Vacation and the Pen

Lupecyll-Atlon home, midday

Outside, the weather is bitterly cold and laced with the ever present snow. At least the animated dolls are no longer an issue in Alexandria, what with their creator now... neutralized.

But inside the fire is stoked, and a small orange dragon with butterfly wings sprawls across the top of the sofa, dozing in the pleasant warmth. Jyndei only opens one eye briefly to watch Telamon, as the half-elf hums to himself, setting up a couple things on the stove for later. A large pot set to simmer, as Tel brings a platter of fresh bread and smoked fish over to the table before sitting down. With Lana out doing script rewrites for some hapless playwright in the theater district, he's physically at least on his own -- save for his faerie dragon companion.

"Lunch is on, Jyndei. Or are you going to laze around on the couch some more?" His eyes twinkle as he regards his friend.

The Goblin is unbothered by the cold of late, trusting in her spells to keep her comfortable. She walks along in the air, just above the snow, slush and mud present on the city streets. Her destination is the Lupecyll-Atlon abode, where she pulls on the door bell, and then makes her way inside.

"Tel? Cor'lana?", she calls out as she makes her way towards the living room.

There's only a few people who are allowed unrestricted entry into the Lupecyll-Atlon home. Rumors run wild about what happens to uninvited guests, ranging from being carried off by the Watch in pieces to disappearing and never being seen again.

Telamon has heard all the rumors. After all, he planted them. It cuts down on annoying visitors.

So when the bell rings and the door opens, his head comes up. Then he hears Simony's voice, and Telamon's eyebrows settle and his expression warms. "Kitchen, Simony! And make sure you shut the door!" He grins at Jyndei. "Better get your share now, Jyn."

The little faerie dragon leaps off the sofa with alacrity, gliding over to the table to snatch up some smoked fish and begins gnawing on it.

The door is heard to slam shut, and the Goblin is in the kitchen quickly, gliding in on a current of air and dropping to the ground daintily. No thought nor pity given to uninvited guests, for she has read the runes and protections upon the dwelling. She knows what awaits them.

Simony's little nose works at the air. "Oh, fresh bread and smoked fish!" A little giggle is let out as Jyndei scarfs down another piece of smoked fish, as if someone /else/ were about to wolf it all down. "Hello Jyndei! You need not worry, Tanith is not here. Just me."

She steps over to hug at the Lord Sorcerer. "Hello Tel! How have you been?"

Telamon is dressed down for a change, a simple woolen tunic and trousers over improbable fuzzy bear slippers. An apron is wrapped around his waist, with 'Kiss the Cook!' embroidered on it. "As well as can be expected. Actually not bad at all -- I'm just enjoying a break from plots, plans, and disasters." He hugs Simony back, before ushering her to a chair.

An unseen servant floats over with a teapot and three mugs, pouring tea for everyone as Telamon takes his seat. "Lana's doing of her script-surgery today. I think she's regretting this one though. Her comments to me have been fairly barbed -- something about 'derivative', 'hackneyed', all the wonderful things you -don't- want said about your play."

He begins serving, as he continues, "I hope all is well with you in turn."

She resists being herded into a chair only very briefly, but settles in quickly as the tea is poured. The Goblin eyes the slipper and apron, chortling lightly. "You don't have to worry about plans if you don't make any!", she quips with another little laugh. She sips at the tea daintily, nodding Tel's way.

"Hmm, I suppose it depends on the intent of the playwright. One could write something intentionally derivative and hackneyed, as a form of humour. But I am getting the feeling the playwright is writing these things unironically. It must be absolute torture, which makes me wonder why Cor'lana's gone to assist. Are they a family member?"

A snort is had, followed by another sip of tea. "My thanks for the tea!" Simony smiles brightly then. "I am doing well. I've been asked to paint another fresco, this one for the Monastery! Aside from that, I have been doing some ... interesting translation work."

Telamon hehs. "No. They just offer money. Which may not seem like a great thing, but Lana and I do have expenses -- albeit modest ones -- while living here. Besides, I think she appreciates being able to learn from others' mistakes instead of making the same errors herself."

