No More Hiding

Log Info

• Title: No More Hiding

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Cor'lana discovers that Ainasse is dead and Karan'taara is loose, and flees home in a panic. Fortuitously, her husband is there, along with his father Telperius. The trio discuss the grim tidings, and what moves they might take to counter any attack by Karan'taara. Once Telperius has departed for his flight to the Mythwood, Lana and Tel retire for a well-deserved nap to recover from the shock and fear of the news.

Lupecyll-Atlon home, mid-morning.

Everything is falling apart.

Or so it feels for Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon, her morning errands that took her out of the house before the sun even fully rose in the sky entirely forgotten as she hurries home, clutching a wicker basket close to her person as her violet eyes bloom in tears. Overhead, a worried Pothy tails her in the air, landing on her shoulder.

He whimpers quietly into her ear, but it seems like whatever he's said hasn't stuck, as she just shakes her head and continues to run, her hand going for the key to the house in her bag. Eventually, she reaches the front door, and she hurriedly unlocks it, shutting the door behind her.

Her back thumps against the door as she buries her face into her hands, and she slides slowly down to the floor. "Please," she murmurs. "I don't..."

"It's okay, Lana," Pothy says, nuzzling into her hair. "They don't know where he is. The article said he was probably outside of Alexandros by now. He can't hurt you if he's not here."

It takes Lana a minute to realize there's voices in the house. Hard voices. One is her husband, the other is his father. Then, footsteps. "Lana!" Telamon had missed her own fear and worry over the telepathic bond, so wound up with his own emotions. Then he's there, his arms around her, cuddling her into his chest.

Standing beyond him is Telperius Atlon, his angular features taut and angry -- not at Tel or Lana, but at the news he was obligated to bring. "Is she all right, son?" His voice is gentle, striving to push down his own frustration.

"I think so..." Tel presses his brow to Lana's, reaching through the bond. (Come on, darling. Talk to me.)

The emotions through the telepathic bond are, to put it lightly, a mess. The stress feels like a steel-weighted ball weighing hard on the mind, combined with the pangs of fear. Rather than one line of thought, there's several, all in Cor'lana's voice to the point where it's hard to discern a coherent consensus.

(Run. Hide. Run. Hide.)

(I'm so scared.)

(You can hide again, like you did before.)

(You're good at hiding. And at running away. You're a natural!)

(I don't want to hide anymore! I don't want to run--)

But then Telamon's arms wrap around her, and the voices quiet. The weight lifts, ever so slightly, and the fear feels... Well, it's still there, but it feels less like a bug that's about to be stomped by the inevitable boot and more of a curtain draped over the bond.

(I'm so scared.) Cor'lana's mental voice is uneasy. It shakes just like she would if she was talking. (How did he break out? Is he going to come after us? Is the Corpse Eater involved?)

(I don't know. I just found out myself, from father.) Telamon kisses the top of her head. Aloud, he says, "Father, can you put the kettle on? I think we need something to drink and it's a little early to start on the wine."

Telperius's mouth quirks as he suppresses a chuckle at his son's levity, and nods. "I'll get it started. You take care of the important matters." Not that Telamon needs the reminder.

As his father heads into the kitchen, Tel kisses her again. (Listen to me. Listen. You are not that scared little girl. You are the child of the Feathered One, and my wife. I -know- how strong you are. Don't give in to that fear.) He squeezes her gently. (Whatever happens, we face it together.) Mentally, it feels like he's gently pushing back the waves of terror and anxiety, creating a space for her to breathe, to think.

Telamon's reassurance works. Cor'lana not only relaxes in his arms, but the dark waves recede, and she murmurs, "I love you," both out loud and in her head. She closes her eyes, and the sound of feathered wings beating on the wind followed by the calling of ravens are heard in the bond.

(Right. I am the Feathered One's daughter. I am a Lupecyll-Atlon. I can defend myself now.) It's a reassuring voice, that thought. There's the faintest tug of a little smile at Cor'lana's lips, and her arms go up around Telamon as she squeezes him back.

Pothy, meanwhile, looks at Telamon handling things, and he announces, "I'll help Telperius." So he leaves and flies into the kitchen, presumably to use Tel-elder's shoulder as his roost for the moment. "Make sure to use the lavender-mint. That's their favorite." ... He's trying to help.

