Dinner Sans Demontry

Log Info

• Title: Dinner Sans Demontry

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Dirk, Dolan, Patch, Ravenstongue, Telamon, Verna

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: An evening dinner party at Ravenstongue and Telamon's place, while slightly derailed by Ravenstongue burning the planned dinner, sees Dirk, Dolan, Patch, Verna, and the Lupecyll-Atlon couple reunited to try and pool together information, as well as to just ensure that everyone's all right and well. Verna imparts what she knows about Kol and the group theorizes about the true nature of the Kol Demontry they've faced off against. The night finishes with Verna's cookies and good company.

Lúpecyll-Atlon home, evening.

The cold Variday gave way into night on the back of a westward breeze, dark clouds blotting out patches of the sky and denying the wistful stargazers their tapestry to gaze upon. However, the consolation that 'at least it's not snowing' is one that sees some people out and about on a winter evening despite the chilly ambient temperature, and the happy din of students at pubs is audible from the backyard of the Lúpecyll-Atlon home.

Which is why a certain tall individual with violet eyes and dark hair shuts the window. "You're all going to catch cold if you leave the window open," Grandfather tuts as he returns to the cooking fire. His gloved hands (he's chosen his 'polite mortal society' form again) hold a wooden spoon that is stirring rather aggressively into a pot filled with soup.

"I had it open because I burnt my attempt at dinner earlier, and I needed to get the smell out of the house, remember?" Cor'lana says with a huff. She's sitting on the couch with a cup of lavender-mint tea in her hands, and... judging by the pout on her face, as well as her body language, she's been banished from the kitchen. "My nerves are just a bit of a mess still from yesterday."

"I blame myself," Telamon, the other half of the duo, comments from the couch. "I should've insisted we just go out and pick up something, but Lana and I have been enjoying cooking so much that we thought it'd be stress-relieving." A heavy book is floating next to him, and he's holding a... well, diagram of shimmering lines in his hands -- an illusion, but one crafted for academic purposes. He peers at the book again, and then says to the unseen servitor, "Next page."

Tel smiles at Lana reassuringly. "Relax, love. We all make mistakes. Don't be too hard on yourself."

Dirk knows all about mistakes. He's been dwelling on many over the last evening. He sits by the window, his pocket-knife briskly flicking over a length of wood. The old snowbeard's been touchy and irritable all day, though he's been careful to keep his sharp tongue and angry tone to a minimum. It's bad enough he had to leave behind family heirlooms, the tools of his trade, and all his clothes. Bad enough that he still doesn't know if his pony Thistle is still alive or not. He left his pipe on the mantelpiece just before the fight broke out. "Well, that soup smells pleasant at least," he grunts, blowing some woodshavings off his carving. "Is there aught I might be doin' fer yer family, Tel? Any work about the house that's wantin' done? I want tae earn me keep."

Patch had been quiet since arriving, her eyes mostly roaming the small collection of things that Cor'lana and Telamon have collected for their home. She's found a seat to occupy, a sigh hefted as Dirk and Cor'lana go on about what had happened. She's still dressed in coat and cloak, a hesitation to relax, even within the city's walls. "I'm sorry." the dawn elf says towards the dwarf, a glace hesitantly cast that way. "It's a tough spot, and one I partly put you in." she concedes, trying to flash a small smile. Tying. "I didn't expect to find what we did, and we took a big bite of something we weren't ready for." shifting in her chair.

Cor'lana looks like she's about to say something in reply, but then Grandfather comes out of the kitchen. He looks a bit different from when Patch has met him before: the man looks a bit more elvish, perhaps passing for a mul'niessa man on account of his gray skin, and his hands look far more like an elvish man's might, although they're cased in black gloves to match his finely tailored waistcoat, shirt, and pants--

Which makes the fact he's holding a wooden spoon and has stolen Cor'lana's cooking apron all the funnier, really. The man called Grandfather smiles genially at the group. "Everyone enjoying their cup of tea?" he asks. "I am happy to refill cups or take them out of the way as needed. Soup should be ready soon--thank you for the compliment as well, Master Dirk, it is a recipe I have perfected over a number of years."

