Cashew by Cashew

Log Info

• Title: Cashew by Cashew

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Skyler, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's home

Lupecyll-Atlon home, afternoon

With winter abating, swiftly giving way to spring, warm breezes blow through Alexandria, heralding new growth, new beginnings. It's a time of renewal, and everyone seems to step a little lighter. The promise of a better tomorrow.

There's a nicely appointed two-story house in the University District. All the neighbors know it, of course. The lintels are graven with arcane marks, and the wooden door boasts carvings of ravens and moons. The backyard is neatly fenced, with a curious looking cylindrical greenhouse rising from one corner. This is the home of the Lupecyll-Atlons, Telamon and Cor'lana.

And one Skyler Skywalker has been sent an invitation to come here, specifying time, date, and address.

GAME: Skyler rolls Disguise: (18)+3: 21

With the arrival of spring, sometimes all Cor'lana wants to do is to have dinner simmering in the brick oven in the kitchen with low flame for a couple of hours until it's done, and so Cor'lana finishes putting a ceramic dish loaded to the brim with various root vegetables (some from the greenhouse and some from Grandfather's garden)... with the supervision of a rather handsome and tall gentleman. Easily a foot taller than her, the man could pass for a very tall (and somewhat pale) mul'niessa man, but his glowing violet eyes are indications that he is not fully mortal.

The taloned hands wrapped around a teacup are also very good indication indeed. "Very good. There's nothing nicer than slow-cooked roasted vegetables for dinner--when you can get your hands on the fresh ones, that is," the man says in a deep bell-like tone. He delicately adjusts a strand of his long black hair back behind one pointed ear with his other hand.

"It is nice, Grandfather," Cor'lana responds with a wide smile. "I'm just hoping Pothy likes it. He can be a little particular about vegetables sometimes. I swear he has the palate of the little boy he sounds like."

"Do not," Pothy complains from outside, where he's hanging out by the open kitchen window for some fresh air. There's a little roost out there just for him.

It doesn't take long for the currently infamous ex-pirate to arrive; he's actually quite punctual when he does knock on the door of the Lupecyll-Alton home... The problem is that he does so in a surprisingly effective disguise that answers the question on why no one's seen him since that rather ill fated masquerade that ended with a conga line of Skylers and more excitement than the Society has seen in years.

But that's Skyler for you: always a source of amusement, no little dread, and an over abundance of excitement.

The disguise in question is that of a lovely, slim woman in a low-cut dress with a generous swell of freckled cleavage, blonde hair in braids that looks suspiciously like Lady Jemma's wig, and a smoky eye. Because when in doubt? A smoky eye and nude lip is good for all occasions. Even attempting to avoid the ire of Cap'n Cashew, the nutjob. It doesn't hurt he's a surprisingly pretty woman, and there's a certain sensual wiggle to his (her?) strut in the high heels she's wearing.

'She' bats her lashes at whoever answers the door, dipping into a rather good curtsy. "Pardon, m'lord, m'lady..." 'She' breathes kittenishly, "I hear you're looking to add a little... excitement... to your marriage?"

The smirk, though? That's all Skyler.

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (15)+35: 50

"We were all picky eaters when we were young, love." Telamon replies, as he ambles down from the second story of the house. "It takes time to expand your horizons, and that includes from a culinary standpoint. I used to absolutely loathe eating cauliflower, for example."

He walks over to kiss his wife on the cheek, and give Pothy a little scritching, before heading back towards Grandfather. "It's good to see you again, Grandfather, though I do have to warn you I've a guest coming." His expression becomes wry. "Hopefully, I won't have to kill anyone to help untangle this guest's problem, although--" The door bell sounds, and Tel hms. "Right on time."

When he opens the door, he blinks once, before his dark eyes narrow. At this range, Skyler can see there are stars drifting in them, and the sorcerer heaves a sigh. "Get in here, 'my lady'. My gods..." He reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose, shutting the door once Skyler has stepped inside.

"Maybe I will have to kill someone..."

"You know I have no problem with guests," Grandfather quips as he looks over to the doorway. There's a perk of the lips as he then watches Telamon handling their guest. "My. I had thought for a moment this was one of those... What did you call them, Cor'lana?"

"Respectful admirers," Cor'lana replies, padding out of the kitchen (after reaching through the window to snatch Pothy off his perch) as she repositions the raven on her shoulder. She's smiling, however. "It's a good disguise, though."

