I Held Out Hope

Log Info

• Title: I Held Out Hope

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Ravenstongue and Telamon are in the kitchen enjoying cups of tea on a rainy morning when Grandfather comes flying in, heavily wounded and bleeding. The source of his wounds comes crashing through the window only a few moments later in the form of Luthel, former lover to Ravenstongue's mother, Nadina. A tense standoff between Luthel and Telamon occurs, and Pothy manages to defuse the situation. Luthel, Grandfather, Ravenstongue, and Telamon all sit down together and talk through what's misinformation and what's truth, as Luthel had acted on his suspicion that the fey lord had 'bewitched' Ravenstongue into becoming his willing hostage. Once all of the revelations are made, Ravenstongue offers for Luthel to join their little assembled family, but Luthel asks for time to think about it before departing. Ravenstongue and Telamon decide to unwind with some glasses of brandy and manage to put their day back on the right track.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- 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
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-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-    
Luthel Peranus       5'6"                Wild Elf          Male      A muscular, sandy-blond elf armed to the teeth.                       
The Feathered One    6'0"     ?? Lb      Fey               Male      A tall fey man with violet eyes and a primal appearance.
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Lúpecyll-Atlon house, morning.

Daeus's gentle light on the waking world is blotted out by dark clouds in the sky that had gathered as most of the population of Alexandria slumbered in the dark. It doesn't take long into the morning before the clouds carry out their threat and the rain pours down.

Cor'lana is having her morning cup of night tea, a phrase that's so paradoxical that it's become a joke as of late, but the feytouched sorceress can't seem to find the mood to joke about it today. Her violet eyes are trained on the window as she stands in the kitchen and gives a great sigh.

"Grandfather won't show up today with weather like this," she comments as the rain gently taps the glass on the window. Unlike days before, the home is safe.

For now.

Telamon walks over to stand next to Cor'lana, his arm around her as he looks outside as well. "On the bright side, it's good for the garden." He leans down to kiss her cheek tenderly. "The weather can't always be perfect. So we have to appreciate the perfect days when we get them."

Holding her, he lets the moment stretch out a bit. "You're worried about him. If we don't get word soon, we'll start looking into trying to contact him actively." He sighs. "You know, it's probably been so long since he had people who were concerned about him, he didn't even realize we would be worried."

He gives one last squeeze, before moving over to pick up the teakettle and pour himself a cup of more conventional tea.

Cor'lana colors a little as he kisses her cheek, leaning into him a little in the moment that he holds her. But she still looks pensive. "He wasn't supposed to leave me a..."

Her voice hitches on the last word and she shakes her head. "Not alone. But you know what I mean," she elaborates, correcting herself. And she spends another moment finishing off her cup of tea.

Which is fortunate, as a black shape rapidly flies to the window, which flies open with magical force. Cor'lana drops her teacup with a yelp as she hops backwards, and has her hand out to cast a spell until she realizes the black shape on the floor is a black-feathered raven.

With violet eyes.

And is oozing a black liquid onto the floor.

"Cor'lana," Grandfather says in a ragged voice, "be ready. Be ready--that man is coming here quickly."

"That man?" Cor'lana asks, eyes widening--and then she looks down at the liquid that's now on her kitchen floor. "Are you... Are you bleeding?"

Telamon had JUST poured his tea, when he hears the yelp. The teacup clatters to the counter, slopping liquid onto it as he whirls around, hands coming up as well. The sight of the raven sprawled on the floor, injured, makes his eyes widen. "Grandfather-- shit!"

He looks to Cor'lana. "Lana, under the couch there's a case. Two bottles, marked with a red cross on white -- healing potions." He leans out the window, and says in Sylvan, "Lily, Mirabilis, stay in your tree!" before searching the grounds with a sharp eye. If someone comes over the fence, he's ready -- and it'll take time to break through the front door.

"Who is 'that man', Grandfather?" Tel asks as he continues to look.

"I don't know," Grandfather croaks, groaning in pain--a noise that's somewhere between a pained bird crying out for mercy and a man trying very, very hard to downplay a wound, but is clearly suffering. His violet eyes are trained on Cor'lana the whole time, who is already beginning to tremble. "He has... blond hair, and a sword made of cold iron--nnnngh."

