Denouement of the Father

Log Info

• Title: Denouement of the Father

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: The Feathered One comes back to Ravenstongue and Telamon's house to speak with Telamon in the wake of Glorenacil's actions the day prior. They discuss the motivations and mental state that Glorenacil had for tormenting the young half-elf couple. Telamon inquires how the family line of 'succession' for the Lúpecyll family agreement with the Feathered One will work, and is informed that Ravenstongue is to be the new 'head of the family'. Finally, Ravenstongue returns home and goes to make some soup after the Feathered One leaves. Telamon informs her of what happened with her father, which Ravenstongue accepts, and the two have a lovely evening while the soup simmers away in the kitchen.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- 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
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-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-    
The Feathered One    6'0"     ?? Lb      Fey               Male      A tall fey man with violet eyes and a primal appearance.
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Sunset in Alexandria provides a beautiful backdrop for a nice flight.

That's most likely the logic behind the familiar raven form of Grandfather gliding through the sky, a black silhouette against the orange that fades into a dreamy purple-blue at the horizon.

The bird descends down into the University District and flies down to a specific house that he knows quite well. Grandfather pecks at the kitchen window and waits patiently.

However, his dear grandchild is not at home at the moment. She's left with Pothy in tow to bring back ingredients for what she promised (with a wink and a grin) to be more soup. This means that it is, of course, a fine time for a certain young gentleman to have a private conversation with his fiancee's ancestor about... recent matters.

Anger is easy; it's dealing with the aftermath that's not so pleasant. Still... at least Telamon didn't have to clean blood off the floor. He's moved the furniture a bit to provide a clear space, and is sitting crosslegged in the living room on the floor, eyes lidded. Hands in a classical meditative, focusing posture, as he breathes in and out evenly.

"Sagaru gadala," he intones, and the scarf around his waist shimmers, and then unknots itself... slithering up and down his torso, curving and weaving around him as if it was possessed of its own will.

Grandfather waits a moment longer to see if Telamon will notice him at the kitchen window, although he watches the scarf slither up his grandchild's betrothed with a quirk of his avian head. Finally, he decides he's had enough of waiting for Telamon to open his eyes, and he just flaps his wings, the kitchen windows opening with a small creak.

The violet-eyed raven flies into the kitchen and forms into his usual humanoid form, the windows closing behind him again with a simple gesture of his hands. "Good evening, sir Telamon," Grandfather says politely. His monstrous hands go to fold in front of him in an equally polite posture. "I hope I am not disturbing you."

Which, well, he is. Better a Grandfather disturbance than a Glórenacil disturbance, all things considered.

Telamon's eyes pop open, and the scarf actually wriggles around him. "Oh! Damn! Sorry, Grandfather, just... experimenting. Didn't expect to see you tonight." He murmurs something, and the sash wraps around his waist again and knots, before he smoothly lifts himself to his feet. "I... felt like I needed to focus on something a little more constructive than mulling over last night. This seemed like a good option."

He looks at Grandfather, his expression relaxed -- a far cry from the absolute fury seen last night. "Can I offer you anything to drink? 'Lana's out picking up some things for dinner tonight, though she wouldn't say what."

"Whatever you are willing to pour me is fine, young one," Grandfather replies with a smile. It's odd how that smile is the same one that accompanied the Feathered One's threat to bury Glórenacil in his garden.

Or maybe not so odd. He is, after all, fey.

Grandfather takes a seat at the kitchen table, leaning back into his chosen chair. "I wanted to come by and make sure you were all right. Cor'lana, as well, but I recalled that you wanted to speak with me alone. It seems you're in good enough spirits considering that you are practicing magic."

His claws fold in his lap. "I should also state, just in case you were curious: Glórenacil left for Llyranost earlier this morning. I followed him only to ensure that he wasn't going to do anything untoward."

Telamon crooks a finger, and the pantry opens, a jug of cider lifting out on its own while Tel grabs a pair of mugs. "We discovered," he says with an arch grin, "that neither Lana nor I have any head for the serious spirits. One glass of dwarven whiskey each just about knocked us for a whirl." He sets out the mugs, before pouring the cider himself. "Yes, I did. It's... related to the pact. Not the one you established recently," he says, raising a hand to forestall any protest. "The one with the Lúpecyll bloodline itself."

