Scraps of Lore

Log Info

• Title: Scraps of Lore

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Lupecyll-Atlon home
• Summary: Telamon completes a divination to seek lore on the Corpse-Eater. While it's not as practical as he might've hoped, it yields up an image from the past, and the name of a fey woman who may have an axe to grind with the Corpse-Eater as well.

Lupecyll-Atlon home, morning.

There's a fresh coat of snow everywhere from the whiteout conditions outside of the Lupecyll-Atlon home. But inside, the house is nice and warm, the scent of freshly baked biscuits wafting through the house as Cor'lana takes them out of the wood-fire oven.

It's cozy... even if the study's been co-opted into a casting room. It's been days since Telamon started on the process of casting a particular spell, one that requires attention, care, and--most importantly of all--time. Cor'lana's done her duty, which is to bring Telamon plenty of tea and food during the casting.

But the spell is nearly concluded. Cor'lana raps gently on the door before opening, holding a tray with a teacup and a freshly baked biscuit with a slab of butter melted on top. "Breakfast?" she asks gently.

When Telamon decided to tackle this (using his arcane robe and a scroll he'd picked up), he didn't expect it'd take this damned long. The first few days weren't bad, but it just dragged on... and on... and on. The study's been rearranged so that Tel can sit crosslegged in the center, his expression meditative as he lets the spell coil and uncoil in his mind.

His eyes closed, he sees stars blazing past, moving faster. Something like a vast ephemeral cloud of shimmering light passes by, pulsing with potential. And far off, he can hear the whispers, calm and confident, slowly rising upward until... 'Breakfast'?

He opens his eyes reluctantly, the spell not broken, but receding slightly into his consciousness. Looking around the small study, he pushes himself to his feet, before raking a hand through his hair, and going to the door. "Hey there, starshine," he says with a smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning, my love," Cor'lana replies with a wide smile, holding the tray out to him. "Morning cup of tea and a biscuit fresh from the oven for you. I experimented a little--there's an egg set into the center." Indeed, there's an egg inside the biscuit, perfectly softboiled, peeking out from underneath the melted butter.

Once he takes the tray, she leans up and kisses him on the lips--just a little peck. "How close are you now?" she asks. "Do you want me to help? Maybe record what you learn in my journal?"

Telamon kisses her back lightly. "You are a treasure. I'll repay the favor tonight -- Burz gave me some pointers on roasting and grilling." His eyes twinkle, as he takes the platter and cup before sitting down at the desk.

"I think I'll be able to record it. It's... this spell is very strange. It feels less like I'm being -told- things and more like I'm -remembering- them -- despite the fact I didn't know it to start with." He takes a bite of the biscuit, and mmms, chewing with gusto. "Oh, that -is- good." A swallow of tea chases it down.

"In any case, the spell does seem to be coming to a conclusion. I was..." He pauses. "When I was meditating, I was soaring through the stars, and I saw... well, I don't know what it was. It was like a vast, multicolored -cloud- in the void, and I -knew- it was where I was going."

Cor'lana's violet eyes light up a little as she sees that Telamon's enjoying her cooking. "I'm glad," she says. "Sometimes the experiments don't pay off, but at least they're not as... explosive as the ones you've tried before." Of course, she's referring to the alchemy incident from almost a year ago.

She looks down at the center of the room, where Telamon's been working the spell and has had all of the accoutrements to go with it. Cor'lana looks thoughtful for a long moment. "Perhaps it's the Watcher, showing you the way you're supposed to go," she offers as she steps into the room.

Her violet eyes lock onto Telamon, and a memory of sorts comes up to the surface of his mind--the Corpse Eater's violet eyes, but... not in the Memorial Gardens. Elsewhere. A memory borrowed that, if he pulls on it, it will come forward like a loose thread in a coat.

"Unlikely. This one won't involve alchemy -- just a stove. I'd try it outside, but what with the weather being how it is..." Telamon mock shudders. "No thanks. The snow was coming down sideways the other day. I'd need magic just to avoid getting snowed in."