"We're fine here, Grandfather, but thank you," Cor'lana replies with a small smile, followed by a small sigh. "We are here. We are alive. I really can't complain more than that, sister. Dirk, please don't worry--we are here to help. That's what friends are for."

Telamon lets the illusory construct dissipate, as Grandfather steps out into the living area proper. He offers Cor'lana's ancestor a smile, before turning his attention to Dirk. "I understand where you're coming from, Dirk, but as Lana notes, what kind of friends would we be to turn away one in need?" He rubs his chin. "We can come up with something later, if it still hangs over you. But for now..." He flicks a fingertip to where Lulu is nesting on one of the many perches built into the walls, snoozing. "I'd say Lulu's got the right idea. Rest and recover."

His eyes move to Patch sympathetically. "Sometimes that happens. But you were smart enough to get away, and send for help. There's no shame in admitting a foe is beyond your skills." He scowls. "This is going to require a bit more planning and forethought, though. As my mother said, guess I'm going to be doing my homework."

And on the topic of foes, planning, homework and possibly culpability, there comes a rapping, a tapping at the Lúpecyll-Alton home door. Opening the door (or use of clairvoyance or windows for those suspicious) reveals Mourner Verna at the door. Her hood is doffed and she bears a small basket in hand.

Dirk looks over at Patch. His sour expression softens a bit, and he reaches over to give her hand a squeeze. "Here now. It was my idea tae hole up in my cabin. I should've known that bloodsuckin' shite might be able tae track us there. So don't you go shoulderin' the weight all by yerself, right?" He nods to Telamon and Cor'lana both. "Our friends have it exact. We're alive. An' where there's life, there's hope. An' hope is only lost when we choose tae let it go." He puffs up his burly chest, regaining a trace of his old steel. "I'll not let that pasty-faced, clean-shaven twerp get the best o' me, ye can bet on that!"

He goes back to his woodcarving, scraping out the bowl of what will soon be his new pipe. "Dwarves are happy when they're workin', Tel," he says. "An' we're nae the sort to accept charity." He looks up and around at the residence. "Nae exactly sure what I might be able tae do here. But... well. If naught else, I can surely scrub dishes an' sweep floors easy 'nough, I'll warrant." He manages a wan little smile. "It's not that I'm not grateful. I am, surely. I just... dinnae want tae be a burden is all. That's about the worst thing, fer any dwarf worth the beard on his face."

Patch raises a finger to Grandfather, but upon looking upon the familiar voice she pauses in her seat. "A new look, or an old one?" she asks of the fey, her lips a small smile as she picks up her untouched cup. It's a little cool, but the bard tastes and savors a bit of the tea when it was brought back to her attention. "Your hospitality is kind, Grandfather. I should appreciate it more. This is true."

"You speak the truth bluntly, Master Telamon." Patch's formality not a tease. "I am at a loss at what to do. Zalgiman is a threat enough. Wealth, wolves, and powerful friends. I didn't expect Kol to be among that mess." another sigh, one drowned in a gulp of tea. "No matter." she says after. "We know more for it. I just wish I understood the Stormguard connections."

Patch adds quietly to Dirk. "Burden? For being put out by evil?" a smirk finally hitting her features. "Needless worry."

No sooner does the door close on Verna than another rap on it ensues.

"A new recipe--relatively speaking," Grandfather responds with a sly smile, and he excuses himself back to the kitchen. Despite the fact that he's known to almost all here as the man who officiated Cor'lana and Telamon's wedding, it appears in large groups of people, he prefers to stay behind the scenes.

