, that or he chose to act like he hadn't noticed. Dorian was getting very good at convincing himself that he wasn't seeing what he was when it came to the woman he was growing to love. It made it easier not to strangle someone. He decided that they'd best have a chat about their relationship soon, before someone felt the edge of their tempers.

Dorian nodded to his niece's question, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips and making his dimple on the left side more pronounced. Sharp eyes transferred his attention between the two women, curious how they would interact. When Glinda adopted her usual attempt at a military tone, he felt a surge of pride. His little witch had learned so much since he'd first met her. While she had never been mousey, she'd needed a few pointers on how to glean respect from men who'd been hardened by war. It was harder to win affection from men who had seen their comrades dying in their own entrails, but Glinda was learning from him quickly enough that she could almost lead some of the forces on her own. Almost. That is, if he allowed her to.

His gaze focused on Anya. For such a little thing she was strong-willed and prone to being a terror if she wasn't taken to hand from the very beginning. By having Glinda play along with the military game he was subtly making sure that his niece would not misbehave for the woman. With Anya, it was very much about showing who was the dominant force so she wouldn't try to take that role into her own hands, the way that she did with her mother. Glinda's choice to play along made his job in making sure Anya behaved much easier and would ensure that his niece would be on her best behavior tonight.

Which was good, because Anya's first test of whether she was ready to behave well came up very soon. She'd been very adamant that the thing she was making wasn't done and that he wasn't allowed to see it. But Glinda was his superior, and if he was trying to introduce her as such but behaved as though she wasn't then there was going to be trouble. It would send Anya mixed signals, so he merely waited, watching his niece to make sure she'd do as she was told.

[Anya Filatova]

Anya nodded back, her little ponytails bobbing with the crisp motion. "Likewise. My uncle's told me a lot about you." So had her mother, but that was irrelevant to her report. Anya was proud that she remembered that, and thought that she deserved some carrot cake with dinner tonight if she kept this up. That was always Dorian's special treat to give her, because he knew it was her favorite and that her mother didn't buy it for her very often.

The girl was a little surprised by the older woman's tone but her reaction to being nearly snapped at was odd for a child her age. She relaxed. Anya had the dominant kind of personality that got her into all sorts of trouble. Respect for authority had to be earned, which was something her parents never realized about her but Dorian understood as soon as he saw her. She felt safest while she was with him because she always trusted him to do whatever needed to be done. She didn't have to worry about him not taking care of anything, the way she did about people who didn't show her that they really did know what they were talking about. If they told her so but acted like they were flustered, then Anya decided that they were liars and couldn't be trusted.

Glinda, though, seemed to be safe. She was nice but there was a hardness behind it hat told her just why her uncle would submit to this older woman's wishes. Anya could respect that. It put her at ease to know that this woman was in charge of Oz, and the one that her uncle took so much time to be with. Anya wasn't the jealous type when it came to people who outranked her, but if Glinda had proved to be weak then Anya would have had a problem, would have probably fought liking her.

Glinda demanded that she show what was under the pillow and she froze, for a hair of a moment she looked to Dorian as though to ask him to save her. But the man looked down at her sternly, backing up his boss. Not that she expected anything different, but it was worth a look. Dorian understood that opposing Glinda in front of her was probably unwise, and though Anya didn't really understand why she did know that it was.

Now that she'd figured out who held the power, she turned sharply on her heel and pulled out her needlework. It was nearly completed but still a bit rough around the edges. There was a yellow lion with its hot pink mane on green grass. The sky behind it was blue with random white xs to suggest clouds. Anya held the wooden needle in place as she held up the piece for Glinda to see or take. "It's a present for Unka Dorian, Good Lady. I thought his room could use a friend." Large blue eyes watched the woman, waiting to see what she would make of her work. Anya was rather proud of it and it showed in how she carried herself, the extra sparkle in her eye as she darted a glance at her uncle.

