Cor'lana's Nicest Birthday

Log Info

• Title: Cor'lana's Nicest Birthday

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Today is the first birthday Ravenstongue has celebrated since she's come to live in Alexandria. She returns home from the market to find Telamon's cooking her a birthday dinner! The two sit down for dinner and enjoy a nice meal when Ravenstongue finally summons up her courage and proposes 'back' to Telamon using a ring she's purchased from the market, as she's inspired by her Grandfather telling her about fey betrothal customs, which typically sees both parties in a marriage marked with an item to indicate their status. She tearfully asks Telamon to accept her proposal (even though she knows he'll say yes). He accepts and puts on the ring. Grandfather drops by and gives his congratulations to Cor'lana, has some dinner with the two half-elves (and Pothy), and then he declares he's come by to give Ravenstongue her present, too. He augments Ravenstongue's curuchuil mark for the final time and declares her the new head of the Lupecyll bloodline. He departs, and the two half-elves discuss the evening before retiring.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- 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
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The cloudy sky of this particular Kesenday is tinged with the beginning of a sunset as Cor'lana makes her way home from the market, wicker shopping basket in hand filled with Pothy goodies--and a very small package, bound a little in twine, rests safely in the middle of Pothy's snacks.

The violet-eyed sorceress looks up at the white-feathered raven on her shoulder from the very small package. "Do you think he'll like it?" she asks, smiling. "I mean, I know you're not supposed to give gifts when it is your birthday, but..."

Pothy looks at her with a blue-eyed gaze for a long moment. "I suppose," he says, imitating his mistress. Then he returns to preening. Very helpful bird, Pothy is.

"Well, I suppose that's about as good as it's going to get," Cor'lana replies with an eye-roll.

She reaches the front door and unlocks it with a turn of a key. "I'm home!" Cor'lana calls out happily--swiping the contents of the package and putting it into the pocket of her nice deep violet silk dress. (A girl has to look fancy on her birthday, or what's the point?)

The house is as clean as a sanctified temple chamber, the result of unseen servants sweeping and scrubbing till it's as tidy as the day they first moved in. Granted, they keep it fairly clean to start, but the place practically sparkles.

In the kitchen area, Tel is whistling tunelessly as he studies a sheet of paper like it's an arcane scroll. "Boy, I'm glad I didn't try to make ALL of this by hand," he says to himself. Next to him, a simmering pot stirs itself slowly, while platters are being placed on the table -- two to start, with a third in reserve in case Grandfather shows up.

When the door opens, Tel looks up. He's dressed casually, and he's also wearing, hilariously, Cor'lana's 'Kiss The Cook' apron. "Hello love! Dinner will be ready shortly -- how did the errands go?" A plate holding a loaf of fresh bread, still warm, floats over to sit on the table.

"They went well--" Cor'lana begins to say, until a plate of fresh bread floats over to the table. She blinks. "Oh, wow, you're cooking dinner?"

Then she seems to remember something, and her eyes wobble a little. "For my birthday? Oh, Tel! That's so sweet!"

"SNACKS," Pothy says, and he flies over to Telamon to 'help'.

And by help, Pothy means taste-testing.

From the scents coming from the pot, it appears to be some sort of ham and potato soup. Tel waves the paper at Pothy. "Easy, Pothy! The pot is hot, and while I can handle it, I'm pretty sure you can't." He strokes Pothy's feathers, as he smiles at Cor'lana.

"I mean... you've cooked dinner a fair number of times here. I wanted to make a stab at it." He looks wry. "Granted, I cheated a little -- unseen servants and I didn't cook the ham myself -- but I figured you'd appreciate not having to go anywhere, or to cook tonight." He checks the pot, examining the soup's consistency. "Well, it's thickened up nicely... it'll be ready in a couple of minutes."

Pothy makes grumbling croaks that can roughly be interpreted as something along the lines of "don't harsh my mellow, dude," but they quickly subside to happier sounding ones as Telamon strokes his feathers.

Cor'lana nods, smiling back at Telamon. "I'll like anything that you cook, I'm sure," she says. She enters the kitchen to put away Pothy's snacks, then she stores the wicker basket in its usual spot and leans in (on her tip-toes as normal) to give the chef a kiss.

"The apron told me to do that," she says with a grin. "How come you look good in it, too? Jeez. Not far you were blessed with such lovely looks, Tel--you can pull off anything."

Telamon is more than happy to put his arms around Lana and return the kiss. "I don't know if I'd trust myself to do anything complicated, but I can throw things in a pot and make sure the fire burns." He nuzzles her affectionately. "So I guess I'm not completely hopeless."

