Vision of a Padaryn Past

Log Info

• Title: Vision of a Padaryn Past

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Ravenstongue Seldan, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's House

Lúpecyll-Atlon home, midday

Hot and humid, the days of Aestry can be hard to bear even for the powerful.

The home of Cor'lana and Telamon is now a taller, two-story house with a sloping roof and a more pronounced elven flair, though the windowsills and doorjambs still bear the characteristic warding runes. Below those open windows, a pair of new flowerboxes have been hung, and are being filled with rich soil.

Of course, because this is the home of sorcerers, the soil is being moved by an unseen servant, filling them steadily under Telamon's supervision. The half-elven sorcerer is dressed casually, in a sleeveless cotton tunic and breeches, as he monitors the servitor's progress. Once the flowerboxes are topped off, he fishes out some seeds, and begins to plant them, adding water from a small can each time.

Cor'lana is dressed in a light and airy white dress that's well-suited for the weather, bereft entirely of sleeves and cropped at the knees for the sake of not overheating. In her hand, she wafts a small paper fan, and she sighs as she looks at the display.

"It's far too hot today," she murmurs. "And adding rain to the mixture would make it even worse for the humidity. There's sometimes no winning."

Pothy, however, has no complaints. Mostly because he's bathing in a bird bath that is styled to look like a pile of feathers. He wiggles his butt in the water, shaking his wings as the water splashes everywhere onto him. Cor'lana looks at him with an almost envious glance.

Seldan had sent word ahead that he would be coming on this particular day, and when he does arrive, similarly wearing a sleeveless linen shirt and trousers, both white - an unusual choice in the case of the trousers - and low black suede boots with small blue flashes of lightning shooting through them at times.

Over it is the usual blue and silver open-front robe, but of more interest is the edges of tattoos visible on his arms beyond the edges of a sleeveless shirt he seldom ventures. Upon the point of his left shoulder is tattooed a pair of stylized mountains that some might recognize as the symbol of Khazad Duin; a furry tail wraps around his right bicep, and the rear end of some animal is visible along the edge of the sleeve. Reunion is nowhere in evidence, and he carries only his usual knapsack over his shoulder, and a long, flat, gift-wrapped package in one hand.

He pauses at the street to survey the changes wrought in the house, the even features wearing an approving looking. "Her light upon your path, Lord and Lady Lúpecyll-Atlon. You have made it yours."

Telamon brushes his hands off when the last of the seeds have been planted and watered, and instructs the servitor, "Collect the trash and dispose of it in the usual place." That done, he offers Lana a smile. "Do you want me to get you some tea, love? It's probably finished steeping and I can chill it down for you." He taps his chin. "Believe me, I am not enjoying it either. I almost -wish- it would rain just to get it over with."

At Seldan's approach, Telamon turns to regard the man. "Sir Seldan," he says with a smile. "Welcome! I hope the day is treating you well -- the letter you sent seemed quite serious." The half-sil tilts his head, as he approaches the man, offering his hand in turn. "Would you care to step inside? At least you'll be out of this absolutely relentless summer heat."

"Her light upon your path, Sir Seldan," Cor'lana says brightly despite the trials that the summer heat presents. "And thank you. Recent events necessitated that we rebuild our house--and Telamon wanted to add onto the house to begin with anyway, so... It all worked out."

"Let's get inside," Cor'lana says to Telamon at the notion of doing so, fanning herself again. "It's so hot out that to force Seldan to boil in this weather with us would be criminal. It's far too hot out here."

"Hot!" Pothy greets Seldan, shaking off all the water from his feathers. He flaps over onto Cor'lana's shoulder and nuzzles into Cor'lana. Normally she might object to wet bird feathers--but it's actually a little refreshing.

Seldan shifts his package and reaches to take the hand, grasping the arm in a clasp of equals. "I shall explain, when there be more privacy," he agrees, "but there is time for pleasantries, at the least. It is in my mind that Tashraan's summer is better than Alexandria's. Desert it may be, but the desert does not cling like a sodden blanket to the skin."

He surveys the new architecture, the flowers, the differences, blue eyes roving over each detail. It is no longer the place he remembers. That place is wholly gone, and though its memories remain, at least none other are subjected to the reminders. Well pleased, he returns his attention to the pair, a boyish smile that holds nothing of concern turned on both of them. "A cooler location would be welcome, and I would see what you have wrought."

