Well-Welcomed Anniversary

Log Info

• Title: Well-Welcomed Anniversary

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house / Telamon's Magnificent Mansion

Lupecyll-Atlon home, early evening

The day after returning from Castle Vadumisa was thankfully uneventful. Despite being physically unharmed, Telamon still bore a slightly haunted look, and that evening he had clung to Lana in a way he hadn't done since she had been kidnapped by Karan'taara.

But that villain is now dead, and can't harm them. And while the Griever still walks -- for now -- the Star of Tears was returned to Eluna's faithful servant Tanith. A victory, and perhaps more, to be added to the score card. Sleep heals many things, and the next day Tel and Lana are able to rise... only to realize it's their anniversary.

Well, these things do creep up on you.

And so the house is cleaned by magic, preparatory for the winter that will ensure people will retreat to warm hearths in the coming months. But there are flowers growing in small pots and vases all over the home, lending a warmth and scent to it even as the seasons change inexorably.

Cor'lana had done more than her fair share of placating, smoothing down Telamon's hair and letting him crumple into her form. Words spoken and unspoken had passed between them to soothe that heartache, that pain, that had passed between them. Her beloved Telamon's pain is her pain, just as he had born her pain in the past.

The day of the anniversary, however, sees Cor'lana dressing in one of her nicest dresses--Grandfather's dress, the first one given to her--and she's fretting over her waves of hair in the mirror of their water closet. Well, maybe it's more accurate to say she's grumping. "Why is there always one damned lock of hair that decides it's going to be straight when the rest of it is as unruly as the day Tarien was born?" Cor'lana bemoans.

"Telamon already married you a year ago," Pothy points out helpfully next to Cor'lana on the handwashing basin. "You don't have to fret over your looks."

"Pothy, I will throttle you. Lovingly," Cor'lana grumps. She's putting effort in because she has no clue where the evening will bring them both. And that's sort of the exciting bit of the night.

At first, Telamon didn't want to do anything, but he realized that wasn't fair to Lana. And a memory bubbled up for him. Of advising Simony, after she'd been rattled by a hard fight and a bad encounter with a fireball. And it spurs him, because be damned if he'd disappoint his lovely wife and one of his best friends.

Which is why he's casting the magnificent mansion spell. Maybe they can't be seen together outside the house, lest a certain fey bastard catch on that his little scheme is about to bite him. But that doesn't mean Telamon can't craft a little getaway for the two of them, from memories, studies, and magic. He's dressed in a shiny white silk blouse, one of the shirts he commissions from Jovani, over black leather trousers and well-crafted leather shoes. Once he's fixed the spell in place, he takes a deep breath, checking himself over. "That wasn't my memories," he firmly says to himself. "As bad as that was, it was all in my head. She's still here, I'm still here."

Lana finally just gives up on the straight lock of hair, tucking it behind her shoulder along with the rest of her hair and going to find her beloved husband. Pothy follows her out, hitching a ride onto her shoulder, and she eventually finds him where he's cast the spell, catching his words as he speaks them aloud.

"You're right," she says softly, walking close to him. Her arms twine around him as she hugs him from the side. "I'm still here, my love. As are you."

"And me too!" Pothy reminds helpfully.

"Yes, Pothy too," Cor'lana can't help but giggle. "We can't forget our little brother, now can we, Tel?" But her violet eyes go to look up at Telamon's face, into those starflecked eyes. "It's alright, Tel. This little... dine-in dinner date will do us a world of good."

The warmth blossoms in his thoughts, driving back the vestiges of anguish. His arm goes around her in turn, and Tel embraces her, taking a deep breath. "Honestly, if we weren't doing this little play-act, I'd take you to the Rose. But..." Telamon's eyes twinkle. "...I've been studying, and modifying the spell parameters a bit. Nothing excessive, I don't want it to break. But I think you'll be fascinated by this one."

