Time Enough

Log Info

• Title: Time Enough

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Telamon, Ravenstongue

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's home

• Summary: Telamon is troubled by the Watcher in the Stars' mention of a mentor coming to aid Telamon, especially as the Watcher didn't tell Telamon who or what the mentor would be. He and Ravenstongue taking a dreamwalk potion again to explore Telamon's past to see if perhaps his memories hold a clue. They meet Telamon's ancestor, Feadril Atlon, who is trapped between living and death, and it is revealed that Feadril is Telamon's mentor-to-be. A tense but heartwarming reunion occurs, and the two half-elves return to the waking world.

Lúpecyll-Atlon house, evening.

"Useless."

That's the verdict of Telamon, who's just pushed himself back from his desk in disgust. He picks up a mug of tea -- a novelty mug declaring that 'Sorcerers Do It Explosively' -- and takes a long sip from it, glaring at the four or so heavy tomes on the desk top. "I can't seem to connect to the Watcher, and he didn't tell me anything. Only that it'd be a mentor, and that I'd know it when I saw it..."

He sits back, staring at the ceiling. A pause. "Perhaps... it's someone or something I've met before? But..." He furrows his brow, considering. Then a grin crosses his face, and he kicks out of the chair, standing up and walking out. "Lana, we still have some of that dreamwalk potion, right? I think I need your help with something."

Telamon happens to walk into a fairly typical sight in the Lúpecyll-Atlon home: Cor'lana sitting on the couch in the living room with Pothy lying in her lap, receiving an awful lot of scritches and wagging his tail in appreciation for the affection. She tilts her head as she looks at Telamon, violet eyes bright with curiosity. "The dreamwalk potion? I think we have some, yeah," she replies. "How are you planning on using it?"

"Whatever the case, I'm not going," Pothy says. "That stuff is gross."

Cor'lana smooths down Pothy's feathers, smiling politely. "You don't have to go if you don't want to," she tells him. "You just have to be on your best behavior when we do."

Telamon sighs. "Well... for lack of a better term, I've been trying to figure out who or what the Watcher is sending as a mentor. But I don't have any ideas. He mentioned something about 'knowing them when I see them', so maybe it's something or someone I met before?"

He sips from his mug again. "So I'm wondering if you and I could try and slide back into my memories while we dream, and see if anything shakes loose. No guarantees, and I seriously doubt my memories are as well organized as Pothy's are." He offers the familiar a grin. "But I'm kind of at a loss and I'd like to try something."

There's a glint of something... mischievous in Cor'lana's eyes at the invitation. Or maybe at the mug. Who's to say it's not both? Either way, it's the twinkle of whimsy in a feytouched soul, and the grin that follows matches it directly. "That sounds like an awful lot of fun," she says. "And I'd get to see more of that cute boy in the portrait that your father sent along."

"Now you've got her going," Pothy says with a sigh. "Do you realize how often she looks at that thing when you're not around and says, 'Oh, our children will be adorable'? Anyway, I'll go make myself comfortable in the kitchen and snack while you're gone."

He takes flight from Cor'lana's lap, and she just laughs as she rises from the couch, walking up to Telamon. "I don't do that all of the time," she informs him. "I'll go get the bedroom ready."

Telamon finishes his tea, and leaves the mug on the kitchen counter. "Keep an eye on things, Pothy." He pauses, as Lana goes off to ready the bedroom. "And yeah, I kinda expect that. I also know you'll be sitting on the edge of the bassinet and bed, talking to the children. Because you're a good person." He gives Pothy a ruffle, before heading off to find the dreamwalk potion.

Not too much later, the pair are in the bedroom, having changed closed and secured the room. Telamon offers a vial to Cor'lana with a grin. "Alright... are we ready?"

Cor'lana's changed into a comfortable nightshirt and long pajama pants--after all, it is autumn, and there's definitely a slight chill in the house compared to summer--and she's prepared the necessary protective circle around the bed. All is in order. She takes the vial from Telamon and smiles. "Ready as can be," she replies. "Down the hatch."

She unstops her vial and downs it in one go, coughing a little. "Never gets any easier--just like cough syrup for the little sicknesses," she murmurs, and she lies down in bed. "At least this part's nicer," Cor'lana adds with a grin, holding her hand out for his to take.