"Grandfather," Cor'lana whimpers, and it's only now that she seems to register Telamon's instructions, although it takes her legs another moment to even pick up on what's clearly her desire to act. She fetches the case from under the couch and returns quickly. "Please be okay, please be okay..."

"Damn it, child, this is only my messenger--if it dies, then so be it, but it still isn't pleasant," Grandfather groans, practically sitting in a pool of that strange black blood at this point. "Don't waste the potions. That man is coming here!"

Telamon swears softly. He keeps forgetting this isn't really Grandfather, just an extension, a projection of him. "Cor'lana," he says levelly, "Turn invisible." His fingers are already moving in steady patterns, as he incants, "Akar irhandi." Planes of shimmering force appear around him, as he keeps watch.

"Whoever this is is in for a real surprise. Cold iron... means he was hunting fey. He may not expect us. We need to take and keep the initiative from him. Force him to react, rather than act."

"Grandfather, you said he had cold iron. Any other surprises? The front door's locked, but I hadn't gotten to ward the backyard yet..."

The bird form of Grandfather's messenger shudders, struggling to keep itself upright as it clings onto consciousness. "He was... saying something about getting back Nadina's daughter," he says, followed by more ragged noises of discomfort--

And then comes the sound of breaking glass from the study. The last thing that's on Cor'lana's face before she disappears with the sound of an invisibility incantation is fear.

"Oh, hello Luthel," comes the sound of Pothy's voice from the study. "You could have just knocked on the window and I would have gotten Lana to open it for you."

Then comes the voice of the man that both Telamon and Cor'lana had heard before through Nadina's memories. "Don't tell me you're in league with that creature, Apotheosis. Where's the girl? I'm getting her out of here."

Telamon gets a sour expression as the window in the study breaks. "...Or that could happen," he mutters, more in disgust with himself. "I'm going to put explosive runes on that window, I swear by all that is holy..." He picks up Grandfather, dumping him on the table, before gesturing, "I'iz mete gantir." Suddenly he's leaving afterimages, full images of himself.

That done, he storms towards the study, energies already building up in his fists. "Our house. Is not. A gods-damned public thoroughfare!" Uh oh.

There's a sight that's very odd in the study indeed:

A muscular elven man with long, sandy-blond hair tied back in a low ponytail that trails out from underneath a helmet that adorns his head, made of the same shiny and silver material that composes his full plate armor. He's got a longsword and shield drawn, and the longsword shimmers subtly with a sort of red-colored magic in the ambient light of the room. Most important are his eyes, which glow blue like Nadina's do--and are filled with a sense of confusion as he looks at Telamon.

And Pothy is on the man's shoulder, nuzzling against the man's helmet like he's reunited with an old friend. Traitor.

"You... are not the fey creature that's holding my flame's daughter hostage," Luthel says, using a Sildanyari word that, while it translates to 'flame', is a venerated word used specifically in a context similar to a soulmate, but not always in the romantic sense.

It would take a blind man not to see the explosive rage in Tel's eyes. Pent up fury -- yet ANOTHER person who thinks he has some claim to Cor'lana. As if she was just a prize. "She has. A name." His eyes are flaring -- not the light of an arcane spell but the burning glow of distant stars, his hair floating around his head.

The only thing keeping him from simply unleashing that rage is that Pothy is in the way. Tel's voice is a grating sound, layered with some kind of reverb coming from gods know where. "Do you remember her name, Luthel Peranus? Or did you forget?"

Luthel's sword and shield remain up, especially in the wake of Telamon's rage on his face. "Of course I remember," he says, conviction settling on his face to match Telamon's rage. "She's Lana Branfeax--the girl I swore to protect. You know her as Cor'lana Lúpecyll, I'm sure, or whatever that beast has ensorcelled her to believe."

Pothy between Luthel and Telamon for a moment as he sighs. "Oh dear. Luthy, you fucked this up big time. That guy right there? That's Telamon. That's Lana's fiance. And I assure you, Lana's of sound mind and she's not being ensorcelled. The big, bad, scaaaaaary fey creature you want doesn't even live here."

Luthel looks at Pothy with a growing sense of confusion in his eyes. "... I was under the impression he did, based on the information I received from his employer," he says, before looking at Telamon. "I, ah. This... might be a big misunderstanding on my part."