He sits down opposite Grandfather. "I am a bit curious. How do you determine what line you would follow? Because now... it would seem to me you are bound to us, rather than whatever child of Glórenacil and Ainasse might be." He takes a sip of cider. "I'm not casting aspersions or trying to pick a fight. If anything, I applaud your good taste if that's the case."

Grandfather smirks a little, presumably picturing his granddaughter and Telamon passed out in a drunken heap on the couch in his head. But then the question is cast into the air, and the violet eyes look at Telamon. Inscrutable.

"To be frank with you, young one," he replies, "this is... Well, it's unusual. There is no precedent for anything like Cor'lana's current situation. I have never had a child delay their stay with me in Quelynos, and... Never has a child sent to live with me in Quelynos ever had the potential for procreation."

Grandfather takes a cup of cider up into his talons. "As far as I am concerned? The standard Lúpecyll bloodline is finished. There are cousins of Glórenacil, yes, but they are... distant, enough that they have lost the name or never marked their firstborns. There were never many of our bloodline, and until Glórenacil's generation, most either kept to their homes in Llyranost in the woods and mated with the occasional outsider or perished childless."

He pauses to take a sip of the cider. "The reason I agreed to give your bride a pact was because I felt her anguish that she was not 'enough'--when that's never been the case, but when you are a child adrift with no firm identity, far be it from me to deny her that relief. And... I believe she can rebuild the bloodline as the new head of the family. That is where you come in. You and Cor'lana have the better part of two centuries to live your lives and have children. Your firstborn will be marked like Cor'lana. And when the time comes and you feel comfortable, perhaps you and Cor'lana will come to live with me in Quelynos. After that... I will claim the next head of the family's firstborn's firstborn, just as I always have. But this time, they will know why."

Telamon's voice takes on a slightly clinical tone, the kind he uses when he's regarding something as dispassionately as he can. "I admit it's... unusual. But I could foresee a situation where Ainasse's child might seek you out, for good or ill." He shrugs lightly. "Or not. It's a mistake to try and borrow trouble from the future. You wind up sitting there mumbling about what could be till you've got a beard long enough to trip over."

He nods. "We... had a conversation about it. I was... hesitant, but that was less about you and more about... pacts in general. And my own family's history with them." Tel shakes his head. "Enough. I'll say to your face what I told her: I trusted you before, I trust you now, and it's stupid to start having second thoughts. Whatever happens later, well... we'll just have to see."

"Ainasse's child can choose to seek out our family lineage," Grandfather replies, "and if they do, I will welcome them, and I will encourage Cor'lana to do the same. But I suspect that child will be raised as a Son'doriel and not as a Lúpecyll. As you said, best not to borrow trouble from the future, however."

He takes a more solid sip of the cider now and nods. Apparently he can taste some of it, or is perhaps just being polite. "I appreciate that you trust me, Telamon. I truly do regret that Cor'lana did not inform you of the pact before it happened. I never intended it to be some sort of vile secret."

Telamon leans back in his chair, looking up. "I think if... the Watcher's warnings hadn't been so recent, if I hadn't read Feadril's journal, I probably would've been a little more relaxed. But... fears can be hard to conquer." He looks rueful. "I know you spoke with father, and he was reassured that this wasn't going to devolve into something horrific."

His expression grows a bit grim. "Which... I'm not sure I can say the same about me. Gods, I was ready to kill that man, as messily as I could."

Grandfather raises a claw, and he looks like he's about to reach out to put it on top of Telamon's hand or on his shoulder... but he places it on the table instead, perhaps reconsidering the gesture.

"You were met with a man who was a mockery of your beloved one," Grandfather says gently. "Any man might have been tempted to violence at what he said. That you did indicates restraint and a moral fiber that I am told that mortals prize."

He smiles again. "Please understand, Telamon, and I hope that this will not unsettle your opinion of me in any way--I have killed before to protect my children. I will again--not with any particular target in mind as of this moment, but as I am what I am, it is a certainty I will continue to live through generations of my descendants and they will run into their own issues. I was fully prepared to kill that man if you had given the word, and I only waited on your word because I was in your roost."

It's said in a very matter of fact way, although there is a pleasure that is in the words when he discusses that it is for the bloodline's protection. The Feathered One is a fey lord. There's not mistaking that at least when it comes to this topic.

