Staggering Home

Log Info

• Title: Staggering Home

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: University District / Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Telamon escorts Ravenstongue home from the incident at the Artificer's Hall, although Ravenstongue turns down an offer to ride on a floating disk spell in favor of walking despite her exhaustion. They finally do make it home after discussing a number of topics, such as Ravenstongue's flagging devotion to Navos, and discover Grandfather's decided to make them dinner in their absence. Once Grandfather learns that they've just been through a melee, he insists on making sure Cor'lana's fine. Once she's given a clean bill of health, a family dinner is had over soup.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- 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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It's evening as the two half-elves leave the Artificer's Hall, the sunlight quickly evaporating overhead. Cor'lana seems wearied by the battle, but she's insisted on walking home, although she certainly remains close to her fiance as they do.

"It's not a far walk," she says, an arm curled around Telamon's as she walks... somewhat slowly. The quickening spell has since worn off on them both, and Cor'lana's exhaustion has been made somewhat more apparent for it. Her steps are slow and measured. "At least we're not long from home."

Pothy's on her shoulder, of course, and he seems to have a different opinion. "Nap," he suggests, mimicking Telamon's voice. "And snacks."

It's clear the snacks are intended for him, not for Cor'lana.

"Are you sure you don't want to ride, love?" Telamon is solicitous of Cor'lana, as always. His arm around her, as the two make their way home. "I've got enough mana left for that spell if you need it. And there's a blanket in my haversack we can put over the disk."

Tel gives Pothy a slightly annoyed look, before chuckling. "Alright, you rogue. But do us a favor and keep an eye out, will you? I think we both need a nap." He still looks a little singed from the fireball that erupted from the hall, though it's clear it didn't injure him substantially.

He squeezes Lana's hand. "Stars coming out," he comments, his spirits rising despite the fatigue dogging his fiancee's steps.

"I'm not a child," Cor'lana protests in a way that does come off partially as a whine despite her words. "I can walk, just... slowly. And I've never known you to turn down a nice, slow walk home."

Pothy gives his usual nobleman's laugh--"haw-haw-haw-haw-haw-haw-haw" before he nuzzles into Cor'lana's hair. He whistles into her ear, which produces a bit of a frown on Cor'lana's face. "Don't talk to me about Him right now. I don't know how I feel and I'm in no mood to contemplate my faith," the sorceress responds to Pothy's comment.

But she manages a little smile as Telamon squeezes her hand. She raises her violet eyes to the sky. "You're right," she says. "You always are in a better mood when you can see the stars, huh. Makes sense, of course--I'm in a better mood when I can see your eyes."

"I prefer it when the slow speed is because we're busy talking, laughing, or stopping to look at things, not because you're fatigued from some filthy spell spat from a misforged golem." Telamon almost sounds grumpy about it. "Gods. I need to find where Barclaiigh is staying. I'm buying him and his bear dinner, I don't care HOW much it eats." Clearly, Tel was pleased with the 'Flying Bear' technique.

He cocks his head at Cor'lana, brow furrowing. "Something wrong with Pothy?" He clearly didn't pick up on what the conversation is about. Though he smiles at her comment about his eyes. "You always say that. Of course, looking into your eyes is just as pleasing to me."

Something wrong with Pothy? This puts the frown back on Cor'lana's face. "When that... thing, fired the ray at me," Cor'lana replies, clearly trying to find the words to describe what she's been through, "I found myself praying to Navos to aid me. I said I know I haven't been the best Navosian lately, but I was scared, and... He didn't answer."

Her free hand goes to her feather mark on her chest. "I'm trying not to think about it. The idea that I've been... abandoned..." Her voice wobbles a little as she looks away from Telamon.

The problem with not thinking about things is that, well, you tend to think about them anyway. Pothy gives Cor'lana another nuzzle in her hair.

Telamon strokes her hair, continuing to support her as they walk slowly. "Well... the gods usually only directly answer their appointed faithful. Priests. The rest of us kind of have to get by with guesswork." He leans close to nuzzle her as well, a warm reminder of something that's constant.

Once he's done that, he continues, "I think we had a conversation about this, a while ago. About your confusion, and that you weren't sure if you were a good fit for Navos while trying to embrace your fey heritage." Telamon shrugs. "Maybe you need to talk to a priest. I'm ... not an atheist but I don't think I'm religious enough to give guidance on this. I don't know what else to tell you, though. Other than I'll support you, whatever it takes."

