A New Chapter

Log Info

• Title: A New Chapter

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Ravenstongue and Telamon have adjusted to their newly redecorated home in their absence, filled with flowers that their garden pixies found to be rather pleasing. Ravenstongue admits to Telamon that she's been coping with what's happened partially by turning her full attention and efforts into thinking about the wedding that they've wanted to have, and Telamon is thrilled by the idea, revealing the vows he's been working on for her. Grandfather crashes the tender moment by arriving in a hurry, although he's relieved to see that Telamon and Ravenstongue are truly okay. He reveals that Ravenstongue's father has been transferred to the Soldier's Defense in Alexandria for specialized treatment and observation. Telamon and Ravenstongue resolve to follow up on this to obtain some closure, but decide to focus on cultivating their happiness for the forseeable moment.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-    
Ravenstongue         5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.                       
Telamon              5'6"     140 Lb     Half-Elf          Male      A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-                 
The Feathered One    6'0"     ?? Lb      Fey               Male      A tall fey man with violet eyes and a primal appearance.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Lúpecyll-Atlon home, morning.

Days have passed since the darkest hours of Cor'lana and Telamon's relationship, and while the ghosts of those events still seem to linger around the two half-elves, their home is at least a home again--even if the pixies thought that meant leaving sprigs of lavender and other flowers everywhere in the home--particularly in the water closet, where the bathtub was almost filled halfway with various roses, sprigs of lavender, bluebells, and other flowers.

Cor'lana steps out of the water closet, wearing a long silk robe that matches the color of her eyes, having just enjoyed a bath. She sighs a little in content as she walks over to the couch and sits down, opening up her journal that she'd left out on the coffee table. She takes up her quill and begins to jot some lines down--appearing to be lines of poetry on the page written in Sylvan if a certain someone were to look over her shoulder.

Oddly, Telamon finds the flowers comforting. The soft fragrance and the delicate colors help to banish bad dreams and terrible memories, not so much wiping them away as forcing them into retreat. Even the study has been bedecked in flowers around the desk, and the bemused sorcerer had to search for his pencils.

Once Lana has left the bath -- he hears her padding out to the living room -- he rises from the chair, stretching a bit and glancing outside on reflex. His eyes skate along the garden, and to a spot in the backyard. His brow furrows in thought, and then he picks up his mug of tea and ambles out to the living room, sliding in next to his fiancee.

"Hey there, love," he murmurs with a smile. "Good bathing?"

Cor'lana flushes a little as she hears Telamon approaching, blowing the ink dry on the page before she closes the journal quickly and sets it back down onto the table. "Yeah," she says. "Although I spent a bit of it trying to reach Grandfather through the conduit. He's... not been responding, but this time, I kept hearing the sound of beating wings when I pictured myself going into the tree home in Quelynos."

She sighs and leans back into the couch, cuddling up close to Telamon. "He must be... busy. So busy he can't make time for me lately. Which is worrying."

Telamon sets his mug down before folding his arms around Lana. "He may be dealing with unpleasantness in Quelynos. And... there's more." He pauses, considering his words, before continuing, "I met with some of our friends and a representative from the guard a couple nights ago. Quelynos... may be a bit unsettled, because as near as we were able to piece together, that chunk that came out of the moon? Fell to earth in the form of a girl, who later took refuge in Quelynos. They think she's an avatar of Eluna."

He shakes his head. "Having a guest like that would probably cause all sorts of upheaval, and even Grandfather might have to weather the resulting shockwaves rather than ignore them."

This news makes Cor'lana frown, although there's a moment where she looks thoughtful, too. "I see," she says. "Yes, poor Grandfather might have... a lot on his plate. Which is... a shame."

The frown transforms into a smile as Cor'lana admits something cheerful: "I've been thinking about the wedding plans. I know we've not really discussed them in depth so far, but it occurred to me the other day that... Well, my father and stepmother are out of the way now. They can't do anything to us or interfere with the wedding in any way, shape or form. And I've been wanting to ask Grandfather some questions about how he got married to his wife, but hard to do that when he's been gone the way he has."

She gestures to the journal and flushes again. "I've admittedly been... trying to write poems, too, at least for my vows to you. Entirely in Sylvan, of course."