Telamon sighs. "Maybe. But anger's a luxury. And while I'll fight -- and kill, if need be -- it's always been in defense of myself and others. Not with a man who was, frankly, so far out of his element he might as well have been a fish in the desert." He snorts. "You're right though. When father confronted you, it wasn't out of self-interest, but fear for me. Glórenacil was a mockery of that." He drains his mug. "Gods. That's it. No wonder I was furious."

He looks at Grandfather, and smiles finally. "You're an odd kind of guardian angel, though. But one can't be too picky." His grin is impish, playful. "But in all seriousness, thank you. I don't think I was in serious danger, but you never want to chance that sort of thing -- especially with someone who's desperate."

"Your father was concerned for you, whereas hers is only concerned for himself," Grandfather says. "I asked him the question about Ainasse at the end there because I was curious if he saw her as a person or as a pretty bird in a cage that he wanted to pry free... and put into his own. A gilded cage is still a cage, young man... As much as he tried to appeal to you with all the talk of how her father manipulated her, and how she was trapped, he didn't talk about what she wanted unless it was something that inconvenienced him."

He smiles again at Telamon. "The guilty often mirror their own crimes onto those that they accuse to deflect the blame. That is a lesson you ought to learn now rather than later in life."

Then he raises the cider again to his lips and says, "Think nothing of it, young man. I will always endeavor to slit the throat of the quarrelsome one than to allow them to pester my children further--even if the quarrelsome one comes of my own bloodline. And I couldn't risk Cor'lana's happiness by allowing you to be hurt."

Telamon nods. "I think... he did love her. Does. Or perhaps he loves the idea of her but he can't reconcile that with who she is." He picks up the cider jug and refills his cup, before continuing, "But there's one thing that I can't quite forget, and... it's why in the end I tossed him out, instead of letting you drag him off."

He steeples his fingers. "Lady Ainasse has magical talent as well -- I'm not clear if she's like Lana or myself, or a wizard, or something stranger. But I know very well how such magics can be used to ...affect a person." He takes a sip of his cider. "To convince them of something that isn't true. What if Glórenacil was just a pawn for Ainasse, to dispose of Vailevan? The whole story of abuse a fabrication?" His dark eyes glitter. "A grim prospect indeed. And as I said... I'll be happy if we never see those two again."

He shakes his head. "Enough. Let's not discuss those two further, Grandfather. If Lana comes home and I can't eat dinner because I'm out of sorts, she'll be quite put out."

Grandfather's face goes dour with the suggestion of Lady Ainasse's manipulation. "True," he says. "She could very well have manipulated him. Perhaps I will do my own investigation. If that is the case..."

He waves off the matter. "Not a thing for either you nor Cor'lana to be concerned with, correct. I will leave the matter... And leave you alone. I have my first shift at the bookstore tonight," Grandfather says with a smirk. "And I imagine that you will not want a full house to tell Cor'lana about what happened if you haven't already."

The fey lord downs his cup and, with a flicker of magic, cleans the inside. He rises from his chair. "It was good to chat with you again, young one."

Telamon looks at his mug, then back up to the Feathered One. "Thank you, Grandfather. Things are... rarely cut and dried here in the mortal world. But there are benefits to it." He can't help but grin at the fey lord. "Bookstore. Why a bookstore, Grandfather? Eventually, I want to know what drove that decision."

He stands as Grandfather does -- it's only polite -- and nods. "It's good to speak to you as well, sir. Take care."

"Oh, it's simple, Telamon," Grandfather says as he turns back into his usual raven form. "I get an employee discount on the latest Crimson Pen."

The raven leaves through his usual method of the kitchen window, opening and closing behind him. But a few minutes later, Cor'lana comes in through the front door, holding her usual shopping wicker basket of ingredients as Pothy rides on her shoulder. "Hi honey, I'm home!" she calls out.

"Hi honey, I'm home!" Pothy mimics, which earns him a little glare--and then a snicker to follow that glare--from Cor'lana.

Telamon blinks slowly as Grandfather vanishes out the window. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he says aloud in a conversational tone. He only snaps out of it when Lana opens the door and steps inside. "Oh... er, hello, love." He looks at the jug of cider and the two mugs, and has the grace to look embarrassed. "Grandfather dropped by. We needed to chat about a few things."