Telamon quaffs his as well in one pull, making a face. "Glargh. Yeah, no kidding. One day, I will make a potion that doesn't taste like that..." He puts the vial aside, before sliding onto the bed with her. "It's always nice to be with you," he teases, though a yawn soon rolls out of him.

His hand slides into hers, fingers interlocking. "See you in my dreams, love," he murmurs, smiling, looking into her eyes even as the potion takes hold.

And then the curtain falls, and so do they... falling... falling...

Abruptly, Telamon finds himself, hand in hand with Cor'lana, in a large, grassy field that may seem a little familiar to her, but is of course quite familiar to Telamon. The evening sky is littered with sparkling stars, and Eluna is a narrow crescent in the vault of the heavens. "Huh," Tel comments. "Here we are again..."

It takes a moment for Cor'lana to get her bearings, looking around at the sky and Eluna's placement in it, followed by the green in the grassy field. She looks confused for a moment until Telamon's comment seems to strike a chord in her memories, a look of realization dawning on her face. "I think I remember this," she says. "We were here that one time, after dealing with..."

Her mouth presses into a thin line and she shakes her head. "No, not thinking about him. He doesn't get to be here in our dreams." A blink. "Your dreams. I'm just along for the ride."

Telamon reaches out to touch Lana's shoulder. "It's okay. I wish we'd come here for a happier occasion. And we will, after the wedding." He looks around, drawing in the night air (even if it is a dream). It's not near as cool as autumn, but not unpleasantly stifling either. A spring evening.

A little ways off can be seen four children scampering through the grasses. Two are ranging ahead, while two others lag behind. A piping voice, a girl's, calls out, "Tel, wait up! We can't see!"

Suddenly, one of the children ahead, with a familiar short-trimmed shock of platinum hair, comes to a stop and looks back.

Cor'lana leans in a little into Telamon as he takes hold of her shoulder. She smiles a little--and then lifts her head a tad as she sees the children. A quiet gasp leaves her as she very clearly recognizes the young Telamon, her violet eyes twinkling with absolute delight. "Aww, look," she whispers, like she doesn't want to disturb the children. "That's got to be you. How old are you in this memory?"

Telamon furrows his brow. "Ten? No, eleven -- this was right after I was tested by the priests, and my friends and I were celebrating." He looks thoughtful. "Granted, we were having a campout under the night sky, with uncle Telgari keeping an eye on us, but hey, when you're eleven..."

Young Telamon gestures at the other boy, an elf. "Go ahead, Raffy. I got this." The half-elf reaches out to take the hands of the other two kids -- human children. One is a boy, big for his age, while the other is a slender, dark-skinned girl. "I'm here! It's okay, Kordo, Maria..."

The half-sil boy squinches his face up, the expression not too dissimilar from his adult self when he's thinking hard. "I... think I can do this." He begins to rub his hands together, before saying, "Gesnu!" There's a wavering little flicker, then a pop, and a small light hovers around Tel's head -- just enough to help a person without good night vision make their way.

"Oh, Maria. I remember her, too," Cor'lana says with a widening grin as she just watches young Telamon with his friends. In particular, she delights in the casting of the light spell, watching the smaller version of her soon-to-be husband make the squinching expression.

"Was that your first time casting that one?" she asks Telamon, looking back to him.

Telamon shakes his head. "No, but it was my first time to cast when I wasn't worried or rushed. To..." he pauses, looking thoughtful. "To do magic to help someone. Even if it's a small thing." He rubs his chin, watching as the trio proceed onward, to where a campfire is burning merrily.

"The Watcher once said I strove to carry the light into dark places. Even this early, I was doing it." Tel rubs the back of his neck. "It's odd... people think of heroes as doing these grand deeds. But this?" He points to the young Telamon, Maria, and Kordo. "That's heroism too."

There's a twinkle in Cor'lana's eyes again. It's joy, sure, for the situation of seeing her fiance's child self with his childhood friends, but her gaze is on his adult self as he speaks, and it's clear that it's admiration. "You've always cared for people," she says. "Your compassion is..."

Then there's a look of realization in her eyes, too, followed by a light blush on her cheeks. "Your compassion is how I began to fall for you, too," she says. "Your little light in that moment for your friends, and then your offer of friendship to someone who you'd barely met--someone who had struggled to make friends all her life, not that you knew... Heh. The Watcher was more right than either of us realized."

Lana's not the only one blushing. Telamon's cheeks color as well. "I..." he pauses. "You're right. I can be hard-nosed, if it's warranted... but I'd rather be kind. I remember reading that it's best to be loved rather than feared, since love will protect you when fear is overwhelmed by hatred."