Tel was evidently quite hungry, as he wolfs the biscuit down, before slowing down to savor his tea. "Damn. I've been up a couple hours, I didn't realize how hungry I was till you walked in. But, again... thank you, love."

His eyes meet hers, and deep in his own starry gaze, there's a flicker of light. The memory bubbling up, like air rising from water, and he focuses on it, mentally -reaching-.

The scene shifts before Telamon, the magic of the spell taking hold as he reaches for it. The memory comes freely, almost too easily after hours and days of effort. (Perhaps it was ordained by the stars to be this way; perhaps it was--)

Gone is the cozy home. No cup of tea to soothe his nerves or warm his bones in his hand, although the memory of its weight remains in Telamon's fingers. What is replaced is a darkened forest home, and by the *feel* of the air, Telamon somehow knows instinctively that this is somewhere in Quelynos. But the violet-eyed man who bores down into his soul with his gaze grins in the same disgusting manner as in the Memorial Gardens, taking two steps forward.

"Don't touch me," a voice from behind Telamon snarls, before she dissolves into sobbing. "Don't--"

She's a fey woman, that much is apparent. Her dark eyes are jet-black, no iris nor pupil to break up the dark. Yet the anguish that's in her curved face imparts all the emotion that can't be read in her eyes. Her waves of auburn hair are caked with dark blood that seeps out from the body of a man in her arms--a fey man with pale, pale skin and golden waves of hair that are rapidly dyed black at the ends as they touch his blood. His throat has been slit--and the weapon is in the woman's hand, which trembles terribly as she beholds the Corpse Eater.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about your husband?" the Corpse Eater croons, taking another step on the wooden floor. It echoes like he's in a hall much larger than the small home he's actually in. "Or, well, I see it's too late for that. He's already dead, isn't he?"

The woman hisses terribly at him, her hand trembling even harder. "Because you've been harassing us! Because you've been wearing his skin and have nearly tricked us before into straying from each other! Because I thought he was /you/, you sick fucking bastard!"

The accusations only make the Corpse Eater giggle as he takes yet another step. By now, he is past Telamon, but unlike Nadina in the library--this is not a self-aware specter. Fortunately. "I know, darling. It was all quite so fun. Unfortunately for you, Alba... You're not /invited/ to this meal."

There's a look of complete fear on the woman's face, and she morphs into a barn owl that takes flight out of the house, screaming and screeching her loss. The last image that Telamon receives before the memory fades is one last look at the Corpse Eater as he picks the man off the floor... and begins to tear into his flesh.

"Telamon? Tel, are you okay?" Cor'lana's voice is panicked. She's holding his teacup when he is back in the real world. Away from the Corpse Eater. Away from the memory.

Telamon's eyes are wide, pits of darkness shot with distant gleams. His face is pale and tense, as he looks around suddenly. "I... a memory. Not sure whose it was. But... I saw -him-, the Corpse-Eater."

He reaches out to take the teacup from Lana again, putting it to his lips a moment. "He'd... toyed with someone. In Quelynos. The same way he tried to play with us, the way he'd toyed with Grandfather and his wife. Taking their form. And..." He shudders, staring into the cup. "She accidentally killed her husband. Sick, sick bastard. He was reveling in it."

Cor'lana looks utterly horrified, her violet eyes wide in a way that terror could never be shown in the Corpse Eater's eyes. "Do you... Do you think that's his endgame?" she says. "He picks people to toy with, and he eventually builds them up to such paranoia that one of them kills the other? He didn't succeed with Grandfather and his wife, but..."

She looks at Telamon, her hands trembling now like the fey woman that Telamon had seen in the memory. "I... I couldn't handle it if I did that to you, Telamon. I'd... That poor woman. That /poor/ woman."