"That's excellent news about the fresco. I've always appreciated the work you put in on the ceiling fresco here. There is something to be said for art." He tilts his head with interest. "Translation work, eh? Anything you need help with? Oh, that reminds me -- we unraveled that mess with the animated dolls, and oh -boy-..." Telamon lifts his gaze to the ceiling. "It was a hell of a mess."

Simony looks shocked only briefly, before nodding. "I suppose anything that brings in a little bit of money, that falls within one's skillset, isn't a bad thing. And I suppose learning from mistakes without having to make them yourself is a healthy way to go about it."

Her expression grows pensive momentarily. "Is there something you need help with, Telamon? To lighten your load?" Her head tilts lightly and she shakes her head. "The translation work is going smoothly. While I am comfortably conversant in the three languages, the Monastery possesses a brilliant collection of sermons written down by one of our past High Temperances. Which were dutifully translated into several different languages. I am using the documents to assist with translation. The documents are from the same timeframe as the book I am translating, so the idiosyncrasies of the time are perfectly aligned. But, if you are interested in seeing the work, please come and visit me at the Monastery. I'd be happy to let you browse through it. It's a rather ancient tome."

Telamon shakes his head, and smiles at Simony. "My burdens are not too much to bear, Simony. But rest assured if I do need help, you're one of the first people I'd go to." He tears off a piece of bread, chewing on it meditatively. "No, this is just... we're laying down some plans but we have to wait till things are ready. So it's what soldiers call 'hurry up and wait'."

"And so I keep myself busy. Deal with problems of a more immediate nature. Study both books and people, to keep myself grounded. I may take you up on examining that tome, though. It's always interesting to walk back through a past era and their peculiarities."

Jyndei has finished his fish, and pipes up in his squeaky voice, "Although, my lord, you might consider that the deeds you do today may be read about a century or more hence. Something to consider."

Telamon gives Jyndei a wry look. "It hasn't escaped my mind, no. A humbling prospect for the son of a diplomat."

She smiles brightly at what Jyndei suggests. "If it is merely a century, or perhaps two, then it may be Telamon himself reading about his past exploits, hmm?" Her grin deepens. "Perhaps to my descendants, even? As a bedtime story or two."

Simony looks back to the Half-Sil. "Burdens are often not too much to bear until they are beyond bearing. Please lean on your friends, hmm?" A gurgle is heard and she can resist no longer, tearing into a chunk of bread and wolfing it down quickly.

"From what I can tell, the tome is at least five hundred years old. And in my judgement, it is a book of heresies. A collection of heresies, from the many different temples. It appears as if someone was attempting to destabilize all of the light-aligned and neutral temples at the same time."

The Goblin pauses to push the pince-nez to the top of her nose. "I read ahead briefly. It fell apart after being exposed, and a concerted effort was made to bring down the author. But it appears that it was pretty effective, and the temples had to work hard for a time afterwards. This is the only known copy, and there is some tension still, agitating for its destruction."

Telamon grins slightly. "I stand corrected. And I always lean on my friends. Who else can I unburden my heart to, if nothing else? I will note that between Lana, Pothy, and Jyndei, I am well protected against isolation. But I won't forget you."

He deftly cuts off a slice of smoked fish, eating it with relish. "Hmm. Could be from any of the dark gods, though that strikes me as a Taarite scheme, or even Deimosian. It does not surprise me that the priesthood might be... tense about such a thing. Some heterodox notions are generally harmless -- Rose-and-Sun doctrine, for example. But I take it this is much more serious."

"You are well protected. I know what the others can do, and I say, I will remove mountains to see you protected, Telamon." She flexes a skinny arm, the barest hint of strength visible.

Simony nods then. "It is a subtle corruption, and written in such a way as to be an instruction manual to bring down a temple and its congregation. As if it were a paint-by-numbers way to copy a masterpiece."

"I can understand the wish to see it destroyed then. This isn't just knowledge, albeit dangerous or even forbidden. It's... fouling, like polluting a river with alchemical byproducts. Poison for the mind." Telamon taps his chin. "So I guess the next question is, why keep it around? Is the author still alive? Yes, I know, five hundred years -- but even liches have been known to write books."