He walks over to Cor'lana, helpfully taking the basket from her and passing it off to the unseen servant so he can wrap his arms around his lady. "How was the market?"

Cor'lana snuggles into her favorite spot, which happens to be right underneath Telamon's chin as she fits into it so well. "Grandfather came by? Did he mention how his job interview went?" she asks, giggling a little. She's totally expecting him to say that her Grandfather flubbed it and that's why he came over for a drink.

"Snacks!" Pothy says in regards to the market.

"Yes, Pothy got his snacks. I got what I needed for soup tonight." Cor'lana leans back a bit in his arms and grins up at Telamon. "Wild rice and chicken soup."

Telamon chuckles, blushing a touch. "What is it with you and soup and... alright, never mind. We do have a couple things to talk about though. Did you want to go ahead and put the soup on first before we talk?"

He looks slightly wry at the mention of Grandfather. "No, he starts his first shift this evening. I... you know what, we'll discuss why he's stocking books later, because I really do not know what the hell to think about it."

"Sure, it'll take a while to simmer anyway," Cor'lana says happily. She sets about the business of assembling the soup and setting it into a pot to cook over a flame, giving it an experimental stir. "I am pretty impressed that he managed to land the job. I thought that, well, he'd..."

She stops mid-stir. "Huh. Maybe he charmed the shopkeeper into letting him work there. ...Either way, so long as it all works out, I suppose I'm fine with it." A feytouched woman she is, as apparently this doesn't bother her too much.

Cor'lana makes her way to the couch once the soup's done, and sits down, smiling. "So, what did you want to talk about?" she asks. It's clear she's in a good mood. After all, why wouldn't she be?

Telamon shrugs. "So long as he's not robbing the shopkeeper or causing serious mischief, I'm not going to raise a fuss." He heaves a sigh as Cor'lana finishes setting the soup up to simmer, and takes a seat on the couch next to her, one arm going around her shoulders.

"There's no way to start this that's easy, so I'll get to the point. Your idiot sire paid me a visit the other day, while you were out." He looks sardonic. "He was pretty much at the ragged edge, to use the term. Was desperate to talk to someone, especially as he'd managed to piss off Grandfather -- again."

Cor'lana blinks as she is informed of this. The smile on her face quickly turns to concern--and then even quicker into worry. "Wait--my father came here? Did... Did you let him inside the house? What did he say? Does Grandfather know what he did to us?" She presses her lips together for a moment before she asks, "Is he still alive?"

The questions rattle out of her like marbles from a knocked over tin spilling onto the floor. But she's not shaking like she usually does when the subject of her father or Lady Ainasse tormenting them is brought up.

Telamon can't help but chuckle. "Well... yes, he's still alive. It was a near thing, though. It's... let me start from the beginning." He focuses his thoughts. "I dragged him inside, because I figured I might as well start prying some answers out of him. He didn't realize who I was initially until I told him 'You're about to be my father-in-law, where are my manners' at him." He snorts, grinning tightly.

"In any case, I started trying to get information from him. Do you remember at the courthouse, when I speculated he and his lady wife weren't on the same page of the book? It seems I was on the mark. But the problem is that he's ... well, he's stupid. I cannot imagine what your mother saw in him, love."

Cor'lana has an interesting look on her face as Telamon informs her that her father is still alive. It's something that oscillates between a quiet anger that he's alive--and yet a relief that he's alive. She slumps slightly into Telamon. "Well," she says after a moment, "if Pothy was right--thanks Pothy--apparently it was a brief tryst after my mother decided he was handsome enough of a partner for the evening. He neglected to inform her that he was bedding his brother's wife on the side, of course."

She just sighs, closing her eyes. "What was he saying that was so stupid, exactly? Was he even in his right mind?"

"Well, he sure isn't getting by on his brains." Telamon rubs the bridge of his nose. "He... no. I don't think he was in his right mind. Evidently Ainasse walked out on him over the shenanigans. Went back to Llyranost. And it was like his world had imploded."

He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. "So, he decided to screw up his courage -- spurred on by my hair, evidently, which looks a lot like Vailevan's -- and pulled a knife on me, ranting about 'tying off loose ends'."

His voice becomes wry. "Unfortunately, he didn't realize Grandfather had tracked him here and was hiding in the bedroom."