Telamon takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "It makes sense," he says, trying to remain clinical, calm. "He's a sadist, so he takes special glee in hurting people. How much would it hurt someone to wound or kill the person they love?" He clenches his jaw, and focuses, replaying the stolen memory in his mind. "She was fey. Black eyed -- not like mine, completely black. Redheaded. Her husband was pale skinned with blond hair. Golden, not silvery like mine. When he started to--" He pauses, then continues, "When he was gloating, she turned into an owl, and flew away."

Tel takes another breath, "Alba. He called her Alba."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls hmm: aliased to Sense Motive+3: (13)+19+3: 35

GAME: Telamon rolls spacebs: aliased to Bluff+3: (6)+22+3: 31

Cor'lana takes in the description of the fey woman and her mate. The trembling is still there in her hands, but it lessens a little when the subject turns to the Corpse Eater's victims and not so much the sadist himself. Her expression turns a bit thoughtful when Telamon mentions the woman turned into an owl. "I wonder if Grandfather knew her," she says.

But then she looks at Telamon again. A few seconds pass, and she says, "There's... more you're not telling me. I promise I can handle it, Tel." Her hands go to cup around his. "I'm your wife. We can handle everything together. The good and the bad. And... no scrap of information should go unheard by the both of us."

Telamon closes his eyes, then opens them again. "Should've known better than to try and hide it," he remarks. "Though it's pretty unpleasant. After he was done gloating, she fled, but not before he started to eat him."

He looks up. "Like I said: sick. And worse, other than the name..." He sighs. "I admit I was hoping for something a little more tangible, a little more practical. Like he's vulnerable to rose blossom petals, or he can't use his powers in a snowstorm or something. Still, like you said... every scrap we can find, we need."

Cor'lana looks a little queasy, yes, but she manages to recover after a moment. "I... guess I shouldn't have expected anything less from a man who calls himself the Corpse Eater," she says. "That really /is/ his endgame, then. It's not enough to just feast on the flesh of the dead. He wants... Ugh, for lack of a better phrase, 'dinner and a show'."

She looks thoughtful for a moment. "We should find this Alba," she says. "If the spell showed her to you, she might be the key to understanding more about him. Did you happen to see what sort of owl she transformed into? We could have the pixies on alert in case they spot her."

Telamon reaches out to take Lana's hand, as if to anchor himself. "Yeah. I mean... there's meat eating, but to him, I think the 'show' is just as important, if not more so, than the meal." He shudders, squeezing her fingers. "Bastard is closer to being a demon than he might believe. Hmm."

That line of thought shifts as Cor'lana speaks to him, and he focuses. "Barn owl. Absolutely a barn owl. That scream ... you never quite forget that. And there was all kinds of pain in it too, that a normal owl wouldn't have." He draws her hand to his lips, kissing the curuchuil at the back of her hand. "I wonder if Grandfather knows her? It might be worth asking him."

Cor'lana's hand is warm, and the wedding mark on her hand that binds him to her is a further comfort. "You and I both know that enjoyment of suffering isn't limited to only demons," she says. "If it weren't for the fact that using it on the Corpse Eater would bring the Wild Hunt down on my soul and unmake me, I'd use the Queen's 'loan' for just that--killing him once and for all."

But she smiles at Telamon--it's impossible for her /not/ to smile when he kisses the curuchuil--and her hand remains in his. "I'd love it if Grandfather came over," she remarks. "Granted, this is certainly not the weather for him to be flying in. I..."

She blinks. "I just realized I was about to assume that he knows Alba on account of them both being... bird-themed fey? That's an awfully large assumption to make."

Telamon nods sourly. "Believe me, if it wasn't for that oath... but..." His eyebrows rise. "I wonder if he'd be willing to chance it? I mean, he might not know about the oath. That might be enough to give him pause, though it's bluffing with a broken court."

