Witching Hour for Charming

Log Info

• Title: A Witching Hour for Charming

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: The Mythwood

• Summary: Hours past midnight, Ravenstongue returns to the little cottage that she and Telamon have rented for their small trip to the Mythwood. She finally divulges what she had slipped out to do hours ago: she made a blood pact with Grandfather, and she elaborates on why. Telamon accepts her reasons for the blood pact, and the two half-elves talk about their relationship before retiring to bed.

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

It's late, well past midnight, as Ravenstongue returns to the cottage that Telamon had rented for them. She opens the door quietly and steps inside. Normally, she would simply just push the door shut behind her, but she raises a hand... and the door closes behind her with a quiet click. Her violet eyes seem to be filled with a mixture of emotions, but there's a smile on her face as she puts a hand to her dress--not the same one she'd worn earlier in the day, but the low-cut one she'd donned on the night that they summoned the Feathered One.

More accurately, her hand touches the mark on her chest. It has new lines around the feather mark, and just the act of touching it makes her smile wider. It's just a quiet moment as she seems to take in what's happened.

Inside the cottage, it's quiet. There's a softly glowing lamp on in the small living area, and Telamon lies sprawled on the couch, a book open on his chest. He's going to be embarrassed when he awakens, considering his usual night-owl tendencies, but then he's been getting up earlier due to other factors. One hand rests on the tome, titled 'Traveling By Night: An Guide to Evening Arcana' by someone named Jakob Stefanson. His face is relaxed in slumber, and it seems the nightmares have not pursued him.

Ravenstongue looks down to see Telamon appears to have fallen asleep in the middle of reading, which just makes her smile turn into a grin. She walks quietly over to him and carefully takes the book out of his hands, rescuing the pages from their precarious positioning. She closes the book, and then she leans in to kiss Telamon on the forehead. "Hi sleepyhead," she says. "I took too long, huh?"

Pothy snoozes away in the corner, too, a little jar of candied fruits that had been gifted to him earlier in the day toppled over and empty by his side. Apparently he had the corvid equivalent of a sugar rush... and a sugar coma.

Telamon stirs immediately at her touch, and his eyes flick open to meet hers, a slow smile spreading over his face. "But you're back," he murmurs, reaching up to her, and drawing her down for a kiss. "Mmm. Not used to dozing off this early. You keep getting me up in the mornings at indecent hours." He grins, brushing her hair back. "I think Pothy was a little out of sorts too. I... kinda bribed him with those candies." He glances over. "And of course he ate the whole jar."

"Awww, you love those mornings, admit it." Ravenstongue grins back at him, letting herself be pulled down to him for that kiss. There's certainly been less hesitation lately in being close to him as she manages to cuddle into the couch with him, lying down next to Telamon's form.

"I'm sure he was worried," Ravenstongue says, her eyes flickering over to Pothy's sleeping form for a moment before they return to her fiance's starry eyes. "I'm sure you were, too. But, well, I'm back. It was... Well, it was wonderful."

He squeezes her gently, a close hug, before starting to push himself up a bit, shifting over so she can sit on the couch with him. "Do you want to talk about it?" He flicks his eyes over her, and one eyebrow rises at the low-cut dress. "I mean, I do love seeing you in that dress, but I suspect it wasn't exactly for me." He can't help but offer that naughty-little-boy grin, a vestige of his younger self.

"I... yes. I worried. I can't help that. I love you, I trust Grandfather, but... I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't worried."

"Considering I wore this to when we summoned him for the first time," Ravenstongue replies as she sits up with him on the couch, "I was surprised back then when you didn't comment on it. I think you were worried about other things. I wore it then for the sake of making the curuchuil on my body easier to paint--and I wore it tonight because I anticipated there'd be changes."

She points to the new lines that flick around and down her feather mark. "And there were. I did promise you that I would tell you, so..."

Ravenstongue takes his hand and says, "I'll just go ahead and say it outright. I made a blood pact with Grandfather."

