A Lupecyll-Atlon Homecoming

Log Info

• Title: A Lúpecyll-Atlon Homecoming

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Alexandros / Alexandria City / Ravenstongue and Telamon's home

• Summary: The newlyweds Ravenstongue and Telamon arrive home from their honeymoon via teleportation, although they wisely choose not to teleport close to Alexandria due to the leyline situation. After getting their paperwork in order, the sorcerers ride atop a conjured horse and head to Alexandria. Finally, they arrive home and see that their house has been decorated by the friendly garden pixies.

Western Reach Watch Post, Alexandros, midday

Not every posting is glorious or exciting. But still, the tasks must be done. And the watchtower sitting west of Alexandria is no exception. Standing guard over several farming homesteads, the recent wight incursion was the most excitement they'd seen. Granted, that was a bit more than the guards had wanted, but still. But as winter rolls in, it seems things are slowing down. The werewolves have fallen back, perhaps stymied in their struggles, and the worst that's happened was a surprise inspection.

The watchman on duty in the tower, a young man with the rather improbable name of Hieronymus Smithson, is enjoying the autumn weather. It's not too cold, the wind is nice, and the air is clear, giving him a clear line of sight practically all the way to the distant treeline which marks the furthest edge of the Mythwood. Everything is calm and relaxed; nothing can possibly disturb things...

So then there's a soft hum, a crackling sound, and the air twists around a point twenty feet from the watchtower as Hieronymus gapes. The twisting expands into a sphere of shimmering light, which then 'pops' like a soap bubble, and a pair of half-elves dressed in elegant traveling garb appear from it. Telamon Lúpecyll-Atlon, newly married, looks around. "It worked! Ah... I mean, I knew it would work. I've been here several times, usually on business." He glances up, seeing the dumbfounded guardsman, and he waves cheerily. "Good day, guardsman! Sorry to startle you -- just getting a hang of translocation!"

Cor'lana hangs off Telamon's arm and looks mildly queasy from the effort of translocation--and her eyes go wide with just as much surprise as the guardsman has to see them. It appears the feeling is mutual. "Oh, goodness," she says quietly, and she squeezes Telamon's arm a little more.

It's a rallying effort, it'd appear, and the mildly sick expression on her face passes as she takes a deep breath. "Phew," she murmurs, and then she turns back to the poor guard, smiling much more cheerfully. After all, she is also newly-married, and there's very little that will dull the happiness from her. "So sorry," she says. "I'm just glad everything went fine. The leylines have been acting up lately in certain spots..."

"Snacks," reminds Pothy, sitting on Cor'lana's shoulder. He has no concern for leylines, nor does he appear to suffer any ill effects from teleportation. He hungers--and he hungers only for snacks, which are sitting back home in Alexandria.

Telamon gives Lana a squeeze, and inquires, "Do you need some soothe syrup? I have some in my bag." He looks a bit bemused. "I... used to feel queasy about that kind of travel, but it doesn't seem to be that way any more. Strange." He furrows his brow. "That was another reason I aimed here. There aren't any leylines on this side of the city."

The guardsman gapes for a moment at the couple, before shaking it off. Vanishing from sight, before hurriedly running down the stairs and popping out the door at the base. "Ah... um. Alright. We, uh, see this since Alexandria is warded against teleportation. If you want, I can take down your names for entry into the city, and issue a letter for you to give to the gate watch there."

Tel smiles broadly. "Fair enough. We're not here to cause trouble, sir. I am Telamon Lúpecyll-Atlon, and this is my wife, Cor'lana. We're returning from Mythwood Forest."

"I'm okay, my starborn king," Cor'lana responds to Telamon's offer with a small smile. "Just a little tummy upset, but it cleared up quickly enough. I'm made of strong stuff."

Or so she insists. It's hard to take a little wisp of a lady who is all of five feet tall seriously when she says that, but at least Telamon knows it to be true... In some ways. Pothy tilts his head at the guardsman and makes a throat clearing noise. "Oh, and he's Pothy," Cor'lana says, motioning to Pothy on her shoulder.