He turns back to the broken glass window. "Mend," he simply commands, and the glass window reassembles itself.

"Nice to know that ring still works after all this time," the elven warrior says with a sigh.

The fact that Pothy's running interference... helps. Telamon works to rein in his temper, to scrub the red rage out of his vision. Taking deep breaths. "Earning your nuts today, Pothy?" he says, the reverb fading out of his voice. He forces his hands to unclench, the light gleaming off the band he wears on his hand.

"Of course he did," Tel grumbles sourly. "Fey lord spends generations with mortals, but he gives our address for his side job."

He stares at Luthel. "Put the sword away," he says flatly. "You're not going any further with bared steel." There is absolutely no give in his expression, though he's at least lowered his hands a bit. The images still flicker around him, as he continues, "If this is a misunderstanding, then you had best stand before the lady with open hands."

Luthel does as Telamon requests, sheathing the blade into a scabbard that hangs off his hip that is decorated with a variety of precious jewels and runic inscriptions. "I was working with the intel I could get out of Adelaide," Luthel explains, "as well as that book shopkeeper. I assumed the intel I got from Adelaide was faulty as I am... aware of the fey through my lineage. While I couldn't sense that she'd been bewitched in any way, I concluded that it was likely that Lana had been ensorcelled and was feeding her cousin information that the Feathered One wanted her to say. There are stories from my family of fey nobility kidnapping mortals to use as playthings in their schemes... So I assumed the worst..."

Luthel's words trail away as he looks past Telamon in the doorway. Telamon then feels a hand clap onto his hand, followed by the familiar scent of lavender. Cor'lana reforms back into the visible world as she sighs. "Somehow I shouldn't be surprised," she says. "Of course you'd believe the same thing mother did."

"Shouldn't a man always treat the words that his beloved speaks as the ironclad truth?" Luthel asks, and his glowing blue eyes become warm as he looks at Cor'lana--and tears quickly follow after. "My, you've grown, Lana."

Telamon is still tense, until he feels Lana's touch, scents the lavender. The transformation is actually kind of remarkable, though he doesn't take his eyes off Luthel. "...Alright. I'm going to yell at Algar when he gets into town, though." He pinches the bridge of his nose. The look on Luthel's face, and the tears, remind him disturbingly of Grandfather's first reaction to Cor'lana.

"...What a fucking mess. Again." Tel's sardonic, unpolished assessment seems apt. Now that Luthel's put the sword back, and Lana's here... he looks to his lady love, before turning his gaze back to the subject of problems once again.

"Lana, do you think we can let him come out to the living area? The study is a little cramped for this kind of discussion." Hopefully Lana picks up on the unspoken: is Grandfather in a fit state?

Cor'lana looks a little apprehensive, but she nods. "The living room is fine," she says. "I'll... have to clean the kitchen, though."

Luthel squints at Cor'lana, although the emotion of seeing his beloved's daughter again for the first time in years is still present in his gaze. "Did that creature come in the house? I thought I saw it flee."

Cor'lana turns her violet gaze on Luthel, and it's her turn to get annoyed now. "He also has a name. Call him Alud'rigan, the Feathered One," she says with a huff as she turns about on her heel. "Let's go discuss everything."

She steps out into the living room and... there's Grandfather in his unassuming bookshop worker guise, smiling as though nothing happened as he sits on the couch. The blood is gone from the kitchen and there's two empty healing potions on the table. "I decided not to traumatize you any further by dealing with the corpse," Grandfather explains. "That, and I rather like this particular messenger bird I'm using."

Cor'lana... just nods. Slowly. "Sure," she says, accepting this state of affairs that's working out almost a little too cleanly.

Telamon follows Cor'lana. Normally, he appreciates the view from behind but he's a little preoccupied, which will annoy him later if he contemplates it. Grumpily, he snaps, "Sisig bursag!", calling an unseen servant into existence. "Clean up the spilled tea, and then fill some mugs. We're going to need them." A stool is pulled out -- heavy and reinforced, it's actually for Skielstregar if they can get him to visit.

When Luthel follows them out, Tel points at the stool, before grabbing a chair and sitting down on it. He leaves the couch for Lana and Grandfather. "Now then," he says in that same grumpy tone, "Let's talk." The servitor silently brings over mugs of tea, before retreating. The image of domesticity, only slightly marred by how Tel still appears to be five Telamons, two standing, three sitting.