"It's a warning. Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. As long as it exists, we can read it, understand it, and be able to confront it when we see it elsewhere." Simony rubs at her chin. "As far as I know, the author was slain. And those who sought to spread his teachings were slain, or put to the winds, chased away, spread far and wide." She shrugs lightly. "Knowledge is neutral, like a hammer, or sword. The mind that wields it, that is the danger, the threat. A danger that is ever present. All you can do is be watchful."

Telamon taps his fingertips together, watching Simony over them. "I'm not sure it qualifies. You don't need to contract the plague to know it's bad for you, after all. Something like this might be better off burned."

He picks up his tea. "However, there's another point to consider. Once you've decided one book should be burned, how many others might suffer the same fate? Such a decision should not be made lightly, if at all. The Royal Library in Mythwood has a copy of Two Hundred Years of Night -- a grim read if there ever was one. And it's restricted with good reason."

Her head cants to one side, her expression one of consideration. "True, you don't need to contract the plague to know it's bad for you. But you don't just burn all the bodies without investigation. You need to see what it is doing. You need to compare that to what is written down. If the plague is doing something novel, something new, and you don't have anything to compare it to..."

Simony gestures with her hands. "It's easier if you have the playbook in hand, yes? Besides, not just anyone can go in and read this book. It is protected. Both by obscurity, and by a heavy vault, and armed guards. We treat it with the same respect as our most holy of relics, and safeguard it the same way."

<OOC> Simony says, "Apparently so!"

Telamon hmms. "Fair enough. Though I won't deny it would still make me uneasy." He offers Simony a smile. "Still, thankfully it's not something I need to keep track of. I have enough to deal with."

Jyndei speaks up again from his perch. "Perhaps Simony speaks rightly. The best equipped to contain such a thing are those who recognize it for what it is, and would be the most threatened by it."

"Just so, Jyndei. One does not send a plague victim to a carpenter, to torture the metaphor further. One sends them to a doctor, or a priest of healing. Always pick the right tool -- and the right person -- for a job."

The Goblin nods, "I wasn't intending for you to be burdened with it, I simply thought you might like to look it over, as a curiosity, an old book filled with potentially scary knowledge. You have, certainly, looked at things that could be described in the same way, yes?"

Simony runs a hand through her hair. "It is a conundrum sometimes, isn't it? What to do with things that for one reason or another, can't be destroyed, but honestly... should be?"

Telamon grins. "I wasn't expecting to be burdened. Just musing on the difficulties in handling such a thing. Although books... can be much less of a problem than other things. Prisoners, artifacts, locations. All quite a handful to contain, and the impulse to simply destroy them would be very strong."

Tel taps his fingers on the table. "I had contemplated trying to contain Koz'gon, you know. Within Leca'fi Amdamu. And if it was solely me at risk I might've tried it. But I had guests -- Auranar, Corey, and Magpie -- and it forced my hand." He offers a sunny smile. "Well, it worked out for the best, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, the book is completely non-sentient, and non-magical, and it stays where it is put. So there is little difficulty keeping it safe, it doesn't need someone hovering over it all the time." She gives a little giggle. "Imagine a book trying to sneak out of the library, yes?"

Her expression grows cold at the mention of Koz'gon, and she struggles to suppress her anger. She masks the battle with another sip of tea, and enjoyment of some of the smoked fish. "It did work out for the best in the end.", she says guardedly. "But that creature was far more dangerous than one person can handle."

Telamon snorts. "Don't be too sure. I was once involved in an incident in the library here where the books became animated and were both trying to escape and attacking people. Some idiots tried to use one of the restricted tomes and caused it." He chuckles. "I'll tell you the tale in detail if you like."

Then he tilts his head. "Ah, but I am not just any 'one person', am I? I am an archmage, the lord of Leca'fi Amdamu, blessed of Ni'essa Sky-Singer. I try not to put on too many airs, but I would say that my concern was not for myself but for my guests. For in truth I would have wielded the Castle itself as a weapon if need be."