And of course, there's a merry little flush on Cor'lana's cheeks as Telamon introduces himself by his new married name. "We're residents of Alexandria," she explains to the guardsman. "Telamon's family lives in the Mythwood. We had our wedding there, and now we're coming back from our honeymoon."

"Snacks," Pothy says merrily. It was the best vacation ever for Pothy, because he'd gotten spoiled with snacks.

The watchman furrows his brow. "Atlon? Are you related to Telperius Atlon, by any chance?"

"My father," Telamon replies with aplomb. "I expect he's been back and forth a bit."

"Oh, yes sir. The diplomatic traffic has been very, very heavy since the talk of an alliance between the Mythwood and Alexandros." Hieronymus begins writing on a paper-slate, scribing in the names. "And... um." He pauses, looking at Pothy. "...Oh." He blushes brightly. "My little sister has one of those plush toys made like your, um, familiar. She says she sleeps better with it."

Telamon looks like he's trying to swallow about a gallon of laughter, and he can't keep from grinning. "Yes, they do seem to have taken off in light of things. Father warned me there would be unexpected consequences, between our marriage and the alliance."

Cor'lana blinks more than a few times. "Wait. Okay, so I wasn't dreaming that time when I stopped by the market and I thought I saw Pothy plushies in the distance," she says, before turning to bright-eyed Pothy on her shoulder. "I knew that they made items out of adventurers, but I didn't think that they'd make one out of you, Pothy."

Pothy preens his feathers, of course. "I must meet my adoring fans," he says in the voice of a Theatre District diva--of which there are many, of course, so it's impossible to say which one.

The sorceress rolls her eyes and looks back to Telamon with a smile. "I just hope our wedding isn't being described as a political one," she says, before she turns back to poor Hieronymus. "The timing was simply coincidental."

Telamon nods, lips slightly turning into a line. "You may not be interested in politics, but sadly, politics may be interested in you -- or us, as the case may be." He squares his shoulders. "Regardless, I have no intention of letting things get out of hand. I intend to call on Master Stiger at the Chalice, and see what his thoughts are -- and if he has suggestions."

Hieronymus nods, his own expression a bit worried. "There's... some talk. That it was all arranged behind closed doors. I haven't been involved in it, though -- I'm just..." He looks around at his rather humble posting. "...kind of a nobody," he says ruefully. He offers the paper-slate to Telamon and Lana to inspect (make sure their names are spelled right, that sort of thing).

Cor'lana inspects the paper and nods. Her name is spelled perfectly--apostrophe and all--and the accent on the ú in Lúpecyll is there as well. That's one benefit of being known to the public. The rumors, however...

"I can at least reassure you that it was arranged out of love," Cor'lana says with twinkling violet eyes. She leans in and gives Telamon a kiss on the cheek. "We were betrothed for several months before our marriage could take place. We were waiting for the wight issues to be resolved before the ceremony could happen."

Pothy inspects the paper-slate, too, and is disappointed to see that there are no mention of snacks in the paperwork. What is the point of the written word if it isn't to talk about that which makes life wonderful?

Telamon's expression shifts to a more sympathetic look. "I wouldn't say 'nobody', sir. After all, the people in those farms... they deserve to have someone to watch over them too. It's going to be a hard winter, but we'll make it through it." He checks the form over, before passing the slate back. "As far as the politics go, there'll always be those running their mouths, looking for the angle. I'm not going to worry about it -- and you don't need to either." He smiles at Lana's kiss, giving her a squeeze in return.

Hieronymus begins filling out a second form quickly, noting things from the first, before removing it and offering the paper to Telamon. "Show this to the gate watch, and they should pass you through without problems, sir. Congratulations, and I hope the rest of your journey's uneventful." The guard smiles at Telamon. "You know... I think I have heard of you two. But they make it sound like you're... well, much bigger and scarier."

Telamon laughs softly. "That's usually how these tales work out. I assure you we're neither ten feet tall nor are we terrifying to behold. Just two ordinary people in love." He reviews the letter, before tucking it away. "Shall we move on, Lana?"