Telamon nods slowly, looking into her eyes and offering a smile in turn. "Indeed. I've received letters from mother and father, offering advice. They handwrote theirs as well, though mother's were somewhat... practical. I'm afraid what poetry I have comes strictly from my father." He grins. "Still... there's useful material to be found even in practicality. And it still comes out nicely in Sylvan."

He pauses, and says in that tongue, "To take you as my bride, unto the last, come what may. Whether under the sun or moon, let none put us asunder. Whether in illness or in health, let none put us asunder. Let us bind together as two trees, and become one, to grow and bloom forevermore." He coughs. "I think the translation still needs some work. But I like it."

Cor'lana listens to the vows, the flush on her face intensifying in that way it tends to do rather obviously when she's overwhelmed by one or more of her feelings. The beginnings of small tears well up in her violet eyes by the end. "Those are beautiful, Tel," she finds herself whispering.

She wraps her arms tightly around him, burrowing her head into the crook of Telamon's neck. "I need to make mine just as lovely," she murmurs, although her words are slightly muffled. "I need to make them worthy of the event and of my... husband..."

Not that Telamon can see it, but the blush on her face deepens as she says the last word. Her cheeks are very warm now.

Telamon cuddles her in against him, stroking her hair. "I think it could stand a little polishing," he murmurs. "But you were always worthy, Lana. I still wonder how this came to pass, that I would ever be so bold to ask for your hand in marriage. To be my wife." He rests his cheek against her head. He knows she's blushing, but that's alright because he's a little pink as well.

Enjoying this, he basks in the reality for long moments before he speaks again. "That's what keeps us grounded, I think. We both... don't put on airs, and sometimes I think we don't realize how others might look at us. Even each other."

"I don't honestly think much about how other people look at us, so much as they look at me and then look at you and think, 'Hey, he's prettier than her,'" Cor'lana replies, lifting her head up from Telamon's neck to smile at him. The little tears have fallen down her face, but they're very obviously happy tears. "And I don't mind that at all. You are incredible in many ways, though, and I'm the only one who gets to know some of those."

This is the moment where Pothy flies out of the water closet, too. He's wearing some rose petals in his feathers and his cream-colored feathers are glossier for the bathing. The white raven lands on the cofee table and says, "Are you two waxing poetic about each other again?" as he takes a peanut from the table and splits it open. At least he's been complaining less about the two half-elves being affectionate--instead choosing to tease them like this.

Telamon laughs softly. "And here I'm absolutely convinced you're the stunning angel in this relationship. I never thought of myself as 'the pretty one'." He cups her face, and kisses her lightly. "But as long as I'm your husband, I don't care. I want to be yours, and you to be mine."

And then, here comes Pothy, looking like he's been enjoying the bath as well. When the familiar alights on the table, Tel just shakes his head and chuckles. "Well, yes. Really, Pothy, is there nothing in your soul and memories about the importance of poetry and prose? Knowledge is good, I won't lie, but what of words spoken from the heart?"

Cor'lana looks like she's about to cry happy tears again from Telamon's kiss and affectionate words when Pothy arrives onto the table and teases them both. She snickers and returns Telamon's kiss. "Well, it's true. You are the pretty one. Always have been. I just didn't really realize just how pretty until I fell for you in the woods that night..."

Thump.

That noise makes Cor'lana almost jump, and Pothy looks toward the front door, where the noise came from--his blue eyes taking on a serious glare as he even begins to growl and bark like a dog. "Go away!" he cries out in his true voice--a whistle in between dog growls and barks. "Or I'll shove my talons into your--"

The lock turns and the door opens... and in strides Grandfather, dressed in his genteel elf bookseller's form. "Is that any way to greet me, Pothy?" Grandfather asks with a sigh. He looks somewhat worn out, but he strides into the living room with a wide smile anyway. "And there you two are. It appears that my fears were... unfounded. Well done, Telamon."

Telamon can't help but smile at Lana's shining eyes, and once again he remembers exactly how he fell in love. Even with Pothy playing at being the (literal) peanut gallery, Tel is clearly happy to look back, cuddled up with his wife-to-be.

At the 'thump', though, Tel jumps in turn. "The hells?" he says acidly. "If this is one of those 'knock and scoot' pranks again, someone is going to get an impromptu bath..." He's trying to disentangle himself from Lana when the door swings open suddenly, to reveal... Grandfather.