Everyone is seated. Mugs are taken. And then there's sort of an awkward silence in the room for a moment before Cor'lana looks over in Telamon's direction... And she laughs.

"Sorry, honey, there's just... Five of you! And you're all grumpy!" she explains. "Same exact expression and everything."

"Nadina used to use that spell," Luthel says, looking down into his mug with a nostalgic look. "Sometimes she cast it just to get a rise out of me. Always felt like all of the intelligence was fleeing my body when that happened." He goes to drink his tea.

"Well, yes, that's generally what happens when the blood flow is rerouted from the mortal's brain to their lower head," Grandfather quips. This results in Luthel almost spit-taking, but he somehow, somehow manages to get it down without any embarrassing after-effects, but Grandfather continues on. "Cor'lana already introduced me, but I am called Alud'rigan, the Feathered One. You may call me that or Grandfather."

Luthel nods, although he suddenly looks rather nervous. "Right. Well, my name is... No, damn it. You may call me Luthel Peranus. Don't steal my name, please."

"Grandfather doesn't steal names," Cor'lana pipes up. "None that I'm aware of, anyway.

"Just children," Luthel mutters, which earns him a look from Grandfather... albeit one that is inscrutable. Luthel seems to realize a second later that he said it out loud, and he adds, "That was a joke, sorry. I... Ahhh, well, I'm not used to talking to someone I fully intended on killing. That was more of Nadina's thing."

Telamon blinks at Cor'lana, confused, then it hits him. He gestures a couple times, but nothing happens. "...Screw it, it'll wear off." He rubs his face. "This is not the first time this has come up," he says to Luthel, his tone finally civil, though still working on 'friendly' for the moment. "A great deal of what happened between the Feathered One, and the Lúpecylls, has been blurred. By time, and myth, and legend, as I put it."

Picking up his mug, he takes a sip, the tea a welcome balm to his nerves. "I am Telamon Atlon. Sorcerer-diplomat, and Cor'lana's fiance." Hey, maybe Luthel's heard of the family name. Couldn't hurt. "And despite my earlier... temper, I do want to resolve this diplomatically. If only because this is our home and I do not want it to become a battleground."

"Atlon... Diplomat... Yes, that's familiar. Are you related to Telperius Atlon?" Luthel asks. "I believe I've spoken with your father before on one occasion years ago. I think it was a civil matter related to a job I was hired to work--this was in the brief period of time I continued adventuring after Nadina vanished and I found her. Truth be told, I haven't been actively working for years as I don't need to. Our adventuring group was so lucrative that I never needed to work again after I decided to hang up the blade."

Cor'lana frowns. "Addy says you go around armed to the teeth, though," she says. Which, well, is true, as she points to knives sheathed in Luthel's boots.

"Well, yes," Luthel says. "You don't want to be caught off-guard, especially if someone decides you're their next target. I may not always have my sword on me, but I'm prepared."

He finally takes his helmet off and smooths down his hair, looking reflective for a moment. "Telamon, I'll be frank. I'm still uneasy about this whole situation--but considering I can tell you've had no enchantments put on you, and out of my respect for your father, I'd like you to tell me what's been going on with Lana, her... fey progenitor, and what's happened since I've last seen Nadina--which, I get the sense you probably know about that considering your words with your fiance. Not out of disrespect to Lana, but it... would put my mind at ease to hear it from you rather than either of them."

Cor'lana and Grandfather both exchange glances, but neither seem to object.

Telamon ahhs. "Telperius Atlon is my father. And... if it makes you feel better, he was hesitant at first about my relationship with Lana... and Alud'rigan. There were a couple tense moments." His eyes flick to where the unseen servant hovers, and it shifts away, slipping off.

He grins at Lana. "Well, Lana, there is something to be said for having a plan B. Or C, or... so on." His expression has lightened considerably at her sally -- indeed, just looking at her seems to lighten his mood.

Still, his expression smooths out again when he looks back at Luthel. "I will tell what I know," he says firmly. "There are some things that are still conjecture, I think... but most of the puzzle has been resolved."