Tel looks around. "I wonder where we'll go next..." But then the landscape changes. It's late afternoon, the light shining on the porch of a well kept home in Ylvaliel. A few years older now, Telamon stands there, talking with Maria and Kordo. Tel's closer now to what he will be -- there's still some roundness in his cheeks, but his hair has grown out a bit, while Kordo is as big as a full grown man.

"Are you sure, Tel?" Maria sounds saddened, her eyes downcast. Young-Telamon nods, gently taking her hand. "Father wants me to go on the road with him, if I'm going to learn his trade. I won't be around for a while. Besides," and here he deliberately, reaches out to take Kordo's hand... and lays Maria's in Kordo's. "I think you two can keep each other out of trouble." Young Tel's eyes sparkle. "Or get into it. Whatever suits you."

"Poor Maria," Cor'lana murmurs. Her expression is slightly downcast, too, a surprising echo of Telamon's childhood friend. "I would have felt the same way, I think. I mean, having someone as kind and amazing as you are for a friend... to have you suddenly up and disappear, and not know when you're coming back... Well, I would have probably sobbed my little eyes out."

But then she grins. "Of course, you brought them together, so it seems like they weren't just lamenting their friend going out into the world the whole time. You smooth-talker, you."

Telamon laughs softly. "They were perfect for each other. But... they made it clear no matter what happened, I would always be welcome in their house." He sighs gustily. "A road not taken? Perhaps. But I think it was for the best. Maria would've hated living on the road, and I spent a few years doing just that."

On the porch, the three young people are embracing, and Kordo actually picks Telamon up, eliciting mock-outrage from the half-elf. "Argh! What is this? Put me down!" It's completely ruined by Tel laughing, though.

The older Telamon chuckles. "Kordo loves doing that. Guy could punch out an angry bull. I was really glad I was friends with him."

Cor'lana can't help but chuckle, too. "You sure he's not part jotun?" she asks in jest. "Regardless, between him and all the adventurers that'll be at our wedding, I think it'll be the safest wedding in Ylvaliel history. And Maria must love him--I remember how quick she was to want to get home to him and their family."

She leans into Telamon a little. "Sure, you could have gone down that road, but like you said, it probably wouldn't have worked out--and those roads you traveled lead you right to me."

Telamon puts his arm around Lana, and smiles. "There's that, yes. I'm happy to have come down this round, as strange and winding as it was..."

The scene changes again, but this time it's an interior room -- some kind of study or guest suite, with durable, heavy furniture. Seated behind the desk is the formidable Telperius Atlon, and standing before the desk was a slightly younger Telamon.

Telamon himself stares, and then covers his face with his hands. "Aw, shit."

Telperius regards his son with hooded eyes, "Alright, would you kindly explain what's going on?" Younger Telamon spreads his hands, his expression a bit concerned. "Look, you told me to work the younger crowd. Make no promises -- which I did -not- -- smile, be genial, and see what shook loose. How was I supposed to know she's the daughter of the Clan-Chief? And that she'd take a shine to me? I thought oruch girls liked their boys muscular!"

Cor'lana... tries not to laugh. She bites her lip. But the last sentence makes her giggle, and she tries to muffle it by clapping her hand to her mouth. "Okay, I know I tease you about it all the time," she says to Telamon, "but that last bit is hilarious."

She manages to collect herself. "Not that I blame that girl. How often do handsome half-elf boys with a heart of gold come around?" she says with a grin.

Telamon snorts. "Now it's funny. Then? I was absolutely terrified -- not so much for myself but that I'd blown everything. And father doesn't mess around when he needs information."

Indeed, Telperius is interrogating his son firmly and bluntly. "Did you bed her?" Young Telamon actually blanches a bit. "No! Remember? No promises, no getting tangled up in things?" He pauses, trying to regain his balance (metaphorically speaking). "Besides, Keriga's not that kind of girl, but she is kind of... intent."

Telperius looks at his son sardonically. "You have no idea. I intercepted her on the way to your room with a bottle of mead. Three guesses how that would've ended."

Older Telamon comments, "Yeah, Keriga was a very determined girl. I'm glad I'm still friends with her, but oh boy..."

