A few days later Miranda calls to announce that Alcina is holding a Masquerade Ball at the end of the week.

At a party with costumes the lords can pass as regular human beings and spend some time among the populace. It also appeals to Heisenberg, Dimitrescu, and Miranda's sense of pride to wander through a crowd of people in fear of them.

Of course Donna is required to attend. To the couple's surprise, so is Natalya. In fact Miranda had been strangely specific.

"Make sure to bring your toy soldier."

"Natalya is not, a toy."

"Bring her, Donna."

The strict tone would have made Donna shiver at one point. Instead it added some stiffness to her shoulders.

Defiance.

It's a new emotion that Donna has only just now labeled with Natalya's help.

With only a week to prepare Donna has costumes for all four lords to prepare. Some, like Salvatore's, are obviously a little more difficult. The fabric is tougher and resistant to fluid so it doesn't become wet and cling to his mishapen body. This also makes it a bear to work with. Of cours the difficulty with Alcina is the sheer amount and size of it. Then of course there is Karl. Donna hates making an outfit knowing he'll take great pleasure in torching it as soon as he gets back to his lair.

Natalya stirs the pancake mix, something that's taken months and trial and error. She never realized the amount of shortcuts she took in preparing food until they were no longer an option.

"Donna!"

Silence answers. Eventually it's Angie who floats in.

"Donna's busy! Shh!"

"Donna breakfast is ready!"

"She's busy!"

"And you're about to be taped to a chair," Natalya fires back, setting the mixing bowl aside.

With her new legs Natalya is back to her regular, long legged stride. Donna isn't particularly good at anticipating how fast her housemate moves, or how quietly. When she turns she bumps softly into Natalya's chest and finds herself trapped in her steely embrace.

"You need to eat."

"I need to work," Donna mumbles, accepting defeat and leaning her face into Natalya's chest.

"Breakfast is almost ready."

Looking down at Donna's face buried in her chest Natalya smiles knowing that the smell wafting upstairs will win the battle for her.

"Pancakes?"

"Crepes, your favorite."

Back downstairs Donna helps set the table. Usually meals are slow and quiet while the two eat. Donna all but inhales her food, thanks Natalya, kisses her cheek, and almost runs from the room. This leaves Natalya with a slight blush on her cheeks smiling. Donna showing affection openly is still relatively new. She's not against it, obviously.

Come dinner, once again, there is no sign of Donna.

Rather than call and go through the motions Natalya fixes the meal and brings two plates to Donna in her workroom.

Donna is slumped over on the table dead to the world asleep.

"Donna?"

Natalya sets the plates down, safely away from Donna's arms in case she startles, and touches her shoulder. When no response comes Natalya checks that her housemate is breathing. Her breath is warm and quick and erratic. As usual without sleeping together Donna is deep in the throes of a nightmare.

"Donna. Donna wake up dear," Natalya murmurs, "It's me. I made dinner."

She's not happy about it. Natalya knows this will startle Donna but she can't live with the thought that she's leaving her to this nightmare. She gives a brisk pat on the back and Donna bolts upright.

The air is thick like a summer storm that cut the tradewinds. It even seems slightly darker, as though there is a black fog.

If Natalya could feel fear, she'd drop to the ground fainting from sheer overwhelming terror. But she can't. She just gags on the overwhelming presence of pollen and squeezes Donna's shoulder.

"It's okay. It's me. You were having a nightmare."

Donna looks around, eye wide. She's still breathing too fast but it's quickly fading.

"A nightmare. Just, a nightmare."

"Dinner is ready. I thought I'd eat with you, then you could show me how to sew or something. There's got to be something I could help with now that I've got both hands again," Natalya pulls a chair over and sits kitty corner to Donna.

Absent-mindedly Donna pulls at the fresh roll, eating piece by piece. Natalya watches as Donna continues to pick and shred the roll to pieces. She's seen her pluck at fabric material or at the edges of her dress sleeves. It's a sign of stress.

"Donna," Natalya murmurs.

"Hm?"

Natalya smiles. Slowly Donna smiles in return, realizing how deep she was lost in her own thoughts. She turns her attention to her food.

Immediately after dinner Donna takes out the material she needs to Alcina's dress. It's a eye gouging red made acceptable only by the low light conditions of the castle. She then takes out a basket of feathers, some plaster, and a wooden head.

"Have you used plaster before?" Donna rolls up her sleeves and eyes the white substance with noticeable distaste.

"In primary school. It's been awhile. I can do whatever it is you need. I've seen combat, it can't be that bad."

As a matter of fact, it can. In no time at all the rugged soldier who survived triple amuptation at the hands of an insane tyrant in sub parr conditions, has become completely mired.

"Donna!"

Having left for only a few minutes to measure Alcina's dress from the balcony, the Beneviento heir returns. Upon seeing Natalya she can't help laughing softly. One arm folds across her body while the other hand flies to her mouth to smother any sound. But it's too late.

"Please laugh. One of us has to find this funny," Natalya growls, "I'm, so mad."

"Anything else?" Donna echoes what Natalya usually does walking her through identifying emotions.

"And a little embarrassed. But mostly mad."

In her efforts to mask a plaster mask Natalya has fixed herself to her chair. But the embarrassment goes deeper than that. The plaster has seeped into the joins of her legs and arm so she can only move her wrist and shoulder.

What Donna finds endlessly adorable is the very artistic way it's smeared into Natalya's dark hair and across her cheek and along her jaw. What's worse, her hands are fixed together with dried plaster attached to the slightly larger head used to make masks for Alcina.

"It doesn't dry that fast-"

"Angie opened the window," Natalya mutters.

"I was warm."

While the phone rings Donna stands looking at Natalya still struggling to move. She chuckles to herself.

"Donna," Miranda answers wickedly, "This had better not be another prank call by Angie."

"No!" Donna shouts but it dissolves into laughter again when Natalya falls off the chair, "How do you dissolve plaster of paris again?"

There is an audible, heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. Donna wishes this was a prank call, then she could hang up. But instead Miranda takes her sweet time answering.

"We've talked about this before Donna. I'm beginning to lose my patience-"

"It's Natalya. It's in the gears of her legs. And her arm," Donna snickers, "It's-It's all over her, really."

"Warm water and baking soda. They'll need to soak. Hopefully it will have resolved by Saturday for Alcina's ball."

"Thank you."

Miranda sits on the other end looking at the phone. Donna. Laughing. Joyous. Obviously it's not Donna's new powers she needs to be concerned with, it's her improving mental state. No one knows what Donna might be capable of if she is ever healthy.

With that in mind Miranda picks up the phone and calls her favorite son.

"Karl," Miranda says in her cold, calculated tone, "Would you have any interest in taking the soldier for any of your experiments?"

(( Thank you all for being good sports and voting. That being said I will probably do this again some time in the future. If you would like to prevent that try giving my other story a chance. It's a slow start I know but it's a good story. Have a good day/ night! - Briarly ))