"I didn't think he would know her on account of being bird-associated. More like they both had associations with the Corpse-Eater. Such encounters can bring people together who might normally not have common grounds." He rubs her hand against his cheek. "You know, like how sorcery can bring together a lovely young woman and a charming young man?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to even bluff about it," Cor'lana says with a frown. "Her Majesty likely has eyes and ears in many places here in the mortal realm... And if I want to maintain open diplomatic relations with other members of the nobility that we might need to call on, I should demonstrate that I am someone who keeps my word. That I am not just a mortal with a drop of noble fey blood in me--I am someone who they could treat as an equal."

But then her eyes twinkle and she smirks. "You mean how sorcery brought together a former shut-in and a dashing young diplomat together? Pothy will forever claim credit for engineering our meeting, however."

She scratches her head a little as she grins. "Speaking of which, I didn't expect that me leaving the house yesterday to fetch snacks for Pothy would result in rescuing a little boy, but... I'm very glad I went."

Telamon mulls it over, but nods. "I'll defer to you on that. Though considering all I've seen, and Grandfather's tales, I wouldn't blame you if you took an opportunity to thumb them in the eye every so often."

He gets up slowly, and stretches. "Gods, I'm stiff. You mentioned that you'd gotten caught up in finding a child. I'm glad it worked out." His eyes twinkle. "Was the lad as taken with you as I was? I only got rolled around and wound up having to wait out some of the storm in the temple of Eluna."

Cor'lana grins a little. "Don't mistake my desire to remain on good terms with the fey as subservience," she says. "I just simply want to keep our options open. Take from the fey as we will, and barter what we need in exchange."

She takes Telamon's hand, the grin growing wider. "Let's go to the living room," she suggests. To the safety of the comfy couch, no doubt. "And... Well, the little boy was a bit taken with me. He told me I was very pretty as we took him back to the orphanage."

Telamon chuckles softly. "Then he clearly has good taste." As the couple move back to the living room, and the comfy couch, Tel cuddles up with Lana. "Hmph. I think the study might need some better insulation, it's a little cooler in there than in the rest of the house."

"I'm glad you were able to rescue him. Hopefully he won't have to stay at the orphanage forever. Some places, especially the Althean ones, are run quite well, but I've heard of others where the children are not treated kindly." Tel looks at her with interest. "How did he find himself outside in such a snowstorm?"

"Perhaps I'll have a carpenter or someone come in and take a look at the study," Cor'lana comments as she cuddles up to Telamon. One of the various blankets that tends to adorn the couch is quickly pulled down and thrown about the sorcerous couple. Cor'lana looks rather pleased with the situation as she nuzzles into his shoulder.

"Well, he had only just arrived at the orphanage recently, and... He was homesick. Children don't often understand /why/ they can't go back home when they're orphaned, or why Mother isn't... around anymore." The reason for the pause in her words is obvious, but no tears come. "Pothy found a sweetbun he'd partially eaten and tossed out, which led us to believe he'd tried to go home. Unfortunately, we found him buried in a passage through a snowbank."

Cor'lana smirks a little. "Patch and I were the smallest ones there, so I volunteered to tie the rope around myself and go down the hole. It was... a little harrowing. There was some crazed man inside the house nearby that was trying to call down magic, and... The space around the house itself was strangely devoid of snow. I'm still unsure of what was really happening there. But little Jameson is back at the orphanage, safe and sound, although I'm hoping I didn't break his little heart too hard when I told him that my husband agrees that I am very pretty."

Telamon nods soberly, making sure Lana is wrapped up in the blankets and in his arms. Letting her tell the tale, reaching up to stroke her hair as she does. He smiles faintly at how Pothy had tracked him, but then his brow furrows. "That... hm. If the man wasn't so old... but..." He taps his fingers. "That -almost- sounds like what I call 'talent'. That's usually how it first manifests -- weird, half-controlled magical abilities. I wonder... I might pay a call on the man. See if he's all right."

His expression lightens at Lana's comment about heartbreaking. "He'll be fine, the lad I mean. But he might remember the dark haired fey angel who saved him for years to come. Maybe it'll inspire him to do good things as well. Passing along the gift, as it were."

