View source for The Temperance's Concern

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==Log Info==

*Title: The Temperance's Concern

*Emitter: Ravenstongue

*Characters: [[Ravenstongue]], [[Simony]]

*Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house</div>

A late Callem afternoon sees Daeus's light in the sky obscured here and there by the lazy passing of a fluffy-white cloud. The heat has descended onto Alexandria, but it's paired with the occasional gust of wind that reminds the average soul who wears down the Alexandrian streets with their steps that autumn is just around the corner.

In the University District, things are a bit sleepier than normal. Summer classes are in session, but not every student's signed up, and some have departed Alexandria for the summer entirely, resulting in the streets feeling a little quieter for their absence. A particular street with a particular house sees a new visitor walking along the path, a man with apparent elven heritage by the slight point of his ears, dark hair, and striking violet eyes. He looks, for all intents and purposes, like a cousin of a certain sorceress whose happy news has been printed in the Tribune.

Except he holds in his hand a slip of paper, humming as he stops almost lazily in front of a particular house. "Me oh my. The Temptress of Alexandria has struck again, has she? But to deal such a blow to her beloved husband's heart--such a cruelty." He says to no one in particular. His voice is deep and dignified.

The little Temperence, on the other hand, is in a hurry. Such that her hood threatens to slip from her head, held only precariously in place by the points of her ears. Crumpled tightly in one of her little fists is a similar slip of paper as held by the 'cousin'.

Her path takes her barreling straight towards the Elven visitor, and she looks up at the last moment, skidding to a halt just shy of his presence. Panting, she stares up at him, her eyes flicking to the flyer, then his facial features, and then the door to the Lúpecyll-Atlon residence.

"It's... not... true.", the Goblin says between breaths. "It's... just a lie. A scandalous one at that. Put it... from your mind."

Simony sucks in a deep breath, and then dashes for the door, to pull on the door bell's chain.

"Do you think it is one? A lie, that is." The man's voice is almost like a purr. "You know, you think that you know someone well. But do you ''really'' ever know? There's days where you wake up, read the paper, and you find out someone you know has murdered their spouse in cold blood, and you think, 'Ah, that can't happen, they love each other!' Only to learn later how much they deeply and truly ''loathed'' each other."

And then he shrugs almost helplessly. "Food for thought," he says, like he hadn't just implied something horrible about the lady and lord of the house whose front step Simony is on. "Give my regards to the lady, won't you?"

He walks away without another word more. It's only when he's gone that the front door opens--just a little creak. Cor'lana's bright violet eyes peer out of the crack. "Is he gone?" she whispers.

The Goblin just stares at the man, eyes narrowed. "Yes, it is a lie.", she growls. Her hand comes up her her face as the man blathers on, a finger pushing her pince-nes further up her nose. There is no reply or acknowledgement as he turns and begins to walk away.

She reaches for the bell again, and is just about to ring, when the whisper is heard. There's a little gasp, as Simony tries not to squeak in surprise.

She waits a moment, squinting after the man to be sure that he is gone. Only then does she nod ever so slightly.

The door swings open and Cor'lana urges Simony inside the house. The woman is wearing a looser dress than normal, a black dress of cotton material. It's something that somewhat obscures the overall shape of her form, save for that the sleeves are tailored to her arms.

"Get in. Quickly." Once Simony's inside, she shuts the door and sighs deeply. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. With... him."

There's a weight to that last word that suggests more than a world of knowledge. Her violet eyes are dark as she moves to the living room, pouring a cup of the lavender-mint tea that the Lúpecyll-Atlon family is known for by this point. "Would you like a cup?" she asks softly. Her hands slightly tremble on the teapot.

Simony steps inside quickly, sniffling noisily. Her eyes take in Cor'lana's manner of dress, the tremble on the teacup, the expression on her face. She lets out a slow exhale of breath, reaching up to place her hands on the Half-Elf's. "Allow me, Cor'lana, please? Did you wish a cup, or a refill?" Simony's voice is softer and calmer than she appears.

"He wants any trouble. Erm. I don't know if I ever told you before, but I know I talked to Telamon about it. The... Corpse Eater. Was that him? Or a... relation of his? They bear a resemblance to you, which I am to assume they do to try and torment you?" She tries, gently, to pull the kettle from Cor'lana's hands, if allowed, she will pour tea for two.

"I saw the flyer he carried, and I do not know what to think. I was coming here to apologize, to say that it was not me. I.. I've been doing tattoos. Of a five pointed star, taken from one of the Crimson Pen novels involving Melaton... Telamon."

Cor'lana stills entirely when Simony puts her hand on top of hers. Violet eyes flicker down to Simony. "I..."

It takes her a moment longer than it really ought to for her to think. To register what had happened, to register what Simony's asking of her. Eventually she just lets Simony have the kettle, and she almost shrinks away from the table, going to sit down on the couch.

"Refill, please," she says at last, gesturing to her teacup. Her eyes shut tightly for a moment. "That had to have been him. He takes--an appearance that's like mine, because he is my Grandfather's cousin. There's a physical resemblance between them, and my violet eyes are inherited from my Grandfather, so..."