Cor'lana knows that rapping quite well. "Hold on a moment," she says, placing her teacup on the table as she gets up from the couch and walks up to the front door. "Verna!" she exclaims happily. "You made it back all right! Wonderful, wonderful, please come in!"

And, well, when Verna's welcomed in--the door is rapped on again, and Cor'lana blinks. "That must be Dolan. Has to be. Either that, or a really badly timed singing messenger--the last one of those we got had the wrong house altogether, too, poor girl." She opens the door to see who it is that's out there.

Telamon rises from his seat to greet Verna as well. "Glad you made it back. I had confidence in you, but that was not the sort of thing I'd want to test regularly." Swiftly, the half-elf pours a cup of tea for Verna now, before gesturing his unseen servant to carry the book back to the study. "I think I may buy some more chairs," he comments wryly.

At Lana's observation about the singing messenger, Tel chuckles. "The outfit was cute, though. And it wasn't her fault, they transposed two numbers on the address." He looks curiously toward the door. "It would feel like fate if it was Dolan, now wouldn't it? Or just good timing."

Verna enters, acknowledging with a nod. "I did, though I would not wish to press the matter any more than-" She pauses as another is at the door on her heels and promptly steps aside. "I was not followed," she thinks to add after a moment.

The knocker is indeed Dolan, looking at least somewhat more rested than he did yesterday, freshly bathed and sans arms and armor. He is, as is his usual wont, dressed down and very much for the weather, in nondescript and simple clothing, but upon the door being opened, he manages a smile that is nowhere near his usual cheeky grin. It's better than what he'd been wearing. "Evening. I received an invitation?" He holds up a piece of paper.

"I don't know. Fate is an ally I'd like to have." Patch muses of Telamon, growing quiet in the chair she occupies as she continues to sip her tea. The story of Cor'lana and the singing messenger met with a puzzled expression. "This is what I get for living in a dorm. I don't get guests, just complaints." she snorts with a half-laugh into her tea. "I'm looking forward to the soup, I don't get to eat real cooking too often." just making idle chat for the time, a smile flashed to Verna as she is greeted, and enters.

Dirk pauses in his woodcarving to tip back a swallow of his tea. When Verna and Dolan arrive, he perks up a bit. "Oh, Missus Verna! Thank the gods yer all right! I was worried about ye! An' Dolan too, so good tae see ye again, laddie!" He sets his carving aside and hops to his feet, lumbering over to offer Dwarf Hugs where appropriate. "But please, Missus Verna... you were the last one at me cabin. Was it all right? Is me pony Thistle safe? Were ye able to tell?"

Telamon looks startled at Dolan's arrival, but it morphs swiftly into a smile. "Good to see you again, Dolan! You're looking better. We're just... recovering. And getting dinner, courtesy of Grandfather." He rubs his chin. "Yeah. Definitely need more chairs." That note made, he walks over to grab a stout stool -- one evidently designed for a makari, judging from the draconic decorations. "I have a couple chairs outside I can bring in, if wee need them. But there's plenty of hot tea, hot soup, and good company."

"Oh, good, you did get Pothy's note," Cor'lana says with a cheery smile to Dolan. "Come on in and out of the cold. Yes, we're all going to have soup for dinner shortly." She's leaving out the part where she burnt the original dinner and this is the back-up plan that she wasn't allowed to cook.

Once the door is shut behind Dolan, Cor'lana walks into the kitchen. After some handling of pots and bowls that's a little noisy--there's a small exclamation of a high-pitched "shit!" that almost sounds like a squeal from Cor'lana as it sounds like she narrowly avoids dropping a bowl--she begins to distribute fresh and hot bowls of what appears to be a rustic soup with vegetables and strips of beef.

Cor'lana gets herself a bowl and sits back down on the couch. "Yes, Dirk is very worried about Thistle," she adds. Then she looks at Patch with a raised brow. "A dorm? I imagine you probably have your own share of complaints about the place, from everything I've ever heard."