Tel immediately relaxes, looking at Grandfather for a moment, before taking a breath. "Make sure the door's shut, Grandfather. But yes, we are all still slightly on edge. It's... diminishing, but it's still there." He takes Lana's hand in his, squeezing it. "Are you well?"

"I've had a long and unexpected journey," Grandfather replies, then adds, somewhat deadpan, "I think I stole that phrase from a book in the store. I had to deal with business involving the Matron Mantidalia--and when I felt Cor'lana's pleas for help come through the conduit, I crossed the borders myself. Unfortunately, I had not accounted for the strange relationship that time has between our planes..."

He turns back to the door and lifts a hand, the door closing shut behind him. His form rapidly changes to that of his normal self... And there's an aura in the room that was not there before, a presence that is indicative that what is standing there is not a mortal being. Cor'lana seems to recognize this, jumping to her feet with a flash of intrigue in her eyes. "Grandfather, that's you," she declares, and she quickly closes the gap, hugging her grandfather as her face goes to his chest.

Grandfather chuckles. There's a slight echo to his words now that he's not suppressing his true form. "Yes, children, I am well, but it is taxing to be on this plane. Crossing is a difficult effort for me... being here in the flesh is lovely, but it feels... odd, the longer I stay here."

He looks to Telamon. "I was worried, but when I asked around and found that you'd left already with Cor'lana, I worried no longer. Much as I would have liked to have torn apart Cor'lana's captors."

Telamon rises to his feet as Lana leaps up and runs over to hug her Grandfather -- in the flesh, as it were. His eyebrows go up, but his lips do curl into a genuine smile. "It's good to see you again, sir. I promise not to try and keep you long -- it's hard to remain here if there's no binding, if I recall my studies correctly."

His smile turns hard, that diamond-edged expression that's very different from his usual grin. "Yes. I... gathered some friends, and we made our objections known to the perpetrators. Soundly. I think I will treasure the sight and sound of Aryia beating that lowlife into the floor to the end of my days." His expression becomes sardonic. "It was Ainasse. It... might've always been Ainasse, to be honest. And right now there's a lot of diplomatic discussion going on between the Mythwood and Llyranost, since she is a scion of House Son'doriel."

"Yes, that'd likely be why, and I intend on returning to my proper home as soon as I am done here," Grandfather replies, looking over Cor'lana (not hard, as she's a full foot shorter than him) at Telamon. "I am delighted that you were able to intervene. I think that their continued existence is far, far too generous, however. Were it me, I would have cut them all down and transported their corpses back into the wilds to feed my birds."

"Don't ruin this with your scary talk again, Grandfather," Cor'lana reminds Grandfather, although she's still not letting go of him.

This has an interesting mollifying effect on Grandfather, who laughs and pats her head. "Of course, little one. I'm afraid I do have news to give the two of you, however: Glórenacil has been moved to the Soldier's Defense here in Alexandria, as he was determined to have had little to no involvement in the abduction, and... apparently requires extensive treatment. There was more than a feeblemind spell cast onto the man, and so the healers there are working on him around the clock."

Telamon snorts. "And while I will second Lana's request for 'no scary talk', Grandfather, I completely understand and agree with your sentiments." He flexes his fingers. "But... I can be patient. For a time, at least." He switches to Sylvan. "My bride was wronged; and I will have my due, sooner or later."

He squares his shoulders. "However..." He raises an eyebrow at the news. "Truly? The priests of Ylvaliel are more than competent -- if they brought Glórenacil here, then it must be something out of the ordinary indeed." He furrows his brow. "He stepped in front of Ainasse when she went for Lana with the knife, you know. He almost died, if not for Seyardu. I'm not saying the man isn't an ass, but... " He spreads his hands helplessly.

GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (6)+12+3: 21

There's an interesting shift in Grandfather's face as Telamon reveals that Glórenacil took a knife for Cor'lana. While Grandfather's face is difficult to glean much from that the man doesn't intend to impart, there's something beneath the surface of Grandfather's violet eyes as he says, "Perhaps he is still of some use, yet."

Cor'lana finally lets go of Grandfather and returns to Telamon's side, taking his hand. She looks puzzled at Grandfather's remark. "What do you mean?" she asks.

Grandfather smiles warmly at Cor'lana. "Worry little of it, child. You asked me, after all, not to make any more of 'scary talk', and I shan't disobey my lovely bird's request. Merely only thinking."