He chuckles, too, at the comment about the apron. "I don't think you need the apron to tell you to do that, either. Not that I'm complaining." He quirks an eyebrow at the 'look good in it', and bemusedly looks down. "I do? I mean, it's an apron... but then, I think we're BOTH a bit prejudiced in our judgements." He winks at her with a grin.

"And I think we're both amateurs compared to Grandfather," Cor'lana replies with a snicker. "At least in the cooking department, not the apron-wearing contest. I'm sure my ancestor--his wife--probably thought he looked good in an apron, too. If he had one back then, that is."

She lets go of him and sits down at the table. Pothy, to his credit, also follows, abandoning Telamon to let him cook in peace for a moment longer. "Did you ask Grandfather for help?" Cor'lana asks. "Or did you find his recipe book? Your Sylvan is good enough to follow them by now."

Telamon ladles steaming soup into a couple bowls, leaving a third on the counter. "I wasn't sure if he'd be here, so I decided to err on the side of caution," he explains. The bowls lift into the air, and loft over to rest on two of the platters. A third, smaller bowl floats over to sit in front of Pothy.

Doffing the apron and hanging it up, he shakes his head. "I didn't. There was a gentleman at the market who suggested the recipe, and I copied it down from his notes. I'm not that confident in my cooking skills, and with my luck it might call for something I can't get." He sits down next to Lana, smiling at her. "Play to one's strengths, right?"

"He could be, later," Cor'lana says, glancing at the third bowl left behind for a certain fey-lord-turned-bookstore-employee. "I have no clue what his schedule is like now that he's earning his Crimson Pen discount. I can't imagine he's working a full schedule. Correction, I can't imagine him working, but here we are anyway."

She takes her bowl and smiles. "It looks good, honey. Honestly, the fact it was made by you makes it more special than anything else in the whole world to me," she says, before she takes an experimental sip of the soup.

Pothy also takes a sip.

More accurately, he dunks his head into his bowl and begins to lap it up. The bird is voracious.

Telamon gestures, and the pot lid slides back onto the pot to keep it warm. "I still can't get my head around that. He doesn't need money; the only thing I've come up with is that he's been lonely for a long time, and interacting with mortals -- not just us, but others -- has made him... hungry? Not sure that's the best word. But he desires more contact. To get down into the vast, crazy pig pen that is life on Ea." He looks at Lana quizzically. "Does that make any sense?"

He blushes at her warm compliments, sipping his soup as well. "Probably even better when the weather turns foul. But it's good." He watches Pothy go headfirst into the bowl, and just shakes his head. "...Well, Pothy approves, that makes me feel better."

Cor'lana nods her head to both the assessment of the soup quality and the hypothesis concerning Grandfather. "I think that's reasonable to assume," she says. "I mean, in Quelynos, it's... just him. Nobody there besides him. Maybe he's finding sort of a second lease on life here now that he's giving it a try. Maybe he's..."

She shakes her head and snickers. "Do immortal fey nobles have midlife crises? I don't know, but it's the closest thing I can think of. Maybe he's realized he's missed out on something all this time by limiting himself to the first world."

She looks over at Pothy and grins. "Well, I've seen Pothy eat roadkill before with the same speed and vigor--but yes, I think he likes it."

Pothy has no comment. He is focused entirely on cleaning his bowl.

Telamon looks thoughtful as he's eating his soup, with a bit more grace than Pothy over there (and a bit less speed). "Maybe. Father had some comments in this vein -- elves can and will 'reinvent' themselves over their lives. If you're immortal, I imagine you might want to do the same." He chuckles softly. "Whatever the reason, it seems to be making him happy. I can live with it."

He reaches over to pull off a hunk of bread, offering it to Cor'lana, before adding one for himself and a smaller one for Pothy. Let it not be said he is stingy with his love's familiar. "So I know you went to go get treats for Pothy. See any of our friends out and about?"

"I didn't see anyone, actually," Cor'lana replies. But she does give him a smile as she reaches into her pocket underneath the table, letting it rest there for a moment. "I did go one other place besides Pothy's usual favorite snack people."

She looks bashful for a moment, even blushing as she looks away from Telamon. "Ahh, jeez--I'm nowhere near as cool and confident as you are, Tel," she admits quietly, looking at Pothy as though somehow he can help. But she pulls out a tiny box from her pocket and holds it out in her hand, flipping it open to reveal a simple gold band.