"That's mighty kind of you, Lana." Dolan's got under his right arm a bottle, and he steps inside, allowing Cor'lana to close the door. Once inside, he sets the bottle down on the floor, removes cloak and boots, and steps further in, setting the bottle next to the entrance to the kitchen without comment. "Good to see you," he greets Dirk, without much of his usual energy. "You holding up all right?"

He eventually joins the rest of the group, with greetings for all, and accepts a bowl of the simple, hearty fare to which he is accustomed.

"Part of my acceptance at the Bardic College came with a work-study program. The women's dorm needed help." Patch says to Cor'lana as the other woman reappears with the bowls of soup. A small grin is still on Patch's lips after what she heard squeaked from the kitchen.

"Are you alright, Cor'lana? Need any help?" Patch asks, the tone seemingly sincere. "You both are always feeding me." including Telamon in that, and laughing. "Anyhow. I'm sure there are more important things to discuss than my employment at the college." taking a bowl of soup once it comes her turn. Eagerly too.

Verna's lips purse. "Your cabin was not in any worse condition when I left than it was when you departed, Dirk. Admittedly, I did not remain long. Kol was rather displeased. I did not notice the state of your pony, I regret, though I do not believe the abomination was interested in such, either."

She subsequently looks between the others, frown deepening. "Whatever occurred or may yet, Kol Demontry's presence is my doing and thus my responsibility." A long pause before she presents the basket. "I made cookies."

"Dolan, you're wonderful, really," Cor'lana says with a smile as she spots the bottle, and then her expression turns a little bashful at how Patch is certainly grinning at her rather rare display of swearing from in the kitchen. "I'm fine. Grandfather's got everything from here--I don't think there's anyone in existence that enjoys washing dishes as much as he does."

She looks back to Verna as the Mourner claims responsibility--and then Verna presents the cookies, which means it's Cor'lana's turn to grin a little. "I know we're all a bit... overwhelmed, to put it gently, and the events have worn on all of us, which is why Tel and I invited everyone over to begin with. Your cookies are an excellent addition, Verna--did Auranar help with them?"

Telamon lifts an eyebrow at Verna's declaration. "The cookies are quite welcome," he says, cradling his bowl of soup in one hand. "But I'm not sure I follow the whole 'ancient undead evil is my fault'. Granted, I was told he was permanently dead and his reappearance was a very unpleasant surprise to a number of people." Tel shrugs lightly.

Dirk nods his head as Verna gives her report of the state of his cabin. Maybe it won't be as bad as he fears. It's built dwarf-tough, after all. "I'll be wantin' tae get out there. Durin' the daytime," he says as he accepts a bowl of soup. "See what can be salvaged an' saved. If me cart's still in one piece, I can at least load up me tools. There's few things worse fer a dwarf than losin' our tools. May as well shave our beards! Ergh!" He looks back over to Dolan as he carefully spoons up some soup and sips it. "I'm glad yer doin' all right, lad. I've been a wee bit worried 'bout ye." But then there's cookies. Even despite all that's happened, the old snowbeard can't help but perk up. "Oooh. Cookies! Thanks, Missus Verna, that's so kind of ye!"

Having found a place - chair or no chair, to settle down, Dolan does so, lowering himself with some care to the ground and sitting cross-legged on the floor without complaint. He seems content to dive into his food without real comment for the conversation that swirls around him, although those who know him well see his chocolate-brown eye look up enough to know that he's paying quite close attention.

"Telamon is right. I was under the impression that Kol has been a recurring nuisance." Patch says in regard to Verna, raising a brow. "But if it's true, cookies are an acceptable apology. Most times." a smile flashed from her seat as she has sets her tea aside on the table. Her focus sits on the warm bowl of soup, taking up the spoon and stirring to help it cool.

"Dirk is right, it's good to see you Dolan. I was worried for a bit." Patch underplays. She was a little more than worried, the desperate attack of garlic replaying in her mind. "It was a long night."