"Maybe," Cor'lana replies, a bit quietly. She returns his nuzzling. Eventually, the smile returns to her face. Telamon has a way of getting her to be happy. "If... I am without Navos, I have to think about what I do have. I have you. I have Pothy. I have Grandfather. My cousin and her family. And all of our friends. And we have a future to look forward to together..."

"Kids," Pothy chimes in, mimicking Cor'lana's voice.

This colors Cor'lana's face. "Yes, that's sort of what I meant by the future, Pothy," she admits. "I don't exactly fantasize about them--we have plenty of time, and I want to do far more adventuring before we think about that--but I do think about that possibility. Well... Eventuality, really."

Telamon squeezes her gently. "I... alright, here's my thought. You spent a long time devoting yourself to books, and Navos. But then you went out into the world and now there's so much more, that you're not sure you can reconcile your prior... views, with what you've become now." He arches an eyebrow. "Does that make any sense?"

He mulls over Lana's words. "Well, children are... kind of important. Can't really have a civilization without someone to carry it on -- and no, I don't include that dreadful novel about 'the empire of the undead' I saw. That's just a bad mockery." He grins. "But, as you say, we have time. And we both will eventually ... well, commit to that. To being parents."

Cor'lana nods, squeezing Telamon's arm. "Right," she says. "It makes sense. I've... grown a lot in the past year. I've done a lot of things I've never done. Honestly, kind of thought I'd die alone before I'd ever kiss anyone, let alone probably the most handsome boy that's ever lived."

She is so biased. But she doesn't care. She grins at him anyway.

"That, and as the new 'head of the Lúpecyll family'," Cor'lana replies, "I sort of owe Grandfather children if we're going to rebuild the family. Bit of pressure there."

She looks a little sheepish. "Although there's a strange comfort in knowing our oldest will come out with violet eyes. Grandfather says that's a family feature that's never been interrupted."

Telamon nods. "I was... I mean, I wasn't at loose ends, but my life went off in a new direction when I came here. I always figured I'd just follow father into the business of being a diplomat and factor, but..." He pauses. "...Now I'm not so sure."

"And then -- you come into my life. And I don't regret any of it. We both... have a hard time imagining how the other sees us, I think. I never thought I was that special, and I know you didn't think you were either. But we found we were both special to each other and that was that."

He grins at the talk of violet eyes. "He didn't mention that to me. But I don't care. As long as they're ours, I'm happy."

"It's true," Cor'lana says with a grin. "Why do you think that my father and I have violet eyes like Grandfather's after eons of a family lineage? Normally that kind of thing would be gone after a few generations--but sorcerer bloodlines are, of course, special. The oldest child always has violet eyes--and I am the oldest, as was my father. So naturally, our oldest would have the eyes, too."

She smirks at Telamon. "Imagine. A cute little violet-eyed child who looks like you. Might be the cutest child in the history of children."

But then she seems to remember looking at her baby-self in the crib in the inward dream walk. "...On the other hand, I was an adorable baby..."

At least she's grinning again and not ruminating on being abandoned by Navos.

Telamon ponders. "Yes, dear, but all babies are adorable, especially to their parents." He chuckles softly, happy with the uptick in Lana's mood. "Father said I was a wonderful little scamp of a child. The kind of little rascal who'd drive you to distraction but was never malicious." He grins. "Just imagine the children thereafter, with stars in their eyes. Or... you know, there's no reason it couldn't be both with our firstborn."

Now there's a prospect -- a child who's the best of both worlds.

"Goodness. He or she would start talking and be elected emperor or empress of Ea by the evening. Hilarious but terrifying all the same."

Cor'lana starts giggling, perhaps picturing this wunderkind of a child. "Feyblooded, possibly to inherit Pothy, and with the blessing of the stars? They'd rule the world. Maybe even join the gods. People would be throwing themselves at their feet. No wonder Grandfather's pressuring us to have children. Maybe he's seen the future and was tickled pink by a possible All-Emperor of Ea, Child Lúpecyll-Atlon."