He steeples his fingers. "Cor'lana left Rune, not long after her mother's passing." He suspects Luthel knows of this already, but he confirms it. "She traveled here, to Alexandria. Part of her... inheritance was that Nadina suppressed some of her memories. Nadina was seeking to obscure her child's trail from the Feathered One, and what Cor'lana didn't know, she couldn't reveal. Indeed, at the time she was using the sobriquet 'Ravenstongue' when I met her."

The unseen servant returns, bearing a small silk bag, which Telamon takes and opens. Gently, he places before Luthel the white-gold band given to Nadina so long ago.

Luthel takes the ring, and his entire body language changes as he holds it in his hand, inspecting it. What was a nervous, yet strong man trying to persevere in the presence of a fey lord becomes a more sullen man bearing a weight on his shoulders. He tilts his hand around, looking at the ring from different angles in the light, and his eyes catch on the inscription inside of the band.

He sighs heavily, and he removes his plated gauntlet on his left hand to reveal a matching white-gold band on his left hand. He looks at it for a long moment as he says, "I think I knew from the moment I saw Pothy in the study, but there was no Nadina there to greet me, that it was just confirmation of... what I already knew. I sent letters for a few years after I gave her that ring, and she never answered. I... held out hope that she was alive, but..."

Luthel shakes his head before he looks at Cor'lana. "How did she pass?" he asks.

Cor'lana doesn't answer immediately. She can't, really, because her hands tremble and she has to tear her eyes away from Luthel. "... She made me kill her. In a ritual that suppressed my memories and gave me Pothy. There's no body to bury, no grave to visit, because she disintegrated into mana and... that mana is in me. I am her grave."

Telamon sighs. "This is a point of contention between Lana and myself. Nadina engineered her own death, to pass Pothy on. Lana, you can't blame yourself for it. I told you before -- it's a tragedy but it's one you cannot carry guilt for." He looks at her with a sad smile. "I don't think Nadina ever did a single thing she didn't want or intend to do. Even at the last."

He takes a deep breath, and continues, "Not long after Lana and I had met, she found herself being pursued -- harassed, really -- by birds who were in the service of Alud'rigan, the Feathered One. We secured assistance from other adventurers here in Alexandria, and used a magical ritual to call him to us, to find answers."

His lips quirk. "The Feathered One had been searching for Cor'lana -- it had become his tradition, every generation or three, to call one of the Lúpecyll bloodline to him, to live with him in Quelynos." He looks up at the ceiling. "But as I said, tale becomes myth, myth becomes legend, and the story had warped into something darker. Rather than an isolated fey noble who merely desired company to staunch his loneliness, rumor and hearsay had transformed the story into a terrible monster who stole children away."

Tel's eyes flick to Grandfather's, and he smirks. "You should fire whoever handles your public relations, sir. They're absolutely terrible."

"Well, the problem is that I have no one handling them," Grandfather says with a smile of his own. "Perhaps when you are officially Lúpecyll-Atlon, I will designate that task to you." Meanwhile, he puts his hand--which looks like a normal elven hand in this form, albeit covered by black gloves as a reference to his true nature--on Cor'lana's shoulder, pulling his granddaughter close to him. "Telamon is right, you know, my little bird."

That small bit of consolation makes Cor'lana smile. Meanwhile, Luthel looks continually troubled by the news. "Meaning the tragedy was... one of misinformation. A tragedy I almost perpetuated again."

The elven warrior sighs deeply. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Nadina and I were linked in many ways, but never to unite fully in the way I wanted us to be. And yet I made peace with that. Nadina was... well, a bird in flight who was free to live life on her own principles, and I won't lie--that's part of what enthralled me to begin with. That is why it troubled me to see her so willingly cage herself up in that home and hide once I found her."

That comment visibly strikes a chord with Cor'lana, who just folds herself a little closer to Grandfather and puts her head on his shoulder. He gives her a kiss in her hair to comfort her, which seems to work. She's not sobbing, but there are little tears that dart down her face quietly.

"The issue of misinformation has dogged us so severely I'm not even sure where to start." Telamon's expression betrays a great deal of empathy. "Glorenacil's machinations were driven partially by it, and while I don't care for the man and probably never will... because he's a selfish, unmitigated ass... some of that motivation came from how the story had become so twisted."