Telamon rubs his chin. "I can forgive a great deal, if it's done for Lana." He takes her hand in his, squeezing gently. "I'll make inquiries at the Soldier's Defense, see what they have to say. Father mentioned that the royal investigator was still pulling things apart when we left Ylvaliel -- trying to unscramble what had been done, and why. If Glórenacil is unable to testify, they'll want to patch him up enough so that he can, since this is a high crime."

He puts his arm around Lana's shoulders. "Also, Grandfather, you may want to set up shop with your messenger here for a bit. It seems Quelynos is playing host to an avatar of Eluna -- and the Seelie Court probably looks like a kicked-over anthill right now." His lips quirk. "Assuming you didn't know already."

GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+8: (10)+12+8: 30

"I admittedly was too busy with handling the Matron to pay attention to much else," Grandfather says, eyes flickering briefly down to his taloned hand as he holds it out, inspecting it. There's a note in there, however--something that Telamon can catch on. A sense of self-satisfaction after a gruesome task for the sake of protecting his bloodline--like the kind he had after dispatching the Matron Mantidalia's messenger in the back yard some time ago. It sounds like Grandfather's talons may have been employed again.

Grandfather puts his hand away and smiles genially to Telamon. "Well, that's a kind offer, but I'll simply stay put in my home for a while. If the Court is in upheaval, then that's all the more comfort for me. Less of a chance I'll be invited to some dreadful feast, party, or ball."

"Maybe we should go visit Glórenacil," Cor'lana says thoughtfully, looking to Telamon. "Just to see what's happening there for ourselves."

Telamon gives no sign that he might be 'reading' Grandfather, but instead he nods to the fey lord. "As you wish, of course. You know the terrain -- both physical and social -- better than me. We will try and keep in touch as time permits."

He looks at Cor'lana, and nods with a gentle smile. "I think we should. I'm still somewhat in the dark about some of this, and why it happened. I admit I sometimes overcomplicate things, assume deeper motivations when there aren't any. But... a little closure on this chapter of our lives would be good for both of us."

Cor'lana nods at Telamon. "Closure," she echoes, taking his hand and squeezing it slightly. She smiles at her fiance. "I want to know the truth of everything, because I suspect we've only got a bit of the full picture so far."

"And from him, I suppose you will get it," Grandfather replies. He shapeshifts again, this time into the familiar form of the black raven with violet eyes. "I must return to the Mythwood and cross from there. Shall I bring back any words of well-wishes to your parents, Telamon? I'm sure they have been in contact with you as of late, but it is only proper to ask."

Cor'lana looks at Telamon and smiles. "Well... I'd actually like for them to come down and talk with us about wedding plans. Maybe you, too, Grandfather. Put all of this awful business behind us with a much happier time to come."

Telamon grins back at Cor'lana, giving her a squeeze in return. "Precisely." He looks to Grandfather, and opens his mouth to say something, but Lana beats him to it. "Actually... yes. My love has anticipated me once again." He looks down at her with his eyes twinkling.

"But yes, tell father and mother they will need to come down to visit, and to help work out the wedding details. I'm sure mother is champing and stamping as we speak. Poor father may find himself tied up and tossed over the back of a horse if he doesn't move fast enough to suit her." He smirks at the image he's just drawn. "Yes. Let's get this new chapter in our lives written. I'm just as eager to reach it as Lana is."

Grandfather-bird nods. "I shall let them know, then," he says, "and try to make the case for your noble father to not end tied up on a horse. I suspect that might be easier said than done."

Cor'lana snickers. "Yeah, good luck, Grandfather," she replies. "Ari is a force of personality. She would have gotten along swimmingly with my mother if they ever got to meet."

"Perhaps a fine indicator of the quality of their children," Grandfather replies. "I will... approach cautiously. You two be well now," he says.

Grandfather-bird leaves with a magical open and close of the front door, locking shut behind him. Cor'lana sighs a little and looks at Telamon. "I suppose this means I should really put in a wedding dress order with Aryia. Well, okay--both of us will need wedding day outfits, so maybe the two of us approach Aryia with that later."

Telamon watches Grandfather leave, before looking down at Lana again. "Look on the bright side. It's one more thing we can do together." He strokes her cheek, smiling again. "And yes, we will need to plan. And send invitations. And arrange for a temple, and a reception. A lot of work... but we're both up to the challenge."