"There's also nothing wrong with not being known," Cor'lana says, her smile becoming smaller and more of a polite expression. "Trust me, there are days where I think I'd prefer being small and unknown again."

Pothy looks at Cor'lana like she's gone mad. "Snacks," he protests. He definitely enjoys the snacks because of her fame. His fame. ...Their fame.

"Oh, I know you do, Pothy," Cor'lana comments with a snicker, and she kisses him on his fluffy little head. All of his feathers puff up.

She looks back to Hieroynmous and smiles. "I mean, we can be plenty scary. But hopefully, you'll never have to see it in person. Let's go, darling," she says to Telamon, and she squeezes her husband's arm.

As the couple (with bird) depart, Hieronymus takes the paperwork back into the tower, and ascends it once more, continuing his vigil.

Meanwhile, Lana and Tel amble down the well-cobbled road. "So, love, did you want to walk, ride, or fly? I don't mind the stroll, but I suspect Pothy will revolt if we take too much time getting back home again."

His eyes sparkle. "Speaking of which, Aryia is going to be a trifle annoyed, I think, at the news that plush Pothy toys are becoming a thing in Alexandria. I wouldn't deny any child the opportunity to snuggle one, but I do find it rather curious."

Cor'lana looks over her shoulder briefly in the direction they just came as Telamon asks the question. Her lips press together in thought for a moment, and then she replies, "Let's ride. I already feel bad enough for scaring one guardsman today, and if we fly in, we might cause a real controversy."

She looks up at Pothy with a grin. "Besides, Pothy just had almost a full week of being stuffed with so many snacks," she says. "You can hold out for a little while, can't you, Pothy?"

Pothy looks at the half-elf couple with eyes that are highly reluctant for anything that isn't just more teleportation. But there was that whole discussion of leylines... "Do what you want," he says in Cor'lana's voice, a rather defeated tone that must have been sourced from Pothy or the pixies driving Cor'lana to exasperation.

Cor'lana smirks. Victory claimed, she looks to Telamon. "I have to admit I am very interested in seeing what these Pothy toys look like," she says. "I adore Aryia's work, but... I have to admit the idea of more Pothy plushies out there in the world does make me very happy. Maybe there's a bunch of sad and lonely children out there, like how I was when I was little, who are happier now for having a Pothy of their own."

Telamon grins. "No worries, Pothy. They may look insubstantial, but that shadow mount I can conjure rides smooth and moves fast." He rubs his hands together. "It helps I've ridden them to the gates before, so the watch has seen me on them."

Smoothly, he incants, "Gissu, namsimug geshe," once for Lana and once for himself. Strange, dark smoke starts to pour from his fingers, and pools before starting to take form. It's like watching a clear glass statue filling with it, taking the shape of a horse -- though it's clearly not quite a horse. Somehow real, and not-quite-real, at the same time.

"Your noble steed, my wife," Tel says with a smile.

Cor'lana watches Telamon summon the phantom steed--although a strange one it is--and she gives Telamon a smile and a blush for his last sentiment. "Is it bad that I'm still getting used to the idea that I'm your wife?" she asks as she goes to climb onto the steed's back. She manages, despite her small stature and the entity's odd nature.

"Maybe 'getting used to' is the wrong phrase," Cor'lana muses once she's safely on it. "It's more like... It's sinking in. I know I'm your wife, but it's still so new and novel to me that it still makes me giddy every time I hear it."

Then she flashes Telamon a grin as she offers him her hand to help him up. "Do you feel the same, my husband?" Of course there's an emphasis on her last words.

The horse-conjuration seems quite complacent, which helps Telamon when he climbs onto it as well. Seated in front, with Lana against his back, he smiles, taking up the wispy reins. "I had to remind myself to do the introductions properly to that watchman," he replies as the horse sets off at a steady canter. Soon it's moving along at a good pace, as he continues, "I think it's still sinking in for me. Being married. I feel the same way, though."

He considers. "I think I said something once about it like leaping into a vast pool to swim, or taking flight for the first time. It's all new and strange and wonderful, and now I can't get enough of it." The horse's hooves make no sound on the cobbles, as Tel leans back a touch against Lana. "So the answer is yes. Absolutely."

