Death and Frescos

The Residence, afternoon

Hot and humid, but even with the gray skies overhead, it's hard not to feel somewhat relieved. For heroes have sallied forth from Alexandria, and brought down a great evil. But the thing about adventures is that the aftermath, the recovery, often gets glossed over.

Seated out on the covered porch in one of the chairs is a platinum haired half-elf. He's not dressed in his usual sartorial glory, instead clad in simple cotton tunic and trousers, and some soft house slippers. A teapot, with a couple of cups, sits at his elbow, and he seems engrossed in a book resting in his hands.

For Telamon, this is rest, and a good way to recover from the trauma of what happened in that desperate struggle.

The sounds of wooden sandals against cobble, and their slap against feet, can be heard for some distance along the street. They come to a skidding stop as the Goblin slides path the walkway into the grounds. She returns a moment later, and bends over to rest her hands on her knees. She pants a little, pulling at the top of her pale, yellow summer dress to fan her in the muggy heat.

"Tel... amon?", she pants. Simony slowly advances towards the porch. Her pale forehead is covered in a dark blue colour, with a single white dot above her left eye, about a thumb's thickness in size.

Telamon blinks, eyes jerking up from the book. Then his gaze lands on... "Simony? What's wrong?" He snaps the book shut, setting it on the table, before slowly getting up from his chair. "What's happened? Are you all right?" His expression is full of concern for her, especially as the last time she came charging in like this it was to bear bad news.

Indeed, the only sign something might be amiss with Tel is how he leans on the railing of the porch, as if stiff and sore or fatigued. Peering at Simony, his dark eyes full of those familiar stars, Telamon can't help but smile a little. "Uh... you have paint on you."

As she absorbs the questions, she giggles then, still breathing heavily. "Those are the... questions I came here to... ask you.", she wheezes. "I may haver run... a little bit." She hops up the stairs, stopping to sit on the top one.

"Oh, paint? I was uhm finishing up the fresco on my cell's ceiling, and a monk told me the battle has been had, the fight won, but that there was some talk of injury. Didn't... give me more than that. I had no idea a painter's smock was so hard to take off in a hurry. Those knots seem to twist around more the faster you're trying to undo them. I um banged my head on the ceiling when I sat up, right on a fresh coat of plaster and paint."

"So uhm... how is everyone? Are you alright?"

Telamon looks faintly pained. "I... damn it, I didn't want word to spread. Look, can you keep it quiet?" He carefully sits back down with a grunt. "Verna warned me I'd feel like this for a day or two. Said it was normal -- also that I was the luckiest man on Ea." He grins, picking up the teapot -- which is actually frosted, not steaming -- and pours a cup for both himself and Simony. "Drink! It's nice and cold and it tastes pretty good."

He measures Simony with a stare, before he continues, "Might as well get to it. During the fight with Marsward Seraquoix, he killed me. Temporarily." He snorts. "Used a damned -wish- to do it, too. I'm almost honored he thought I was that dangerous that he needed to get rid of me -right then-."

She's up and almost hugging Telamon before she pulls herself up short. "Well, the word is rather vague, like, there were no names. I am only here because I knew that at some point, there was to be a push on uh, what'shisface." Simony nods slowly. "I will keep it to myself. And you are the luckiest man on Ea." She giggles, and takes the cup offered. "Oh. It's cold?" Her hand wraps around the cup and she hisses. "What did you use to do this..?" A sip is had. "Tea!" More of the cup is drained. "That is pretty good!"

The Gobbo stares at the Half-Sil. "Telamon, that one was definitely powerful, throwing wishes around like that. Though, if I were to guess, making you dead is only going to piss Cor'lana off and bring about his doom." She peers down at her feet a moment. "So... what happened after?"

"It's just tea, but brewed and then chilled down. I like it on hot days like this." Telamon seems pleased at her reaction though. "Here, let me refill you..." Which he does, and himself as well. "As hot as it is out here, you really need to replace all the water the sun bakes out of you."

That done, Tel settles back in the chair. "Well, after I was, ahem, indisposed, Lana was so enraged she disintegrated Seraquoix. Reduced him to dust. We also had killed his scarab familiar, so... it's unlikely he'll be coming back." He pauses, thinking, then mentally shrugs. In for a copper, in for a crown. "I had called to Tanith, a servant of Ni'essa, for help. Once Seraquoix was dead, Tanith restored me. The last thing I remember from the fight was Seraquoix snarling, 'I wish you were dead' and then coughing and waking up in that meadow outside Alexandria, with everyone gathered around me."

"Did you have need of a Goblin-sized servant?", the Goblin wonders idly. The second cup of tea disappears as fast as the first, and she sets the cup down next to the frosty teapot. She moves to stand beside his chair. "As I expected she would do, make him dead permanently. And this Tanith, did you see her at all? No uhm religious experience between life and death, then death and life?"