"Absolutely, and with pleasure. Please, come in." Telamon leads his wife and Seldan into the house, the heavy wooden door carved with a raven soaring on a starfield.

Inside is much the same as outside -- the bones of the old house are still there, but it's been modified. The kitchen and living area are larger, and a flight of stairs leads up to the second floor. The furniture in the living area is draped in protective dropcloths, and the neat scaffolding explains why; a fresco is taking form across the living room ceiling, of white ravens and stars and fey creatures. "My apologies for the untidiness here. A friend of ours, Temperance Simony, is painting the ceiling."

He leads them past to the dining area, where a certain table is no longer in residence. Instead, a round table of Myrrish design with sturdy, beautiful elven-made chairs around it has been placed there. "Please, sit down. I'll get the tea out." He shakes his head. "It's not completely intolerable out there, but I can understand where the old khazad line about 'too hot to forge' comes from.

Cor'lana takes a seat herself at the table, and Pothy hops off her shoulder to the bowl of peanuts that is in the middle. He gets down to the business of shelling peanuts.

"Want one, Seldan?" comes the boyish little voice that Pothy can only express within the home to the Silverguard. "They're really, really yummy. Honey roasted peanuts. One of my favorites."

"All snacks are your favorite," Cor'lana replies with a small grin as she reaches out to pet Pothy on his shoulders. She looks to Seldan. "I've never been to Tashraan, but I'd agree with the very notion. There's no humidity to be had there."

Once all are inside, Seldan ensures that the door is closed if none other has seen to that, and quietly sets the package in his hand on a side table on his way to the dining room. Again, he looks around him with the same thoughtfully approving expression, then sets down his knapsack and takes a proffered seat at the dining room table. "Well-chosen," he says of it. "It suits you both."

The bird, now that he is speaking, gets a longer, bemused look. He's seen this before, of course, but it never fails to take him aback. He remembers his manners, though, after a moment, and turns his gaze to Cor'lana. "If your mistress does not object. I would not deprive you."

"Tea would be welcomed, and that is so. I do not understand why Mal favors the place so, and spend as little time there as I may."

Telamon is a bustle of activity, and large mugs are set before Lana and Seldan as well as at his own place. He checks the kettle, and then focuses, a cantrip smoothly cooling the now-brewed tea, before he pours it into the mugs. "There's honey, of course," he adds, setting down a jar and spoon. Glancing at the package, before turning his eyes to Seldan once more.

"I've only been there once, and briefly, with Father. I'd like to go there at some point, but obviously I've had my hands full of late." Telamon slides back into his chair, his expression genial, while the invisible servitor ghosts its way inside and takes up a position by the door. "Something is on your mind though, Sir Seldan."

"I have received a letter that I have verified to be from the matriarch of my family, a thing that I had not expected," Seldan explains carefully, leaving the honey jar to the other two for the moment and reaching to the knapsack he'd left to sit next to his chair. From this, he produces a box, and a scroll case. The box, he sets on the table, but the scroll case, he opens, removing what appears to be a detailed map of a three-story manor house in the Myrrish layout, called "Ivyhold House", and a letter. The letter reads -

My dearest Seldan,

I am so pleased to have a letter from you here upon my desk. Far too long has it been since I have had one like it; but the blame is not yours and more the fact of one troublesome man whose knee has finally caught up to the weight of his bluster. Please do not over-worry about my poor health; it is simply evidence that my age has finally caught up with my wit and that my bones are beginning to show for it.

I have enclosed a map of Ivyhold Manor produced by a cartographer that was part of the team I commissioned to search the place. I'm afraid it is in a rather rural part of our Kingdom, far from my comfortable seat here in Bryn Myridorn, and certainly further than I am able to travel given the healer's orders.

The fact that the key responded so sharply to your possession sits wrongly with me, Seldan. None of the commissioned team that found the key and searched the exterior of the house was of our family, so the fact that the key housed a spirit that was dangerous to the family was an unfortunate but inevitable oversight. It seems to me that there are two explanations: the key was haunted to ward off our family from the house as a protective measure, or as a malicious surprise for the next Padaryn to approach the house. Perhaps there is truth in both. Whatever the case, it proves my suspicion about the house is correct: there is something dark lurking in that house. And if we are to learn anything about the history of our family, it will be because of your efforts in ridding the place of its evil.