With Telamon in front and in control of the horse, it's time for another fun experience altogether. Cor'lana wraps her arms around Telamon's waist--mostly for comfort, as the chances of slipping and falling from a controlled steed like a conjured one are fairly low--and she snuggles into him a little, smiling. "Well, you don't have just a wife anymore," she says.

Pothy looks at Cor'lana in confusion.

"You have a backpack wife," Cor'lana elaborates with a grin. It's true, she is essentially 'backpacking' right now.

That gets a groaning noise out of Pothy, and he takes to the skies, stretching out his wings and flying above them. That, at least, gives the half-elf couple a small amount of privacy.

As horseback rides go, this one's not bad. The conjured creature moves with unnatural smoothness, only the slightest bounce in its pace, and its smoky hooves are silent against the road. Telamon laughs softly at Lana's sally, and he grins as Pothy groans and flies upward for a bit. "At least the weather's holding. If it was going sour, I'd probably teleport us straight to the front gates, as close as possible."

The pair pass a slow-moving wagon -- carrying the last of the harvest, or close to it, and the old man and young boy on the seat both stare at the urbane couple riding past on what looks like a charcoal scribble of a horse. Telamon waves jauntily with a smile, and remarks, "At least nobody's asking for signatures. I've heard that's starting to be a thing."

At least Cor'lana provides some nice warmth as she continues to 'backpack'. "That's right, you didn't bring the parasol, huh," Cor'lana remarks. "Hence part of why we stayed in during the rainstorm." Sure, that's the excuse they were using. The grin on her face is practically audible in her voice. "Even if we got rained on a bit, I wouldn't mind. It'd give us ample reason to curl up together in our nice, warm bed."

She gives a little wave to the wagon occupants, too. "I'd probably freeze up if someone asked for my autograph," Cor'lana says with a laugh. "For everything I've done, and how much I've learned about myself... I'm still just a person, you know?"

Telamon nods, and smiles. "I feel the same way. I... don't feel any different. I mean, I still love you, obviously, and we're married, but... I look at myself in the mirror and I don't look any different from a year ago." He pauses, and grins. "Well, there's this," he holds up his left hand, with the curuchuil. "But you get the idea. But yet... with the situation, we may become important."

He sighs a bit. "I mentioned Master Stiger for a reason. When he's not riding herd on the Chalice, he's Count Vladimir Stiger. We had a long talk before we set off to Mythwood -- he wasn't able to attend, but he sent gifts and well wishes. And he warned me that we may have to play 'the great game' -- because others might not accept that we don't want to play."

Tel shakes his head. "He was sympathetic, but his inclination was that we should act. Not to establish dominance or anything, gods no -- but at the least, make it clear we're not to be trifled with."

That certainly gets Cor'lana's attention, sitting up a little. She raises a brow. "Somehow, Stiger being nobility surprises me... and doesn't surprise me, if that makes any sense," she says. "I guess you have to be nobility if you're that apt at handling some of the silver-spooned people in the Chalice."

She sighs, too. "I personally just plan on charming or intimidating people until they just go away," she says. "I know that we might be forced to play. That doesn't mean I'll go into it happily and that doesn't mean I have to be nice about it. I'm an adventurer. I'm a sorcerer. I am the Feathered One's child. I'm the wife of Telamon Lúpecyll-Atlon. I'm the keeper of Apotheosis. I am all of those things before I am anything else."

She doesn't of course, mention "beguiler of werewolves" or "wielder of Mortal Dread," but those aren't exactly the smartest things to mention outside of the Lúpecyll-Atlon home. Which... appears to be on her mind, because then she giggles. "I just had a thought," she explains. "What if Lily and Mirabilis decorated the place while we were gone? I know they were at our wedding, but Mirabilis swore to me that they would return to care for the house while we were off on our honeymoon."

"The Chalice started out as a club for nobility, after all. Not really that surprising. It helps that Stiger was an adventurer years ago, before he inherited his title. So wrangling idiots is... not exactly new to him." Telamon chuckles softly. "Yes, I imagine we'll have to tell off a few people. My advice is to agree to nothing if you can't immediately get away. Nod, smile, tell them you'll consult with your darling husband -- and then send them on their way and lose any further correspondence. Eventually they'll get the hint."