He sighs. "In any case, once we had ascertained the Feathered One's actual motives, Lana came to an agreement -- that when she was done with the life she had on Ea, she would join him in Quelynos. A renegotiation, rather than reneging on things. Which suited him well... except that I suspect he wanted Cor'lana to have more than just 'the adventuring life' to look forward to." His lips quirk. "And there was this brave, foolish half-elven boy who'd dared to demand the Feathered One explain himself, to his face no less..."

His eyes sparkle with remembered happiness, the start of something new and wonderful that continues. "So he nudged Lana and myself together a bit. No ensorcellement, no spells, just a whole lot of 'oh, you two look cute together'."

There's a little sniffle from Cor'lana, but she looks up from her spot on Grandfather's shoulder with a smile. "And now we're betrothed," she says. "Deeply in love, and with plans to reforge the Lúpecyll family anew--the Lúpecyll-Atlon family. Our children will grow up knowing who Alud'rigan, the Feathered One is. But they won't forget about Nadina, either."

Cor'lana dries her eyes and sits up straight again, although Grandfather still has his arm wrapped around his child for support. She looks at Luthel and says, "And if you'll permit it... They don't have to forget about you, either. I know you cared a lot about my mother, and I know you wanted to be a father figure to me... And while I already have family I care about, I don't mind adding someone else to the group. It'll be a long while before Tel and I have children, but I don't think there's a such thing as having too many people who love them."

Luthel is quiet for a long moment. He looks at Telamon--all five of him--and then at Grandfather, before finally settling on Cor'lana. "I... should think about it some more," he says, very honestly. "Nadina made her wishes known to me about my involvement in her life and yours when I last spoke to her. And it's clear from the lack of tarnish on the ring that she never wore it. That is a sound rejection of what I proposed, even if I simply wanted her to have it as a reminder that someone cared about her, and loved her--and her daughter."

Telamon smiles back at Cor'lana, eyes shining now. There's love there, and the promise of something new. A better story to be written than what's come before. "We can't change what happened. But we can make sure it wasn't for nothing. That Nadina's sacrifice wasn't in vain, in the end."

He looks at Luthel, his expression compassionate now, no more anger, even if it's duplicated in quintuple. "With all due respect to Nadina... this isn't her decision." He looks at the ring. "I don't know if she ever wore the ring. I found it in Pothy's possession a while back, and cleaned it. But... she did keep it. She did feel something, I think. It just... wasn't enough."

Tel's eyes meet Luthel's. "It says a lot that you were ready to do battle with everyone and everything for Lana. She means everything to me, and I can't hate a man for wanting to protect someone I love." His eyes drop to the ring, studying it. Seeing those memories. "Think about it, Luthel. But I don't want you to be lonely any more than I would want Grandfather, or Lana, or myself, to be lonely. Not if you don't have to be."

Luthel looks a little bashful as Telamon compliments his readiness to go into combat. "Well," he says, "I'm glad I let Nadina enchant my vision a long time ago to see magic. I might have thought you were 'the fey creature' otherwise, and..."

He pats his blade in the scabbard. "This sword has a tendency to decapitate things, so it wouldn't have been pretty. Found it at the bottom of what we were told was a long-abandoned mine on a job years ago. It was one of several artifacts in the possession of a wizard who was on the cusp of becoming a lich. We barely managed to make it out of there alive."

The elven warrior rises from his seat and puts his helmet back on. "I will be in touch," he says. "I might be in Alexandria for a while yet. I do have to have my annual drinking match with Gerald."

"Well, don't be a stranger," Cor'lana says. "Maybe we can all gather at the Cheerful Corvid for some coffee."

She shoots Grandfather a look and says, "Except for you. Just... trust me, it'd be awkward."

"What? What did I do?" Grandfather looks incredibly wounded.

Telamon grins. "Then I'm really glad you didn't use it on me. Lana much prefers my head where it is." There's the willful half-sil lad, still shining through. "I'll walk you out, Luthel. As I said: no hard feelings. There's... so many loose ends with this tale, I suspect I may spend as much time fixing them as I will adventuring."

As Tel escorts Luthel to the door, he adds quietly, "And I meant what I said. There's a lot I'll forgive if it's done for her." Unlocking the door... but offering Luthel his hand to shake, before the elf leaves. "No goodbyes," he says with a smile. "Just, 'until next time'."