The family has been warned, save for your father, who, even with his bad knee, might be brash enough to go riding out to Ivyhold to sort the place out all by himself. Be assured that none of the family will seek the place out and interrupt you with your work, my dearest Seldan.

Yours always, Grandmother

"I am not welcome in my family home," the paladin admits quietly, pushing the contents of the scroll case so that the other two can look, "and I stand to inherit nothing. Still, it seems that I am, at the least, useful to them when desired, and in truth is my grandmother among those whom I remember fondly and will willingly come to their aid. Too, it is in my mind that an evil thing stalks that place, and family or no, it is my calling to see such things eradicated, and so shall I do." His smile, a thing entirely faded as he speaks, returns, a small and self-deprecating thing. "Too do I take an interest in the history of my family, and I would learn more. But, I would ask the aid of skilled adventurers in whom I may place my trust. Both Zeke and Sunguard Andelena recommended that I speak to you on this matter."

He nods to the box. "Inside is a key, found on the property when a team went to search it. The team was able to touch it without harm, but I was attacked by a guardian when I grasped it. I have not made a full inspection of it yet." There's something he isn't saying.

"It wouldn't be depriving at all!" Pothy exclaims. "I like to share my snacks, you know."

Cor'lana nods as she pours herself a cup of tea, adding a small dollop of honey to hers. "We've not had much opportunity for travel lately," she says, "although that may soon change."

She has no idea how right she is as she looks over the letter and the map of the house. The explanation that Seldan gives her combines with the intrigue of the items presented to raise her brows up in surprise. "This is--fascinating, Seldan," she says. "All of it. Humm."

She looks up at Seldan, concerned. "Are you okay?" she asks. "Being attacked like that--was anyone else with you?"

Telamon takes the letter, once Lana is done with it, and reads it with a careful eye. Studying not just the tale told, but how it is written. When he lowers it, his brows come together. "A conundrum, and from your own testimony a dangerous one. It may be that the house is cursed against your family -- which of course I point to as proof that no matter what your family might say, you are still blood kin." Setting the letter down, he taps his fingertips on the table.

"Though we approach goals from different perspectives, Sir Seldan, in this I think we are of one mind. The night must be made safe, and evils such as this must be removed. Too, your assistance was critical in rescuing Galon Calogref... though he was less thankful than he should've been." His lips quirk sardonically.

"So I suppose the question is: what would you ask of me? I wish to help, of course. I suppose the first step might be to examine the key -- followed by a foray to Ivyhold itself, though if it is blighted with dark magic I suspect we will need to tackle it in force."

"I do not expect or demand gratitude," Seldan answers, again with that self-deprecating smile. "I do what is right, because it is right. True that the man was a churl, and I have apologized to the Sunguard for the disruption to her wedding feast. One would think that the eldest son of a Selentian noble would have been better taught, but when the house is infested with demons - perhaps not." He spreads a hand palm-down, as if accepting the matter.

"I would ask you to study the key, and to be a part of precisely such a venture. Zeke and I shall go, and the Mourner Verna has also agreed to go. It is not impossible that it is the unquiet dead that we face, and I would have her knowledge and skills in laying such to rest, if that be so. I would welcome your aid as well, if you are willing and can spare the time, but I know not what will happen, do I touch the key again. I am willing to try, if it will teach us more."

To Cor'lana, he sighs, and lowers his eyes. "Zeke was with me, and banished the guardian. It showed no interest in him, a thing for which I am grateful, but which lends credence to the idea that it may be a ward set against the Padaryn bloodline. I am well-healed, fear not." Again, though, he hesitates, looking between them, measuring them. It seems as if he wants to say more, and isn't certain whether he should. Instead, he takes one of the peanuts that Pothy offers, then dips honey into his own tea. "Thank you."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Sense Motive: (14)+27: 41
GAME: Telamon rolls detectBS: aliased to sense motive: (19)+25: 44

Cor'lana frowns a little, a thing that appears on her lips like a fine line. Quietly, she reaches across the table and... simply holds out her hand to Seldan.

"You don't have to talk about it if you do not want to," she says, "but there was something else that happened there--or so I'm gleaning from your words and your face. If you do wish to talk about it--then the words you speak will not leave this house and will not be spoken of to others. You have my word."

"It's a safe place," Pothy adds, before he eats another peanut.

Cor'lana nods to Pothy's statement. "I'm glad to hear that Zeke was unharmed, and that you were healed, however," she says.