He reaches back with one hand to give Lana's knee a pat. "All those things, but I'm happy you're my wife and I'm your husband. Is that a little selfish of me? Or no?"

He hrms thoughtfully at the notion. "Well, they've done it before. And it's not like they do a bad job... it'll be nice to see what they've come up with." Tel grins happily, shaking his mind loose from grumpiness. "Now I want to see!" He gives the reins a flick, picking up the pace.

"If they catch me in a bad enough mood, I might just threaten that Grandfather will eat them," Cor'lana says with a grin. She gives Telamon a squeeze around the waist. "And I don't think you're selfish for being happy that we are bound to each other. It'd be hypocritical if I did." Her violet eyes twinkle.

She snickers a little as Telamon picks up the pace. "I imagine there's even more flowers than before," she says. "The inside of our house might have more flora and fauna in it than the garden does."

Meanwhile, Pothy flying above them squawks a little as he sees they're gaining speed. He matches, of course--he's eager to get home, albeit for matters related to snacks and not to pixie antics.

The distance slides away, under the ghostly hooves of Telamon's steed and the pinions of Pothy. Soon, Alexandria is in sight, the gates open. There's some traffic, of course -- there always is -- and Tel reins in his mount as they approach. "Let me do the talking," he says to Cor'lana. "At least initially. Things are a little less tense now but the watch hasn't forgotten how to keep things safe."

A helmeted older guard approaches the couple, peering at the 'horse' first before peering up at them. "Alright," he drawls, "what's all this then?"

"Returning home, sergeant," Telamon replies with aplomb, offering the man the letter received. "And while it was a pleasant trip it's good to be back."

Cor'lana just offers a pleasant smile to the older fellow. "We're returning home from our wedding and honeymoon," she says.

This is, of course, the moment that Pothy touches down onto Cor'lana's shoulder, taking a break from flight and to be present and accounted for as the guard assesses the party of spectral speed, sorcerer husband, sorcerer wife, and snacking familiar. "Mawwiage," he says.

That gets Cor'lana's attention, raising a brow at Pothy. "Where did you hear that voice," she asks quietly. But she turns her attention back to the guard when it's clear Pothy won't offer an explanation.

Telamon just rolls his eyes. "Yes. Marriage. Gods, Pothy, you're incorrigible." He chuckles. "But yes, happily married. We didn't have a wagon to paint on or tie bits of cans or whatnot to, so we had to settle for a horse."

The sergeant snorts in amusement. "Sure, it's a horse, and I'll be attending the royal jubilee next. So ye'd be Telamon and Cor'lana Lúpecyll-Atlon? Thank ye for stopping at the watchtower -- I see Hieronymus is keeping up the paperwork as he should be. I don't see any surprises, and ye both be known by the watch and the city."

The mention of their name causes a susurrus of murmurs among the townfolk nearby. Evidently, rumors are running wild even now. Telamon pretends not to notice. "Thank you, sergeant. As I said, it's good to be back." He shakes the older guard's hand, and the man smiles crookedly. "Have a pleasant ride home, ye two." He waves the couple through the gate, and they pass into the city that has become home for the last year.

Cor'lana looks a tad bashful as the rumors go flying, but she also tries not to give any indication that she particularly cares about what's being said. She gives a wave to the sergeant as they pass through the gate and into a city.

"Shall we stop at the market?" she asks Telamon. "Or straight home? I have to admit that I'd like to see these Pothy toys... but on the other hand, I really want to see the pixies' handiwork firsthand, and Pothy probably wants to dive straight into a bowl of peanuts."

"Snacks," Pothy votes. How predictable.

Telamon shakes his head. "Honestly, I want to go home, love. I doubt the Pothy toys are going to disappear in a day. But I want to sit on our own couch together, sipping tea." He smiles slightly. "Carina and Burz kept an eye on the place, and they know about the pixies. So we shouldn't have any problems... other than maybe my pencils being buried under flowers again."