They're finally closer to home now, turning onto their street. Cor'lana seems immensely grateful to see their house. "Gods," she says. "A nap, in our own bed--I forget how much I take that bed for granted every time we manage to come home from an adventure together."

Telamon laughs softly as well. "Maybe. Who knows? Or maybe they'll just be a 'normal' child. Loved and cherished by their mother and father. Either outcome is fine by me." He rubs his face, looking up at the skies again, as they turn onto the street, the house in sight.

"Agreed. You take a nap, I'll start dinner. We've got some things I can throw into the pot, if Grandfather hasn't slipped in to start already." He looks thoughtful. "When I was traveling with father, I met a few adventurers who... really didn't have a home. They were always on the road. And... it seemed so sad. I like to travel -- I really do -- but I also like to have a place to come back to, where I'm not just passing through but I can rest. Heal my wounds, both literal and figurative."

Down the street they go, and Cor'lana's already fishing the keys from her satchel in preparation to enter the house. "Normal is fine by me, too," she says in firm agreement, flashing a smile at Telamon. "Considering how... tumultuous our lives have been? I sort of envy Adelaide at times."

Then she thinks for a moment. "Oh gods. Addy. Addy's probably swimming in desperate young sorcerers by now. We have to drop by the coffee shop and see how many marriage proposals she's gotten. Hopefully they're at least possessed of enough sense to buy a drink and a cookie first before they ask for her hand in marriage."

Cor'lana walks up to the door and unlocks it, pushing it in... to hear Grandfather's singing.

"Lulley lulley, lulley lulley

The raven hath born my mate away" <Sylvan>

It sounds like he's in the kitchen. Cor'lana grins. She bounds into the house with a sudden sense of energy that she didn't have before. "I think dinner's covered."

"Don't forget, I think Stiger's got some connections at the University. She's probably got plenty of business as well as suitors." Telamon grins. "And if she's anything like you, she's just eating up the attention. Which is fine with me. I really do enjoy helping out other people."

When the door swings open, his eyebrows shoot up, before the words of the song finally register. "Ah. I'd know that voice anywhere," he quips. "Look, Cor'lana, someone has entered our house and is singing lullabyes while they cook! Whoever could it be?" He's grinning as well, following her as they step inside. Cloaks and boots doffed at the door, the cares and worries of the outside world set aside.

"If she's like me?" Cor'lana playfully pouts. "What are you implying, Tel? The only person's attention I want is yours."

Grandfather calls out from the kitchen, "I would hope that it's me and not another member of the fey nobility, Telamon!" He steps out to greet them, untying his apron as he does so. It seems he's found a specific apron of his own rather than wear Cor'lana's apron. Cor'lana, of course, throws her arms around him--and he opens his arms, indicating there's plenty of room for Telamon to join in. "How are you--"

Then his violet eyes narrow. "Telamon, your hair looks singed. What happened?"

Telamon just laughs again, as the couple approach the kitchen. Letting Cor'lana charge ahead into her Grandfather's arms, as he walks after. Then, of course, Grandfather gives him the stare, and asks pointedly what happened to him.

Tel can't help but be reminded of the time he managed to muddy his shoes, and despite his best efforts, they were still dirty when he went home. And of course mother noticed. It must be a natural power mothers have. He can't help but grin ruefully. "Damn it, I knew I forgot to freshen up..." He sighs. "Well, there was a slight incident at the Artificer's Hall. I didn't know you could build a golem that could cast spells. On the upshot, I learned that bears make excellent bodyguards."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Bluff+3+4: (9)+13+3+4: 29

"Bears?" Grandfather looks puzzled. "Bears. What in the world have you two been doing?"

Oh dear. There's a protective note in that tone of his. Cor'lana lets go of Grandfather and chuckles. Pothy flies off her shoulder into the study, presumably to reacquaint himself with the book nest. "Like Tel said--we were passing by the Hall and there were some... machines that had gone rogue and could cast magic. Our friend, a dwarven druid by the name of Barclaiigh, was also there, and he has a bear named Porter. He protected us at one point."

Grandfather nods, lifting a monstrous clawed hand to his chin. "Aha, I see. May that bear live forever--and maybe I'll have to drop by the Artificer's Hall later to ask what in the f--feathers," he says, correcting himself with a slight glance to Cor'lana like he would rather not curse in front of her, "they're doing. They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"I'm fine," Cor'lana insists. "Just a little singed like Tel."

