Things That Go Screech in the Night

Log Info

• Title: Things That Go Screech in the Night

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Ravenstongue wakes up just after midnight because of a nightmare--only to find a barn owl at her bedroom window that screeches at her. This wakes up Telamon, and when the barn owl flies off, he springs into concerned spouse-to-be mode, going into the kitchen to make a pot of tea to calm the nerves. Ravenstongue cuddles with Plushthy, the almost 1:1 plushie replica of Pothy, on the couch as she talks to Telamon about the nature of the nightmare. They talk for some time about Pothy, Grandfather, wedding shawls, knitting, and children before Ravenstongue decides it's time for try #2 at getting some sleep. The half-elves go back to bed.

(Content warning: brief mention of body horror. Please read with care.)

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

Lúpecyll-Atlon house, just after midnight.

There's something to be said for witching hours. It's said to be the time where the veil between planes is the thinnest, which is why some conjuration rituals are often recommended to be performed after a certain hour to make things easier on the summoners involved.

Cor'lana is asleep in her fiance's arms. It'd be truly comfortable and peaceful if it wasn't for the nightmare that she was contending with.

But Cor'lana's eyes flutter open--and she groans softly, maneuvering a hand out from underneath Telamon's arm wrapped around her form to paw at her cheeks. It's a groggy, hard awakening--

And her violet eyes widen as she hears the sound of wings by the bedroom window.

Cor'lana slips out of her fiance's embrace and the bed, feet quietly hitting the cold wooden floors. Her eyes narrow as she looks at the window. She quietly creeps closer... and stops.

There's a barn owl staring at her.

It used to be that Telamon didn't get to bed till late at night -- he was, to use the term, a night owl. Only after he started living with Cor'lana did his hours start slowly shifting back to something approaching 'normal'. And so he was happily slumbering in his warm bed with his warm fiancee.

When she rouses, though, and slips out from under his arm, he makes a funny little garbled sound, stirring in his sleep. He's not awake yet, but he may soon be, as Lana's sudden absence disturbs him.

Cor'lana stares at the barn owl for a long moment, safe on the other side of the window--but there's the creature sitting on her windowsill. The thing peers at her with dark and inscrutable eyes--

And then it calls. It's a thing halfway between a woman shrieking and a bird hissing, and Cor'lana yelps as it calls, backing away from the window. "Shit! Fuck! Get away from--"

The barn owl calls again, rasping at Cor'lana, before it flies off, seeming to respond to her Sylvan words of fear.

-That- wakes Telamon up. It's probably a small relief that Lana's voice, raised in concern, is enough to trigger a reflexive response as he suddenly sits bolt upright. "What the--"

Rubbing his sleep blurred eyes, as he sees the owl for one moment before it flies off. "...The hells? Lana, are you all right?" He levers himself off the bed, standing and going to her, reaching out to put his arms around her as he glares outside.

There's naught outside now--save for the distant noises of students stumbling away from pubs and the calls of other owls in the distance--perhaps familiars communicating with each other under the light of the moon--but not the call of the barn owl. Wherever it's gone, it's staying quiet. Probably the best for its continued survival.

Cor'lana wraps her arms tightly around him and pushes her head under Telamon's chin, shivering a little. "Sorry," she murmurs. "I woke up from a scary dream and... then that happened. Creeped me out."

Telamon strokes her hair, tucking her under his chin. "Startled me too," he admits. He nuzzles her gently, "I don't think either of us is getting back to sleep for a bit. Why don't we put on some robes and I'll put the kettle on for some tea?" He kisses her brow, smiling down at her.

"Queen of my heart. I am here, to protect you and comfort you as you wish." he murmurs in Sylvan. Giving her a squeeze, letting his embrace drive away the fear.

Cor'lana nods. There's a little shake that's present in her arms and hands, but it's stilled with Telamon's affection and words. She just holds him for a long moment before she finally lets go of him and goes to her dresser to pull out one of her fluffy bathrobes--sure, she has nice silk ones, but this isn't an occasion for those.

She dons her robes and finds her own silly bear slippers, the match to Telamon's own, and pads out into the living room, lighting the place up with a flick of her hands to light some candles around the room. Plushthy happened to be left on the couch the previous evening, and she's cuddling the toy for comfort. "I thought I was done with strange birds waking me up in the middle of the night," she murmurs.