He enfolds her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "I love you. I don't think I ever could say it enough. So I keep saying it." Murmuring in Sylvan, "Queen of my heart, I will wed you and we shall be together for all our days."

Cor'lana folds herself right underneath Telamon's chin, where she always goes--and in a certain sense, where she belongs. She returns that tight hug, squeezing him tightly, as her violet eyes close. "Starborn prince, I hope and I wish for us to be happy for all of those days--to have children who we dote on and adore, to grow old together and to walk through the Halls together, so we are never apart again," she replies in Sylvan, finding her poetic tongue.

Then Pothy cracks a nut, ruining the whole romantic atmosphere.

"Jeez, you two ought to write for some of the troupes out in the Theatre District," Pothy says as he swallows a freed peanut down into that yawning void that might be called a belly. "Can't be any worse than Handel Boyd Weaver's stuff--oh, speaking of which."

Pothy flies over into the kitchen and returns from his secret stash of baubles with... two tickets to 'Phantasm of the Choir' that are for a few nights from now.

Cor'lana takes the tickets and... just eyes Pothy. Violet eyes staring daggers through the little creature. "Pothy, where did you get these?"

"I found them." Pothy preens his feathers after landing back on the coffee table. "More accurately, one of the snack vendors at the market gave them to me. Apparently his wife is the leading role in the show--I think she's supposed to be some young ingenue named... Kristina? Something like that."

Telamon happily tucks Cor'lana in under his chin. Yep, this is perfect. Nothing can ruin it. Not even Pothy, cracking wise from the table while he's cracking nuts. "Maybe we should. Although artistry would cut into our time for other things. Like snacks." He gives Pothy a smirk... watching the familiar fly off, and then return. With tickets.

His eyebrows shoot up again, that quizzical expression of bemusement that he wears when confronted with something unexpected. "Really. Well... Weaver's known for picking what he thinks is the right actor or actress for his roles, not just someone who might be popular. Hm." He shakes his head. "But if we find that vendor talking about a 'thieving bird', you are in serious trouble, Pothy."

"Why would I double-cross my own suppliers? Those people keep me in business, Telamon. I can't possibly record all of the knowledge in the world to do with food if I make my favorite food-providers upset!" Pothy says with a huff.

Cor'lana continues to just stare at Pothy from underneath the comfort of Telamon's chin. "Really. I can think of plenty of times where you've made me upset."

Pothy looks a little panicked as Cor'lana brings up that subject, his wet feathers puffing up. "Well, yes. I haven't always been the most well-behaved. And... almost losing you was scary, Lana..."

The raven looks back to his peanut bowl and murmurs, "That's why I asked a favor and got the tickets, so we could all have some fun..."

Cor'lana's gaze softens. "Aww, Pothy. You actually can be a really, really good friend. Although... I have to admit, I wonder how you managed to convey that you wanted tickets."

"Very carefully," Pothy replies. That's all he has to say on the matter as he cracks another nut open.

Oh boy, this gets even better. "A... favor. Did he ask for anything in return, Pothy?" Telamon regards Pothy a little more sympathetically. "I need to know if he's going to come by and ask for something. I only like surprises when they're cheeky and fun, after all."

He does reach over and pet Pothy, stroking the raven's puffed feathers soothingly. "I appreciate the thought, Pothy. I think we all need some things to take our minds off the recent unpleasantness, and a play might be a good way to do it. It beats watching Lana and I necking on the couch, at least for you." His grin widens. "Plus, it'll give us a chance to dress up. Any accessories you'd like, Pothy? A little bow-tie, maybe?"

Pothy's feathers remain puffed up at the necking on the couch remark, but the bird doesn't grumble. "No, he's not going to ask anything in return--other than to keep buying snacks. He agreed to it readily because we already buy so many from him. It's the man that Lana buys all of the peanuts from."

"Really, Cor'lana says, surprised. "I knew his wife was an actress, but I didn't know she'd made it that big. Sure, Weaver's work is a little... It's odd and flamboyant, but that's sort of the charm of a show at the Theatre District to begin with, and Phantasm is a popular show. Well, good for them both."

She looks to Telamon and smiles sheepishly. "You'd think I would know these people a little better--I guess Pothy pays more attention than I gave him credit for."