Telamon looks wry. "I was a little distracted. And I was raised to be polite, you know. It's a terrible faux pas to offer critique of a lady's dress unless it's spectacularly inappropriate, after all." He blushes a bit, though. Clearly he did notice even back then.

Letting his eyes drop, he nods. "There are new lines. I don't... I'm not well versed on the curuchuil. It's less common in the Mythwood for some reason. So I admit I'm not sure what the significance is."

When she mentions 'blood pact', though, Tel can't help but twitch a bit. For a moment he doesn't speak, then he swallows. "I... alright. I said I trusted him before, it's a little late to start arguing now. But ... may I ask why?"

There's a downturn in Ravenstongue's eyes, something that Telamon is familiar with--after all, it's the same look that she tends to get when she discusses the pain of her earlier years. "I... I inherited mother's bloodline magic, rather than my father's, and while Grandfather thinks that perhaps his bloodline has manifested in different ways, I've... always felt insecure. That I wasn't 'enough' of a Lúpecyll--and I don't mean being my father's daughter, I mean my Grandfather's bloodline. He told me about some of the things that my ancestors were capable of, and... Well, I couldn't stop thinking I wanted to be like them. Like him."

She smiles at Telamon. "He didn't make me promise my soul or anything like that. I have simply received 'more' of the bloodline. I already feel different. Honestly, even though it was painful and uncomfortable--what happened after that was just overwhelming joy and love. I haven't felt that since..."

She shakes her head, lifting her hand up to a violet eye that's already beginning to brim over with tears. "Since Mother died. You love me and I love you, of course, but it's different, having a familial love. And I felt it so powerfully then that it's like all of the inadequacy I've ever felt--all of my sadness, my self-loathing at what I am, has just disappeared. He took my sorrows and replaced it with warmth."

Telamon wraps his arms around Raven -- his usual go-to for when he knows she's so shaky. "Darling, darling... I know that matters to you, but it doesn't matter to me. You'd own my heart even if you had no 'talent' at all." He strokes her hair, holding her close.

"Maybe I'm just jumping at shadows. I read his journal, you know. Feadril's." He shivers in spite of things. "He was chasing power too, and he meant well... I just don't want you to make the mistakes he did." He draws back a little to look at her. "I love you. And I won't stop. Not now, not ever. Give me a bucket of water and I'd storm the gates of the Iron Hells for you."

"I know, I know, it's... less about power and more feeling that I am a proper Lúpecyll. That I am Grandfather's rightful descendant, heir, whatever you want to call it. That, no matter the circumstances of my birth, I am more Lúpecyll than my idiot father." There's the fire in her voice, Ravenstongue's arms wrapping around Telamon's form in return.

But a smile reappears on her face as Telamon affirms his love. "I love you too, Tel. I know it's scary and that what I did was something that I'd never even recommend to anyone else--but he's family. I'm safe, I promise--and the benefits outweigh the downsides."

She leans in and kisses him on the nose. "And like you asked, we're doing everything together from now on."

Telamon snorts. "You're more of a person than your idiot sire. Prettier, too. Alright... I can understand wanting to claim a birthright. I've seen that, in the past." He kisses her back, lightly. "And... yes. I do trust Grandfather. At some point you have to trust or there's no point. But let's not hide things from each other."

Another comfortable squeeze, as he rubs his cheek against hers. "Father and mother were very pleased, you know. And Uncle Telgari asked if you had any sisters."

"I sure hope I'm prettier. Mom was beautiful," Ravenstongue says happily. "I used to feel like I could never measure up to her, but, well, then I landed you. And you seem to think I'm beautiful, too--and all I need is that."

She laughs a little. "I, uhh... If I had any sisters, I think Telgari would be a little old for them. Nice man, though--anyway, yes, no hiding things anymore."

Ravenstongue grins a little. "Speaking of which, do you like the mark?" She draws back from him and takes his hand to put it on the feather mark. It has a strange cool sensation that warms quickly to the touch.