"If there's any information you can give us, Verna, this would be a good time to share," Cor'lana says in reply to Telamon's sentiment. "While our moods are relatively lifted by good food and good companionship, that is."

Pothy finally flies into the room from the kitchen, too, although his head is slightly damp in a manner that suggests that he had his own little bowl of soup and he might have been a little too enthusiastic about it. He waddles over to Dolan on the floor and sits down next to him. "Hi, Dolan," he says in his boyish voice. The Redeemer has been chosen.

Verna sets the basket down where it is accessible yet not obstructing and opens it to reveal the fare. "Aura offered guidance," she admits, hints of a smile tugging away her frown briefly, "yet the effort was mine." This may be conspicuous once the baked goods are revealed: precisely even baked squares of unfrosted semi-sweetness. The design and decoration (or lack thereof) certainly seems far more attributable to Verna than Auranar.

She then finds a seat and settles, gloved hands rested not-entirely-at-ease within her lap. "To my knowledge, he was destroyed some time ago. I did not see him recently until our venture into The Dreaming, where I returned him to existence. Not with intent, but he is present all the same." She pauses before adding, "I will share what I know, yet be advised that most all of his actions known to me are... not considered to be pleasant meal conversation."

Telamon ponders, regarding Verna's tale, as he eats his soup. "There's a problem with that. You shouldn't be able to bring things out of the Dreaming like that. Certainly not..." He pauses, and chuckles. "...I was going to say 'living' but that doesn't apply. Let's call it 'aware' entities." He snorts. "Otherwise, we could mine the endless expanse of dreams for resources we couldn't even imagine in reality."

"Hi, Pothy." Dolan's greeting of the bird is quiet, and he sets down bowl and spoon to offer Pothy a fist to hop onto if he wishes. He doesn't say much more than that, instead listening to Verna as she speaks. "Those statues are damned powerful in the Dream Realm, Tel," he speaks up, for the first time. "Bet they can do damn near anything in that plane."

"I'm willing to listen, and share too." Patch offers to Verna, those words latched upon until Telamon talks. "I don't know. Dreams are supposed to hold power." contemplation in her words before answering with a shrug. "I don't know. I just know a little of why stuff is wrong with our magics, and... Kol really came out of nowhere." the sheepish tone coming with a flush as she finally takes a bite of soup, lingering on it. Weighing its flavor. "I'll chime in when necessary. If necessary."

Dirk sips at his soup, his attention flicking around as each person speaks in turn. The revelation that Kol was brought forth out of dreams has the old ranger's eyes widening a bit. And they get wider when Dolan mentions the possible uses of those statues in the Dream itself. "Beards o' me fathers," he says softly. "My statute always gave me some bizarre dreams, but... well hell. I thought it was just a side effect, ye know? I never realized they might have that sort o' power!" He grunts softly. "Suppose I shouldnae be surprised. I mean, they are keepin' a god on lockdown, aren't they?" He looks back up and around at the others. "Well... my silvered bullets certainly seemed tae hurt 'im. It just... wasn't enough. I've never seen a creature so powerful."

"If the statues were involved--they could do all sorts of things, I think, based on what Dolan's been able to determine about them." Cor'lana looks thoughtful. "So I agree with Dolan. All the better of an argument to keep them close and never let people take them."

Pothy, of course, takes Dolan's offered fist. His tail wags up and down happily as he's acknowledged by one of his best friends forever. But it stops wagging quite so fervently as he listens to what's being said.

"A god known to many as The Nightmare, opposed by the goddess of dreams, amongst other aspects, " Verna notes. She dips her head to Dolan. "Bringing the statue was my first folly, but I was loathe to leave it vulnerable. Making use of it only compounded the error. I was already entwined in this matter in ways I still now do not fully comprehend. At times, there are concerns that I serve more to hinder than aid." She turns to Patch, inviting inclusively with a gesture of hand, "I welcome any and all information you might offer."