"I would love to hear that tale, indeed." Simony took another sip of tea, and reached out for the pot to pour another. "Would you like more tea?", she asked of Telamon, wiggling the pot a little.

"No, you're not just any one person. But, to be fair, that was not just any old fiend. He was well practiced at getting inside people's heads, both literally and figuratively. I mean, he perverted a servant of Navos, which is no mean feat. Imagine one of your invisible servants suddenly attempting to strangle the life out of you. It is startling, at the very least. I would worry for you, Telamon, even if you are Lord Sorcerer."

"By all means," Telamon smiles, sliding his cup towards Simony so she can refill it. "It was an early adventure I had, when I had just come to Alexandria. So forgive me if I have to think about it a bit before relating the tale."

He inclines his head at Simony's concerns. "Although strangling me is... not the most effective attack these days, it would be a problem if he had subverted the servitors in the castle." He shrugs. "Ah well, the question is moot now. I have a couple people I need to talk to, about the final disposition -- I think you should come along when the meeting occurs. You might find it interesting."

"Aww, one of your first adventures?" She leans forward, both her elbows on the table. "I'm all ears!" Said ears wiggle in anticipation.

Simony nods in reply to his suggestion. "I would be interested in attending. Would this concern disposing of his ashes? I would be happy to help there, I know a number of spells which would make his ashes ... safe. As well as numerous prayers and rites to ensure nothing ill comes from his ... disposal."

After a moment, she blinks, and refills Telamon's cup.

"It would, yes. I had consulted with Zeke originally, but then when I made some inquiries I was... contacted by other elements with a vested interest in disposing of the fiend." Telamon's expression is quizzical. "I guess part and parcel of being lord of Leca'fi Amdamu is rubbing shoulders with a higher quality of visitor."

"And so I will host these visitors at a future date, and decide on the final disposition. I expect the conversation will be... interesting." He lays a finger alongside his nose. "I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I will state -none- of them hail from Ea."

She sips at her fresh cup of tea, and ohs? "Interesting. This simply reinforces what I said. He was no ordinary fiend." Simony settles back, mug in hand, and an expression of deep thought. "I do trust that you are vetting these visitors beforehand? There has to be some reason for their interest in his ... remains. People with a vendetta? People hoping to collect rare alchemical or biological reagents? People hoping to have a sliver of his power?" A light sip of tea.

"I am not surprised in such far flung interest. I am curious as to why."

Telamon nods. "Which is why I will have a number of friends and cohorts here, hopefully. To attempt to strike at me in my place of power, with friends close at hand? Idiocy. But yes, I will let them state their case, and if it is insufficient I will politely turn them down." He shrugs. "I don't expect trouble though."

"As you say, it could simply be 'make sure he's dead'. Others wishing to collect a portion for experiments. I did state I wanted his remains obliterated so it could not stain our world even in passing."

The Goblin sighs and nods. "I will be there." She taps at her cheek with a fingerclaw, and takes another sip. "I could do some math, if you liked, to figure out what it would take to send his remains into our local star. It should surely be enough to eradicate what is left, and cleanse the taint. It is the very definition of 'enough fire' to deal with any situation."

Simony offers a nervous grin, which broadens into a fully fledged one. "What of the watchlings? Any news?" The Goblin leans forward again, looking excited. "I can't wait to see how they've grown." Her little fingers tap a beat on the tabletop. "And maybe they'll share some of the knowledge they've gleaned. Hopefully they've grown enough that I can share some useful knowledge in return!"

Telamon nods slowly. "I dreamed of being deep underwater -- not a new experience, but surprising. My ancestor was there, Feadril -- he tells me they will be leaving the ocean soon, moving onto land to begin their own adventures. We will meet them at an appropriate time. From there... I think a few may linger in Alexandros, but most will spread out across the continent. To help others."

He grins at Simony's solution. "The problem is getting it up there, beyond the grasp of Aeryth. Go ahead and do the math. It may be this meeting will solve the issue, but it never hurts to have a backup plan."

