Pothy's Identical Twin

Log Info

• Title: Pothy's Near-Identical Twin

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Aryia, Jinks, Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: A12 - Memorial Gardens District

• Summary: Aryia runs into Ravenstongue in the Memorial Gardens. They chat for a while before Aryia presents Ravenstongue and Pothy with an incredible gift: an amazing plush toy replica of Pothy! Pothy absolutely adores it and Ravenstongue is more than happy with the toy. Jinks comes along, seeking a moment's respite from being demanded by everyone and everything, and Aryia departs. Just as Jinks inquires about Telamon, Ravenstongue's fiance arrives, and the Tarienite spends some time with the half-elf couple before he moves on. Telamon and Ravenstongue discuss the plush toy and eventually decide to go home. 'Plushthy' is set to be the most beloved item in the Lúpecyll-Atlon household.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A12: Memorial Gardens District *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Among the gardens, scents mingle: green, loam and subtle sweetness, wafting from the meticulously groomed grounds. The lawns are richly green, dense and close-cropped, bordered with polished pale marble stones the size of a human man's fist. The pathways are smoothly cobbled in muted tones that subtly echo and contrast with the surrounding greenery, shaded by the lush canopies of tall, straight trees whose branches arch over the walkways to form open, airy tunnels. Elegantly ornate, tall mana-lamps of wrought black iron keep the paths softly lit in the evenings; they are often situated near benches of matching material and style. It is peaceful, here. Somber. It is also curiously warm and green no matter the time of year; leaves do change color in fall but remain on the trees until spring comes again.

At the heart of the park where the paths converge are large marble pedestals supporting bronze or marble statuary, chiseled letters upon the heavy bases naming the subject of each piece. The previous sculpture celebrating the union of Alexandros with Myrddion has been removed from the center of the garden and replaced with a gorgeous statue of the Crown Princess Lianna Rena and a marble walkway that leads to the Monument of Heroes - a newly-raised edifice celebrating those who fought and died on behalf of others. Tribute is still given to the friendship between Myrddion and Alexandros in the form of the paired standards mounted above the entrance to the Monument of Heroes: one from each nation. The flagstaffs are crossed and held by a Myrrish Knight and an Old-Alexandros Miner.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Aryia                4'8"     110 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her.
Jinks                3'4"     39 Lb      Gnome             Male      A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
Ravenstongue         5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.                       
Telamon              5'6"     140 Lb     Half-Elf          Male      A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Memorial Gardens, afternoon.

A beautiful and glorious spring day means it's a nice day to be among nature's bounty--even if the nature happens to be a carefully cultivated and maintained garden in Alexandria.

And today, the most beautiful thing is happening. Pothy hops around from bush to bush, tree to tree, gathering... nest materials?

No, wait. Those are little berries and fallen tree nuts he's gulping down. Ravenstongue, meanwhile, sits on a bench, wearing a sky-blue cotton dress with a halter-top design. Her shoulders are surprisingly bare--her usual choice of a little cloaked capelet which she typically wears on top of everything in case she needs to hide in it is gone today. She's engaged with the rather serene act of reading a book written entirely in Sylvan, her violet eyes scanning the lines of text on the page.

Sometimes cutting through the gardens was the easiest way to get to and from home; which was always a nice stroll in of itself.

Though, a stroll for a short elven figure was more of a brisk jog, a familiar enough mute in a less than familiar attire. A long grey skirt with a long-sleeved green shirt and a black shawl adorns her, a wide brimmed black hat atop her head as a set of long scarred ears poke through some holes in it.

She slows slightly, spying the white raven pilfering nature itself, and her gaze lowers towards the book reading half-sil.

A one-two whistle calls out, a mute mul approaching with her bag swaying beside her off her shoulder. "Everyone reads on that bench," she gestures out. <Handspeech>

Ravenstongue's ears perk up at the whistle, followed by her eyes--and a smile spreads on her face as she looks at Aryia. "Hey!" she says, closing her book and setting it to the side, allowing Aryia ample room on the bench. "Yeah, everyone reads here. It's either that or Pothy and I pigging out on--"

The half-elf catches herself herself and she grins. "S-n-a-c-k-s--"

"I can spell!" Pothy says with a boyish snicker, the raven descending from his current spot on the trees to arrive onto his preferred landing platform: Ravenstongue's shoulder. Thankfully, his talons on the half-sil's bare skin don't seem to hurt too much.