Cor'lana can't even clamp her hand over her mouth in when past-Telperius reveals that the oruch girl was, in fact, that kind of girl, or at least was intent on being that kind of girl where Telamon was concerned. She laughs, and she laughs hard. "Aww, Tel, I can't believe you used to be as dense as I am," she says, wiping a laughing tear away from her eye when she finally gets enough air in her lungs to speak.

She looks back to past-Telperius and gives him a mock-salute. "Thank you for protecting your son so he could... Oh gods, there is no way to say what I had in mind without making it sound creepy on my part. Nevermind." She dissolves into laughter again.

Telamon is blushing brightly. "Look, I was what? Fifteen, sixteen? Yeah, I was a charmer but I was still... well, innocent." He sighs. "Father gave me a crash course in managing these situations after that. He told me later he expected me to wind up in a hayloft with a tavernkeeper's daughter, not being chased around by an orcish princess."

Meanwhile, Telperius is giving some stern instructions. "You stay right here, in my quarters. They won't violate the diplomatic embassy, so you're..." He pauses. "Safe. I'll go talk to the clan-chief. Fortunately, nothing happened, or we'd have had a real crisis in our laps." Telperius sighs, and claps Telamon on the shoulder. "There's some food on the sideboard. Go eat something. But no exploring."

"Yes father," Telamon replies, looking embarrassed. "I..."

Telperius waves away the nascent apology. "I don't entirely blame you. If anything, I should've stepped up your education on certain matters. We'll tend to that after I'm done with Keriga's father."

Cor'lana sticks her tongue out at Telamon. "A hayloft with a tavernkeeper's daughter? I don't know whether to be proud of myself to have exceeded his expectations, or to be insulted on your behalf..."

But she's still immensely amused by the entire situation. "Poor you," she does agree. "I don't even know how he should have educated you to begin with. How do you teach about... love and romance? I can't exactly speak there, of course..."

She smiles at Telamon. "I mean, you taught me everything I know."

Telamon looks slightly pained. "It wasn't exactly 'love and romance'. More like 'how to not wind up in a wedding at swordpoint or caught in the wrong bed'. The 'love and romance' instruction came from mother -- father could be ruthlessly practical when it came to the business." He shakes his head, and smiles back at Lana. "Still... it brought us here."

The scene shifts again, and then the two are standing on the southern banks of the Tornmawr in the evening. Telamon looks around, his brow furrowed. "Something's been bothering me, though." He points at a rather familiar couple ambling away. "This was a couple months ago -- our half-year anniversary, in fact. But... why aren't we seeing these memories from my perspective?"

Cor'lana purses her lips, too, as Telamon mentions it, her eyes darting around. "You're right," she says, frowning. "It should be from your perspective if these are your memories..."

Then her eyes widen as she realizes something. "Telamon," she says, looking at him. "What if this is from the Watcher's perspective, somehow? The Watcher is the only entity that should theoretically have access to these memories..."

And then a much more dangerous thought enters her head, followed by a grave frown on her face as she spins about, holding her hand up. "Unless there's something that shouldn't be here that is," she says a little louder. A threat and a challenge.

Telamon puts his back to Lana's, turning to look around as well. His hands are up in turn, ready, as his starry eyes scan the area. "Man, I have no idea if I can use some of my magic in my dreams," he comments with a sardonic grin.

For a long moment, there's nothing, just the breeze. Then a flicker, and a robed figure comes gliding down the path towards the couple. His robes hang a little oddly on him, and his cowl is up, obscuring his face. Tel nudges Lana, and points, before speaking, "I think that's far enough. What do you have to say for yourself?"

There's a small smile visible on the hooded man's face, before he speaks. And he says...

"The Watcher sent me."

Cor'lana turns about when Telamon nudges her, her hands still up as her glare levels on the hooded man. Her hair doesn't move in the dreaming wind, a woman out of time and place--for the version of her that does is walking away joyously hand-in-hand with her Telamon down below. But when the man speaks, the glare falls away from her eyes, replaced by complete and utter surprise. "The Watcher...?"

And then she looks to Telamon. Her hands are still up. She's not letting all of her guards down just yet. "Who else works with the Watcher?" she asks. "I didn't think..."

Then she peers at the hooded man again. "Pardon me," she says. "Are you perhaps called... Feadril?"

Telamon looks blankly at Lana. "I don't know! I... Rafael, maybe? I've never seen anyone else there in the Watcher's home." His own hands are still up, as he glances back and forth.

When Cor'lana calls the name, though, Telamon stiffens, dark eyes flashing. "But he's dead. He can't..."