Telamon follows out once he's found one of his own robes -- a dark blue one for a change, with white stars on it. Feet firmly ensconced in his own bear slippers, he smiles at her as he passes by to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and mixing up the mint-lavender tea both Lana and himself have grown fond of.

"I know we both have a tendency to see portents and warnings these days -- especially with our own personal connections -- but it's possible that owl was just an owl, after all." His voice is soothing. "I mean, it didn't even complain or offer a greeting."

"It was almost certainly just an owl," Cor'lana says with a sigh as she squeezes Plushthy. One of Plushthy's magical powers is that it's impossible to frown while squeezing the soft toy, and this is certainly the case now as Cor'lana has a tiny smile on her face. "I mean, it didn't stop to deliver some sort of message, like you said. It just happened to be at the window when I woke up, and it freaked out like I freaked out."

She gives Plushthy another squeeze and her smile widens a little more. "I should have had one of these when I was younger. Then again, I had the real deal when I was younger, too--although not as my familiar. Pothy still liked to cuddle with me when he was free."

As the kettle heats, Telamon pulls down a couple of mugs from the cupboard. "You also said you were having a bad dream," he adds. "That probably didn't help either. Frankly, I've had enough of bad dreams and nightmares for a good long time, myself."

When the kettle begins to whistle, he picks it up, pouring tea into the mugs before setting it to stay warm. Picking up the mugs, he walks out into the living area, sitting down on the couch next to Lana and offering her one. "Did you want to talk about it?"

Cor'lana nods deeply to Telamon's sentiment regarding the nightmares. "Me too," she says, but it's all she says, holding onto Plushthy a little tighter.

It's only when Telamon sits down on the couch that she finally sets the plush duplicate of her familiar aside, scooting close to Telamon and taking one of the mugs that he offers. She rests her head on his shoulder and closes his eyes.

"It was... A strange one," she says. "I call it a nightmare but I guess the only scary thing about it was that it felt like my back was on fire, and I remember reaching back there and... feeling stumps erupt out of my skin. They had little feathers... And I remember just this horrible pain as I felt them growing, and..."

Cor'lana purses her lips together. "Somehow, I knew that they were growing out wrong, like if they kept growing, something horrible would happen to the rest of me. I remember thinking, 'it's not supposed to be like this. Grandfather said it wouldn't hurt. Why does it hurt?'--and then I woke up and saw the barn owl."

Telamon takes a sip of his tea, before cuddling Lana close, letting her nestle in against him. "Mmm. I'm not much of a priest or a doctor, but I guess it might be nervousness. You've changed a bit, ever since you started to embrace your 'fey' side. Maybe you're worried about that?"

He kisses her cheek. "And I say 'a bit' because we all change, over time. I'm not the same man I was a year ago, or even a week. That's our nature as mortals; we change and grow over time, like a tree."

Cor'lana considers this possibility as she comes to rest her face against the flesh of Telamon's neck, although she can't help but grin as he leans a bit to kiss her cheek. "I think that makes sense," she replies. "Especially with the pact--and how I've noticed I've changed since then."

She takes a sip of her tea, too, and she finally addresses the topic she's left dangling. "I... haven't exactly been a good Navosian lately. I've given in too much to whim to be truly impartial or calculating like He asks of his followers. Not that I'm a cleric expected to follow his ideals perfectly, mind you, but... Well, it troubles me in that I'm different now--but it doesn't trouble me that I'm not a shut-in bookworm always trying to carefully balance out good and evil, will and whim. It probably should, but it doesn't. Does that make any sense?"

Telamon nods. "I don't know if I ever discussed it with you, but I never devoted myself to any one of the gods of Light or the gods of Balance. Nothing really appealed to me. I mean, I'm all for doing the right thing, but... I guess the one I'm closest to is Eluna but even then I'm not the sort who can devote themselves to a god. A person, sure. An ideal, maybe."

He takes another sip of tea. "Maybe you need to sit down and think about what you want to do, and how your fey nature is pulling you. I don't think you want to fight that aspect after you went to all the trouble to embrace it." He grins at her playfully.

"That's perfectly understandable, not having a dedicated god," Cor'lana says with a soft nod. "Really, I gravitated to Navos when I was young because I was just so... hungry for something. An anchor for my boat, to get into poetry like I usually do--something to strive for. I found that comfort in knowledge, and in knowing there is a god associated with that knowledge. And... Honestly, that reverence could even be in my blood, too. Pothy keeps going on about how he's the keeper of Knowledge for us inheritors, and Navos is known as 'the Raven'..."