Telamon just looks at Seldan, his expression serene. His dark eyes glimmer with distant stars, and his regard is not unfriendly or angry. Just the opposite: kind, albeit inscrutable. Measuring the other man. At Lana's gesture, he smiles ever so slightly, and nods in agreement with her. "My assistance isn't contingent on this, though I would encourage you to share any scrap of information -- even if it seems irrelevant -- regarding this."

He takes a sip of his chilled tea, before inclining his head towards the box. "You said that was the key. May I inspect it? It may take some time, if you want more than just a cursory examination -- though since we have the key, probably less than an hour."

GAME: Seldan rolls bluff: (19)+15: 34

"Examine the key as you will, though I would take it with me when I leave," Seldan answers, drawing a deep breath. "I have not had the leisure to examine the key myself." He pushes the box towards Telamon.

At the sharp gazes, though, he lowers his eyes, looking like nothing so much as a caught little boy. "The guardian may have done something to me, that we do not yet understand. It does not seem - inimical, but it may be misunderstood, does Alexandria's populace become aware of it," he admits, looking slightly deflated. He holds up a hand, and looks up. "Please. I do not feel ill, nor am I a danger to others - did I think myself so, I would not have come here. I shall show you, does it become necessary to do so, though I would not sully your new home without need, but - it may be that I will need assistance, in that place. It is not my wish to place a burden on you-"

"If a friend is in need, then a friend is in need--it is no burden on our parts." Cor'lana smiles warmly, her hand still out to Seldan as a gesture of her goodwill and openness to her friend. "Whether you show us or not is entirely on you, in my opinion. I am comfortable doing anything that you'd need me to assist with."

Pothy stops in his peanut-snacking to regard Seldan for a moment. "Do I get paid in peanuts if I help?" he asks. Followed by a boyish little giggle. The poor little boy in a raven's body trying to make Seldan a little more comfortable.

Telamon rolls his eyes at Pothy. "You get peanuts -- as well as everything else -- regardless, little brother." But he reaches over to stroke Pothy's feathers with a smile. At Seldan's admission, he raises his eyebrows. "There are no burdens here, Sir Seldan. Only friends and family and those willing to help you in your time of need."

At Seldan's invitation, Telamon hmms, then simply reaches over to touch the box, before pulling it a little closer and opening it to examine the contents. As he does, he says absently to the unseen servitor, "Go get my haversack and my robe, if you would." A susurrus as the servant slips away.

The key is almost astonishingly and remarkably... unremarkable, for something that had apparently been housing a guardian spirit. It looks to be made from silver but lacks any particular ornamentation. The size of it suggests that it's intended for a door rather than something smaller and daintier, like a music box. When held, it feels mildly cool to the touch but quickly warms, consistent with metal's properties. In other words--it looks and feels like a key.

"To show you, I must needs spill blood, a thing I shall not do in the home of a friend," Seldan smiles by way of answer. "Enough blood has been spilled in this home for a thousand lifetimes." He seems to be regaining his equanimity, and the sober thoughtfulness that is usually his returns in full measure. He stirs his tea, then picks up the mug and sips carefully from it. "A fine blend."

He turns his attention briefly to Pothy. "No aid is required for you to find all the peanuts and snacks you desire. The words are gentle, and he turns his attention back to Telamon and his work.

Telamon shows surprising caution, initially using a cantrip to lift the key out of the box, turning it in a slow circle before his eyes. "Hmmm. No ornamentation, no stamp, no markings. And you said it was housing some sort of guardian spirit?" The key drops neatly into Telamon's hand, and he turns it over again and again. "Well, let's start with something simple..." He murmurs a cantrip, attempting to discern any magical properties on the key.

Meanwhile, his unseen servant comes back downstairs, toting a haversack and a neatly folded sleeveless robe. The entity moves over next to Telamon, and waits patiently, as he inspects the key.

Nothing remains magically on the key from Telamon's inspection. It appears that when the guardian spirit was vanquished, whatever connection between it and the key existed was severed. It has become just a key with apparently no origin nor identification beyond its purpose: to unlock something. Or lock something.

Cor'lana frowns a little as she watches Telamon inspecting the key. "Nothing at all. That's odd, isn't it," she says. "Most people who make keys have a maker's mark, right? And there's nothing?"

She looks at Seldan and smiles a little. "I'm glad you like the tea," she adds.