Grandfather's genial smile drops as he looks straight at Cor'lana. "Cor'lana Branfeax Lúpecyll. Do not omit things to me. I can tell magic was used on you. Telamon, take over on the cooking--it's just soup, you'll just need to stir it. I need to make sure she's fine."

Cor'lana blanches. The full name had been used. "I'm fine! Really!" she insists again.

Telamon shakes his head. "You'd have to stand in line, Grandfather. I had some unkind words, and Randolf -- a khazadi wizard who's a friend of mine -- he had more unkind words, and I'm pretty sure Skielstregar was contemplating hitting some of those idiots before we left. That's just the adventurers. I'm pretty sure the lord mayor's office is going to have even more words."

And then Cor'lana just completely blows it trying to lie to her Grandfather. Tel audibly facepalms, and mumbles, "Gods, you're bad at bullshitting, Lana." He sighs, and says quietly, "Yes, Grandfather," before going over to the soup to check and stir as needed.

Cor'lana looks at Telamon with a bit of a horrified look. He's just abandoning her to Grandfather! "Tel..!"

"Knows better than to interrupt a member of the fey nobility and the patriarch of the family he's marrying into, because he was raised by loving and smart parents," Grandfather says. "Now, don't squirm. Really, Cor'lana, you're not a child--were you like this as a child? Did you refuse to take baths as a toddler because you wanted to keep playing? Distressingly common trait in your family line..."

Eventually, Grandfather concludes his magic assessment, or so it can be presumed when he and Cor'lana walk into the kitchen. It's a minestrone soup that's boiling away on the stove. "Clean bill of health, nothing that won't heal with some rest and a good meal," Grandfather concludes. "I'll take over, Telamon."

Cor'lana sticks her tongue out playfully at Grandfather before she says, "I don't know. I think this chef is cuter," to Telamon and kisses him on the cheek.

Telamon looks amused. "What was I going to do? Throw what few spells I have left at him? Bludgeon him with my copy of 'Traveling By Night'? Dazzle him with my language skills? Really, love, Grandfather knows he wins any argument by appealing to my desire to see you safe and well. It's a pretty obvious weakness for me."

Still, he looks noticeably relieved after Grandfather's assessment. "It was a little chaotic. The artificers had managed to unleash two of these... construct-wizards. Odd things. I've seen a golem before and they seemed a bit more... aware? In any case, they were launching spells -- one was using fire magics, and the other used spells to tire Lana and tried to blind me."

He steps away for Grandfather. "In any case, we -- and it was a group effort, not just Lana and I -- managed to smash both golems." He makes a face. "I think I need to spend a little more time on my studies though. I was having the worst time trying to pierce their magical warding."

Grandfather steps over to the pot and stirs it by hand, seeming almost serene as he takes the ladle and rotates it around in the liquid. It's remarkable seeing a fey noble seem almost perfectly at home doing such a domestic chore--but one only has to remember this is an act that he's done thousands of times for his descendants to make it click. "I think that is an indication you ought to train with Cor'lana more," he says. "For all of the time you spend together here, you need to take care to not become so docile that you forget your fighting instincts."

Cor'lana continues to look a bit pale. "Wh--we don't spend all of our time cuddling!"

"Oh, I wasn't implying that. You left your night tea container out again." Grandfather grins a little as he lifts the ladle out of the pot to taste the soup.

This turns Cor'lana bright red. "Grandfa..." Then her eyes look around the kitchen. No container of night tea. "Grandfather! You're so... mean!"

"If I made you look, then the accusation is partly true, isn't it?" Grandfather asks, grinning like the cat that's caught the canary.

Maybe more accurately, the raven that's driven the cat out.

Telamon looks pained. "Possibly. I'll make reservations at the Proving Grounds -- time for more practice." He's got enough internal discipline to admit an error on his part.

"Although," he says, restraining the urge to facepalm again as Cor'lana gets baited by her grandfather, "there has been more than just cuddling. I put a garden in the backyard -- I'm rather proud of the humble beginnings, even if I did cheat outrageously with summoned servitors."