[Glinda Upland]

Glinda was somewhat contented with Dorian's assurance, though she still felt a bit uneasy. She knew Dorian would do what he would only if he felt that it was right, if it was necessary to keep her safe, and she accepted that. After all, it was his job. However, she wasn't sure how far he was willing to go to keep her safe. After all, she didn't want him to sacrifice the relative peace was in for the sake of her safety. She wanted to be safe, of course, but at the same time, she didn't want all of Oz to fall apart because Dorian thought that it was fine to destroy Oz for what he viewed as necessary to keep her safe. She wasn't comfortable with that thought, though she suspected she needed to give Dorian a little more credit when it came to self control. After all, she suspected that he had been repressing some of his more severe responses to the people willing to cause her harm. Still, she had no doubt that if Dorian thought it was right, he would have no qualms about plunging Oz into war. That terrified her.

If Dorian noticed her silence and sudden introspection, he didn't mention it. She was glad for it. She needed some time for reflection before she would be willing to attempt to communicate her feelings in any thing resembling sense or logic. She had not exactly made herself a shining example of communication in a relationship, now or earlier in her life. After all, she had literally forgotten to mention their engagement and the impending party to Fiyero. That took a level of thickness and cluelessness that even she was not willing to admit to. She was horrible when it came to relationships, especially the communication involved in them. Maybe tonight she would retire early, if only to reflect in her room so that when the conversation about their relationship inevitably came up, she would be a bit more prepared then the blindsided mess she had been when the subject had first come up. The fact that she was willing to take time off work to make sense of the emotions surrounding this relationship spoke volumes about how important it had become in a short period of time. The intensity scared her a little bit, as she supposed it should.

Normally Glinda would have been curious about just what Dorian had been telling the girl about her. She normally would have asked just what Dorian had been sharing, but for some reason it didn't matter. The tone of the girl's voice made it seem as though it were nothing bad, and besides, such a return of inquiry had no place in this little game they were playing. Besides, in some strange way, she didn't want to hear what Dorian had to say about her from someone else. She wanted to hear it from Dorian himself. She wanted to know what he thought of her from his mouth. She wanted the knowledge to come freely from him, not secondhand from a girl who was required to tell her under the rules of the game they were playing. So instead of inquiring of the girl, she simply nodded curtly at the returned pleasantry.

Though she still wasn't sure what exactly the point was behind this little game, judging from the girl's reactions she could venture a guess. If she was anything like Dorian (which she certainly appeared to be, judging from the way they acted,) than she needed to have respect for those older than her, she wouldn't just accept the fact that they were older and that the world had put them where they were so they should have respect. She needed to be shown that she should have respect for someone because they deserved it, not because duty said she should give it. It wasn't a particularly uncomfortable piece of information for Glinda, the idea that she would have to earn the five year old's respect. She was so used to proving herself worthy of her position and respect that it didn't seem to be a particularly strange position to be in.

The fact then, that she was willing to show Glinda the piece of embroidery was an important victory, as was the fact that she had relaxed under a tone that would have made most five year olds cringe. She took in the piece of work with respect for the little girl's skill with a needle. She had certainly never been able to work such skill with a needle until she was much older. The lion was recognizable, and apart from the pink mane which was amusing in itself, looked quite good. She nodded at the girl's explanation, feeling no need to inspect the work herself, satisfied with her reasoning. "An honorable intention, and excellent work," she said, her voice still firm but a bit kinder than it had been before. She always reinforced her compliments with the truth she felt in them. She complimented only when it was merited and earned. She didn't hand them out as people thought she might. A compliment, she felt, was something to be proud of, to be earned. She never played favorites. Everything, from compliments to respect to a promotion had to be earned, and she did her best to put all the power of this conviction of hers behind her words. And as much as she would like, she was never able to keep the clipped tone Dorian was so excellent at completely for very long. She always slipped back into the gentler tone she was so used to. Unless of course, the military tone was necessitated by an emergency or a reprimand. When she was angry, the blonde woman could become a terror. Not loud, she didn't yell. Instead, she spoke softly with a violent intensity that would make most grown men cringe.

[Bwa, sorry for the ridiculous length. I got a little carried away.]