"I myself did the same inspection, ere I picked it up," Seldan remarks, watching the spellcasting and sipping the tea. "I read necromancy, but that may have been the guardian spirit. See you aught still?" He seems content to leave aside the matter of the blood spilling.

"Yes, there's probably been enough blood spilt. We'll save that for 'plan B' or something," Telamon's tone is ever so slightly sardonic. "Still, we'll have to keep it in mind. In any case though..." He stands, so he can shrug on the sleeveless vestment, before sitting back down and taking his haversack. He reaches in to pull out a scroll, checking it, before nodding.

"Alright. The key shows no aura or magical residue now. But that doesn't mean it doesn't have a history. The legend lore spell really isn't that complex per se, but it takes time and I will need to concentrate. But," he offers a cheerful, cheeky smile. "I'm quite at ease with my wife, and a good friend, here to keep me company while I work." He takes a deep breath, before arranging the key in front of him, and then murmuring to himself, touching the hem of his robe, then the scroll... focusing on the key.

Seldan merely nods, and leans back in his chair, mug of tea in hand. "I am familiar with the spell of which you speak. Have you the materials? I do, if you do not." He has not yet touched the peanut he took, merely consuming the cooled tea and honey in small sips. He seems to have relaxed once again, as the topic of showing them the other thing passes. Instead, he lapses into an almost meditative silence as Telamon sets to work.

"We do," Cor'lana replies with a small smile. "Telamon's had to cast it before for a different matter."

The casting does indeed take some time, but not overly long, as the key's in hand, and the scroll does not disintegrate when called upon thanks to the power of Telamon's vestment. The scene that Telamon receives is his and only his to see:

A man with blue eyes, startlingly like Seldan's holds aloft the key in his hand, studying it intently. He sits in a darkened chamber, seemingly alone but for the lack of light within it. There are lines that are on his face, but they're--no, they're not painted, they're veins filled with something black and horrible, so raised and poking out of the skin that it looks painful.

"This has to work," he murmurs in a frantic tone. "This has to work. They can't find out what I did to them. They can't find out what I've done. I've--"

He glances to the body of a dog by his side and he gulps heavily. Tears shedding from his eyes, the scleras in them darkening. "I've ruined everything. Our home, our dreams. I'm so sorry, Aldean. The best thing I can do is to lock us away. Mariana will understand--"

There's a green glow and then the vision is no more.

"What did you see?" Cor'lana asks, peering at Telamon.

Telamon goes into that familiar trance, his starry eyes distant. He doesn't even breathe (which, admittedly, is not really a huge issue for him), but his eyes flick back and forth, as if watching something play out. Then suddenly he lets out a gasp, sucking in air as if a diver surfacing from a long sojourn beneath the waves.

He grabs his mug, taking a long pull, before coughing a bit. But his eyes are focused, and Lana can sense a cool determination radiating off him. "A vision. No surprise. A man with blue eyes -- very much like yours, Sir Seldan. Possibly an ancestor. He was holding the key, talking to himself, in a dark room." His own eyes narrow. "He was... tainted? Infected? With something. Black veins on his face. Didn't look pleasant."

Telamon closes his eyes, drawing back the vision he saw. "'This has to work. They can't find out what I did to them.' That was what he was saying. He spoke of needing to lock 'us' -- presumably his family, perhaps -- away." He pauses. "He was talking to a large black dog by his side, though I'm not sure if the dog was alive or dead. In any case, he mentioned being sorry to 'Aldean' -- not sure if that was the dog or not, and also that 'Mariana' would understand."

GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/history +2: (12)+17+2: 31

When Telamon speaks, Seldan listens intently to every word, then sets his mug aside on the table and rests his elbows on it, cupping his chin with his hands. He closes his eyes, ni the way of one thinking hard, and then cocks his head, as one listening to something that only he can hear. "Mariana Padaryn was my grandmother's grandmother," he murmurs. "The timing is right. So, the speaker is one of her relations, perhaps a husband, brother, or father." A moment of silence. "It is in my mind that Aldean was the dog you saw, and perhaps the guardian dog in the key. The name means "protector and loyal friend", and dogs were often so named in my people's literature. I have seen the name before."