"I'll say. May I be introduced?" Grandfather asks, who must look a sight. While he's not wearing the open-chested robe and feather cloak he usually wears--instead opting for a tunic and pants similar to Telamon's wardrobe--those claws are awfully on display.

"A gentleman would offer a lady his arm, at least to cross the threshold." Skyler chides Telamon with a disappointed shake of 'her' head, one hand lifting a lacy bit of fine linen to 'her' chest as if she were scandalized at the lack of manners, before tucking the frilly bit of nothing into 'her' cleavage and lifting 'her' skirts delicately to cross into the home, smoothing them down again. "A gentleman would also offer a lady a drink before he talked of ravishing her so, Archmage." The laughter after is light, delicate, the pale grey-green eyes made paler by the smoky makeup surrounding them.

To Cor'lana, Skyler giggles, lifting a hand to cover her delicately painted lips demurely, "But I am an admirer, lady." 'She' protests, with a batting of her lashes, "I've read every one of your Crimson Pen novels, including that dreadful one involving the illithiad. But where are my manners? Good evening, sir." That, obviously, to Grand'lana. 'She' curtsies deep, respectfully, "A pleasure, sir. I am but a poor victim of fate, who must rely on the kindness of strangers."

Skyler then laughs, bouncing to his feet easily with a wide grin and a wink at Cor'lana. "Thanks for the compliment. I figured if I ran into that nutjob Cashew on the hunt, he'd either dismiss me or bed me, and either way point to me!" He grins, doffing the wigg and reaching in to peel two pieces of adhesive off his chest, deflating his cleavage. Not much he can do about the dress, but... They're all magi. This ain't the first time they've seen a man in a dress, and Grandfather's actually probably showing more cleavage than Skyler right now.

Telamon just knows this'll result in more rumors. Ah well, nothing to be done about it. Thankfully the worst of such has been long past. "Grandfather, may I introduce ex-pirate, adventurer, and swordsman Skyler Skywalker?"

The elegant half-elf gives Skyler an arched eyebrow. "Although that's something I wanted to discuss with you, 'Skyler'. But would you like a drink first, before I start trying to untangle this mess you've gotten yourself into?"

Grandfather actually watches Skyler take down his drag (respectfully) with more than a modicum of what can be summed up as professional interest. "It appears crossdressing is within his many talents as well. It's been a while since I've worn a dress and done makeup." He actually looks a little thoughtful, but then he shakes his head to snap himself out of his thinking (while Cor'lana looks quite surprised at this revelation). He spots this look from his granddaughter, of course, and he says, "Darling, I have lived for centuries. You get bored, and there's competitions in Faerie courts about dressing up and..."

"That's why you had that dress you had in the wardrobe that one time!" Cor'lana says. "It was too tall to be Grandmother's."

"Yes, but only to use as rags in a pinch. You never show up in the same ensemble twice at a function if you can help it." Grandfather laughs a little. Even this laugh is earnestly musical. But then he turns his eyes onto Skyler. "Let me introduce myself, where are my manners? I am Alud'rigan, the Feathered One... loving grandfather to Cor'lana. Keeper of many birds. Baker of many pies. Knitter of many little socks for little babies that have yet to run around." Here he looks pointedly at Cor'lana.

"Not yet, Grandfather," Cor'lana says with a sigh. She looks at Skyler with a smile, though, and gestures for him to take a seat in one of the chairs if he so desires. "I'll fetch some tea snacks. Pothy, no, you can't pick them out."

"Why not!?" Pothy demands. The pout in his voice is palpable.

"I did ask you to liquor me up before you bent me over." Skyler says ruefully with a wince that just looks wrong with the beat he has. How did he get the makeup? Who did the makeup? Surely not Jarik, who famously wants to turn into a pig and wallow in the mud. He sighs, and turns to the Birdie One. And after his lips thin for a moment, he says, "I'm Christopher Carl von Wayn of House Ashewell." Beat. "I know better than to lie to the fey, sir. You guys are fucking nuts about that."

And in a less serious note, he adds, "Talk to the boy-hookers if you really want to know how it's done. This one doe-eyed kid wanted to do something with alchemical tape down south that scared me." He wiggles his fingers at the white Raven. "Hullo, Pothy! I got some owlbear jerky if you want some."

"Fortunately, there's only one person I'm usually interested in liquoring up," Telamon replies with a grin, looking at Lana. He slides into a seat, resting his chin on his hand as he coughs politely.