Her voice trails off a moment. "I knew about the tattoos," she says. "But why? Those novels, they're... They're lies, they're trash--" 

Then Cor'lana shakes her head more vigorously. "No. I knew you didn't make the flyers, because I know who made them."

She looks up at Simony. "I did."

The Goblin busies herself by pouring herself a tea, and refilling Cor'lana's. Her hands shake at the revelation from the Half-Elf regarding the flyers, the teapot dipping but not falling. After a moment it's safely set back onto the table, and Simony shuffles over to where Cor'lana sits, offering her little mug up.

"I.. I thought it would be harmless fun." She pulls back the hood of her robes, and bares her left shoulder, showing off a tattoo'd 5-pointed star. "The Melaton fanclub. Just as there are ladies with this star, there are dashing gentlemen with a small, raven tattoo. Telamon and yourself are heroes. More than that, you're beautiful people. Inside, and out. People truly love you, others have their crushes."

Another low breath. "Yes, the Crimson Pen is trash, full of lies and scandal." She inhales, holding it. "Why?"

Cor'lana frowns as she looks at the tattoo--and as she's informed that there are people with a small raven tattoo. "Those are such permanent things to put on yourself, though," she says gently. "You, it's one thing. You're our friend. It's a little joke, almost. A thing we can laugh about. Strangers, though--they don't know anything about me. Not the real me. I keep that hidden so tightly to my chest. I guess I just don't understand and I might never."

Finally she draws in an unsteady breath. "Because we're not expecting." Cor'lana's eyes are hard. She's confessing to a lie, after all. "We're setting a trap for the Corpse-Eater. He preys on people who are happy. He tries to pit them against each other, exploit their insecurities. If I'm expecting, and if the Corpse-Eater has reason to believe that he can manipulate Telamon against me because the baby isn't his--then we trap him in a time and place where he believes he's in control. But he's not. Auranar, my sister, is already plotting the Corpse-Eater's death. This plan is her idea."

She curls her hands together in her lap. "I'm asking you to stay quiet. That means buying into the ruse. Pretending like I really am expecting. That's all. You can have your own opinion on whether or not the baby is Telamon's."

"They are small things, though. People do stuff to their bodies that are permanent. The tattoos are symbols, a star or a raven will still be interesting years from now. And they are not names, which are the worst things to tattoo on yourself."

She exhales slowly. "But I am truly sorry. I've stopped tattooing." Simony bows at the waist, her teacup rattling a little on its saucer.

The further revelations have the Temperance blinking in surprise, and then slowly smiling. "It will truly be wonderful news when you are expecting, Cor'lana. And I find myself very happy to hear that there is a plan afoot to see Corpse Eater to his end. I wonder if that might annoy him in his final moments that there will be happiness on his death."

Her expression grows thoughtful, and she nods slowly. "I would take a vow of silence if if would soothe your worry."

"An oath of silence on the subject of my pregnancy--or lack thereof--is a powerful thing," Lana replies with a small smile. "One that the Corpse-Eater knows that he cannot violate, as no fey can break an oath without dire consequences. Swear it and you're protected, and I am protected in turn--the plot will not unravel at your feet."

She looks thoughtful again. "I do see your point," she says. "Names do make horrible tattoos. And marks can change meaning. I just suppose that I'm used to..." And she gestures to the prominent mark on her own chest, the feather with its tree-like roots jutting out of the spine to form intricate knotwork. "This. The power, the meaning, that I can't change. It's something much bigger than what I alone think of it. But that's because of the power associated with it."

She takes a sip of her tea. "It's because both Auranar and I wear the mark of the Feathered One that we aim to take down the Corpse-Eater," she says. "I don't know if he'll be outraged when he's dead or not that we're happy. I just hope that the death will ''take''."

"Then on my honor, and my vows of priesthood, as a Temperance of Navos, and as a friend, I solemnly swear an oath of silence on the subject of your pregnancy, or lack thereof, or the nature of its fathering." The Goblin's holy symbol shines brightly, visible through her robes. After several moments, the light fades.

The Gobbo sighs. "As for the star, for me, it means a lot. Certainly a lot more than it does to some little old lady swooning over a dashing young Elven gentleman. I will die before its meaning will change for me. Telamon saved me from running off into the darkness of the sewers, where that demon remnant would have surely had me. Tel saved my life, as far as I am concerned. I will serve you both as best I can, and I will strive to protect you and your family as best I can. No other way to repay you both."

"I was there too," Cor'lana reminds Simony. "That was an ordeal. One that I should never want to repeat again so long as I live. Having my mind invaded by that... entity, even for a moment, was horror all of its own."

She sighs deeply. "Which is to say that I appreciate your words, Simony. We have been through some things together, and this--the killing of the Corpse-Eater--will surely be one more to add to the list."

It's then that someone new joins the party. Pothy soars in from the kitchen, taking rest down on the table in the living room. "Hello Simony!" he greets in his boyish voice. "I see you're here to discuss Lana being a scamp and traipsing around with all manner of fuzzy creatures behind Telamon's back."