He reaches out to stroke Pothy's feathers. "And you too, little brother. Don't think I could ever forget you. After all, you are as much responsible for the house of Lupecyll-Atlon." He smiles. "You've been many things, I suspect, but 'helping found a new family line' isn't one, I bet."

"However, we can discuss that over dinner." Tel offers Lana his arm. "Shall we, love?"

The nice thing about Cor'lana is that she's always that soothing scent of lavender, should Telamon have managed not to go noseblind to it. She gives Telamon a little squeeze to help comfort him a little more. "Honestly, considering all we've been through?" she responds. "I'd prefer to just... Well, 'stay in', except a magnificent mansion means we are going somewhere." She smiles a little playfully. "I'm certainly curious about how you've redone it."

"I promise not to go too overboard on this one's food stores," Pothy responds. He gives a little raven-purr to Telamon's petting. "But you're right, Telamon. I am responsible for you two meeting... Two years ago, almost. Two years and a day."

Cor'lana grins from ear-to-ear. "That we did," she says. She takes Telamon's arm. "Let's go, my love."

Tel doesn't keep his wife and his little brother waiting. Leading them through the shimmering door to some place else...

The night sky spills out above them like diamonds on black velvet, Eluna hanging there as well like a silvery crescent smile. The three of them are walking down a paved path leading to a campsite -- but 'campsite' is really a poor word to describe this. This looks more like a cross between a Veyshanti pasha's pavilion and a fey nobleman's idea of 'roughing it', with tents as big as houses staked down firmly in the soil, the silken walls colored in white and blue under the starlight. As always, the translucent servitors that staff the encampment can be seen here and there, standing ready for orders. The air is warm without being stifling, a far cry from the chill of winter.

"I got the idea from when Father and I were in Veyshan, many years ago. I saw, briefly, one of the nomad camps, as well as one of their noble's hunting parties, and thought... 'I wonder if I could craft something like that in the mansion?'." Tel looks to Lana. "What do you think?"

Lana hadn't quite anticipated this when Telamon described 'modifying the spell parameters', but it's clear from her enthralled expression that it's certainly far from unwelcome. When she remembers how to work her jaw again, she breathes in. "Tel... Tel, this is gorgeous," she says, leaning up on her tiptoes and pulling Telamon down just a little for quite the kiss.

Pothy, of course, doesn't participate in that bit. "Sheesh, we haven't been here all of five minutes and you're already trying to eat his face," he says, fluttering down from her shoulder and picking at the ground. "It sure is nice, though. Much warmer than it'd be outside in the real world."

Lana eventually does pull back, of course, because she has to breathe (even if Telamon doesn't). "This is terrific," she reiterates. "The sky is beautiful. The tents are gorgeous. It looks so lovely!"

Telamon is frankly surprised his shoes don't fly off when Lana pulls his head down for the smooch. He's pretty sure his hair stood on end. Not that he's complaining, oh hells no, definitely no complaints. When she draws back finally, he's blushing a bit. "Thank you. The limits of the spell are the same, I just... tweaked how it looks a bit. It was good practice -- and I wanted to surprise you."

He crooks his finger to Pothy. "Come along, Pothy. Dinner awaits. Have you had couscous before?" Figuring that the prospect of food will cheer Pothy up, as the couple begin making their way towards the main tent, the flaps held open by a pair of those ghostly servants.

Cor'lana can't help but grin when she sees Telamon blushing. Not that it's a totally rare sight, but he has better control of his expressions than she does, considering how easy it is to make her blush. "You certainly succeeded, darling," she says. "But then again, you are, after all, Archmage Lupecyll-Atlon, yes?"

"Couscous!?" Pothy seems so excited. "I haven't had it in so long! I think Nadina and I had it about... Ummm... Twenty-five years ago?" Clearly Pothy had to think about that one. Either way, he hops along on the ground in that funny way that ravens do.

"Mother visited Veyshan?" Cor'lana asks curiously of Pothy.

Pothy makes a snorting sound. "Yeah, you don't want to know." The look on Cor'lana's face says it all.