Carefully, Telamon helps his wife to her feet. (If it makes you feel better, the news almost knocked me over. You missed father and I having an absolutely marvelous conversation where we were both shouting without actually yelling at each other.) A memory bubbles up, very recent indeed, from Telamon's point of view:

"What do you mean, -he escaped-?!" Telamon snarls. "How the hell do you escape from that place?" Telperius's expression mirrors Telamon's, all barely concealed fury. "I don't know, son! I got a priority letter from a friend in Ylvaliel, and I immediately came here first thing. But nobody wants to talk about it, partly since--"

The memory breaks off as Telamon flinches a little at what his father told him. Aloud, he says to Lana, "Ainasse's dead. And while neither of us are going to miss her much... that's going to be a hell of a mess politically."

Cor'lana at least maintains a steady footing as she rises up, although she remains close to Telamon. She nods quietly to him. "I imagine none of us will get clear details on what happened to Ainasse for a while," she says. "If ever. I'm sure between that and the Veil, some people in Llyranost have their hands very, very full."

She walks with Telamon to the couch in the living room, taking a seat there. "I'm not bothered by her dying." And that's true--there's a quiet sense of relief in the bond that she's gone, although there's no joy associated with it. "It's just... him that I'm worried about."

Telamon sits down next to Lana, and folds his arms around her as they sit on the couch. "It may be a while. There's going to be scandal, accusations, diplomatic insults..."

"In other words, a day ending in 'Y' for me," Telperius remarks, as he returns from the kitchen bearing the kettle and four mugs. Setting it down on the table, he grabs one of the dining room chairs to sit in, all while Pothy rides on his shoulder. "The fact that Ainasse was practically disowned and not particularly well liked doesn't enter into it. She was a member of House Son'doriel, so they're obligated to take action. Can't have members of the house thinking they might get hung out to dry with the linens."

Telamon pours the tea, and nods. "Which just leaves the other half of the spell. Karan'taara. Hmmm..." His expression grows thoughtful, and through the bond Lana can sense his mind working -- but what bubbles up is an image of the Guild.

(Are you thinking about contacting the Guild for help?) Cor'lana asks through the mental link, looking at Telamon. But in the meantime, she just takes one of the mugs and quietly sips it, letting the tea soothe her a little.

"Clearly, you just need to find him and then give him everything you've got, Tel," Pothy suggests. "So he won't mess with you and Lana anymore. Although I think he'd be pretty foolish to try that again... unless he's ordered to do so."

Telamon's eyes flick to Lana, as he's taking a sip of his tea as well. (Maybe. I have an idea, but--)

Telperius clears his throat, and it's clear he's hiding a smile behind his own mug. "Telamon mentioned you'd fixed a telepathic bond, but he needs to be less obvious when he's talking to you with it."

Telamon flushes a bit. "Sorry father. Well... I'm thinking we have plenty of evidence, and it's not like this bastard wasn't wanted. So why not put a bounty on his head? Something poetic -- say, start at the weight of his head in platinum. We can go higher if we need to."

Cor'lana looks a little embarrassed, too, but at least she's smiling. "It's a new development for us," she admits. "We're still getting used to how it works. Pothy's had to remind us, too."

"I don't like being left out," Pothy whines in a way that's far more appropriate for the cherubic young boy that he sounds like. "They'll have whole conversations sometimes in their head and I have to eat my snacks in /total/ silence!"

Cor'lana just shakes her head. Her expression turns back to a more sober one as she looks at Telamon and says, "That sounds agreeable to me. A bounty means that he can be flushed out by other adventurers, perhaps."

Telperius raises his brows. "It'll have to go through the Guild, and we'll have to clear it here with the Alexandrian authorities. They -don't- like contract killings, no matter how deserving the target." He takes a drink, before continuing, "However, I have faith you two can sweet-talk them."

Telamon nods to Lana. "Even if they don't do more than cause him grief, it might keep him off balance. If he can't lay any plans because he's too busy watching his back, he may simply opt to flee the region entirely." His eyes glitter, hard and cold, and Lana can sense his thoughts are as merciless as the spaces between stars. "Let's see how eager he is to play his sick games when so many people are interested in claiming his head as a trophy."

There's a sense of agreement within the bond about Telamon's mercilessness, as well as a comfort in Telamon's plan. "Watch him flee to Charn," Cor'lana says. "I have a feeling he'll be more than at home there compared to here. So long as he's there and not here, I will at least sleep a bit easier even knowing that he's free."