Telamon furrows. "I know about the Nightmare, but... it just seems a bit of a jump from the statues, to actually... well, 'raising from the dead' is definitely the wrong turn of phrase here. But..." He pauses, thinking hard. "You know... we keep assuming he's the 'real' Kol Demontry. But what if we're thinking about this the wrong way? What if he's like... some kind of animate dream or shadow-projection? And remember how hard it can be to shake something chasing you in nightmares -- it might explain a lot."

"When you say statues, do you mean the ones empowered and keeping The Great Hound in check?" Patch asks, the noise she makes assuming this is what they mean. "That explains some of why Kol is involved with Zalgiman, but not what he's getting out of it." trying to connect some of the dots and information with what she has. "Are you sure Kol wasn't already in the Dreaming and you ran into him? It's likely they have more than one in their possession. Zalgiman is rich, his connections deep. He can do more with a flex of coin than I can with everything I have."

Dolan pulls his arm in to pull Pothy closer, stroking him with his free hand, his food set aside for now. He draws breath as if to speak, then seems to think better of it, allowing the conversation to swirl around him without comment.

Pothy's tail wags up and down again merrily as Dolan pets him. Meanwhile, Cor'lana continues to look thoughtful. "Sounds like it's the same statues," she says. "Verna, who was with you on this expedition into the dreaming realm? Do you think that Kol--if he is the real thing--is pursuing you, or would he be pursuing the other people who were there, too?"

Verna claims a cookie for herself in lieu of indulging in full drink or stew. The morsel never quite makes it to her lips as she pauses in thought, eyeing it rather than eating it. "You may well be correct, Telamon. It is perhaps more likely a nightmare made flesh than the reconstitution of the original..." Her frown returns in force and her jaw tightens before her focus lifts to him and the others. "I take no comfort in that thought."

A pause for breath before she expounds, "My first encounter with the vampire was to be enthralled by him even as he gutted the high priesthood of my own temple. After which I was inspired to empower him with the same magic that would otherwise stand against him. If this entity is not the original and instead some perception made real... I fear that I may have created something worse than Kol Demontry."

A moment passes before she answers Patch's inquiry. "I accompanied Andelena and Dolan." She looks to the latter, as if a shift from (or denial of) her suppositions would be most welcome.

"Telamon, where do these cups go, I don't recognize..." Grandfather's voice floats back from the kitchen. Tel chuckles, and gets to his feet. "Come on, Dirk. I want to talk to you about a couple other things, once we're done helping Grandfather put things away." He bends down to kiss Lana's cheek as he passes, and murmurs, "Make notes. We'll discuss this later." And with that, he smiles to the others, before slipping off into the kitchen.

Dirk finishes off his soup and nods to Telamon. "Right ye are, laddie." He grabs two cookies from the basket and hops to his feet, nodding to the others and blowing Patch a kiss before trundling after Tel.

"Yeah." Still petting Pothy, Dolan casts a glance at his food, then back up. "Don't know if that's what it is, but I found out a bit more about the statues." Stroke, stroke. "So they've got more power still if they're in the hands of the faithful of the deity who made it. So, Auranar and Magpie and I found the one Eluna made, and we know it's the one Eluna made, but apparently it'll give you serious visions if, say, someone who serves Eluna attunes that one." He looks after Telamon when the pair disappear into the kitchen. "If I take one into the Dream Realm, I can usually work out who made the one I've got, but I've got to be pretty careful. Maybe if we can get the statues in the hands of the right people, we can figure out what really happened."

He stares down at Pothy. "What I want to know is what that vampire wants with me."