Ravenstongue gives Pothy a pat on his fluffy head as she asks, "How're you, Aryia? I love your outfit, by the way."

Aryia snorts, a motion exaggerated by her hat as the brim wobbles about some. Glowing gaze rolling about in their sockets as she slides into a seat beside the sorceress. One leg crosses over the other, and she watches Pothy settle in for a moment.

Finally, she cracks a light smile, and she motions gestures, a grey bracelet clanking softly against itself. "Thanks. I like this one, can still kick ass in it if I have to. I'm good, taking it easy today, felt like dressing pretty. You?"

Her eyes settle on Pothy, and she rubs her chin, thinking... trying to remember something... <Handspeech>

"Dress looks nice," she returns as a professional afterthought. <Handspeech>

"Thank you!" Ravenstongue replies to the compliment, beaming. "I've been trying to wear nicer things. Telamon's always so fashion-forward and... Well, I realized I don't match him that well, so I've been buying things here and there. Your dress looks both practical and pretty, though, so you definitely got what you were looking for there."

A hand goes to the top of the book she's pushed to the side. "I'm just relaxing, really--well, that, and studying," Ravenstongue explains. "Had some interesting encounters with other fey recently, so I thought I'd do some reading. We have some friendly gardening pixies now."

Aryia bobs her head, the hat only staying on because her ears act like a stopper to keep it from flying off. "Wearing nice things can be fun. Let me know if you want me to make you anything that suits your style."

She glances to the book, a brow raising before it's joined by the other brow. "... pixies? They aren't... fussing with you guys or messing with your head or anything, right?"

Then- she snaps her fingers. "R-ght..!" she hisses quietly, pulling her bag to her lap as she opens it to rifle through. <Handspeech>

"No, they're actually quite nice," Ravenstongue says with a smile. "Their names are Lily-of-the-Valley and Mirabilis. They're garden fey--apparently they came to my house because they heard a rumor about me as Grandfather's descendant. They kept calling me 'Lady Lúpecyll', and Telamon is apparently 'Lord Lúpecyll-to-be'."

Her smile turns into a wide grin as she mentions Telamon's nickname with the pixies. "Anyway, we made a deal: they keep working on Telamon's garden and bring me the occasional rumor, and I give them a little bowl of honey and cream every week. I will commission you for more clothes if I find myself suddenly meeting more people who want to call me Lady Lúpecyll."

Both Ravenstongue and Pothy seem curious at the sudden rifling through the bag.

Aryia fires off a thumbs up as she's rifling around, apparently set at ease that there was nothing to worry about. "Good. Just making sure random fey aren't trying to zap your brain. If they any others try, let me know. I'm good against that crap."

"And that sounds like a good trade. Information is powerful."

She makes a little 'ah' sound as she finds what she was looking for. She hides it from view under the flap of the bag. "Alright, so, last time we talked you gave me a little brain worm and I couldn't not make this."

She throws it open.

And sitting there is... another Pothy.

Wait. No. It's a touch smaller than him: about the length of a forearm in height. The stitching on the body and attached folded wings makes it look like feathers a flowing from it, yet its just one solid piece. Two blue pearls were used for eyes, capturing that luster.

She offers the plush.

And by the gods was it soft.

"I thought it'd be funny if I pulled out this and pitched it into the ground to scare him if he was too loud again, but I went a little overboard. So, here. Take it." <Handspeech>

Pothy looks flabbergasted. The white raven hops down into Ravenstongue's lap and peers at his fiber-made clone. His blue eyes peer at the plushie, pouring over every little detail, every little stitch... "Aryia, this is SO COOL! I've always wanted a brother!" he says, and he immediately nuzzles into the plushie.

Ravenstongue looks just as bamboozled--and then there's Pothy absolutely loving on the plush, and she can't help but let out a little, "Awww!"

"Aryia, that's so sweet! It looks just like him!" Ravenstongue grins from pointed ear to pointed ear.