Telamon nods. "You are absolutely beautiful. If someone tries to tell you otherwise they are lying." He smiles ruefully. "I knew I was striking, but for me it was like... turning a corner, and finding a welcome surprise, to catch you."

He rolls his eyes in amusement. "He's always been... well, a bit wild. I think he took to the druidic life a little too well. Father must've put his foot down, because normally the old goat doesn't bathe regularly." He makes a face. "Gods."

When she takes his hand, he -- perhaps surprisingly -- blushes a touch again. But he rests his fingers on the mark, tracing the new lines briefly. "What does it do? I've been... rather lax in my studies on this. I need to fix that."

GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (4)+10: 14

"Are you kidding? Tel, you're handsome," Ravenstongue replies with her own eyeroll. "Granted, I didn't really notice how handsome you were until that moment where--"

Something seems to dawn on her. "Oh gods. I fell in love with you while I was wearing this dress! No wonder you accepted my confession afterwards when you already got a sneak peek!" She turns red, but the laughter is clearly a sign of a happy and willing acceptance of the turn their relationship has taken since the night of abandoned soup mugs.

She finally composes herself long enough to elaborate, "They are echoes of the mark I saw on Grandfather's chest--he conjured a mark that was made out of his own blood. It was like mine, but there were many more feathers--and there were roots like these lines that came down from the feathers. It looked like a strange feathered tree, but it was beautiful. It's a sign that I am in a pact with the Feathered One born of our bloodline connection, rather than some standard soul-bartering agreement."

Telamon can't help but let out a giggle as well. "Well, I mean, you were quite striking -- and bold! You looked like an elven sorceress from the old tales, come to life!" He nuzzles her happily, holding her close before he replies again.

"I... alright, I think I see. The connection was already there, because of the original pact. This just... amplifies it. I wonder if that would work for other things? I'm in no hurry to test it, mind you, but it might explain some things. How talent works, and why sorcerers sometimes take on... minor aspects related to their bloodline as they develop their powers."

"That's an awfully poetic way of stating you liked how my breasts looked in this dress," Ravenstongue says, which is easily the most forward she's ever been in terms of talking about her own body. She's blushing even brighter for it, giggling again. "Wow, I can't believe I just said that out loud."

Another round of needed composure, but Ravenstongue eventually takes a deep breath and nods. "Yes--that's why I agreed to this. It felt like it was ultimately just developing on what was started that night. I've changed a lot recently. Which was, of course, because of Grandfather, but... Well, you definitely taught me more about myself that I didn't know before."

"Well, we determined you're not ticklish," he replies with an arch grin. He seems perfectly comfortable with the flirting. "And that you're happy to not steal the covers. But I suspect that's not exactly what you mean."

Telamon combs his fingers through her hair. "I think you'd have found your way. Eventually. I'm glad to be a part of it though. I'm learning things too. Yes, tiresome practical things, but also my own self-discovery. Learning how to be a good fiance and eventual husband. The resolution of our dreams and... the knowledge that it's up to us to try and fix the world however we can."

Ravenstongue sticks her tongue out. "Much to your dismay, no, I'm not ticklish--were you hoping to torment me, you evil monster?" she protests playfully, before she leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek.

She snuggles in even closer to Telamon, hooking her leg over his knee. "But really," she says, "I've said it before--you're the only one that I've ever felt any kind of attraction. So I would have never been able to find out that I love... Well, I love being with you on my own. How do you know someone will be the most important part of your life before you've even met them?"

Her violet eyes are full of adoration for him. "I really do mean it. Only you. All of my other crushes have been on fictional characters."

Telamon decides to simply seize the moment when she presses close, and smoothly tugs her into his lap. "No, but it's always useful to know when there's this much closeness," he purrs with a grin. Cuddling her against his chest, resting his cheek on her head.

"I guess it depends on who you ask. The gods? The stars? Fate? Or just simple chance?" He smiles back at her. "It doesn't matter, not to me. What matters is where we are now, and where we go from here. And I can't wait to see what happens next."