The steed carries the couple through the Memorial Gardens, and on towards the University district. People pause and stare. Some wave, others point and whisper excitedly. Tel keeps a cheerful smile on, but he murmurs, "I hope this all settles down soon. I'm starting to feel like I'm dressed funny or something."

"Here's hoping they didn't decide to start using your pencils and 'color in' your star charts to be helpful," Cor'lana says with a grimace. "Somehow, I don't put it past the pixies to decide they'd be helpful by coloring in any collection of lines without a speck of color to accompany them."

She also notices the waving... And she shrinks in a little further into Telamon's form, the 'backpack' becoming a tighter fight against his back. "Me too," she says, a little quieter.

Pothy seems to sense his mistress's anxiety, however... And he runs interference. He takes flight from her shoulder and announces one thing to the townsfolk. "SNACKS!" All eyes on him.

But then, finally, the mount comes to a stop. The next door neighbors, Burz and Carina, are sitting on their front porch. Derry, the one-time visiting puppy, is seated next to Burz, and Carina cradles a child in her arms, her face radiant. They wave cheerfully, and thankfully to them, it's not 'the super important Lúpecyll-Atlons!' but 'our next door neighbors, Tel and Lana!'.

The house itself looks in good order, tidy and trim. A wreath of paper flowers in violet and gold is hung on the door, with a 'Welcome home!' banner across it. Clearly, they've been expected.

With Pothy sopping up all of the attention (and indeed, he does get some snacks thrown in his direction, which he catches), Cor'lana relaxes a little. "I kind of forgot how many people there were in Alexandria," she admits as they arrive home. "I can't believe just a week away made it feel like it was... much longer."

She waves happily to Burz and Carina with their baby, and, of course, to not-so-little Derry, although the sweet pup is not quite an adult yet. Then she turns her attention to the doorway and... Well, she grins. "Oh dear," she says. "I can't help but wonder who all is inside. I wonder if Grandfather's here..."

As she steps up to the doorway and goes fishing in her bag for the keys to the home, Pothy finds his voice. "He better have snacks for me if he is," Pothy whines. "I'm hungryyyy."

"I think Grandfather would've used real flowers," Telamon comments. Once the two have dismounted, he gestures and the 'horse' dissolves into smoke and vanishes. He steps up to the door and inspects the paper wreath. "I bet... yup, I know where this is from. I've actually brought you a couple bouquets when the weather was too cold for actual flowers. They're still amazingly well made."

He laughs softly at Pothy getting all the attention, and shakes his head. "You ham. No wonder they're making plush toys in your image. Everyone knows you, probably more than they know Lana or me. There'll be an entire generation of children whose rallying cry will be 'SNACKS!'." He waves to Carina and Burz, and calls over, "I'll be by in a little bit! Everything all right?"

Carina nuzzles her child, but she replies, "We saw the pixies! And someone from the Chalice, he said his name was Turow, stopped by to check on things."

Tel nods. "I asked Turow to drop in a couple times, just in case. Better and better." He waits for Lana to open the door...

"Aww, I loved those bouquets, too," Cor'lana exclaims as she continues to fish for keys. The downside of having a bag of holding is that it can take a long minute to find exactly what you're looking for, and she has to be awfully careful, too. "They're so pretty, and they don't make me sad like the real ones do when they finally wilt. That's so nice of them."

She finally finds them and unlocks the door. It opens, and...

There's no paper flowers here. The decorative vines are as alive as ever, and it feels like the flowers that made up Cor'lana and Telamon's flower crowns have taken over the whole house, as there's bundles of them on just about every single surface. It's as clean as a whistle...

Except for a trail of rose petals leading straight from the door to the bedroom. Cor'lana giggles. "They sure made an assumption about what we wanted to do as soon as we got home," she says to Telamon with a grin.

Telamon snorts, though his cheeks redden a bit. "Well... I'm sure we'll head that way a little later." He lightly touches the flowers that wrap around the door, smiling. "Still... I like this. It's..." he gropes for a good term. "Reassuring? Homey? The air smells clean from all the greenery -- if the pixies ever get bored, I am sure I can find them some work in the Memorial Gardens."