"It's so FLUFFY!" Pothy says. He should know--he's pretty fluffy, too.

Aryia's scarred cheeks gain a hint of a rubor as she shifts in her seat. "Thanks," she simply and lamely gestures.

The duplicate is released and surrendered unto the progenitor. "Yes, I tried to make it as soft as I could. Like I said, I, uh, went overboard with it. It's too nice to throw." <Handspeech>

Ravenstongue carefully takes the plush from Aryia, positioning it in her lap so that Pothy can nuzzle against it. The real Pothy makes happy raven croaks as he does so, the universal indicator of a happy bird.

"I agree, you really have outdone yourself," Ravenstongue says, looking back at Aryia. She's still grinning, clearly overjoyed to see Pothy so happy. "Maybe you ought to get into the bespoke toy-making business with skill like this, Aryia."

"So fluffyyyyyyy," Pothy coos softly.

Aryia smiles faintly at seeing Pothy enjoying the toy she made. She didn't seem one to coo over an animal being cute. "Maybe. Could probably one-up some of the one's I've seen. Some of them are... pretty subpar, to be honest."

A breathy giggle slips out. Okay, maybe just a little bit.

"I swear, if I find one of myself that's terrible I'm going to have a personal vendetta to outdo them." <Handspeech>

"That's right, you have Aryia dolls these days, huh." Ravenstongue has a look of recall on her face--there'd been a prior conversation about this, months ago. "I actually saw one at the market yesterday, when..."

She blushes and shakes her head. "Oh gods. If I tell you this story, you'll never let me forget about it."

"Tell her the story!" Pothy insists. He's still cuddling with his plush twin.

Ravenstongue goes tight-lipped for a moment before she admits, "I bought what I thought was a bikini swimsuit at the market because it was next to the swimsuits at this one shop. It... was not a swimsuit."

A beat. "...I may have worn it into the kitchen while cooking soup to show Telamon my 'swimsuit' when he got home."

Aryia perks up, her attention focused more on the former piece of information. "Wait, Aryia dolls? Where the fuck-"

She blinks, her looking between Pothy and Cor'lana, confused for a spell before she levels her gaze at the half-sil.

She stares.

And stares.

Her cheeks puff out while she bites her lips closed, eyes bulging. "PFFFFFFFFT-" Puff. "HAA... haaHA..- ha.. ah... HA-*cough cough cough cough*"

The mute sputters in a half laughing, half coughing fit as she steadies herself on the back of the bench with a hand. "Oh fuck me that's rich," she comments while hacking up a lung. <Handspeech>

Pothy snickers, too, apparently having calculated that Aryia would find this story absolutely hilarious. Ravenstongue, for her part, looks absolutely embarrassed--but in the way one would when telling a story about their own stupidity to a trusted friend. She smiles sheepishly.

"In my defense, I have never been shopping for swimsuits before. All of my underwear is also on the... very plain side. And some of those bikinis, you seriously can't tell them apart from underwear, so...!"

"I tried asking her if she knew where she was!" Pothy snickers. "She kept insisting she knew what she was doing!"

Ravenstongue flushes. "On the bright side, he did think it was pretty," she says. "And now we're going to go shopping for matching swimsuits at some point."

It takes the mute mul a moment to collect herself, more coughing and hacking as the laughing settles down. She grimaces slightly as she swishes, and uncouthly spit a glob of blood off to the side.

"Fucking hilarious is what that is. They can kind of look the same though uh... if you're not sure just feel the fabric. One's treated against water."

She bobs her head while rubbing her throat. "That's sounds like fun, good idea for the summer to come." <Handspeech>

Ravenstongue looks very concerned at the sudden spit of blood from Aryia's mouth. "Oh--nevermind my stupidity, although I will remember the bit about fabric--but are you okay? That looked... painful."

"Aryia's tough, she can handle it," Pothy says, nuzzling against the Pothy-clone some more. He looks far too happy to have the plushie clone of himself--apparently to the point where he's convinced that Aryia is some sort of demigoddess who can shrug off anything. This perhaps borders on worship as he playfully accuses, "You made her laugh too hard."