"So people keep telling me. I still have to remind myself when someone mentions 'archmage' they might be referring to me." Telamon smiles back. "But then, there's only one title I hold onto with both hands, and that's 'husband'."

As the trio enter the large tent, it's laid out in a Veyshanti style, with low tables and cushions to sit on rather than chairs. Large platters hold several dishes at a time, kept warm by cunning braziers mounted underneath the platters. Bowls of soup with flat loaves of bread are served as an appetizer, as Telamon helps Cor'lana get comfortable before sitting with her.

"Veyshan is not really a place for the inexperienced or naive. I will note that I did not go around unsupervised there, as opposed to that entertaining little complication in Dran." Telamon gives Pothy a pat, nodding to the familiar. "Even for those who are, how shall we say, more worldly, it can be dangerous."

"We'll add 'father' to your list of titles you hold onto with two hands in due time," Cor'lana informs Telamon with a grin as she takes a seat on one of the cushions. Pothy finds himself a cushion too, the bird tucking his talons politely underneath himself. His blue eyes, of course, track those bowls of soup as they're served, and he gives a happy little raven purr when he's patted.

Cor'lana looks thoughtful. "I mean, anywhere can be dangerous," she says, "but... There are places like Charn, where the wrong step means you end up falling into your own grave earlier than expected. I have to imagine there are pockets of Charn that are nice... Otherwise, why live there at all if you can help it?"

"Some people prefer the devil they know to the devil they don't," Pothy says, "but in Veyshan's case, the food might be a large reason why. You should eat, Lana!"

The soup, of course, is good if different. Chicken and rice, but with a taste of mint to it, as the meal begins. "Pothy has a good point," Telamon comments. "Plus, in many cases people don't want to walk away from what they have, no matter how meager, to chase something that might not pan out. It's usually when they have nothing left to lose that they move on."

"In the case of Veyshan -- and Tashraan in particular -- it's not so much an evil place as it is corrupt and very venal. The city dwellers tend to be more materialistic, while the desert nomads are more spiritual -- though even they have their pragmatic quirks."

Different, but good, indeed. Cor'lana makes a thoughtful humming noise as she tastes the soup. "I can understand Pothy's remark about the food, at least," she says. "This is good."

"Wait til you get to the couscous!" Pothy says happily, before he looks at Telamon. "He's not wrong, either. The desert people are nice, though. They fed me lots of snacks."

"Did they think you were a religious icon or something?" Cor'lana asks Pothy with a little grin. "White raven and all?"

"No," Pothy responds. "I just asked nicely for snacks and they fed me. Not everything's mystic visions."

Telamon grins, dipping some of the bread in the soup. "There are certain rules of hospitality among the tribes. And not all of them are hostile, or even aggressive. But they are terribly set in their ways; best to not try to push too hard."

He rubs his chin. "One of the stranger aspects was that magic was considered a woman's task -- which to us seems very odd. I didn't show off my nascent talent there, so it was assumed I was just learning my father's trade before taking up swordplay." He pauses. "That might be why Nadina was able to pass among them, so long as she kept to their rules about modesty. She wouldn't have raised an eyebrows."

"Interesting," Cor'lana responds as she sips her soup. The bread's not been dipped yet, but she has taken a few delicate bites, which is typical for her. "Although I can't imagine my mother being... modest, given everything Pothy's told me about her."

"Your mother wasn't a fool," Pothy says with a little scoff. "She knew how to behave. When you travel in other lands, you are a guest; you should try to treat your hosts with the courtesy that they afford you and make an attempt to learn their customs. Nadi behaved. Mostly. Except for when she turned someone into an inside-out corpse."

Cor'lana nearly chokes on her soup. "I'm sorry, what?"

"She was paid to do it. Adventurer work, you know?" Pothy just eats his bread.