She leans over and puts her head on Telamon's shoulder with a smile, still sipping her tea. "He's a clear and present danger," she replies to Telperius. "Better for public safety that he's dead than he is alive, especially where he's demonstrated he can /somehow/ get out of a box."

Her eyes narrow. "I think... he might have had outside help. But that's just my suspicion."

Telamon gives his wife a squeeze. "If they don't exile him. Even Charn has standards, though you'd be hard-pressed to reach those limits." He shakes his head. "But no, sometimes the best you can hope for is to simply run him off, terrify him with the consequences of his actions so that he avoids you for the rest of his days."

At Cor'lana's suspicion, Telperius and Telamon both smile sardonically at each other, and a mixture of pride and wry humor leaks down the telepathic bond. Telperius is the one to speak, though. "That would be because you are a very intelligent woman, Cor'lana. Those cells are not some Rosalian drunk tank. They were specifically crafted to hold persons with great power in their hands."

"You don't just walk out of someplace like that," Telamon adds. "When I went there to speak to him, they wouldn't even let me -in- unless I surrendered all my gear. You can't even pass anything to the prisoners without the wardens looking it over -- not that I tried."

"In other words... There's something internally going on, and that's part of why there's such a tight lid on everything," Cor'lana remarks. "They don't want it leaking out that maybe there's a warden that accepted a bribe, or was bespelled, or... all manner of things. And I'm sure the Son'doriel house tying up the Ainasse side of the investigation doesn't help matters, either."

She sighs a little. "So, nothing will get loose until you rattle the cage. I know you have your hands full, dearest Father, but I'd appreciate if you can keep an ear out for anything at all about the case, and let Tel and I know if there's any new developments."

Telperius nods gravely. "I'm turning over my work here on the alliance to my cohorts -- you'd remember Benvarius Glaur'ranala, son. He'll be taking over the negotiations while I return to the Mythwood to see what I can turn up."

Tel's eyebrows rise. "Ben? Damn, it's been years. I might drop in and see if there's anything I can do for him in turn." Tel rubs his chin, before looking at his father, and then to Lana again. "In the meantime, all we can do is be careful. I'm going to drop some words in the ears of my friends. Make it known that if Karan'taara came to an unfortunate end, well... the house of Lupecyll-Atlon would be -most- grateful. And our gratitude might come in very tangible forms." He makes a gesture like shaking a coin purse, and grins.

"House of Lupecyll-Atlon? You make it sound like we're a sprawling dynasty," Cor'lana snickers. "It's just us... for now, that is. At least we have some savings from our work as adventurers to pay out."

She looks to Telperius. "I'm... almost scared to ask, but is Mother still talking about grandchildren?" Of course, Telamon receives the mental images of the little girls from the dream again through the bond, as well as the feelings of fondness associated with them.

"What do -you- think?" Telperius replies with a slight grin. "She's pulled out the children's garments we still had from when Tel was a boy and is tidying them up, as well as knitting some new ones. Her comment was, 'I'll be damned if my grandchildren only get their clothes from that immortal pointy-eared featherhead.'."

A wash of amusement flows down the bond as Telamon begins to laugh. "Oh, no. Oh, mother, you're going to try and match tailoring skills with Alud'rigan?" He shakes his head. "She -does- understand it may be a couple years, right?"

Telperius nods. "I would... ask that you not wait -too- long. The lifespan of the half-sil is twice that of a human, and I would not mind seeing her with those new grandchildren." He makes a cutting gesture with his hand. "That is all I will say on the matter. This is -your- life, not mine or your mother's."

"We're giving it a few years before we start," Cor'lana replies with a grin. "Although I'll refrain from passing her description of Grandfather over to him. He might welcome the competition, but I'm not sure how he'd take the epithet."

Pothy sighs. "They want to have plenty of time to themselves before I get my tail feathers pulled," he laments to Telperius. "Do you know how often Lana pulled my feathers when she was a baby?"

Telamon chuckles as well. "I don't think he'd mind. He's seen a lot of mortals -- the good and the bad -- and I think he knows the difference between a bit of teasing and a serious insult." He shrugs lightly. "But still. We're not going to wait till mother is old and grey, father. I won't do that to her -- or you."