The sorceress blushes as she manages to fix her violet eyes back onto Telamon. "Grandfather asked me why you didn't have a ring to signal your betrothal status. He said among his kind, it's common for both of those who are... aligned, in marriage, as true monogamy is hard to find among the fey--to wear things that indicate their betrothal and then the binding ceremony. And he said if I didn't do anything, perhaps other people might mistake you as available, and... Well, it made me realize I want people to know you're mine..."

She gulps a little. "I know this isn't as breathtaking as your proposal was, but knowing you're mine would be the best birthday gift I could ask for. So... Please marry me, Telamon Atlon?"

Telamon looks surprised -- and perhaps a little embarrassed. Probably that he didn't think of such a thing. But there's no hesitation in his voice, and nothing but love in his eyes as he says, "Yes. Absolutely. With all my heart." Switching from common to Sylvan, as he looks into her violet eyes.

"Because there is nothing I want more than you, Cor'lana," he continues, reaching out to take her hands first, stroking them before he picks up the ring, slipping it on. "I am yours, queen of my heart. Come what may." He really is working on his poetic skills.

Cor'lana sniffles a little, tears beading up in her eyes as he looks at her--as he speaks to her. She gets up from her chair and just wraps her arms around him tightly, finding herself falling into his lap. "Thank you," she whimpers in Sylvan, nuzzling into his face. "I knew already you'd say yes, but... It's always such a surprise, such a wonderful surprise, when you do."

Pothy just peers at them both from his spot at the table and his bit of bread and soup. "Again?" he asks in Cor'lana's voice, almost incredulous. He shakes his head and returns to his meal.

Then comes a tapping at the window--and the flapping of feathers as Grandfather lets himself in, the familiar violet-eyed raven flying in and then turning into his most familiar humanoid form. "Ah! I see I came just in time. He said yes, I see," Grandfather says with a rather broad grin on his face.

Telamon just wraps his arms around her, cuddling her tightly. "I love you. I am proud to wear your ring, just as you're proud to wear mine." Letting her nuzzle at him, stroking her hair as he smiles. "Never doubt it."

He doesn't even try to reproach Pothy. He doesn't care. He's just happy to be here, with her, and that's all that matters. When Grandfather stages his entrance, he looks up to give the Feathered One a sardonic smile. "Really, Grandfather, did you think I was going to say no?" He gives Lana a squeeze. "I saved you soup, if you're interested. Ham and potato. Take a seat, and I'll have the servitor get it out to you."

"Of course I expected you to say yes," Grandfather says, mirth in his voice. He takes a seat next to Cor'lana's abandoned seat and awaits the servitor delivery of soup. "I see that we are having soup again today."

"Yes, Tel and I love soup," Cor'lana says cheerily, and with a pointed grin at her now-twice-over fiance as she lifts herself out of his lap and returns to her seat to resume eating. "Tel made it."

"Perhaps I will have to buy you a cookbook at the bookstore I stocked on the shelves the other evening," the Feathered One responds. "It was titled something along the lines of 'Piping Hot'. Had a woman in a state of undress on the cover with a sultry smile holding a--"

Cor'lana chokes a little on her soup. "Are you sure that wasn't a, err, art collection, Grandfather? Rather than a cookbook? I scarcely believe you're not familiar with..."

Grandfather looks thoughtful. "Ah, well, that would explain why the manager had me shelve it with the Crimson Pen," he says. "Thought it was an odd place for a cookbook. Usually the fey equivalents are much more direct, such as--"

Whatever he says is drowned out by Pothy going, "WOW, I LOVE this SOUP," in Cor'lana's voice.

At Tel's hurried gesturing, the lid comes off the pot and soup is ladled into a bowl, then carried over by the unseen servant to be placed before Grandfather. "I think I might want to start slow first, Grandfather. If you're going to buy a cookbook for me, pick an apprentice's book."

He makes a funny sound as Grandfather talks about the 'cookbook' he discovered. "How... you know what, never mind. So yes, Lana's birthday seems to be getting the house properly clean, making her dinner, and accepting her proposal. After all, she accepted mine, so fair is fair." He grins back at Cor'lana.

"Although," Tel continues after some eating, "I saw something interesting the other day. Evidently it's similar to a sandwich, but it uses soft wheat bread, wrapped around its contents. I may have to pick up some to try."

"A rather practical birthday, it would seem," Grandfather remarks, intrigued that there appears to be no other plans. "I admittedly did come here mostly to dispense my gift to Cor'lana, as it will take most of the power that I can channel through this messenger form, but I can have some soup, too. I'd rather not have your hard work go to waste, young man."