He rubs his chin contemplatively. "That little melee was somewhat hindered by our lack of coordination. That happens sometimes with these catch-as-catch-can incidents -- you don't have much choice in who your companions are. It's like fighting a fire -- the emphasis is on 'put the fire out', not 'wait till you have all your usual gang there'."

"I have noticed the garden," Grandfather says, stirring the soup again while Cor'lana is struggling to come up with any kind of meaningful comeback against her fey progenitor. "I have also met the pixies that have helped you."

"Oh gods," Cor'lana mumbles. "They're not terrified, are they? You didn't run them off?"

Grandfather looks at Cor'lana with his usual genial smile. "No. The one named Lily-of-the-Valley fainted. Mumbled something about handsomeness--I didn't quite catch it over Mirabilis's apologies. They agreed to not get in my way after some words were exchanged."

Grandfather looks at Telamon and nods. "In the heat of combat is where all planning and tactics can go to die--especially when you are dealing with combatants like me. I, ah--I admit I go overboard when I am fighting."

Still smiling like nothing's wrong, but there's an undertone there to those words.

Telamon nods. "I really doubt they're any kind of threat or weird fey scheme. And they have been helpful, so..." He spreads his hands. "I will repeat something I saw once. 'Let me live in a house by the side of the road, and be a friend to all who pass'. That includes diminutive pixies as well as fey lords."

He snorts at Grandfather at the mention of planning and tactics going out the window. "You're not kidding. When one of us gets hit, the other tends to... well, lose our cool. I know Lana once damn near tore a... what was it, Lana? A hellfire ignis, you called it? Apart with magical darts, when it attacked me. And when the golem hit her with that spell, I, well... fireballed it. It didn't damage it -- damned warding -- but it melted the gratings it was standing on and dropped it down to the floor."

"Oh! Curious. You inherited my bloodlust when a loved one is injured," Grandfather replies, way too cheerfully. "And you both have it? What a lovely pair you make. Tell me, do you receive satisfaction from seeing them dead?"

Cor'lana's violet eyes are as wide as can be. She was grinning in grim satisfaction when those demon-twisted fey fell on that one occasion. "Grandfather, I, umm... I mean, yes, but I felt bad for it later. That was when we were dealing with the hellfire ignis that Telamon's talking about."

"And why should you feel bad?" Grandfather says, still smiling. "Those that are close to you, the ones that you love--they are often the things that matter most in this world, are they not? If you make it so those that threaten them can never be a threat again, I think that is a reason to be satisfied. It's also rather stress-relieving."

Cor'lana looks a tiny bit uncomfortable--not so much with the conversation, but with a piece of herself she'd not confronted since that day. "Well... Yes... I suppose..."

She gives Telamon a look like, "Please don't think I'm a freak."

Telamon shakes his head. "I think that's where we differ, Grandfather. I don't enjoy fighting, or killing... to me, it's a chore just like weeding a garden." His dark eyes glitter in the light. "I prefer to deal with problems diplomatically first... but that doesn't stay my hand, either. Especially when Lana is involved."

He walks over to inspect one of the end-tables, running a finger across it to check for dust. Finding none, he continues, "If the situation with Glórenacil had played out differently, and he had drawn that knife on Lana, he would not have lived to return to Llyranost. He would be dead. I would take no pleasure in it -- but he would still be dead."

"Well, I'm not... I'm not a sadist," Cor'lana elaborates, still looking somewhat uncomfortable with herself. She walks close to Telamon and takes a seat at the kitchen table, curling up in her chair in almost a defensive position. "I don't enjoy making others go through pain, but that one time, when they hurt you, Tel, I felt satisfied when I saw them hit the ground. Only in that instance. I don't enjoy taking life in any other regard."

"That's essentially what I'm describing, Cor'lana," Grandfather says. "I wonder if that's simply just where us fey differ compared to mortals. We are... intensely passionate people, and our sense of morality does not always align with yours. And, being that Cor'lana is who she is, she feels it too."

"Sorry," Cor'lana mumbles, looking away from Telamon. She seems almost ashamed of herself. "I... probably will celebrate my father's death when it happens. I know that's awful, but for everything he's done, it means I can breathe easier, knowing he can't possibly hurt us anymore."