"Oh gods!" Cor'lana looks positively horrified as Telamon reveals he was almost shanked by her own father. She wraps her arms tightly around him, swinging herself into his lap. "Tel, you didn't think to mention that to me until now? Surely you must have been terrified... I'm so sorry..."

Tears well up in her violet eyes. "I didn't ever think he'd do something so awful, Tel. It'd be one thing if he tried it on me, but... for him to try and hurt you..."

Telamon hugs her back, reassuring. "I wasn't in danger. Your grandfather, well... he can move very fast when he wants. Next thing I know I'm having to talk him out of twisting the idiot's head off like a corkscrew."

He heaves another sigh. "Then it got kind of ugly. He was blathering on about how terrible Grandfather was, and then he insulted you, and... well, then I started shouting a bit. I remember I felt so cold, and all I could think of was dropping that son of a bitch into the deepest hole I could find and walking away."

His arms tighten around her reflexively. "I think if he hadn't been so pathetic, so stupid, I'd have asked Grandfather to drag him off to Quelynos and use him as a dartboard."

Cor'lana sniffles a little, but she seems oddly placated by the idea of her dear and sweet Grandfather holding her father's head like he's about to snap it off. The sniffles slow and she looks up at Telamon for a long moment.

"Next time, just let Grandfather kill him," she says. It's a much colder notion than Telamon probably expects out of his fiancee--although there was the time at the Feypool where she began to snarl threats at the corrupted fey. "He tried to hurt you--and for all that he's done to us, I don't think he should be alive anymore. What if he'd seriously hurt you? Or killed you?"

Telamon looks firm. "I don't make decisions on 'what if', especially when it comes to someone's life." His lips quirk up. "Believe me, though, he pushed me as close as possible to outright strangling him. And I think it's only Grandfather's regard for me that got that lowlife out of here alive."

"In any case, I told him I'd spare him if he went home to Llyranost. At that point... I just didn't care, I just wanted him gone." He leans back in the couch. "Grandfather ...put his finger on why I was so enraged and disgusted with him. Glórenacil... is like a bad mockery of my father. Every action father takes is considered. And he's devoted to his family, no matter if we're elves, humans, or in between. They're... complete opposites."

"I hope that he stays away from us, then," Cor'lana says with a little huff. "Because if I see him again, I might hurt him. Not kill him, but seriously hurt him. I'll leave the slaughter to Grandfather if he's so willing."

She finally just nuzzles as closely as she can into Telamon, squeezing tightly around him. "I just don't want to lose you. You're the only one that can ever make me feel this way... if you die, I'd never love again. I'm certain of that." It's a rather dramatic sentence, but she says it with extreme conviction.

Telamon kisses her brow softly, and nuzzles back. "I know. I can't think of a life without you, either. But... with any luck, we're done with those two. Even Grandfather says he'll be following our family, not theirs, and while I admit he can be a little... heh... unique... I can live with it." He strokes her hair gently. "But... this has been bothering me all day, because I didn't tell you at first. We did promise to each other not to hide anything -- but both Grandfather and I were so twisted up about it..."

He sighs, resting his cheek against hers. "Forgive me, love. I'm still learning, even now."

"Well, I'm unique, too, and you like me just fine," Cor'lana replies with a smile. She leans in and kisses his cheek. "And... Well, I understand why you hid it. Frankly, if you had told me what happened right after, I might have run off in the night to tell him off."

She puts her hand to Telamon's cheek, pushing her face to the side so that their noses are touching. "Of course I forgive you. But... Maybe I'll have you work a little harder later." She grins.

And she's not talking about having him help make her soup.

Telamon smiles, snuggling her close. "That did figure into my thoughts, yes. I know you, love. You're as ferocious as anything when it comes to defending what you see as yours." He kisses her on the lips lightly. "Oh dear. Well, I'll just have to rise to the occasion, I suppose. My life is filled with such strenuous work..." He enjoys the teasing, as much as she does.

"So. Now that we've solved that problem, what shall we turn our combined attentions to next?"

Cor'lana looks mischievous as she looks back in the direction of the bedroom and says, "We have a couple of hours until the soup's ready." She looks back at him with a grin. "If you're alright with that. Then we take a break for dinner?"

Uh-oh. A dinner break. This does sound more like work than it perhaps ought to be.