Star Soup for the Soul

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Revision as of 05:18, 2 November 2022 by Ravenstongue (talk | contribs) (Created page with "<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;"> ==Log Info== *Title: Star Soup for the Soul *Emitter: Telamon *Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon *Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house *Summary: Telamon's come down with a little cold! Luckily, he has Ravenstongue and Pothy to care for him. With some tea, some star soup, and some TLC, Telamon will be right as rain again soon.</div> ''Lúpecyll-Atlon home, evening'' "Ah-CHOO!" Well, there's a sound n...")
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Log Info

  • Title: Star Soup for the Soul
  • Emitter: Telamon
  • Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house
  • Summary: Telamon's come down with a little cold! Luckily, he has Ravenstongue and Pothy to care for him. With some tea, some star soup, and some TLC, Telamon will be right as rain again soon.

Lúpecyll-Atlon home, evening

"Ah-CHOO!"

Well, there's a sound not heard regularly in this household. Neither Telamon nor Cor'lana are the flimsy sort -- they're both fairly sturdy, if slim, adventuring types. Staying healthy's kind of a requirement.

Unfortunately, colds and chills come with the foul weather, and it appears Tel might've pushed himself a tiny bit too far. He's seated on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, cradling one of his handkerchiefs. "You know," he growls in a slightly wheezing tone, "when we swore, 'in sickness and in health', I didn't expect the former to suddenly be an issue." He covers his face with the hanky again, and sneezes once more. A cup of hot tea sits on the table, and a book floats in the air next to him.

Thankfully, the tea kettle whistles in the kitchen. Cor'lana pours a cup of tea that has waited in reserve for this precise moment--a strange thing that smells vaguely of licorice. She's dressed in a long nightgown that's appropriate for the season, and she pads back into the living room in the ridiculous bear slippers that symbolize, in a way, their marriage. "Maybe we shouldn't have left the window open last night, even if I did like the look of your hair blowing as you were..."

Her cheeks are, of course, a rosy red as she holds the cup of tea out. "I'd cough, but then you'd worry that I got it, too," she says. "Drink. This is an herbal blend that Grandfather gave me from his garden for 'minor illnesses'."

Pothy, for his part, is cuddled up on the couch next to Telamon. "Don't worry. Nurse Pothy is on duty," he informs Telamon cheerfully.

Telamon wipes his nose in disgust. "Been a while since I caught something like this," he comments. He offers Lana a smile, though his face is tired. "Oh, gods. Thank you, love. I think I have some seven devils broken mix in the pantry, but that stuff is brutal. I am more than happy to try something a little less, um... pungent."

He pats Pothy, as he sits up a bit, and takes the cup from Lana. "Well, I mean, it wasn't like you had to work very hard to convince me. And the day had warmed things up so much I thought the evening would stay mild." He shakes his head, and starts to sip the herbal blend. "Mmm."

"You'll have to tell me how it tastes," Cor'lana says as she sits back down, curling up next to Telamon on the other side of him--after all, no one should move Nurse Pothy away from his station. She's certainly not flinching away from him. There's that 'in sickness and in health' bit that Telamon referenced, after all, and it appears his wife is taking it seriously. "I already added some honey for the throat, too, but I can add some lemon or a tad bit of sugar if it helps with the taste. I've never had tea that smells like licorice before."

Pothy looks up at the tea now as Cor'lana mentions the taste. "I think I have," he says. "It was good. Nadina had a tea like it once. Luthel offered it to her."

Cor'lana smiles a little at the mention of her mother. "Either way, that means I'm at your complete and total command for the day," she informs Telamon. "You're not lifting a finger until you get better." And she's serious.

He takes a long sip, before pondering. "It's different. I'm so used to our usual blends. I can definitely taste the honey, I don't think it needs lemon or sugar." He sighs, and coughs a bit. "Still amazed I was able to conjure up that unseen servant," he nods to where the book is still hovering. "I definitely don't want to try anything more complicated. Sneezing in the middle of the incantation is not a good idea."

Tel leans into Lana, though he puts his free hand down to rest on Pothy. "Catching cold's not that serious. It's when you stack other things on top of it that people start falling apart. Worry, work, stress... that sort of thing. It adds up. That's why most healers and herbalists will tell you to rest, preferably indoors."

Cor'lana pouts a little at Telamon. "Which is why I'm telling you that you're going to rest and I am going to do whatever you need me to do," she says. "You take care of me all the time when I have 'illnesses of the heart'--so it's my turn to take care of you."

She leans in and kisses him on the cheek. "After all, I did swear to be with you until the end of all. Now sit tight with Pothy, I have soup to go stir."

Pothy watches Cor'lana rise up from the couch and head back to the kitchen. He looks back up at Telamon and says, "I'd offer to eat your leftovers like usual, but I don't think you'll be doing your usual soup routine with the way Lana's acting. Worry, worry, worry." It's said affectionately.