"I don't know, Lady Verna." Patch interjects, keeping her bowl readily in hand as she takes another spoonful before continuing. At least she has the manners to only take one bite and swallow before talking again. A head bobbing to its taste. "The creature seemed real enough to my eyes. But, figment or not, it's only one piece of a much larger problem." she says, her eyes rising to watch Telamon and Dirk go about their individual business. "Not doom-saying. I'm not my mother." this said for her own assurance. "Things are going to be strange, and I fear these two are making plans on it too. If it wasn't clear at the temple, it's clear now. He's a wolf. Likely a middleman, and that's what worries me."

Patch quickly clarifies. "Apologies. I was referring to Zalg. He's trash. Evil trash." her opinion set and strong.

"Telamon has sought out Eluna more fervently as of late," Cor'lana responds to Dolan's look after her husband leaves the room. She smiles genuinely as she says, "He now venerates the Sky-Singer as I venerate the Lady of Inspiration. It's a happy sort of harmony here."

Pothy stares back at Dolan for a long moment. There's a striking amount of intelligence in those blue eyes of his, once one gets past the amiable snack-eater facade he wears. "Dolan, there are creatures of evil that lurk out there, and their motivations just... don't make sense," he says. "For all we know, he wants to feed on you like I want to eat and document everything I can. You're... This will sound really bad, so I'm sorry, but you're like, the highest bottle of wine on the shelf that he can't reach."

His blue eyes look back at Cor'lana. "Kind of like how Lana has to get Telamon to reach things for her. Or make me get them." That earns Pothy a little eye-roll from his mistress.

Verna nods to both, in turn. "Passing prurient interest would not be unexpected, Dolan, but I doubt his motives so simple. If we presume, however the manner, that The Nightmare granted him renewed existence," she begins (which sounds somewhat better than 'because I made it occur), "Kol would be inclined to further His goals. Your familiarity with the totems makes you a target." She exhales softly.

"If they are strongest in the hands of the faithful, then that is where we should place them; save for those against us, obviously. The Harpist did not craft such a totem, Herself, to my knowledge. Still, She aids us as She wills."

"It's a strange way to say Vaire, but I forgive you, Sister." Patch's tease playful. It's Dolan and his worry that earns a frown, that conversation overhead, and it causing her to set aside her soup. "If it's any consolation, I am good at people. Can guess most their motivations." she starts. "He's amused you've suffered. Wants you to relive it, and peek at the fun others had before." another sigh, these topics and heavy things something she usually tries to avoid. The frustration is at herself, not Dolan. "You have a story. Some trauma. He sees that. He wants to reduce you to that state once again, and then break you." her words blunt, but Kol is not a pleasant thing to speak of. "You amused him. It's that simple. Perversion and evil. It doesn't need much more of a reason."

"Apologies. I just don't know how to put my thoughts on it, but I stopped being upset by most of this a while ago. It's about stopping it for me. Once I realize people had died, and are still dying? It became personal." Patch states. "I should of been more clear on the dangers."

The dangers, however, are not here in the Lúpecyll-Atlon house, where a certain white-feathered raven doles out attention and affection to the dinner attendees, where bowls of soup are spirited away into the kitchen to be washed by the three men working in it, and where friends come to unite over hard victories. There's no such thing as a certain cure for the bittersweet, but friendship certainly helps in good measures.

OOC

Pothy delivers the mail:

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Andie would let Dolan out if an invitation arrived (which it probably did via Pothymail(tm)."

<OOC> Dirk says, "POL."

<OOC> Dolan says, "PPS, Pothy Postal Service."

Kol's sweet new shades:

<OOC> Dolan says, "Remind me for later, Dolan knows how to keep Kol from dominating people."

<OOC> Verna says, "Noted."

<OOC> Patch says, "Oh, neat!"

<OOC> Verna says, "Sunglasses and Sovereign Glue seems a strong possibility."

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "I WEAR MY SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT--"

<OOC> Dolan says, "Protection From Evil and Magic Circle against Evil."

<OOC> Dolan says, "SO I CAN SO I CAN"

<OOC> Patch says, “Pathfinder - Cory Hart Edition.”