But the feytouched sorceress smiles a little, stopping in her verbal journey down the path of Pothy's relationship with knowing things (even if that mostly consists of foodstuffs knowledge). "At the risk of sounding vain and possibly even giving the gods a reason to smite me," she says to Telamon, a little coyly, "I wouldn't mind being your goddess. If I'm not already."

Telamon grins, and nuzzles her fondly, careful not to spill her tea or his. "I think you already have that, yes." He furrows his brow. "Pothy... does make me wonder, though. Surely not all of his inheritors over the years have been Navosians? How does he balance that out?"

He shrugs. "I might have to ask him about it at some point. It seems curious. I wonder... you'd think something crafted by Navos, the god would... at least look in on him now and then. I mean, Pothy has this vast library of knowledge dedicated to food. Which I suppose is all right but I'm sure he was meant to collect information on more than just what tastes good."

"I don't know if Pothy was crafted by the Raven Himself," Cor'lana says with a little sheepish smile, perhaps embarrassed on Pothy's behalf. "Like you said, if he was crafted by the god, He'd check in on Pothy and... probably be aghast. Or maybe he'd approve. Someone has to collect all of that knowledge, after all. I kind of think that maybe it was one of the Raven's servitors instead--who is far too busy to check in on the mortals running around with their blessing and on the little raven they made."

She glances back in the direction of the forlorn Plushthy toy, clearly thinking about her familiar--who is almost certainly sleeping in the study. "I'm sure he was meant to be this important and powerful boon to us, yes," Cor'lana says, "but... maybe, like you said, he found it tiring to have to deal with sorcerers that have a fast and loose relationship with the Raven. Or maybe he just latched onto something that really interested him. Mom kept saying in the dream that he's 'just a child'--whatever that really means--and I remember I used to be fixated on the oddest things for periods of time when I was a child."

Cor'lana looks back at Telamon and grins. "Granted, I didn't fixate on food for what I think is probably centuries, if not eons, but... Who am I to judge? Pothy's a wonderful friend and companion when he wants to be. He got me through all of the hard times before you showed up to help take the load off him."

Telamon grins. "Well, he deserves some rest. I'm not criticizing him as a friend, merely... questioning his function, you could say." He reaches over to pick up the Plushthy toy, petting it before settling it in Lana's lap.

"There's also the issue of spellcasters themselves. Sorcerers and wizards can develop... unpleasant habits. There's a book I saw once, 'The Circles of Longing' that suggests that magic can develop into an addiction. Where a magician becomes so enthralled with the power they wield, they're compelled to reach further and further. And when they start hitting the limits of their own mortality, well... then things start to become ugly. I can't help but wonder if Pothy's had a few inheritors who were less than stellar. If so, it might've made Nadina seem downright sane in comparison."

"Right, I remember you mentioned you were... concerned, that my mother had been one of those people that went to extreme lengths to extend their lifespan when you met her in the inward dream walk," Cor'lana replies. She smiles a little as she looks down to the Plushthy toy in her lap, patting him again before taking a long sip of her tea.

The blue pearls that make up Plushthy's eyes are no substitute for the real thing, of course, but they do have their own little charm in the candlelight that keeps the room lit so late into the evening. Cor'lana looks back up from Plushthy as she says, "I think, in her own way, my mother was a Navosian too--except she was dedicated to the knowledge of pleasures. Not just in people, mind you, but in living life to its fullest. She went on adventures because she wanted to experience that thrill. She pursued power because it enabled her to do what she wanted to do. I guess that puts her almost a step between being a Tarienite and a Navosian, but she did explain it to me once that there's a such thing as collecting knowledge because it's fun. I think it's why she let me fixate on the funny little things I thought were interesting as a child."

Telamon nods, leaning into Lana gently. "The book's kind of grim on the subject. Poetic, but grim." He places his hand on hers when she pets the Plushthy toy, squeezing gently.

"I can't argue any of that. I started out at father's suggestion, because his rationale was that a diplomat was a good thing, but a sorcerer-diplomat, well... that's got some possibilities. And somewhere along the way I found out I liked derring-do, adventure, trying to set the wrong things right, and romancing lovely half-elf ladies along the way. Well, one lady." he ends with a wry grin.