Cor'lana shrugs. "Jameson said that the man was 'the baker', and I think... the magic had more to do with the house than the man. It reminded me vaguely of that house your father was talking about--the one where the man tried to do something to subvert the ward and it backfired spectacularly on him."

She blushes a little. "'Dark haired fey angel'? The first bit is obvious, and I'll cheerfully admit to fey ancestry. Angel, I'm not so sure on." Then she grins at Telamon. "After all, as you said to me before, I think some of the things we do can hardly be considered befitting of angels."

Telamon laughs softly. "I won't tell if you won't, dear. But he'll be all right, I think. We can visit, see if they need anything for Yule at the orphanage. I grant there's only so much we can do, but... even a little might help." He kisses her cheek lightly.

He contemplates the question of the house, then scowls. "But... I mean, Phileaston was actually a decently skilled wizard. Not skilled enough, obviously, but... how would a baker do something like that?" Tel sighs, sitting back. "Now I'm -sure- someone should do a check on the fellow. The last thing we need is another house imploding."

"Doing something for Yule at the orphanage would be /wonderful/," Cor'lana agrees emphatically. "I'm sure Jameson would probably love to see me again. The orphans probably would love a little light show."

She smiles a little as she leans in a little more and nuzzles up against his cheek. "I agree," she says. "Perhaps the two of us should go together. Granted, knowing our luck, by the time we go and investigate, it will have just... disappeared. Vanished. Gone. Like out of a scary story."

Her nose wrinkles a little, recalling something. "Did your parents ever tell you scary stories?" she asks. "I just remembered how my mother would occasionally tell me stories about things she'd encountered. I think I had a nightmare about the undead for weeks when I was younger."

He laughs softly. "Our vast sorcerous talents, used to entertain children. Well... there are worse things to do. No, I don't mind doing that, I'm just chuckling at some of the more... uptight wizards I've known who dislike magic being used casually." Tel grins. "Their loss."

At the mention of the house vanishing, and scary stories, Telamon hmmms. "Well, if it's disappeared, that WOULD be an issue... but I've no objection to going with backup, especially if it's you. I really would like to know if this is connected to the ley-line fluctuations." Tel offers a small grin. "Oddly, no. Father wasn't really an -adventurer-, though he did adventures. He had some amusing stories to tell, but nothing scary. I didn't find out about scary tales till I was a little older." He shudders. "Trust me, there's nothing charming about mimics."

"You have to wonder if those uptight wizards were ever children once, themselves," Cor'lana speculates with a grin. "Maybe they simply appeared one day in Ea as grumpy old people and never recovered."

She continues to remain close to Telamon. It's rather warm underneath the blanket and with their embrace, which drives off some of the fear that one normally would have in talking about odd houses and scary stories. "Somehow have never encountered a mimic yet," she comments, "but there's still plenty of time to change that. I suppose we'll see what awaits us in the future."

Cor'lana looks at Telamon and grins. "Although I imagine our future brings us more than possible mimics."

The warmth definitely drives back the worry, the fear, and the anxiety of recent events and concerns. Telamon rests his cheek against her head, and comments, "Oh, they were children, the problem is that those days are long behind them for most. It's a shame, really. We have to set things aside as time goes on, but that doesn't mean you forget them entirely."

He laughs softly at the thought of mimics, regardless. "I will settle for a home, and children to raise, and a wife to share my days with. Everything else is secondary." He happily kisses her, giving her a squeeze. "I wonder if the weather's noticeably improved... or if we're still snowed in?"

"May we never forget," Cor'lana comments merrily, nuzzling into Telamon's cheek. "I don't ever want to forget the early days of our love and our marriage. Especially if we're going to have children--we have to be able to tell them about our childhoods, and how we met. How our love resulted in them coming to be."

She takes an idle glance over to the back door, but then she looks back at Telamon and impishly responds, "How about we pretend that we're snowed in anyway?" It appears she has ideas.