He lowers his hands and sits up straighter. "Not all of my ancestry is as pure as Father claimed, then. This was known to me. What has he done?" Abruptly, he draws in a breath. "I must learn what has been done, and undo it. I must know the truth, bitter though it is likely to be. It may hold the key to what has been done to me." He reaches out to Telamon for the key. "I would hold the key, if I might."

"It may hold the key because it may be the key," Cor'lana says softly, looking between Telamon and Seldan with considerate eyes. "That poor dog. It was only doing what it was named to do in some sense... Yet forced to harm a descendant of the man who he served. If my guesses are correct, that is. There's something horrifically tragic and poetic about it."

She looks at Seldan. "It seems to me that your father was wrong on a number of things--or perhaps believed something that told to other members of your family. Something that he took as truth when perhaps it was not always. I'm familiar with things such as that from my own sire." There's a dark and knowing look in her own eyes.

"Story becomes myth, myth becomes legend," Telamon remarks. "It's not the first time and it won't be the last, either." He nods to Seldan. "A loyal companion could become such a guardian... if you had the power and the will to bind it. Such an act would be... questionable though, from an ethical standpoint."

He measures Seldan with a stare, before offering him the key. "It might be that the guardian was instructed to repel any member of the bloodline that sought entry -- which would include possessing the key," he says to Lana. "I admit, I am... curious as to what has transpired. There are a thousand-thousand tales of magicians and sages who delved too deep, reached too far, and some paid a price that went on even beyond themselves."

Seldan takes the key with cautious fingers, waiting - but nothing happens. It is just a key, and he lets out a breath, turning it over in his hand, studying it. "Nothing," he murmurs, then with a swift cantrip, a sigil drawn in the air, floats it back over to the box and sets it down, something pent-up seeming to release, at least partially. "Questionable indeed," he agrees with Telamon. "From your words, I glean that my ancestor has committed that, and far worse. I must lay him to rest, or whatever it is that he has wrought, and it is my hope that in so doing, I may learn what has been done to me."

Once the key settles back into its box, he turns his gaze back on the pair of them, the blue eyes once more steady and sober. "I am grateful for your counsel and lore. Will you accompany me on this?"

"I would like to," Cor'lana responds, "yet, I fear... I have matters that may call me away to Quelynos soon, and it may not be wise to attract attention to your cause from unwanted sources by having me among your number when you go to investigate your family's home. Telamon will be able to accompany you. It may be safest for all involved for me to remain here - I may be able to aid you by assisting in your research."

She offers Seldan a small smile, a deeply apologetic one. "It's related to the matter that we've spoken on before," she says. "I would not ask you to get involved and I do not want to bring you into it by any means. Telamon, however--he should be safe to bring along, and he is the slightly more accomplished one of the two of us anyway. He would be a powerful boon to your venture."

Telamon nods. "With the understanding that if Lana calls, I will need to answer. I won't leave you in the lurch, but obviously I am bound by my oaths." He taps the curuchuil on the back of his hand. "You know how it is, Sir Seldan."

"That being said, though, I would be happy to help you untangle this riddle. I take no pleasure in your distress, and I would like nothing more than to set things right -- whether to lay a soul to rest, right a wrong, or expunge a fiend or monstrosity."

Seldan inclines his head politely. "No more than that can I ask, for in truth am I little different. Whatever aid you may provide, I would be grateful. It is in my mind that this is not a light venture, and that we would do well to be prepared for anything. I wish you well on your journey, my lady, and if I may offer counsel, you need but ask." The reserve is settling back in, that cool, even, and thoughtful demeanor he usually wears, the moments of trouble seeming to be settled - at least for the moment. "I am not without my resources in matters of the arcane, and yet do I think it blade that I shall require, more than spell. Reunion is - aware of this, but I did not wish their commentary on this matter, until I was myself certain." A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Time was when I dared not walk the city without full arms and armor. I am pleased that that is no longer so."

"We work to thwart evil," Cor'lana says softly with her own smile. "And evil--has not been thoroughly thwarted, but we have managed to beat back some of what has threatened the city as of late."

Her eyes go to a nearby window, where something hangs from the top of it on a silver-beaded chain. A suncatcher of the moon, painted in a way that it swirls between black, light blue, and lavender purple. And she smiles fondly.

"And though there are sacrifices along the way, sometimes--sometimes we do manage to succeed," she says, before she turns her attention back to the tea. "Shall we catch up a little more, then? Pothy's raring to feed you more of his peanuts, I think."

So life goes in the Lúpecyll-Atlon household.