A quick check of the house reveals nothing amiss. There are dry snacks for Pothy, stored away, and soon a bowl of peanuts is laid out for him. The pantry has been restocked, as has the tea jar. "Good. I asked Turow to replenish things. I'll settle up with him next Chalice meeting -- he knows I'm good for it." Soon, a kettle is brewing, and the bags are being unpacked.

Telamon looks at Lana, and bites his lip. "I... it seems like it's been forever since we first met. And now we're married. Is it wrong for me to feel a little worried, that I might make mistakes?" All that exterior confidence is lowered for the moment.

Pothy immediately goes for the bowl of peanuts, of course, which busies him as Cor'lana goes and wraps her arms around her husband. She looks up at him, her violet eyes soft and warm as she allows Telamon's lowered guard to be assuaged first by only her embrace and the loving look on her face.

"You might," she says finally, "but they'll likely be the silly sort of mistake. Like, 'I didn't remember to pick up soup ingredients. Or maybe even, 'I forgot today was our anniversary.' Sure, the first might be an annoyance, and the second one would make me mad, but... They're not life and death, or... relationship-ending."

She leans in and kisses his chin affectionately. "So long as you are true to me, and I am true to you, and we continue to love each other--I see no reason why any mistake would ruin what we have."

Telamon relaxes a little when she hugs him. It's like everything shifts back into place, a stone set in a wall, a candle properly mounted and lit. He wraps his arms around her in return. "I will not forget the anniversary," he says firmly but with a grin. "After all, I have this reminder written on my hand!"

He smiles at the kiss, and squeezes her back. "It's just... it's a big thing. I have no regrets," he adds firmly. "Absolutely none. I just want to be able to measure up. To make you smile, to be a good husband and father." He looks down into her eyes, drawing in the scent of lavender. "So long as the tree is watered, who cares if the pitcher spills a bit here and there?".

The violet-eyed lady in his arms grins brightly at him. "I can't imagine you would want to forget," Cor'lana says, "but I could think of how adventurers like you and I could forget. Exhausted from an expedition, only to realize that the special day is tomorrow--I could see that happening to either of us. Life happens, and we have more than a century together."

She pushes herself into that happy place underneath his chin. "So long as you don't give the kind of love you give to me to other people--don't put that into your pitcher and spill it everywhere," she says. There's another audible grin. This time, she knows the entendre she's making. "At least we have years ahead of us before we really tackle the 'good father' bit."

Telamon snorts. "If something like that happens, we'll order takeout and laugh about it together. Adventuring doesn't mean we can't try to do something proper. And then I'd take you to the Rose a week or so later for an appropriate anniversary dinner." He nuzzles her happily, his confidence returning.

"And oh, hells no. You remember the old khazadi saying about 'delving two mineshafts at once'? That is not happening. I am happy to be polite, friendly, charming -- not that kind of charm -- but you are the love of my life." Tel grins, and turns in a circle with Lana, dancing on the rose petals. "It's so good to be home with you."

Cor'lana can't help but laugh with Telamon, and she spins with him, her violet eyes twinkling brightly. They kick up some of the rose petals into the air, and in that moment, with streaks of red surrounding her as she twirls in front of him, the delight blooming in her face... It's easy to see why the pixies call her 'Lady Lúpecyll', for she is touched by the fey, a beauty whose joy is not bound to this world but to one beyond.

And she is his. And he is hers.

Pothy watches them dance to no music at all, and for once, he is quiet. What sort of monster would break the merry spell that they're under?

...

A violet-eyed rook in Burz and Carina's yard lingers in a tall tree, staring down at the Lúpecyll-Atlon home. The skull-faced corvid's gaze is hollow and empty. "How much time shall I give them," he murmurs to himself. "How long, I wonder. How long, how lon--"

And then he spots another dark form in the sky coming in the direction of the Lúpecyll-Atlon home. A strangled noise escapes the rook, and he quickly takes flight.

None will disturb the happiness and the peace that the adventurers have created. For now.