Telamon can't help but snort. "And there's the other half. It doesn't pay to annoy people too much even among the tribes. When you live on the Sun's Anvil -- what some of them call the Dune Seas -- you don't have the luxury of putting up with someone disruptive." Tel grins. "Admittedly, not how I'd handle it, but then maybe if I'd lived there I'd feel differently."

The next course is served, the aforementioned couscous -- heavily seasoned with butter and herbs -- along with lamb, spicy chicken, and prawns to be tried. "Pick out whatever you like. The chicken isn't too spicy, though." Drinks of cool water or tea are supplied as well, just in case.

Cor'lana gravitates to the couscous, of course, as well as the lamb. Pothy, however, opts for everything. His plate gets stacked quite high, and that's probably not a surprise. "Yummy, yummy, grubby in my tummy~" Pothy coos.

Lana can't help but grin a little at Pothy's adorable little song, reaching over and patting him. "I might try that chicken if I'm feeling brave," she says, "but I'll stick to the safe stuff for now." She's no great spice lover. "It's... weird to think that I'm just about where my mother was at the height of her power. I'll probably surpass her soon enough."

She looks at Telamon. "I know I'm not quite at your level these days," she says with a little smile, "but I'll catch up eventually."

"It's overrated. Oh, not the couscous -- that's very good. Power. It's..." Telamon pauses, collecting his thoughts a bit. "I've commented on this before. I don't pursue magical mastery just to have it. It's to help others, to lighten their burdens. Yes, there's the 'smite the wicked' aspect of it -- but I'd rather do this," he gestures to the tent, "than fight anyone."

Tel looks at his wife fondly. "Honestly, I think your mother would be proud of you. You're not the scared young woman you were. You're strong, you're married, you have friends, family... you're the tree in full bloom now. And I love you all the more for it."

"She's very proud," Pothy says quietly. "Although... Ugh. She's encouraging grandchildren too."

"I guess we don't get much relief from that corner either," Cor'lana says with a little giggle. "I wish we could tell everyone waiting on Lupecyll-Atlon children that there will be four of them. They'll come in due time."

She grins at Telamon. "Although I understand why your mother is antsy," she says. "Speaking of which, your parents should be proud. An archmage for a son--not every parent gets to boast that. Even if all we do with our power when the world doesn't call on us to save the day is to relax and enjoy the fruits of our labors."

"You two deserve a moment of peace stolen from the demands of the world here and there," Pothy agrees. And then he just finishes the rest of his couscous. The bird is a bottomless pit.

Telamon nods. "After Simony woke up from her little sleepover, we chatted over breakfast." Telamon grins a bit at the mental image of the goblin priestess sacked out on the sofa. "I mused on where we might go, when things calm down a bit. Marniar'nir, or even Quelynos. We both need a vacation."

He steeples his fingers, thinking for a moment, before daring to try some of the chicken. Judging from his expression, it's got a little bite, and he takes a drink before continuing. "They are proud. The entire Atlon family... cousins and friends and family who've joined us. They love us both, and they're intensely curious to see what we do next." His eyes twinkle. "After all, the reality is so much more interesting than a Crimson Pen novel."

Cor'lana rolls her eyes and snorts at the mention of the Crimson Pen. "It is, although I still feel sorry for poor Zalgiman," she says. "I mean, after you and I became his friend, it must have been... uncomfortable to go around and see all these books based on yourself and your best friend."

Pothy looks like he has several remarks on that subject, but eventually he just settles for (probably because Telamon is there), "I should have gotten him to feed me more snacks before he... left."

Cor'lana has a sad little smile before she shakes her head. "I don't want to dwell on more sadness and death," she says. "That's not the reason why we're here. We're here to celebrate the best of what's happened to both of us. I think Marniar'nir is a fantastic idea for a vacation. Maybe we can even pencil in a visit with your mother and father? It'd be nice to see everyone again so they can fawn over you in person now."

"And so Telamon's mother doesn't have to send a doorstopper-sized 'letter'," Pothy says with a giggle.