"I don't know--we're still debating the logic of that other night," Cor'lana replies to his last sentiment with her own grin. "At least, I still am. Really, the thing I've taken away from that is if I met you, had just fallen heads-over-heels for you, but you were already taken... apparently I would have broken one of my cardinal rules in the hopes that you'd change your mind. Even if it killed me."

Well, that's a note more somber than she'd intended to get into--at least, so it seems by the double-take even she seems to do at that one. "Jeez. I'm a bit of a downer sometimes when all you're trying to do is cheer me up." Cor'lana shakes her head and returns the leaning gesture, turning her head to kiss him on the cheek. "I'd say you're shaping up to be the sorcerer-diplomat your father wanted rather nicely. Look at you--you've even gotten a fun little trick for anyone who tries to pry you from me through magic means!"

Telamon mmphs. "Well, it's nice to know you're just as head-over-heels for me as I am for you." He sets his empty mug down on the table, and wraps his arms around Lana gently. "Merp," he says with a smile, mimicking Pothy's usual greeting vocalization. "In any case... it's okay. We both have our burdens to bear."

Cuddling her in his arms warmly, he smiles at the compliments. "What can I say? I want to be yours. I want to stay yours. I don't want anyone else and I don't want to be with anyone else." He smiles at her. "Maybe there'll be a time when that's undiplomatic, but you know what? Don't care."

Cor'lana can't help but burst into a fit of giggles from Telamon imitating Pothy's greeting noise. "Merp?! Oh, no! Don't tell me you're turning into Pothy!" she says between bursts of her laughing fit, positively overjoyed by Telamon's whimsy.

Eventually (and with a few tears of laughter shed), Cor'lana manages to regain her breath. She snuggles into Telamon after putting her own empty cup of tea onto the table, curling herself around him. "I feel the same way, you know? It's like I said, the morning after our first time... You're mine, and I'm yours. And I don't want anything to ever change that--and if there's ever really a diplomatic event caused by our refusal to part, then that's where the destructive magic comes out and we burn everything down."

Telamon chuckles softly, enjoying her giggles as she burrows back into his embrace. "Figured you'd enjoy that," he says with a grin. Squeezing her close, happily snuggling.

"Well, I would try to be diplomatic and smooth the situation over. Once. But I won't put up with nonsense regarding us, and anyone who thinks I'm a soft touch, well... there's a reason the saying is 'steel fist inside velvet glove'." He kisses her cheek. "You're stuck with me."

Cor'lana smiles brightly at Telamon, her eyes twinkling at his last notion. Sometimes, those violet eyes capable of imitating the stars in his eyes. "Not only are we stuck with each other, but I hate to think of how Grandfather would react if we seriously ever tried to leave each other," she says. "He's pretty committed to this whole wedding thing. He's been knitting a shawl for me to wear to the wedding, and I think that thing is about four feet long now--I keep telling him if it's any longer, it might be trailing to the ground, and he says that's the whole point."

She takes his left hand in her own, as though to make a point regarding their betrothal rings. "I still can't decide on what I even want to wear to the wedding, to be fully honest with you," she says. "I mean, I'm sure I could just leave all the ideas up to Aryia, but..."

Telamon shakes his head. "I wouldn't dare. I think Grandfather would probably kill me. To be honest, I can't imagine a scenario where I'd call it off anyways." He cocks his head. "There's... where have I seen something about that? The shawl symbolizes something, but I can't remember where I read that."

He shrugs lightly, as she takes his hand, and he smiles at her. "Frankly, I want you to wear what you'll be comfortable in, love. I know you'll be radiant, regardless. I remember how... well, anxious you were when we met Mother at the TarRaCe. But you still looked like a sorceress in your element."

"Well, for Grandfather, it represents a commitment to the family. He used to knit wedding shawls for all of the grooms and brides from our family to wear over their clothes as a commitment to the family line," Cor'lana explains. "He spins the yarn himself in Quelynos and dyes it to colors that he feels suits the individual--and then he knits the same pattern that he's knitted for years. It looks like feathers in lace, which, well, is fitting."

She looks off to the side for a moment as she says, "I've seen the work-in-progress--he's occasionally brought it with him to work on it. He picked this gorgeous light lavender color, and the yarn is this beautiful lustrous silk..."

She pauses as she looks back at Telamon. "...Maybe I should learn how to knit. Oh gods! I could knit Plushthy some little clothes!"

Does a plush bird really need outfits?