Simony rubs at her chin thoughtfully. She reaches out a hand to pat Telamon's shoulder delicately. "I am happy that you were returned. I certainly would have joined the mourners had you not made it."

Telamon looks at Simony, and places his hand over hers. "I want -friends-, not servants, Simony," he says with a smile. "But you're always welcome to chat, and if I need help with something, well... it's good to have friends." Tel takes a deep breath. "I didn't have any experience, I'm afraid. I was dead for perhaps a few minutes at most -- probably not even enough time for the Harpist's functionaries to check my paperwork, if you'll forgive the levity."

He laughs softly. "Well, yes. Tanith and I... we're friends as well. I think I've mentioned her to you before -- she is a tiny golden dragon. But she -loves- fish. And she asked me and Lana to go fishing for her -- which is a small price to pay, indeed, for remaining on Ea with my friends and family and wife."

The Goblin snorts and laughs. "Well, I offer to be a servant in exchange for living here in the lap of luxury. The frosted tea is what made me ask. In jest, obviously, though I doubt I would say no if actually invited to stay here." She squeezes at his hand with both of hers. "And of course, if you need help with something, I would happily assist!" Simony nods her head, "That is... interesting to know. Not that I would want to be dead, but it's interesting that there's a delay before you get noticed. I'm also glad that there appears to have been no pain?"

Her expression lights up with a smile. "Oooh, little gold dragon? That's very neat! Oh, about the size of the uhm... fairy dragon? I'm sorry, I forget their name, but they visit you here sometimes?"

Telamon chuckles. "I'll send you back with instructions on how to make it and a hand keg if you like." He shakes his head. "I ... suppose it's not impossible I simply don't remember what happened, and that I was at least admitted to the Halls. But I'm not exactly in a hurry to find out or confirm things. I mean, if you're -really- curious about this, you should speak to Verna... but honestly?" Tel picks up his cup for a sip. "I'm not eager to find out. I have a life to live first."

Happily changing the subject, he nods. "About the same size as Jyndei, yes. Though Tanith is... well, it's complicated. But suffice to say she will always be welcome in the house of Lupecyll-Atlon." His eyes light up. "Which reminds me. Now that Seraquoix is disposed of, I think Lana and I can move back into our place again."

Simony nods, "I would happily have that, Telamon. Then I could serve you some, should you come for a visit!" Her grin slowly falls away and she nods at the end. "Yes, lives to live first, worry about the afterlife ... after life." Her grin returns, "Well, I would be happy to meet her. She sounds splendid. Much how SKielstregar looks, I assume she is the same, yet golden in colour? I have been wracking my brains looking for a way to paint silver and gold onto canvas. I feel I cannot do justice with greys and yellows." Simony begins to pace back and forth. "Hmm, perhaps a layering effect, somehow, to fool the eye? Oh! Do you need help moving anything back? Perhaps some cleaning to be done?"

Telamon taps his fingertips. "Hmmm. There was a book in the family library in Ylvaliel about painting with exotic colors. I remember it because father and I were looking at it when the star-chart tattoo appeared on my back." He offers Simony a smile. "Give me a couple days, and I can travel there for it and get back faster than you can say 'Thanks Tel!'"

"What we were able to salvage, plus our purchases, pretty much fits into a couple trunks. The furniture is going to be new, but... we did discuss a ceiling fresco in the living room. We'll talk about that once we get inside." He grins impishly. "Word of warning: neither Lana nor I are patient with waiting for things to work out 'normally' these days. So expect us to use cantrips to dry paint as fast as you put it up."

"You have a tattoo on your back?", she wonders, covering her mouth a moment later. "Erm. That sounds neat, is it a family trait, having tattoos suddenly appearing? Oh... hah, I am uhm... slowly working out how to do tattoos. Warrick got me interested in it. After I've tried a few on me, I'll try painting up others."

She grins brightly. "I would be grateful to be able to read that book. Erm, would it make more sense for me to go there? It would keep the book safe, and your or your father could watch over my shoulder to ensure nothing untoward happens to it."

The Gobbo nods Telamon then. "A couple of trunks sounds like you travel lightly." At the mention of ... hurrying things along, Simony looks aghast. "You can't... you can't rush this, Tel. Not too much, anyways. I put up wet plaster. It dries a bit and then I use water to press dry paint into the mostly wet plaster. It needs time to dry properly, so that it sticks to the ceiling. I'm willing to experiment though, we can see how much we can push it, okay?"

The half-sil actually looks a little abashed. "Um... yeah. I think it's connected to my sorcerer abilities. It's a star chart, but it's in gold, silver, and bright blue ink -- though I don't think it's ink at all." He chuckles. "I'll show it to you at some point, and you can make a sketch. Might be useful."