Telamon nods, waving his hand to set the subject aside. "Speaking of uncomfortable, I am told the Crimson Pen is getting ready to start a new series." His lips quirk. "And I admit I am... wondering how the people in question will take it. It seems the next book will feature poorly-disguised versions of Leirune and Harkashan." He contemplates this for a moment. "So I suspect those two may need a quiet dinner at some point as well."

Platters are soon cleared away to make room for dessert -- a long pastry coiled into a spiral and dusted with sugar. "It's called 'snake cake' but there's no snake in it," he says with a grin. "Just sweet almonds and cinnamon."

Cor'lana blinks. "Rune and... Harkashan? Really?" she asks. "I, ah... I didn't realize they were the next candidates for that... well..."

"Trash," Pothy autocompletes.

"That's putting it aptly, yes," Cor'lana says. "Although I think Rune might find it funny more than anything. She's always been the type to find humor in... earthy things."

"Rune's a good sport," Pothy says, before he gets a slice of the snake cake. He hums happily once he takes his first bite, as does Cor'lana.

"This is good," Cor'lana says. "The cinnamon isn't overpowering! And the almonds are such a lovely complement to the flavor."

Telamon smiles broadly. "I worry more about Harkashan, as he's not as..." He pauses, considering his words. "...versed in some of the strangeness here in Alexandria. He's also incredibly protective of Rune." He takes a bite of the cake, chewing thoughtfully. "Yes, this is definitely perfect. A good ending to the meal."

"And the worst part," Tel sighs with a grin. "I'll wind up having to buy a copy for Grandfather if he hasn't secured one already, the rogue. You know how much he loves those things." He smirks. "Ah well, everyone has to have some bad habits."

"Harkashan earnestly thought the fake baby was a werewolf baby," Cor'lana says with a little sigh and a small smile. "Multiple partners are not unheard of in Am'shere--and so he sort of took it at face value, not as a bad rumor at all. I do hope he was able to find a home for that..." She shakes her head. "Baby-sized chew toy."

"I thought it was hilarious," Pothy chimes in. Of course, his snake cake's already gone.

"I'm sure you did," Cor'lana replies with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, yes. Although considering how Rune has informed me that she thinks Grandfather's handsome... I think the idea of Grandfather having a copy of the Crimson Pen with her in it might actually make her flush bright red."

She finishes off her snake cake, too. "This was splendid, Tel," she says so happily. "You really outdid yourself."

"The makari in Am'shere handle things differently, yes. I've got no interest in that, though." Tel's eyes twinkle. "You're all that I need or want."

He gives Pothy an amused look. "I suppose in retrospect it will be funny -- later. That's usually how it works -- it's always more amusing after the fact." Telamon smirks faintly. "I remember she mentioned that. I mean, Grandfather is an ageless fey noble, so... I guess Rune probably isn't the first, and probably won't be the last. We'll have to see how it turns out."

Tel's finished his cake as well, and smiles. "Just a little magic and a little research. I'm glad it turned out so well." He looks around. "I'll have to remember this layout. Next time we host a party, or I need to feed a bunch of people, we could do a lot worse than this." His hand slides over and folds around Cor'lana's. "But I wanted you to see it first. Happy anniversary, darling."

Cor'lana's violet eyes twinkle as his hands cover hers. "Happy anniversary, my love," she says so softly, so gently. "You're the only one I've ever wanted, and you will be the only one I ever want and ever need--always, for all of time, until we pass into the Halls together from Grandfather's house in Quelynos." Her heart's in her eyes as she says it all. "We have prevailed over tragedy and sorrow to make it here, and that's the most beautiful thing of all."

"One year into marriage," Pothy says happily. "You know, if you two make this work... It'll probably be the longest-lived marriage I've ever seen an inheritor have."

"All the more reason to live and grow old together," Cor'lana says. "Now, let's go admire those stars outside, shall we?"

Tragedy gives way to beauty and happiness under the light of the stars, and the Lupecyll-Atlons wouldn't have it any other way.