Pothy cracks another peanut and says, "I would love a bow-tie. I have to look good, too, you know--and Telamon's the one with the best fashion sense in this house by miles. Lana's still buying 'swimsuits' even though I keep telling her they're not swimsuits."

Cor'lana flushes brightly. "I just can't tell, sometimes, and it's too awkward to come up with them to the lady and ask, 'Is this swimwear, or is this...'"

Telamon smiles. "Fair enough, Pothy." He continues petting the familiar. "I admit, it's a pretty clever gift. Well done." Sometimes, Pothy deserves the compliments. He nods genially to Lana. "Playwrights usually tend towards flamboyancy anyways. Better to have people talking about your work, for good or ill, than not."

At the mention of Lana, and swimsuits, Tel reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose. "You need to ask the lady, Lana," he says patiently. "It's what she's there for. They're not going to -- to shame you or something. Nobody's born with some innate skill at clothing -- we all have to learn it." He arches an eyebrow. "I mean, I don't object to you wearing such outfits, but you might not want to go swimming in them..."

"It's just... awkward..." Cor'lana squirms a little. "It's walking up to someone with a super-private thing that only you and whoever you want to see it should only get to see and asking, 'Hey, I'm an idiot, is this a swimsuit or is this lingerie?'"

Pothy just sighs over from the peanut gallery. "See what you're agreeing to marry?" Pothy says. "You still have a chance to run! I won't hold a grudge--"

He pauses. "No, actually, that would make Cor'lana cry and then she's probably never come out of the house again, so don't do that. Not to mention Grandfather. He's super nice to me, but boooooooy, he'd be mad with you. Nadi was scared of him for a reason."

Telamon gives Pothy a frankly dismissive look. Then he turns back to Lana, and reaches out to stroke her cheek. "Hmmm. Maybe you've been doing it wrong. What you need is someone to go with you who isn't going to give you too much grief if you wander into the underwear section, and isn't going to be embarrassed about telling you 'wrong outfit'."

His eyes twinkle. "And after all, Aryia has been tailoring for you for a while. Pretty sure nothing embarrasses her, and she won't hesitate to tell you if you're wrong." He chuckles. "In any case, I'll need to visit her anyways to get formal garments for our wedding too. We can go together, get measurements done, and then she can help you with your problem."

Cor'lana squirms a little more, and finds herself flushing again. "Maybe next time, I'll just drag you with me," she says. "Sure, it means I can't surprise you with it, but... At least I'll pick out things you like, and I'll stop embarrassing myself."

"Finally, a sensible solution," Pothy exclaims. He cracks another peanut. "I've suggested that too, but she always said, 'Noooo, Pothy, I want to surprise Telamon and then maybe he'll make love to me under the moonlight!'"

"I have never said that," Cor'lana says, flushing even deeper. Her face is getting a workout today. But she looks to Telamon and nods. "I'll at least go to her for the wedding clothes."

"We'll go to her for the wedding clothes," Telamon corrects firmly. "And if it takes me coming with you to get a proper swimsuit, so be it. The weather is already warming up -- and at some point we'll need to sit outside and watch the fireflies gather." He smiles at Lana tenderly.

His eyes flick to Pothy. "Pothy, give it a rest. She's spent more time out and about over the last year or so than she's ever been. Mistakes will be made." His eyes glint. "And if you're not careful, we're going to sit down and make out on the couch right now."

Pothy just sighs in defeat. "You're going to do that anyway if I'm here or not, so I might as well get out of the room so you can shove your tongue down her throat. Sheesh." He plucks three peanuts out of his bucket and takes them to-go into the study with a few flaps of his wings, the door closing behind him.

Cor'lana shakes her head and snickers. "That bird. Well, like I said before... He's a good friend. At least he's not screaming in terror at the thought of us being lovey-dovey with each other."

She walks over to the couch and sits down, grinning conspiratorially at Telamon. "...And, well, your threat does sound pretty fun..."

Telamon shakes his head. "Until he gets used to it, it's a good club to use on him, metaphorically speaking. The fact that he's still a child means you can use that to... well, nudge him. Manipulate is such an ugly word."

He grins as he sidles over to the couch as well, sitting down next to Lana. Quite close. "I mentioned before I like to tell you I love you, because I never think I say it enough." He cups her chin in his hand. "That applies to kissing as well," he purrs.

And so, for a time at least, there is serenity and peace of a sort in the Lúpecyll-Atlon home.