The robed figure pauses, tilting his head. "...No. Your lady is right, boy. That... was my name, once." Deliberately, he reaches up to push his hood back with one hand, the other arm hanging at his side -- revealing an elven countenance with the same strong features shown by Telamon. "Yes. I was Feadril Atlon, once."

Cor'lana nods, like it's a sensible conclusion to things. "Remember, Tel," she says, "my mother is dead, too. And yet she remains in me. In my head, my heart, my mind, my soul--just like all of the past inheritors do. If Feadril is your only ancestor that the Watcher has touched, then, well... It was an educated guess."

Her hand goes down to her sides, which pull up at the side of her dress in a curtsy. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm afraid all I know of you is from what Telamon has told me of your writings."

Telamon still seems disturbed by the presence of Feadril. "But Lana, Nadina's... an echo, a memory from Pothy. This isn't... this doesn't make sense."

Feadril looks at the couple, and clears his throat. "If I might interject..."

Telamon glares at him, but says nothing, merely making a gesture that presumably means 'get on with it'. Hopefully.

The wayward soul smiles faintly. "Young Telamon is right. I... died. After a long illness, while working as a humble servant in an Althean monastery." Feadril looks up at the memory of the night sky. "I stood in the Halls for an eternity, it seemed. But... I had nowhere to go. My sins ran too deep to ascend to any sort of afterlife, yet my regrets and remorse made me toxic to the hounds of the Iron Hells."

"So you're stuck," Cor'lana says, frowning. Her hand finds Telamon's and she takes it, squeezing it a little to comfort him in addition to being a subtle gesture that she is acknowledging him, too. "Did the Watcher take you in out of... continued obligation, for lack of better words?"

Then she lets go of Telamon's hand and takes a step forward. "For that matter... What are your intentions with Telamon?"

The ghost -- if that's the right word -- of the past nods slowly. "For a time, I... wandered. Trackless paths, endless reaches. Until the Watcher found me, and offered me... purpose. Hope, even. Perhaps with toil beyond death I could finally find a place to rest."

"One might think I resented it. Not so. I... was maimed, yes..." Feadril holds up his left arm, and the sleeve falls back to reveal it truncated at the elbow. "My power cut away from me, to free me from their influence. But the Watcher saved me, all the same. And now..."

Feadril's eyes meet Cor'lana's. "I serve. As Telamon's power grows, he needs -- he deserves -- a mentor. Dreams are a wonderful thing, but they are... inconstant, and inconsistent things. I... know this is a great deal to take in, even for you, Lady Cor'lana. But I assure you I mean him, and you, no harm."

Cor'lana listens patiently. Her arms fold across her chest as she contemplates what she hears, and she looks briefly at Feadril's arm as he shows it--and while she does frown at that horrible injury, she still looks... cautious.

Once his words are finished, she looks at Feadril, and while in reality, she's a tiny little thing... in the dreaming, she becomes more. Her violet eyes take on the glow of her fey ancestor, perhaps because in the moment, she is thinking of him--drawing on that aura of his.

"So swear it to Telamon that you will not harm him," she says, "and I'll be fine with this mentorship. Otherwise I will have something to say about it."

Telamon is eyeing Feadril cautiously as well, though he's less twitchy than Lana. "Your journal," he says. "Father gave me your journal. I still have it. It's... a warning, but also a tale of redemption."

"Regret, but not redemption," Feadril says heavily. "I was not redeemed. Not... completely." The former elf regards Cor'lana with an expression of sad amusement. "Or what, Lady Cor'lana? What can you do to me that has not been done? I am dead -- my magic sacrificed to save my soul." He looks down at his remaining hand, shifting, and suddenly it's apparent he's missing more than his arm. His leg on the same side is truncated as well -- there's no left foot below the robe. "Once I was more... now I am less. A bare step above nothing."

Feadril lifts his head suddenly, looking Cor'lana in the eye. "But if it will soothe your fears, then yes, I will swear that I have no ill intentions towards Telamon."

"I said I would have something to say about it, not necessarily that I could do something about it. Not on my own, anyway," Cor'lana says with a little smile of her own, although it takes on a sad lilt as she looks down at his leg. Her gaze returns up to Feadril's face, however, and she looks... contemplative. Like she's weighing Feadril's oath and deciding if it passes muster or not.