Luthel might have transformed into a more sullen man over the course of the conversation--after all, he'd been informed that the love of his life was dead--but he takes Telamon's hand. And it's very, very clear the amount of strength he has, as his grip is strong... but he's also clearly holding back. "Until next time, Telamon Atlon," he says. "You take care of that girl and the love she has for you. I'd... offer some sort of good-natured threat like Nadina would want me to, but, well."

He looks past Telamon back into the house, clearly referring to the Feathered One as he says, "I think you probably deal with that enough."

Luthel lets go of Telamon's hand and walks off into the street. The rain's let up a little, more of a gentle sprinkle down, and it appears the warrior doesn't mind the weather at all as he moves briskly. Once an adventurer, always an adventurer.

Quiet footsteps come up from behind Telamon. "Well, aside from how that began," Cor'lana says, "I think that went well. Grandfather's decided to excuse himself, as well--I let him out the kitchen window. So it's just us and Pothy--and Pothy's in the study still."

Telamon shuts the door, locking it, before turning around to wrap his arms around Cor'lana. Tucking her in under his chin, and burying his face in her hair. "Is it wrong," he mumbles, "if all I wanna do is hold you close, love?" His shoulders shake, as the spell finally dissipates leaving one Telamon behind. "I think I'm actually a little weak-kneed after that."

Leaning on the door, just happy to submerge himself in the scent. "Gods have mercy. I am really thinking I need a stiff drink after that. Do you want one as well?"

Cor'lana, of course, could never object to him holding her. "Of course it's not wrong, Tel," she says, wrapping her own arms around him and squeezing him tightly as she closes her eyes, nuzzling against the skin of his chin a little. "That was... well, it was frightening at first. And... well, it was sad." The feytouched tell of his bride not only serves to remind him that the genuine article is in his arms, but to calm him--although lavender's calming properties are renowned, it's also simply just the comfort of having her here with him.

She squeezes him again as he asks the question. "It's considered a faux pas to drink before noon," she points out, "but I think whoever came up with that rule has never had to deal with being an adventurer. Or, well, in your case... insisting on being with someone who invites this sort of thing. I'll take one too if you're drinking."

Telamon holds her for long, sweet moments, before leading her back into the living room. A gesture sets the unseen servitor to action, tidying up the mugs, moving the stool back, as he sinks down onto the couch and pulls her into his lap. Fitting her back into him, key to lock, as he murmurs wordlessly.

The servant brings over a small bottle of brandy, along with a pair of snifters. "This stuff is supposedly good for frayed nerves, according to Stiger," Telamon says, as the drinks are poured. "And gods know, I think we've both suffered from that of late." Taking one, he passes it to her before picking up the other. "Sip it slowly," he advises. "Don't hammer it."

The Lúpecyll-Atlon household might cease functioning if the unseen servants were suddenly unavailable by some means. Cor'lana certainly doesn't mind where she's placed, and she takes the drink that's offered to her with a bit of curiosity. She sniffs it a little and nods, before she takes the smallest of sips and savors the taste. "That's pretty good, actually," she says, smiling. "I like that more than the whiskey."

She closes her eyes and sighs, just allowing herself to relax fully into Telamon's form. "Mmm. I'm... Well, I'm sorry this keeps happening to us," she says. "I mean, this time it... Well, it happened because I exist, I fell in love with you, and we decided to move in together."

"That's horse shit, love. Things happen -- good and bad -- all the time, to everyone. Sometimes it's deserved, sometimes not." Tel takes a long sip of his drink, savoring it, before putting it aside for a moment. Then he firmly takes Lana's hand, the one with the ring. Holding it up, so that the engagement rings on their hands are both together. "But when we gave each other rings, it wasn't 'unless it gets too complicated'. It was a promise. An oath."

He hugs her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "Life together is always complicated. But I don't regret one moment of it. And I look forward to spending the rest of it with you."

Cor'lana can't help but smile, of course, as she opens her eyes and looks at their rings. "I know," she says. "I know, because I'd follow you through anything, and anywhere. I just... I feel bad, sometimes, about all of this. But we've talked about that before. I just get self-conscious..."

She takes another slow, small sip of her drink before she puts it away and leans back into Telamon again, smiling. "I don't think I could regret any part of it. Not when you've given me so much, not when you've helped me learn so much about myself I didn't know I was capable of." Cor'lana grins. "I especially never thought I'd be anyone's bride."