Telamon sets his mug down hurriedly, snatching up his hanky for another sneeze. Once he surfaces from it, he offers Pothy a grin. "Probably not tonight. Stoke the fire, put the blankets on, and sleep in tomorrow." He picks his tea back up, sipping it again. "Ugh. This is awful. Do birds catch cold, Pothy? I know you're not exactly a normal bird, but I wouldn't want you to get this."

He peers over to see how Lana's doing in the kitchen, before continuing, "It's been a while since I've been tended to like this. But I can't think of two better nursemaids."

Pothy giggles in a rather boyish fashion that suits his true voice. "Nope, never. Just 'illnesses of the heart', as Lana calls them. I'm not fully sure if I'm even capable of getting sick, but I've never caught one, that's for sure, and my inheritors have definitely gotten sick."

"I actually got sick once," Cor'lana says as she comes back from the kitchen, "before I met you. It was after I came to Alexandria. I ended up with a fever and stayed in my room for a few days... and then it turned into weeks..."

Pothy sighs. "She went back to her old habits and holed herself up in her room after she got over the sickness," he explains. "Mostly because she'd heard rumors of a demon duke terrorizing the city, and decided it was better to stay put."

"I was much weaker back then," Cor'lana explains. She sits down next to Telamon again, curling up next to him. "You can let me under that blanket of yours, if you want. I'm not scared of getting sick." It seems like she's trying to prove a point--that she's not weak anymore.

Tel finishes the tea, setting the cup down before curling his arms around Lana. "You're not scared of anything, when it comes to me," he says with a smile. Tiredly, he rests his head on her shoulder. "Hmmm. But yeah. I know you're strong, stronger than you were." Lifting his head to look at her, he kisses her cheek before cuddling up.

"Thankfully, neither of us are prone to catching ill. Just dumb luck on this one for me." Telamon grins. "Give me a few days and I'll be back in action. Preferably alongside you."

She certainly doesn't object to the cuddling nor the kiss on the cheek, smiling brightly and blushing a little. "How could I be scared?" she declares. "We've faced down so much of the worst and awful together. You rescued me from Ainasse Son'doriel's plans. I just look at you and I think, 'love' and 'safe'."

"I guess there'll be no more bedroom activities involving hair blowing in the wind," Pothy comments. "Lana, you realize that both of you are sorcerers, right? You can just... conjure wind. You don't need to make Telamon sick just to admire his beauty or something."

This... makes Cor'lana facepalm. "Oh gods, how did I not think of that," she mutters. "I'm sorry, my love."

Telamon rolls his eyes, and laughs. "It could be worse. And remember, it wasn't like I was arguing, right?" He just shakes his head, his laughter turning into a brief fit of coughs that subside swiftly. Then he's cuddled up into her again. "So, what were you and Pothy giggling about when you came back from the market? I presume it was something amusing."

He leans over to pick up the other cup of tea he had (a more natural blend), and sips it. Frowning, he gives it a look, and suddenly it's steaming again. "I can't tell if I'm feeling better because of the tea, or because you're here," he says with a grin.

Cor'lana rubs his back as he coughs, pouting again. "Take it easy," she urges him. "I'm not going to ban you from laughing, though. I mean, they say it's the best medicine for a reason."

She smirks a little, craning her head a little to look in Pothy's direction. "Well," she says, "it appears that the Pothy sensation isn't limited to plush toys and other goods. I had a 'Pothy coffee' earlier... And then I had to pry Pothy away from the stall that was selling Pothy cakes."

Pothy's tail is wagging. "They love me! They really love me!" he says. "I have fans!"

Cor'lana just sighs and smiles as she looks back at Telamon. "Sadly, for all of Pothy's renown, he can't cure your cold. I'll happily take credit for it, however," she says, and she kisses him on the cheek. Since the lips are off limits for a bit, she has to resort to the side of his face for a little while.

Telamon just kind of... peers. "Pothy... coffee? Cakes? Good gods, has the city decided it's in love with you, Pothy?" He rubs his temples, trying not to laugh. "There was an oddball period about... thirty years back, father told me about where elven style and fashion were all the rage in the Myrrish kingdoms. It was kind of bizarre according to him."

He continues, "I guess it's kind of like that. Sometimes, for... reasons, people latch onto things." He strokes Pothy's feathers. "And let's be honest, Pothy. You are cute. And reassuring. A constant -- something people love in a world where things get crazy on a regular basis."

"It was just a cup of coffee, but with Pothy on it," Cor'lana says with a snicker. "I normally wouldn't buy coffee from anyone besides Addy, but I was curious, and the people at the stall were so excited to meet Pothy."

Pothy's tail is still going about a mile a minute. "So long as it makes people happy, I don't mind," he says. "We kept passing by children who were so happy to have toys of me, too."

Cor'lana laughs again. "He's really just happy that he gets even more snacks than before," she says. "But yes, I agree--the people love him because he's cute. I think after all of the nonsense with the wights, it gives something happy and adorable for people to engage in. And now everyone knows how soft and cuddly Pothy is. I hope Addy's being smart and using the Pothy popularity for her advertising."