"Oh, I shall commence with the mathematics. But my backup plan is pretty basic. If there seems to be an issue in resolving this, I shall call upon Navos' judgement, and He will decide. I shall work a miracle if need be. The hammer of hammers, so to speak."

Her eyebrows rise up. "You've had word of them? Any word as to how many have survived their journey? Gah, so frustrating sometimes, waiting."

Telamon shakes his head. "He didn't say, but his mood seemed... upbeat? I grant that all he can offer is instruction, as he's what the Harpist's faithful call a 'shade' -- essentially a spirit, not undead, but having business that prevents them from moving on to the Halls. Still, even a shade can be a potent ally."

Telamon muses, "I wonder what will happen after this. I hope he'll be able to finally move on. In any case, yes, we'll need to meet with our many-limbed friends and soon. Hopefully the weather will improve for the meeting!"

"I wonder if they'll remember us, Tel. Probably you, certainly you have been imprinted into their minds by the Watcher. I can't wait!"

The Goblin lets out a little sigh. "I feel for your ancestor, Telamon. It must be achingly frustrating, even if he has a sense of purpose. He should be in the afterlife, earning his just rewards, for good or ill."

"Whatever the price, I think it was worth it for him. And maybe with this, he'll be done with the world and can move on. We'll just have to wait and see." Telamon reaches over to pat Simony's hand. "While I wouldn't mind being remembered, what matters more is doing the right thing. Sometimes the only one who knows is you, but that's enough."

Tel sits back, looking into his tea. "I like to think I've done a lot more good things than bad. I know I've tried to leave the world a better place than I found it." He looks up suddenly with a smile. "I think I succeeded, but that doesn't mean I can sit around and rest on my laurels."

"Don't you worry, Tel." She snatches at his hand as he pats hers, and she gives it a gentle squeeze. "I shall ensure that you are remembered. And the others. I am working on a book. Mostly of illustrations and sketches, but there's also some biography written in. Everyone will know the good you've done, and Lana's, and Aryia, and so on. If you've done something that matters, no matter how small, it should be remembered."

Simony sits back and chuckles. "It should though. You deserve a break. To rest. You've earned it! It's not like you wouldn't step in if needed. But, well... there are other heroes and they should take up the slack occasionally."

Telamon raises his eyebrows. "A book! Hopefully nothing like those dreadful Crimson Pen novels." He grins as he says it, though. "But it'll be interesting to see when it's done. Let me know if you need anything in regards to it."

"I agree. I've said as much to Lana. We need a season of rest, where we can catch our breath. I want to know that I can take Lana and we can just... go off for a week or two on vacation, and not have to worry that Alexandria is burning down or something. It's nice to be needed, but... as I've commented to you, we all need time to recover."

Her cheeks flush a beet red in moments, and she raises up her hands to cover them. "Telamon! I ... I would never draw anything like that which is described in a Crimson Pen novel!" The flush reaches her forehead and neck fairly quickly. She seems to shrink in embarrassment.

"You should just go, Tel. On vacation. Inform a few select others so that they can be aware. I think those of us who remain will be able to keep the place together. At least... together enough that a wish couldn't mend what needed mending."

Telamon can't help but snicker at Simony's expression. "I'm teasing you, Simony. I know you wouldn't. But my offer to help does stand." He grins, taking another sip of his tea.

At her suggestion, though, he pauses, looking sober. Then he nods. "You have a point. It's... easy to put things off, and that includes vacations. I once advised Verna and Aura to go ahead and get married -- the only reason Lana and I delayed ours was the Hethian invasion and half the guests wouldn't have been able to attend." He ponders. "Let me talk to Lana, see where she stands on business. But if there's nothing else to tend to... we'll go to Grandfather's. He'll be delighted, and it's not like you or someone else couldn't get to us there."

"Still, such a suggestion is really embarrassing. I could scarcely write down such a thing, let alone draw it." One can almost see the steam rising up from her ears. She takes a big gulp of tea and then nods.