"That's all I can ask, son." Telperius smiles at the couple, and drains his tea. "I need to go. I've got an airship to catch that'll take me back to the Mythwood." He sighs. "I won't lie, this... part of me almost wondered if this would happen. The scandal-sheets and mudrakers are going to have the time of their lives coming up with conspiracies and schemes."

"I'm sure they will," Cor'lana says with a little sigh. "They'll have such fun with... all of this. Until something else happens that gets their attention. It's Alexandria, so something's bound to come up sooner rather than later."

But she offers Telperius a smile anyway. "I hope your airship ride is, at least, pleasant. Please give Mother our regards?" Yes, she's speaking for Telamon here.

"That's the gods' own truth," Telamon remarks sourly. "I was about to start sending out demands for satisfaction to all those mudrakers calling you 'the temptress of Alexandria'." He leans back in the couch, and squeezes Lana's shoulders. "Well, maybe we'll get lucky and the attention will work against Karan'taara. It'd be -such- a shame if people were looking for him."

Telperius smiles. "Luck is nice, but I prefer to not rely on it." He sets the mug down, before rising. "Don't get up," he says firmly. "I'll see myself out. And don't worry, I'll give your mother said regards and a big hug besides." His eyes soften. "She wanted to come down right away and camp in your living room with that sword. Something about 'I'll have his manhood for a trophy'." Telperius's dark eyes twinkle. "In any case, she will be visiting again when the snows subside. Just a warning."

That mental image of Ariana in the living room with a sword gets a happy, happy little laugh out of Cor'lana, barely managing to not spill her tea. "Honestly, it might have made me feel a little safer--but please assure her, we are /safe/ here," she says. "The house is warded against evil now. I don't think that necromancer can get in like he did before."

"That's right!" Pothy says, happily. "He can't!"

Cor'lana smiles brightly. The fear seems to have vanished from her now, for it's not present in the space of the bond. It seems all she needed was to talk it through and to have the reassurance of both her husband and her father-in-law. "We'll be fine, promise. Have a good trip, Father."

Swiftly, Telperius slips out, the door closing behind him. Telamon gestures, and his unseen servant throws the lock, before he returns to holding Lana again. One hand moves over to pet Pothy as well, before gathering the raven into the hug in turn. "I'm sorry you had to find out through the Tribune, of all things." He sounds mildly irritated. "I would've tried to break it to you here at home."

Resting his head against hers, he ponders. "I'll go talk to the Guild as soon as I can, and then with the Watch. I've still got copies of the paperwork filed when the charges were laid against Karan'taara and Ainasse, so I'll bring those as well."

"I was just in time to see the morning Tribune," Cor'lana says with a sigh. "I wish I'd been here at home, too, although the shouting might have made things worse."

She curls in tighter into Telamon as he holds her. She closes her eyes. "Don't go running off just yet," she requests gently. "Stay here, with me."

Pothy is more than happy to be in the hug, but he does look up at Telamon with knowing blue eyes. "I'll leave you two be," he says, flapping off into the study.

Telamon opens his mouth, but then closes it as Pothy departs. "He didn't have to leave," he admits. He hugs Lana close, stroking her hair. "Father says the past is always with us. I don't think he meant it quite this literally, though." Smiling, he touches his cheek to her head, and speaks through the bond.

(I'm not going anywhere, love. I didn't plan on heading out for a bit.) Just as he holds her close physically, he reaches through the bond to enfold her in his thoughts as well.

Cor'lana just stays there for a long moment, there in Telamon's arms. In the bond, too, she's close to him, taking in his warmth in a sense of closeness that is beyond what they've had before.

"I wish I knew more words for love," she says after a while, opening her eyes. "So that I could say 'I love you' in more ways than just one. But I'll have to settle for just saying it by acting."

So she leans in and kisses him for a long moment, drawing back with a small smile. "I feel... exhausted," she admits. "So, I think I'll take a nap."

"Maybe try it in different languages," Telamon suggests with a smile. "I can teach a few. But I think I like it from you best, regardless of how you say it." He holds her close for a long moment, before nodding. "We've both had a bit of a shock... and frankly, I feel wrung out too. Like I just ran from the gate to here, on foot, no breaks."

He takes her hand, as he rises up, helping her stand as well. "We'll just curl up in bed, and if Pothy wants to cuddle up too he's welcome. But let's just remember that we're not alone, and we can win through this together."

And with that, Tel leads his bride back to bed.