Telamon walks over to stand behind Cor'lana, and places his hand on her shoulder. That warm, kind touch, that says everything it needs to. "It's one thing to be caught up in righteous anger, Lana. Just take care to never grow to like doing these things. That's the danger." He squeezes gently. "I know you're not a sadist. I know you better than probably anyone else. Queen of my heart, do you think I would give you my ring, and take yours, if you were anything less than who you are?" Seguing from tradespeak to Sylvan with ease, as he smiles at her.

"Which, oddly enough, reminds me, Grandfather." He flicks his eyes to the Feathered One again. "We performed another dream walk. Which was... less unpleasant than last time, though I never want to meet whatever the hells that was that left a footprint that big. But... it seems I know how to speak a language and I'm not sure what it is."

He pauses, then continues in Celestial, "Do you understand my words, lord of the First World?"

Cor'lana seems placated by Telamon's words again--the third time he's done so today. It'd be tiring work if it wasn't for the fact that they're in love. She smiles up at him. "I won't," she says. "I promise to not become someone you'd hate--because then I'd never get to hear you call me the queen of your heart again."

And, well, Grandfather can't help but grin. His descendant is being treated like royalty, after all, by the one she loves. Most patriarchs would be happy to see such. But then he's addressed--and there's a quiet moment before he responds, "It has been... a very long time, but yes, I do, child of the stars."

Cor'lana blinks as she looks between the two. "Why do I feel like this is payback for all the times I could talk to Grandfather in Sylvan and you couldn't?" she asks.

Telamon immediately leans down to kiss Cor'lana's cheek, and nuzzle her. Grandfather's presence be damned. "I know," he says with a smile. "And that's why you won't become that. Because you think about me, and I you."

Straightening again, he nods to Grandfather. "The Watcher and I conversed... briefly... in that language. He called it the voice of Creation... which, I presume, is a reference to the gods. I don't know how I know this language, though he said it had to do with my... bloodline, my powers, making me more receptive to other mysteries."

Grandfather nods at the description of the language. "That is essentially what it is," he says. "I, admittedly, do not know how I came to know of it. Many of my earliest memories are unknown to me. But it is one of many languages I know and understand, although I have not gotten to use it in quite some time."

Cor'lana blinks. "You don't remember things about your past?" she asks.

Grandfather smirks. "Yes--my memory spans eons, Cor'lana. It's perhaps best likened to forgetting your childhood the older you become. I do not remember my early years because I have had to make room for other eons. It's nothing to worry about, I assure you."

He turns back to Telamon. "So I suppose that makes the two of us, then. No idea how we came to learn the language, but I would wager that it has everything to do your bloodline. Specifically, your ancestor that the Watcher saved."

Telamon looks sardonic. "With respect to you and him, Grandfather, I think I'd be more likely to be speaking the language of devils if that was the case." He sighs. "But I shan't speak ill beyond that. Hopefully in the end he found some peace, poor soul."

He slides into the chair next to Cor'lana, laying his hand on hers. "Even elves have that issue, especially the eldest ones. I've heard of some rituals where elves will try to avoid losing precious memories by copying them into crystals, and using them as meditative foci." He looks at Grandfather sympathetically. "Asking 'how old are you' is probably a pointless question -- kind of like asking 'how high is up?'."

"It is, as I don't know," the Feathered One replies with a grin. "I have simply settled for 'as ancient as they come', and that's that. I hope that your ancestor found peace, as well--not all do."

He looks over to the soup on the pot and says, perhaps in an attempt to dispel the sober note, "I do think that soup is ready."

Cor'lana looks at Telamon and smiles. "Well, I can't complain about soup," she says, conspiratorially. "And maybe we'll make some memories later."

Her eyes flicker back to Grandfather. "Training, that is." Her smile becomes sheepish.

Grandfather tuts. "How are you feyblooded and so bad at flirting?" he asks, shaking his head.

Telamon grins suddenly. "If you need help, Grandfather, by all means say so." He's pretty certain Grandfather doesn't, but he's too polite to not offer. He flicks his eyes to Cor'lana and smiles gently. "Training first, dear. Grandfather does have a point."

His fingers enclose hers, and he lifts her hand to his lips softly. "Training won't be forever though. We'll endure it together." His eyes twinkle, as Grandfather lambastes her for her flirting skills. "Come now, Grandfather. She spent so long with her books. Give her time to develop her skills."

Soft laughter from the house, a good ending to the day.