Telamon strokes her hair, soothing and gentle. "You're not the only one. There are times when I falter, when I start to feel like..." he gropes for words. "An imposter? I mean, yes, son of a well-to-do elven diplomat and his wily, canny human wife. But surely I'm not that important." He smiles crookedly. "And then... I realize yes, this really is how things are. I am not a charlatan. I am in love, to be wed to the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

He heaves a mock sigh. "Which is not to say things are perfect... I suspect more visits to the Proving Grounds are in order. But... we also have the capacity to look back, to study our errors and make corrections. There are so many people incapable of that, Lana. And that's why we'll be happy together. Because we are not just two people, but a single whole as well."

Cor'lana huffs. "Of course you're important, Telamon," she says. "The Watcher said it before--he was waiting all of this time for you. And... I think somewhere, deep down in my soul, I was also waiting for you. I was waiting for someone who could understand me on a level no one else ever had--someone who could not only break through all of my social ineptitude, but someone who could also stand with me and for me when in the face of danger."

She lifts herself up and spins herself round in his lap so she can fully face him, violet eyes gazing into star-flecked eyes. There's that look of adoration again, the one she's given him since she really began to safely express her feelings toward him. "I solemnly feel we are a single whole," she says. "I know you don't much care for fate, but... I think we were fated. I think we were. After so much pain for Grandfather, after so much pain for my mother, after so much of that darkness in my bloodlines... There had to be someone to deliver them all from that darkness. Two people, specifically. And those two people are us."

Against anyone else, Telamon would retreat into humor, or even wry cynicism. But not with Lana. She knows him too well, and he has no defenses against her. He looks like he wants to object, to argue... but the words just won't come. Instead, he touches her cheek. "It's up to us to keep carrying the light into the dark places," he says, repeating a remark he's made before. "Not just a figure of speech, but all too literally for the people who need it."

Tenderly, he leans close and kisses her, long and slow. "If it's destiny, then I guess I... we... should make the most of it, huh?" Hugging her close to him, he says, "And no matter what, as long as we do it together, I'm happy to do the work."

She returns the kiss, wrapping her arms around his head to keep him in that kiss as long as she wants. Thankfully, she lets him draw back for air eventually, grinning at him. "And thankfully," she says, catching her own breath in the process, "you happen to be a very good source of light."

Cor'lana intertwines a hand into his hair, playing with his platinum-blond tresses a little as she grins at him. Historically, she's always gotten a little handsy when she's gotten into alcohol, and this holds true. "Sure, but all work and no play makes Telamon a dull boy, which is something nobody's ever accused you of--but we probably shouldn't start that trend if we can help it."

Telamon doesn't even try to fight the embrace of his lady, though it seems he's hardly out of breath after that nice long kiss. Letting her play with his hair (after all he likes to toy with hers as well, fair is fair), he smiles. "Somehow I don't think that will ever be a problem, love." He glances at the weather -- still miserable and gray, with rain misting down. "But, I don't think we'll be getting out much today. Maybe in a day or so we can do some training at the Grounds, or check in at the Guild and see if they need any quick-response hands."

He brushes his nose against hers. "But for now, I'm just happy to be with you and not have a care in the world. And I want you to feel the same way -- that you know you're safe and warm and loved within these walls, if nowhere else."

Cor'lana looks like she's about to have a retort, maybe even a lewd suggestion of some sort--after all, she is being helped along by liquid courage, which tends to bring out the playfulness in her fey nature--but she decides instead to lean down and nuzzle her face right underneath his chin...

Oh, no. It was a diversion tactic. She leans into his neck and gives him a kiss, but soon follows it up with a little hickey-bite. Cor'lana draws back and giggles almost madly. "Here's hoping that fades before your Chalice meeting tomorrow," she teases. It appears she's decided to just give into the full whim of her feytouched nature for the moment, amplified by a bit of a buzz.

Telamon laughs softly. "You're incorrigible!" He scoops her up in his arms. "Of course, you realize," he purrs. "This means war." And with that, he helps lift her from the couch, cuddling her close to him as he carries her. "We're both going to wind up with some kiss-marks at this rate," he teases. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

And with that, the couple vanish into the bedroom. Pothy is going to be annoyed. Hopefully he can't get into the brandy decanter, or he may find a whole new experience to catalogue.