At the mention of fiction, he chuckles. "Ah, now that's nothing new. Remember, I've read some of those tales -- well, probably not all the same ones as you. But I was fascinated with strange, gorgeous wizardesses and the like. Inscrutable and mysterious, the kind that swoop in to set something right before slipping away."

Ravenstongue certainly doesn't object, returning his grin with as much enthusiasm. "Really?" she asks conspiratorially. "Well, do I count as a mysterious and gorgeous wizardess? I can't say I do much swooping, but... maybe in the future," she says. "Does sound like my mother, though. Maybe that's where I get it from."

She puts her hand up to his face, cupping his cheek in her fingers. "And all of the fictional characters I found attractive tended to be boys of elven heritage with sweet words who could be awfully fiery when pushed to their limit--so I suppose books do cultivate one's taste in people. Although there was the book I read once about a mer-man that was pretty fun."

Her violet eyes are full of mischief. Is she picturing him with gills now?

Telamon turns his head to kiss her fingertips, before he responds. "Give it time. Before you know it, we'll be popping in like Archmage Mikilos to save the day." He looks wry. "And I'm sure we'll get Crimson Pen books about us. Not sure if that's a good thing or not, though."

He hmms. "Boy of elven heritage, check. Sweet words? Well, I do pretty well. Fiery? Well... I try not to get angry, but it does come out on occasion. I guess you had me marked right from the start."

He raises an eyebrow. "A mer-man? Alright, that sounds strange... and mind you, that's coming from me to boot."

Ravenstongue snickers. "If they write Crimson Pen books about us, I will probably die from laughter if they mention that I first seduced you over a cup of soup," she says. "Otherwise, I have no interest in them. I'm sure Pothy plushies would sell like hotcakes, though."

Her grin only gets wider as she recalls the mer-man book. "It is, isn't it? I picked it up because I thought it was something my mother was given as a joke. But the mer-man didn't actually spend most of the book as a mer-man. He was given a human form by an evil sorcerer who was his mother's enemy so he could speak to the human princess he saved from drowning. I mostly thought it was sweet how much he loved that girl that he was willing to do anything for her."

She pokes his cheeks playfully. "And no, I don't expect you to grow a fish tail or gills. That would be really disturbing, actually."

Telamon just shakes his head. "Yeah, I think we'd be more suited to stuffed toys rather than copper dreadfuls. Just imagine, a generation of children going to sleep, cuddling their Telamon and Cor'lana and Pothy dolls." He can't help but grin at the thought.

Pondering the story, Tel hmms. "I... think I've heard that one? It's been a while. I may have read it myself, but it's been years. But no, I don't think I'll be sprouting gills or a tail. I'm not that good of a swimmer anyways."

"Let's face it, Tel," Ravenstongue says with a smirk. "I think you'd be adorable as a doll, but... Pothy is by and far away the runaway seller of future toys. He's infinitely marketable as a mascot. I would have bought one as a child!"

But after a moment, she looks at Telamon and has a particular look in her eyes--one he would recognize. She puts her hand on his chest and says, "I can think of other things you can sprout," through half-lidded eyes.

...Then she cracks up laughing. "Okay, that wasn't a good one. Umm, seriously though--I, umm, wouldn't be opposed to retiring to the bedroom if it's not too late."

Telamon desperately bites his lip to kill the snicker. After a moment, he says in a slightly strained reply, "We need to work on your lines. By the gods..." He wraps his arms around her, hugging her, before giving her a very intense kiss.

Once that's done, though, he looks at her in turn. A match for the one she gave him. "Why don't we retire then? It's late, but I'm sure we'll get some sleep... eventually."

She's forgotten her shameful display by the time she comes up for air. Ravenstongue gives him a wry smile, her face pleasantly rosy from the activity. "Eventually," she says. "Maybe I'll let you sleep in if I'm feeling nice enough," she teases.

They'd have to come up with an excuse for missing breakfast tomorrow morning before returning to Alexandria...