Grandfather does give an experimental try of the soup and nods approvingly. "I think it's rather good," he says. "Why, you could garnish it with some ingredients from Quelynos and it would do something rather wonderful for the meal altogether--"

"Well, remember, Grandfather, he probably shouldn't have any food from there," Cor'lana says with a smile. "Otherwise he might lose his ability to taste altogether. I'm lucky I still have mine or I wouldn't be enjoying this at all."

Telamon cocks his head. "This won't require.... uh... anything spectacular, will it? Do I need to worry about the house?" He can't help but reach over to touch Cor'lana's hand, and it's clear he's not really worried about the house.

However, Grandfather's commentary about the soup does distract him a bit. "Well, the recipe is from the city, sir. But I'm told half the fun of cooking is experimenting." He looks at Grandfather with a small grin. "I'm sure I'll get the chance to practice cooking with you in time."

Grandfather shakes his head. "No, nothing spectacular. I merely will need to borrow Cor'lana for a few moments. You may watch, of course. She is, after all, your betrothed, and I wouldn't deny you the opportunity to witness what she has to do."

"Have to do?" Cor'lana inquires. But Grandfather is rather intently eating his soup until finally, he stands up and walks into the living room.

"Come here, child," he says, extending one of his monstrous clawed hands to her.

Cor'lana gets up from her seat, still looking somewhat confused, but she obeys the command, following him into the living room.

Pothy, meanwhile, seizes the opportunity and starts eating the Feathered One's leftovers. There's zero food waste in the Lúpecyll-Atlon home because Pothy eats everything that's not used.

And Tel is really too concerned at this point to reproach Pothy. He stands, following Cor'lana, his brow slightly furrowed in worry. He can't help it. For all his virtues, he's still the loving husband-to-be of the slight young girl approaching the fey lord. Unconsciously, his hands come together, his fingers rubbing the ring absently.

"I am here, Cor'lana," he says quietly. He knows Grandfather understands too, but he wants her to hear him, in the language she spent so much time teaching him. "And I'm not leaving."

Cor'lana looks back at Telamon with a warm smile, violet eyes filled with the happiness that he's given her by saying yes--to her, to their love. "I know; I love you too, my star-blessed prince," she replies. Then she looks back to Grandfather and nods.

Grandfather looks genial, smiling just as he was moments before. He takes her hand in one hand of monstrous claws, and he reaches out with his other hand, lifting her chin up with one talon so that his violet eyes look up at his. "Let's begin," he says.

He takes his hand away from her chin, and Cor'lana seems almost frozen in place, although her hand visibly trembles a little in Grandfather's claws. He reaches to his own chest. "I offer you today another mote of power, child of my bloodline--the final piece of your curuchuil as it was originally intended before your pact."

The intricate mark of the many-feathered tree appears on his chest, clearly the ancient and elder forebear to Cor'lana's own mark. He taps the mark and it shimmers--then he reaches out again and taps Cor'lana's mark on her chest, right in the center of Vardama's scales, the contribution of the Mourner Ashlee from that night months ago.

The scales darken for a moment, and Cor'lana looks momentarily like she's about to pass out, her eyes closing and her stance faltering. But a new mark appears above them in the same color: a smaller feather. Cor'lana takes a deep breath, stands back up to her full height, and opens her eyes.

"You are now the head of the Lúpecyll family," the Feathered One says. "That is a mark that I placed on my eldest child, many eons ago. A feather within a feather--the first that gave rise to so many others. You are now my child more than ever."

There's a quiet moment where Cor'lana appears to be processing this, and a little smile appears on her face. "Grandfather...!"

He can't sense all the nuances of what's happening, but he can sense the power that flickers between the two. There's something in him that responds to it instinctively, his hair starting to rise and float a little as if gravity was suddenly a strictly optional thing.

Then the moment passes, his dark starry eyes watching, his expression intrigued. He's clearly contemplating the fascinating ramifications of this change -- primarily for Cor'lana.

But he hasn't lost his somewhat wry sense of humor, as he moves closer to her and comments, "So, how does it feel to be a fey princess?" He grins impudently.

Cor'lana snickers as she embraces Telamon, kissing his cheek with another rise of her tip-toes to the occasion. It would appear that being the new 'head' of the family didn't add any extra inches to her height in the process. "I should be asking you how it feels to marry one!" she says.

"Well, this does... open her up for more attention than I originally wanted her to receive," Grandfather admits. There's something there in his tone that's curious. "But it was bound to happen sooner rather than later, and given... the situation with Glórenacil, I wished to do something somewhat formal about the matter."