Telamon focuses, trying to visualize what she's describing. "I... okay, yes, that sounds right." He pauses, his eyes pensive. "I wonder how many of those he's knitted, over the years. Probably more than a few."

He hugs Cor'lana close, a little shiver. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget he's got all those centuries behind him, and then I remember and wonder how he handles it."

He raises an eyebrow at the prospect of Cor'lana knitting little clothes for Plushthy. "Would these be for Plushthy, or Pothy? Mind you, I'm not saying 'no'... because one, I don't think I could stop you from doing something you wanted. And two, well, it'll be good practice. Because eventually, there will be children in need of little caps and socks and whatnot."

"He said he's knitted a few hundred," Cor'lana says, although her eyes turn a little downcast. "Then the family started becoming more distant, and he made less and less until suddenly, they weren't asking him for shawls anymore, and declined his offers to make any in advance for children when he learned of their births. Mine is the first in many generations, so I know he's putting his all into it."

She offers Telamon a little sympathetic smile. "Yeah. Trust me, I always wonder, too--but I also remember that this is the happiest he's been in a long time. Look at him! He's working in a bookstore, of all places! Maybe he's knitting my wedding shawl there during his lunch breaks!" This makes her giggle again--perhaps it's the mental image of the Feathered One's debonair book store employee appearance knitting a massive lace shawl while surrounded by erotica that's doing it for her.

Then the subject of children needing little caps comes up, and Cor'lana blushes. "Oh, gosh. I hadn't even thought about that," she says. "That's a good idea... Although I feel that if I even breath a mention that we're expecting to Grandfather, he'd suddenly have a complete wardrobe from infant all the way to adulthood ready by the time the baby's in our arms..."

Her words trail off. "... I bet they'll look like you, Tel. You and your... stupid pretty face."

Then she looks back at him, her violet eyes widening in panic. "Shit, did I just say that last part out loud?"

Telamon laughs softly at the image that springs to mind as well. "He might well be. He probably doesn't even bother to demur about it. 'I'm knitting it for my daughter's wedding day.' I imagine it gives him no small amount of happiness to be able to say that. Especially after so long."

He blinks, suddenly reminded of how long Grandfather had been at this with children. "...Damn. Well... he won't mind if you knit a few things for the lucky boy or girl. I can't see him getting too worked up."

He blinks at her, and then bursts out with a snicker. "Actually, I was hoping they'd look like you. But I guess we'll find out eventually." He kisses her soundly, hugging her tight, before tucking her in under his chin. Happy place time!

Cor'lana seems to realize something as she's put into her happy place. "If I tell Grandfather that I want to learn how to knit, I think the living room might be co-opted temporarily into some sort of odd knitting circle meeting. Except instead of a bunch of older women, it's just me, Grandfather, and his collection of self-spun yarns. Maybe... I'll learn in private and I won't tell him?"

There's a beat before she says, "Nevermind--we can't sneak anything past him. He'll find out anyway. Remember the night tea incident?"

She shakes her head, but then it turns into a yawn as she snuggles into the space underneath Telamon's chin. "Maybe we ought to make a second try of getting some more sleep," she says.

Another beat.

"...Although, I'm not quite tired yet..."

Telamon chuckles. "Why do I get the feeling that our marriage gift to each other may be moving into a bigger house? I mean... I like this one, but if we want to raise a family, we may need more room." He nuzzles her softly. "No. Experience matters, and your Grandfather's probably got loads of it when dealing with people. I'd hate to try and face off with him across a bargaining table."

When she yawns, he smiles, but before he can ask the obvious question, she adds that last bit. Then he grins, and looks down at her. "Shall I carry you back to bed then, love?" he murmurs.

"Maybe we could add on a second floor," Cor'lana says thoughtfully. "Although, we might be living outside of the city at that point... Mmm, maybe even in Mythwood. I like the idea of raising our children in the forest, close to Quelynos..."

She looks up at Telamon with a little smile, blushing. "Please do--just don't throw out your back doing so."

Cor'lana grins. "You're about to need it, after all." Her lines are slowly improving.

Telamon brushes his nose against hers. "Plenty of time. But I'll consult with some firms here in town about what it might take to add another floor." He smiles. "I know father and mother wouldn't mind us living closer to them."

He does blush a touch as well, and he kisses her again. "You're definitely getting better at the lines, love." Carefully, he shifts around, before picking her up and carrying her -- carefully -- to the bedroom.

With any luck, there'll be no further interruptions.