"A little word of advice, Skyler... or Christopher, if you prefer. It's not that the fey object to lying, but you have to make it plausible. Want to use an alias? You say, 'I am called' or 'Some call me'. Technically true, after all, even if it's not your real name. Besides, you don't want to have your name stolen -- that can get very inconvenient."

As Lana passes around the cups, Telamon regards Skyler with a calm gaze. "So I guess the problem is that you're accused of murdering... well, yourself, so to speak. And it probably puts you on the horns of a dilemma. I doubt Lord Ashewell would be very happy to discover his son had become a pirate... although I can't imagine he'd prefer the alternative."

Cor'lana has to stop herself from laughing as Skyler mentions 'boy-hookers' as she heads into the kitchen. Except, well... "What's a boy-hooker?" Pothy asks.

"Oh gods. You didn't learn from my mother?"

"Nevermind, I don't want to know," Pothy remarks. But Cor'lana returns quickly with a bowl of little dusted hard biscuits that crunch satisfyingly in the mouth. She, of course, gives one to Pothy as she starts to pour tea for Skyler (in the event he wants lavender-mint tea), then a fresh cup of tea for herself as she takes a seat.

"I have no desire for the young man's name," Grandfather says with a little flourish of the hand as he takes a seat in a rocking chair that's present in the corner of the living room. He resumes his knitting that he'd placed down there. For a man with giant taloned hands, he makes it work. "I assure you that there's no danger here where I am concerned."

Now, listening to the conversation has both grandfather and granddaughter looking contemplative. "Did you... leave home for a reason?" Cor'lana asks. There's a bit of knowing in her voice. Like this might be something she knows herself.

"I expect he'd prefer me murdered in a way he could use to score points." Skyler says with a curl of his lip, shaking his head, "At least then I'd be some good for the family name. My father's a piece of work... Clearly." He motions to himself, the eerily good drag and just the Skyler of it all on full display, "This doesn't come from a warm, accepting family." He watches the Bird Who Knits warily, even as he opens his mouth to answer Pothy's question but thinks better of it.

Some things a mom should tell her own children.

"No, I didn't run away." He tells Telamon with a sigh, pausing the explanation to eat crunchy cakes. Yummy! Out comes the lacy bit of froth to wipe himself off delicately. And he accepts the tea with a quick grin, pouring and taking a sip to water his throat. "I got kidnapped by pirates, convinced them I'd be more fun to hang out with than ransom, and had a fucking blast at life." He pauses, and adds, "You talked about living a thousand years, sir? Even our lives can feel that way if it's all still, smothered in disappointment and responsibility. I was too smothered to even bother running, but when I had a chance for more I took it."

Telamon's expression becomes more dour, though it's clear it's not directed at Skyler personally. "Ah," the half-elf responds. "He's one of those." The way he says it shows he knows exactly what kind of person Lord Ashewell is, and it seems Tel doesn't have much time for their sort.

"Piracy is kind of frowned on in most civilized lands. That being said, they must have stepped over some kind of limitation you'd set, or you'd still be out there launching harpoons at merchantmen or whatnot." Telamon shrugs lightly. "That still leaves you with the problem of what to do. That inquisitor is going to dog your steps because he's convinced you're a murderer." He furrows his brow, thinking. "The easiest solution is to simply prove your heritage, but he might decide he needs to drag you back to Myrddion to resolve the issue. Which... might not end well for you."

Cor'lana nods gently at Skyler's story, a frown settling on her lips. "Telamon's got a bit too much experience dealing with the man who sired me with my mother," he says. "He's right about the inquisitor."

The sorceress looks thoughtful for a moment as she feeds Pothy another biscuit. "Although, one thing I'm curious about... You're the middle child, right? Most awful fathers of noble bloodline are eager to rid themselves of a 'spare', should their heir be everything they ever wanted..."

Her words trail off as she presses her lips together, not liking what she's about to say. "Unless that's the point. He knows it's you. He wants to have you killed for certain so that you're out of the way."

"Yeah, one of those." Skyler says with a mixture of derision, anger, and the confusion of someone that doesn't understand what about him wasn't enough to be loved. He looks down into the tea, face slack, before he shakes his head, sighing, "I'm not... the smartest person. But I can think of several reasons he'd send someone to figure out what happened to me, if several years late."

And he marks each one with a lifted finger. "Could be something happened to my brother, and after me the title and estate goes to a second cousin on the maternal line. Isn't an Ashewell, and that'd be embarrassing. Could be they finally found some rich widow or heiress to marry me off to... The estate is old and expensive. Could be he's old and feeling sentimental, but it's just as likely Vardama and the Cannibal got engaged to re-marry as that would happen."