"In any case, it's not like it's some tome of arcane lore, Simony. The book is just a book. But we can go to the family home if you prefer. Father trusts me, and mother will probably give me a look for bringing friends by without warning her. She'd do that when I was a boy." He grins impishly, a remnant of a truly mischievous but good-hearted lad in his past.

At Simony's appalled comment, Telamon remarks, "Yes, Simony, but Lana isn't going to let you tie up the living room for weeks on end. Not to mention if you're there too long I -guarantee- the garden pixies will start trying to help."

"Gold, silver and bright blue ink..." Her eyes widen. "I would be pleased to study it, and make a copy of it on paper. I'll make you a copy too, so you can peruse it with ease." Her excitement is palpable on her face. "Oh, well, let's not drop in unannounced on your mother. I'm not looking to earn you a scolding or worse. Also, remember to bring her something pretty or tasty, that's the rule."

"According to my mother, at least."

Simony begins to pace once more, shaking her hands lightly. "Perhaps we could come to an agreement on its look, soon? And I could precede you there. And you could uh, move in to other rooms first, hmm? You can delay social engagements by making the excuse of just a few more adjustments and some cleaning..." The Gobbo pauses, blinking, "They'd help? Oh gosh, that might be a good idea. They can help with holding things and maybe plastering, it's not a difficult job, just time consuming."

Telamon nods with a grin. "It's definitely striking. Lana certainly has never objected to it." His eyes twinkle happily, as he pours another cup of tea for himself and for Simony. "Go for tasty. Mother has enough pretty things, and tends to be a little pragmatic about that sort of thing anyways. I'm sure she'd appreciate some tarts or treats."

"Actually... that's a good idea. At least start laying the foundation and plastering for the fresco -- but..." He pauses at the idea of the garden pixies helping Simony. "...Tell you what, before you get attached to the idea of tiny helpers, let me warn you they are notoriously flighty. And Lily-of-the-Valley is not the brightest candle in the table setting, either -- she thinks it's the height of art to write Crimson Pen stories and send them in."

Simony grins and nods. "I don't think I would object to it either, it sounds amazing. Seeing it will be an honor and a privilege." Another nod. "Tasty it is. I know just the thing, I know where you can get apple tarts. They're a little small." Small meaning Simony can inhale them in one bite. "But they are the perfect blend of tartness and the sweetness of brown sugar and a dusting of cinnamon."

She crosses her arms. "Oh, you're suggesting that it would be tantamount to giving four and five year old human children paints and leaving them by themselves in a room with bare walls?"

He claps his hands together. "Perfect. She'll love those. I'll send word ahead that there'll be a visit, and she won't be caught off guard." Tel chuckles. "Gods. It's like that one time I yanked myself and my friends out of danger and... I was a little inexact. I was thinking 'home' and... we landed on the front lawn of the family mansion. Mother gave me such a look..."

Tel snorts. "Oh no, Simony. Not four and five year olds. Think ten year olds, who think they're funny or witty. With all that fey concern about mortal sensibilities. Give them half a chance, and they'll put up scenes from this book." He taps the cover of the book he was reading: 'On Plants and Potion Brewing' by Costin Meadows.

"Let me know a little ahead before we are to leave, so I can get the tarts, and they'll still be fresh by the time we arrive." Simony blinks, and giggles at length. "You may just have too many homes if you mix them up. At least you know you will arrive, and not be stuck in some mountainside or falling from a great height. Teleport must be the scariest spell. It feels like that for me."

Her eyes narrow at the description of the pixie mindset, and after a moment, she giggles. "Better that than Fifty Shades of Mei by Frolics In Meadows. Complete with dirty drawings."

Telamon nods. "Of course! But yes, we'll be teleporting there -- I'll bring some soothe syrup just in case you need it. It's faster that way, and safer." He shrugs lightly. "It's not unheard of to think of one's childhood home, and when you're stressed and casting a spell, well... like you said, beats landing in a mountain or in the middle of an ocean."

He snorts. "Doubt it. Those two -- Lily in particular -- are definitely something else. But yes, I'd sooner trust Jyndei to help you." He sticks his hand out to Simony. "Shall we shake on it?"

"I'll do my best. Hmm, maybe if I skip breakfast that day, it won't be so bad? I'll give that a try. I'll... pack an extra tart." The Goblin nods. "I tended to hate my childhood home, mostly due to being kept in side. I was a little bird in a cage. Can't complain about lacking anything, but freedom. In my childhood, ending up in the mountainside might have been preferable. Maudlin, but that's how it goes."

"Jyndei is more than welcome to curl up around my shoulders while I paint, if it please them." Her hand stretches out, and she squeezes Telamon's, shaking enthusiastically.