"You do deserve some rest, free of worry. At least, free from as much worry as possible. Erm, do the servants at your castle on the edge of waking have a means to contact you? I do know how to planeshift, and I've already gotten myself out there before. I figure it's a discreet means to let you know. I uhhh don't like the thought of dropping into a fae realm, unannounced."

Telamon hmms. "That... is actually a good question. I'm not sure. I might have to experiment a bit. However, if all else fails I know Grandfather would hardly turn his nose up at you if it was important. He likes you, after all."

A pause. "Although I'd be cautious about keeping that approval too close to your heart. He also likes those Crimson Pen novels too. He once took a part time job at a book-seller just so he could get the worker's discount on the gods-benighted things..."

"Well, your servants also know me, and know that I do not mean the Castle, its denizens or you any harm. I have a hammer that, by a quirk of all that exists, works as well on fae as it does demons. It might take me some quick explaining if I just appeared, and that would likely cause a fanfare. One of your humble servants, something the fae know all about, requesting to speak with you is far, far more demure."

Simony's cheeks flush anew. "He... he enjoys those.. things?" She murmurs and huffs. "Maybe I could bring a few new ones with me, if I had to arrive there unannounced. It would at least mollify him." She blinks. "Wait, he likes me? I mean, really? Not that I expected him to hate me, but I'm not his family nor fae or anything. As far as he knows, I'm just a Goblin..."

Telamon smiles. "Honestly, I think Grandfather likes anyone who isn't trying to cause him or his family grief. Then the gloves tend to come off. Plus, you're -my- friend, and so there's an extension of hospitality there." He shrugs. "Let me work the problem a bit. No point in planning for something that might just be moot."

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm... not sure why he likes those things either. I mean, I read all of the Doctor Barnabus Bizarre series when I was younger, but that's hardly in the same league. Although they were definitely not high literature."

"I guess... I mean, I'm not exactly offensive, and I do love you and your family." The blush returns once again. "But I am sure it would turn out alright. If I could talk to you in your head like you and Lana can do, that would be the perfect solution. I could wish you good morning every day and tell you that everything is running smoothly. But I uhm I am not aware of clerical spells that are capable of that."

The Goblin hmms, looking away as she touches the tips of her index fingers together. "I uhm... I have read a few of the Crimson Pen novels. P.purely for research, mind. I uhm I have an idea of why he might enjoy those things."

Telamon shakes his head. "The telepathic link doesn't cross planar boundaries. It's actually... a little unpleasant, at least for us, if one of us takes an unexpected jaunt. Even when we know one is going somewhere, it... leaves an absence that we feel till we're back together, or at least on the same plane."

"Besides, telepathic bonds are -not- for anyone who isn't -absolutely- comfortable with the other person being in their head. Lana and I had a long relationship well before we established the bond, so it was less of a problem for us. But it is definitely a level of intimacy above and beyond what you might consider proper."

"Oh. That must make things really difficult, I had no idea." The Goblin takes another sip, and pouts a little as the mug is empty. "May I have another?"

She rubs at her cheek a little and nods. "Well, that would be a bit of a shock. I guess we would unintentionally find out things that we keep guarded. But I think I would be okay with you knowing those things, even if I wouldn't just blurt them out, you know? A bridge that can be crossed later if we ever need to, right?"

Simony lets out a long breath. "I don't think you'd be surprised to find out how strongly I feel for you. I mean, you have saved my life. Not to mention the lives of many others. I look up to you. Hah, literally."

"I know. And I know you'd do the same for me, Simony." Telamon lifts the teapot, pouring another mug for her. "I've never regretted anything I did for my friends. Not now, not ever."

"That's the problem. It's impossible to keep -anything- from each other -- well, we can try to hide things but the other one can tell immediately. Kind of a shame -- I can't play whist with Lana any more." He grins. "Still, it has its upsides. A comforting presence, like being in bed and feeling the warmth next to you, but it's in your head and never really goes away."

"But chin up, Simony. This isn't a problem to be solved in an afternoon. Have some more tea and bread, and why don't I tell you about the day the books decided to try and escape the library..."

And so life goes on in the Lupecyll-Atlon home.