"So long as that remains the case, then I am happy with your presence," she says, "although I am... deeply sorry for all that you have endured. And all that you continue to endure. No one should have a fate like yours."

Telamon squeezes Lana's hand, and nods in agreement. "There comes a point, sir, when... one wonders if the punishment truly fits the crime. Is there no rest for you?"

The old ghost shakes his head. "I deserve this. I... you know what happened. My... respite has been to slumber in the Watcher's home, rousing when he calls to me. A small kindness, but enough of one for me. Just as I humbly labored in that monastery, I labor here as well. Until the day I may press my case in the court of the Harpist once again."

Cor'lana frowns. "I don't... I don't think you deserve it," she says. "You went looking for knowledge. You were found by beings who warped your mind. You were taken advantage of. Do we blame the victim stalked by a lion? Do we blame the lonely soul seduced by a warm face with kind words before they place a dagger into the ribs? I... I can't say I agree, Feadril."

Her hand tights a little around Telamon's. "There was a time where, when I followed the Raven, I would have consumed any knowledge, because I thought that was how He would approve of me. That the act of learning and... knowing would make Him happy, and in turn would make me happy."

Feadril's face twists in remembered pain. "Warped me they did, but I sought them out! They had knowledge, knowledge that I desired -- and I committed sins to plumb those depths." He hangs his head, shoulders shuddering. "No, Lady Cor'lana. Maybe... maybe if I had known someone like you, I would not have taken my steps into damnation. Someone to keep my feet on the ground, who would not allow me to hide away from the world."

Telamon flinches at the pain radiating off Feadril, and his free hand comes up reflexively. "Feadril, I... I'm sorry. For what happened. But at some point, every journey has to end and there must be a new beginning. Maybe... we can find one for you yet."

Cor'lana lets go of Telamon, her hand slipping out of his. She walks forward to Feadril, her steps not uneasy at all--even though in the dreaming, her feet don't quite touch the earth. There's tears forming in her eyes, and she holds her arms out in an offered embrace.

"Feadril, ancestor of my beloved," she says, closing her eyes as she smiles so warmly. "I'm very sorry as well. Someone should have been there for you. And maybe there is someone out there for you. But for now, Telamon and I can offer you at least the respite of kindness in exchange for your mentorship."

Unlike her soulmate, she is not blessed by the stars--but she can show her own little light of compassion in the form of her open heart.

Closer, it's clear his face is old, for an elf. Feadril's features are lined, seamed with both age and sadness, the marks of a life hard lived. But hesitantly, he puts his arms around Cor'lana, slowly. Here, at least in dreams, he can be embraced, though he feels... less than solid, even here. In some ways he's just as insubstantial as Nadina in Pothy's memory.

Then Telamon is there too, his arms around his young bride-to-be and his ancestor. Holding them as best he can, even in this quiet place. And then the air seems to shift, warming a touch, and the grass flutters. Feadril sighs. "It's almost time for you two to go. Telamon... I'll find my way there. But I've watched you, ever since the Watcher told me of you. You... were, are, what I should have been." The ghost smiles. "Maybe... this time, it'll work out right."

People never feel quite solid and tangible in dreams, either, and so it doesn't bother Cor'lana. This moment, too, is fleeting, and she lets go of Feadril, her hand finding Telamon's again. She offers him a smile, too, and one of the tears finally darts down her cheek. "You and Telamon aren't the only ones with an ancestor hoping for their descendant to do better in the world--to succeed, to be happy, to end with a noble end," she tells him. "I have that, too. I want to give Grandfather and my mother the happiness they want me to have. So many people lived, and they tried, and they died for us to be alive. So I tell you now: we will succeed."

She turns back to Telamon and she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. Just a little peck, but she doesn't draw back fully. "Ready to go back?" she asks him.

Telamon nods slowly, hugging Cor'lana to him. "I think so." He offers Feadril a smile, though it's perhaps a trifle shaky. "We will await you in our home, sir. Try not to disturb the pixies too much. They're already aflutter over the wedding, and the coming of autumn."

There's a small laugh from Feadril, and he looks at the couple. "Would that our lives were only that complicated," he says ruefully. "But, no fears. We have time. Time enough for love, and life, and peace." He lifts the hood of his robe again, and raises his hand in farewell. "Go, my boy. Until we meet again."

And then the ground falls out from under them, leaving them tumbling calmly in slumber... until wakefulness finally stirs their limbs, leaving them tangled up in the light.