He lets go of Cor'lana. "And with that, I ought to have this messenger return to Quelynos, lest it end up stranded and you have to deal with one of my birds."

GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (10)+7+3: 20

Telamon hugs Cor'lana back tightly. "As long as it's you? I don't care." He grins, snuggling her close.

He gauges Grandfather carefully, before starting to speak and then stopping. He shrugs, deliberately. "Well, Grandfather, I look forward to your next visit. You know the door here is always open to you. Or the window, as the case may be." He settles his arm around Cor'lana. "In any case, it was good to see you again."

GAME: Telamon rolls bluff: (10)+17: 27

"Of course, young man," Grandfather replies with a smile. "Until next time."

The fey lord shapeshifts and leave through the window, with Cor'lana smiling up at Telamon. She snuggles in a little closer. "Oddly enough, I really don't feel much different," she says. "The curuchuil, I mean. I know you're not supposed to prefer one gift over the other--or so I've been told, anyway, I've only ever received one present a year--but I prefer you accepting my proposal more."

She seems to have missed whatever Telamon's just heard. She's all smiles and nothing more.

Telamon lets Grandfather leave, before speaking to his lady love. "I wonder what he meant by 'open you up for more attention'? Am I going to have to kick fey suitors off the doorstep?" He looks less daunted by the prospect and more irritated. "He... also sounded a little odd, talking about you as his child."

"I know, by his standards and the pact, you are his child. It just... kind of came out odd, at least to me. It might be a misunderstanding, though." He hugs Lana to him again.

Cor'lana also pouts at the mention of fey suitors. "Gods, I hope not," she says. "I doubt they would, especially now that we have fairly universal symbols of our betrothal on both our hands, but..."

Her expression turns thoughtful and a touch worried. "I suppose that could be odd... But remember, he's my Grandfather. And I'm really one of his only living relatives that he's close to. After all, we both know how he feels about my father... Maybe he's just trying to make me feel better about the whole situation. Remember, he's fey, so just like how I get all moody and emotional because of the fact I'm feytouched, he gets a little... intense, himself."

She nuzzles into Telamon's chest. "Does that make sense, at least?"

His arms around her, tucking her in under his chin. Happy place. "I'm going to be very put out with him if that's the case, and I will tell him so. I can see it now. 'Telamon, why are there cold iron wards around your house?' 'Because I've had to fireball three faerie knights off my porch this week, Grandfather!'."

He muses on her words. "It does make some sense. And consider this: he was lonely for so long, there might be a hint of... desperation isn't the best word, I think. But he now has someone to talk to, someone of his blood who he knows and loves. But it's been a while since he's dealt with mortals, so he's... making mistakes." He looks rueful. "Suddenly I wonder what he's been telling people at the bookstore."

Cor'lana is instantly just all smiles as she's put into her happy place. If there's any cheat code to make the girl happy again, it appears to be to simply put her underneath the chin of her favorite person. She can't help but hum happily. "You'd probably make him go crazy and have him suddenly threatening half of Quelynos to leave me alone if you told him that," she says with a grin.

Another happy hum as she thinks on Telamon's words a little longer. "Who knows... Maybe we should send one of our friends into the bookstore to suss it out?" she asks. "Silly idea, I know, but he doesn't know everyone that we know."

Telamon nods. "I don't really want it to go that far. But I won't tolerate any foolishness regarding us, fey or not." He hugs her closely, happily rubbing his cheek against the top of her head.

"Hmmm. Good idea. OK, so... who do we trust that can fake it reasonably well to go in and see what he's up to? More to the point, someone he hasn't met yet?"

"Hmm..."

Cor'lana seems to think about this awfully hard. There's a good and long moment before she finally admits, almost bashfully, "Sorry, all I can think about is you right now."

Pothy cackles in the kitchen. There's abandoned soup to eat. Things are getting lovey-dovey over in the living room. It's free soup real estate, and Pothy's just signed the mortgage.

Tel glances over at Pothy, then grins at Lana. "I believe there's one other gift I'd like to give you tonight... why don't we go back to the bedroom, and we can unwrap it?" He raises her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers lightly, his eyes twinkling.

Looks like Pothy's definitely going to have a banner night.

Cor'lana's eyes twinkle, too. "Oh, unwrapping's one of my favorite parts," she says, and the half-elves go into the bedroom, presumably to spend some time on the subject matter at hand. (In hand, maybe more accurately.)

It's safe to say this is the nicest birthday Cor'lana's ever had.