He sighs, and glances at Telamon. "I... Well, I didn't realize what we were doing. I was just in it for the fun of it all, and grew up poor enough that even the sort of tiny cut a trained monkey would get was a lot of money." He spreads his hands, "Didn't know how bad it was until some wires got crossed and I was assigned to a crew I shouldn't have been. We were raiding a village, it got nasty, and next thing I know I'm on the road with Jarik arguing about who saved who." Beat. "I saved him, obviously."

His expression is one of kindness, rather than disdain or contempt. Compassion's a rare coin sometimes, but Telamon's willing to share it. "It seems odd that he'd send an inquisitor after all this time. And a Korite one at that. That's... an unusual choice. So it may be our mysterious inquisitor's cover is to hunt down the pirate, when in reality... it's to find you."

He steeples his fingers. "You wouldn't be the first lad to fall into deep water, nor will you be the last. And I know that sounds hilarious coming from me, being young even by half-elf standards. But I do know that people can change, and they can even find redemption -- though it may not be what they expect."

He takes a sip of his tea. "So, Christopher, I guess the question is... what do you want to do? I know what I'd do, but we are not the same and it's not fair of me to push you in one direction or another. Even with the inquisitor, the world is still a marvelous place; how would you like to deal with this challenge?"

Something Skyler says seems to hit a chord with Cor'lana. She shakes her head, which makes a lock of her dark waves fall from behind her shoulder to in front of it. "Skyler... or Christopher, whichever name makes you happiest... don't put yourself down. You're perceptive. You spotted the most pivotal thing when we were dealing with that old woman and the dolls. You're immensely funny. And you care about people."

She gives Skyler a warmer smile, something that lights up her face. "I like you too much as a friend to tolerate hearing you say a bad word about yourself," she says. "And I'm sorry your father can't see you that way, or won't see you that way, but you were right to try and leave any way you could. I would have done the same. Kind of did, in a way. Telamon's sentiment is mine, too. I'd love to help in any way you want me to. Even if that's to reduce your father to a drooling fool."

Skyler says, “Kor is a god of conflict, isn't he?" Skyler shrugs one shoulder, "No reason that family squabbles aren't in his domain. And he's so manly and masculine, exactly the fitting Temple for my father to patronage." He considers, frowning thoughtfully before snapping his finger. "Virile! That's the word! He's practically torgid!" Skyler grins, pleased with himself, before wrinkling his nose. "Weird word, that."

He shakes his head, and glances over the crowd, frowning. "Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do. Cashew is a dumbass and will get bored and go blackmail some orphans into letting him save them, and the Society made it clear the offer's still out there once I get my stables mucked out." He spreads his hands, "But that jackass in the tin can has approached me twice now. He harassed me and Jarik a while back, during some temple festival. And my father's a stubborn old bastard, even if at his age he's probably going to die soon.”

Telamon furrows his brow at Skyler. "Yeah, but... family squabbles almost feels a little... beneath him, maybe?" He sighs. "I'm the wrong guy to ask about this. Maybe I can find someone at the Colosseum who could give me guidance on it."

"But you're not wrong. Cashew is... well, he does strike me as the type to give up easily. Plus, his fashion sense is atrocious." Telamon makes a face. "That inquisitor though... I mean, I could dangle him over the Tornmawr but that won't fix the problem. We can't murder him -- for all we know he's acting in good faith." He taps his chin. "I wonder what his orders are? Maybe we just need to know if there's more to his pursuit, or if it's what's on the bottle."

"The fellow is named after a legume?" Grandfather asks as he looks up from his knitting. Even as he does so, he doesn't drop a single stitch of his yarn.

"Yeah. He's got a skinny ass, too." Pothy comments dryly over a biscuit. "He needs to eat more cashews."

Cor'lana nearly chokes on her tea, barely swallowing it before she eyes Pothy. "Pothy!"

"It's true. He called my feathers dull." Pothy hangs his head. "Never have I ever been called dull."

Cor'lana gently pats Pothy's feathers, and she looks over at Skyler. "Whatever his deal is... We'll find out, together, and we'll figure it out, piece by piece. Or... Cashew by cashew."

"Now I'm starving for nuts," Pothy complains, and with a beleaguered sigh, Cor'lana gets up from her chair to go to the kitchen to retrieve a mix of candied nuts for him. Tea is had. Pleasant chatter is made. And Captain Cashew has the nature of his derriere remarked upon many times more.