That earns Pothy a beleaguered sigh. "He's been teasing me since we hatched this plot," Cor'lana says. "Little brother that he is."

Simony looks surprised momentarily. "I'm sorry, I uhm don't remember much from that day. Just a feeling of fear, the gurgle in my stomach as my insides turned to liquid, and then trying to run, being pulled in by Telamon, and his command to look into his eyes. Then everything felt better. The fear gave me some breathing room. I am still embarrassed by that."

The Gobbo nods lightly, "We have been few some things together. It's how I feel the way I do about you both. You are both rocks, solid and sturdy, that one may cling to in dire moments. I will try to be as you are, and be someone that people can cling to in times of need. When you can keep your head when all else around you lose theirs..."

She blinks in surprise at the arrival of Pothy. "Little brother!", she says with a grin, fishing in one of the pouches on her belt, pulling out a silver-wrapped object. "Do you know what toffee is, Pothy?" There's a little crinkle as Simony looks to Cor'lana. "A shame you can't slug him in the shoulder like all little brothers sometimes need."

"He ''does'' have relaxing eyes," Lana admits, with a tiny little grin. "I'm pretty sure I told him more than once, when we were still courting, that I didn't really need to go stargazing since I could do it with his eyes alone."

"Yeah, only after you managed to seduce him with soup, you bumbling girl," Pothy responds matter-of-factly, taking a peanut out of the bowl that's on the table. There are always snacks in the snack bowl; it's just a fact of life in the Lúpecyll-Atlon household. "She won't slug me. She couldn't hurt me if she wanted to." He is ''immensely'' smug on that point.

"If you keep ribbing me about having a baby with werewolves, you might tempt me to try," Lana retorts, before she looks at Simony. "No, I know a way to really hurt Pothy. ''Don't'' give him the toffee."

Oh, that does it. Pothy's blue eyes turn pleading. "Nooooo! I want the toffee! I love toffee! Toffee is my most favorite thing!" Nevermind that he could say that about any other snack known to mortalkind.

"I am scared to say but those eyes... I might find myself doing whatever he asked. Like... he needs a blindfold, seriously." Simony laughs then, finally moving to settle next to Cor'lana and sip lavender mint tea. "But in seriousness, I am glad to see that he is starting to use his power. His presence, his wisdom, his intelligence... not to mention his, and yours, magical power. I've told him that he is the lord he wishes the nobility and aristocracy would be. You and he could make a serious improvement in how things are done. Hah, and I guess you are, by taking out the Corpse Eater."

The Gobbo manages to keep a straight face as she is commanded to not give Pothy the toffee. "Yes, he probably wouldn't like it." The bare toffee is popped into her mouth, and for a brief few moments she puts on an ecstatic face, as if it was the best tasting thing in the world. Then suddenly she makes a sour face, "Oh yes, definitely terrible. I'll hve to throw out the whole batch."

"No! Not the WHOLE BATCH!" Pothy almost screams, in utter torture. "Please! I'll do anything! ANYTHING!"

Cor'lana can't help it. It's awful of her, she knows, but she folds in laughter, a hand going to her belly (and revealing that yes, she is most certainly not expecting). Tears even fall from her eyes. "Oh my goodness. Simony, you've got him on the ropes."

"Please! Please-please-please-please-please! SNACKS shouldn't be WASTED." Pothy's begging like he's never begged before. Or, well... maybe he has. He is an awfully-long-lived bird.

The Goblin is doing her best to not look as though she is supremely amused, her face impassive. Though a corner of her mouth is twitching slightly. Sighing, she pulls out another silvery wrapped treat, and pulls on the little 'wings' that stick out. The treat slowly unwraps itself, the toffee extracted and held between finger and thumb.

"If, I let you have this, the best treat the world's ever known, in exchange, you stop teasing Cor'lana about that particular topic. Or I'll toss them all out where you cannot find them. Or worse... I'll feed them to ''other'' ravens."

Simony flashes Cor'lana a toothy grin. "I have so many siblings. You have to learn quickly or they ahve their way."

"Please! No! NOT THE OTHER RAVENS!" Pothy seems fit to cry. In fact, that's exactly what he does. He can't really... shed tears? But he makes sobbing sounds, hanging his head like a dejected raven.

That sound is what causes Cor'lana to stop. She sighs and goes to scoop up Pothy. "Oh, there there. It's okay. Everything's okay. We teased you a little too hard, didn't we, Pothy?"

"Myeah," Pothy murmurs, his little bird-beak going to burrow into Cor'lana's hair. He's sweet when he's like this. Even if it comes with sobbing raven noises.

Simony lets out a sigh, and offers up the toffee to Pothy. "Don't tease Cor'lana about what you shouldn't be teasing her about.", the Gobbo says softly. "The less talk, the less chance of it being overheard."

She snorts. "He knows how to play the game, doesn't he. Well. I should get going. Please say hello to Telamon for me, please? It's been good catching up, and as I promised, my lips are sealed.

The Gobbo pulls out a handfull of the silvery treats, and places them in his bowl. "Unwrap them first, Pothy. Don't eat the silvery stuff."

[[Category:Logs]]