She pauses. "... Pothy-larity," she adds.

Telamon shakes his head. "I won't deny you your popularity, Pothy," he says gently, smiling at the bird and continuing to pet him. "Like Lana says, people need heroes, and not all heroes are mighty warriors and wizards." He pauses, his eyes twinkling. "Sometimes, the hero is someone who helps keep the nightmares away, and lets your child sleep peacefully. I couldn't ask for more myself."

Then Lana of course makes that godsawful pun, and he starts to snicker, dissolving into a coughing fit. Fortunately, this one doesn't seem as harsh as prior ones, and it passes swiftly. "Pothy-larity. Really, Lana, that was awful. Even if it is appropriate." He leans over to her. "Look on the bright side, love. Maybe they'll latch onto Pothy, and we won't have to worry about those godawful Crimson Pen novels..."

Cor'lana also giggles, although as soon as poor Telamon's coughing again, she goes right to rubbing his back in an attempt to help soothe him. "Goodness, I really hope not," she says. "Although I have to admit, if they make one about the two of us, I might read it. If, you know, you leave me all alone at home one night and I'm dying of boredom."

She sticks her tongue out. "It's preferable, at least, to Crimson Pen fiction about me and Zalgiman. I might hire Integrity and sue if that ever happens. Or... Enchant the publishers into discontinuing it."

"Or nothing at all," Pothy says. "The harder you try to squash something like that, you know the more people want it, right?"

Tel gestures, and the unseen servitor puts the book down and goes out to the kitchen, returning with the teakettle holding Grandfather's special blend. Pouring a new cup for him, as he nods to Lana. "Threats and cajoling will only take you so far. You'd have to tie them up in the courts for the next twenty years, minimum, and I don't think you want to spend that much time on it. No, the trick is to make it worth their while to point their energies elsewhere -- or just ignore it."

He takes Lana's hand, squeezing it. "But, no point in borrowing trouble. Nothing's happened yet. And let's not fool ourselves: fan merchandise of Pothy is not the worst thing to happen to us. Not by a long shot."

Cor'lana's violet eyes twinkle as he takes her hand, and she squeezes back. She casts a brief glance down and admires the curuchuil that adorns Telamon's hand. "No, not the worst thing at all," she replies, looking back up at him. "Although I maintain that both of our high points happen to be wonderful things."

Yet another kiss to his cheek. "No, no borrowed trouble here," she says. "Nor borrowed happiness. Only what we make now, even with your illness."

Pothy looks at the two for a moment. "I agree," he says, finally. "As much as I have complained in the past about you two being flirty with each other... You're happiest, and your best, when the both of you are together."

"It's hard for you, to learn that you have to share Lana with me, Pothy. It's why I sought your approval when I proposed to her -- because I understood that you had to be part of the family." Telamon sips his tea, his breathing growing much more regular. "We can, and will, make things work. Through everything that happens. Whether it's cold season or werewolves."

"On a much less deep and meaningful note, I've started writing that contribution I was talking about with Slixvah and Patch. The 'unified magic theory'." Tel heaves a weary sigh. "Unfortunately, it's not going to work. I'm glad I'm not the one who'll be presenting this to the Society, because I think they're going to get ripped to pieces."

Cor'lana frowns a little. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Maybe I could review your notes. I'd really hate for Patch and Slixvah to get up there and get torn apart. I know I've said that I cast things mostly by feeling, but I do know things about theory--"

Pothy clears his throat. Cor'lana pauses. "I know things about theory," he says. "You are borrowing it. Just like Nadina borrowed it."

That gets a blink. And then a nod. "Okay, then, let me amend what I said," Cor'lana says with a little smile. "Thanks to the almighty Pothy letting me borrow his knowledge, I might be able to contribute a bit."

Telamon coughs, but this time it's a cough of embarrassment, not illness. "No, no, it's not for them. I was asking Slixvah, and Patch, for their perspectives. I was asked by someone in the Society to put together some supporting research, and since those two are good friends, well... there are worse people to talk to."

He nods. "I'll show you my notes, but the gist of it is that the whole 'unified magic theory' doesn't work. There's too many differences in spell-working to account for merely just subjective viewpoints. So I think someone's about to walk into an owlbear den, but there's no way for me to stop it."

Aha. That seems to make more sense for Cor'lana. She looks like she's about to open her mouth to say something, and then Pothy beats her to it: "Soup needs stirring."

"Oh! Right!" Cor'lana exclaims. She (reluctantly) escapes Telamon's embrace and hops up from the sofa to tend to the soup...

And she returns with a rather small bowl. "It's not ready yet," Cor'lana says, "because Grandfather's recipe says to cook it for another hour for the flavors to finish developing, but I wanted to show you what I found at the market."

There are tiny little pasta stars in the soup, swimming in the broth. "I thought it'd cheer you up when you're sick," Cor'lana adds.

It's warm and it's soothing. Much like the love that bonds them.