Aryia waves off the concern."I'm fine," she gestures."Happens sometimes. You know,missing vocal cords and everything." <Handspeech>

Melodic humming winds through the hedgerows and topiaries, tangled up with the cool breeze. It's an idle tune that skirts a familiar melody or two, madly playing at being a song you've heard without quite managing to be identifiable. The source isn't far behind the music's arrival and Jinks rounds a perfectly-sculpted sphere of green that wouldn't be tall enough to hide an elf from view. Not all of one, anyway.

The gnome walks with his coat off and slung over a shoulder, hooked on two fingers. His silken shirt is unbuttoned to just above his sternum and the side supporting his jabot hangs a bit further open. Mithral glitters beneath silk. His other hand fidgets with a coin, rolling it over, under, around, and between his fingers idly.

It's been awhile. His hair is long and hangs in a loose ponytail, bouncing between his shoulderblades.

Ravenstongue catches sight of the gnomish bard, her violet eyes flashing in recognition. "Jinks!" she calls out, waving a hand at him. "Come on over! Aryia made me a really nice Pothy plushie."

Which, well, is true. The superior example of artisan toymaking is on display in Ravenstongue's lap, currently being loved on by the real deal as Pothy nuzzles into the fluffy, feathered toy. It's somewhat smaller, but the thing is an almost eerie copy of the alabaster avian from a distance.

"It's so fluffy! A fluffy copy of a fluffy me!" Pothy crows, although it comes off only as whistles to the gnome bard.

The humming stops as Jinks looks across the way, eyebrows dipping oh-so-briefly in thought. The color shifts subtly across the gnome as if he's passing through dappled light and shadow. He takes a moment to look up and down the various avenues and garden paths and then, finally, waves back. The coin is back in whatever pocket dimension it lives or, more likely, up his sleeve. His jewels glitter as he swings the coat off his shoulder and slides back into it on the way over.

"It might be time to quit this empty life of strife and bloodshed and realize your true calling as a seamstress," he offers as he inspects the doll. Half-tease and half-compliment. "How are you both?"

Aryia waves to Jinks as he joins them, her wiping some blood free from her lips with the back of her hand. Instead of laughing, she just chuffs once and shakes her her with a slight grin. "I was the beast damn seamstress in Charn in another life, I still got the touch."

"I'm well. Yourself?" <Handspeech>

"I'm well, thank you," Ravenstongue says, smiling at the... Is 'gaudy' really the right word to describe Jinks and his jewel-decorated self? ... Excess. Excess is the right word. Or at least, it'll do. She's smiling at the excessively-decorated Jinks with a twinkle in her violet eyes. "So is Pothy. He's overjoyed, as you can see."

Pothy continues to heap his adoration onto the plush copy, croaking little happy corvid noises. The plush twin has no comment but it does look pretty cute in the half-elf's lap.

"What brings you in the gardens? Just a walk?" the sorceress inquires, curiosity in her tone. "It is a nice day for a walk, though. I think I understand Tel's disdain for winter now that I'm allowing myself to actually enjoy being outdoors."

"A day pass from the Pits," Jinks jokes, glancing back over his shoulder at the mountainside districts to the east. "I thought I might fly but the inspiration hasn't struck. It must be the Lady's day off," he smirks. The gnome reaches up, buttoning his shirt and getting the tie set straight before tugging at his lapels.

"How's Aya and the family? Your beau?" He glances from Aryia to Ravenstongue, pausing before adding "fiancé." He cranes his head, looking down a path as a couple passes an intersection.

Aryia's lips quirk into a small smile. "Violet is good, as is sister. And D-A-E-D. Parents are good too, though dad is liking getting into trouble apparently..." She silently chuckles and shakes her head.

Though, she raises a brow. ".. looking for someone?" she points out to the dandy in a question. <Handspeech>

Ravenstongue's cheeks color as 'the beau' is mentioned. She smiles warmly, her eyes darting down to the Pothy-plushie and Pothy himself on her lap. "Telamon's doing fine. He's wrapped up with the Shining Chalice people most days--he's found himself doing all sorts of star charts for them. I'm supposed to meet them at some point, as apparently they're rather fascinated by people with... odd bloodlines, which you could say I've got in spades."

She finds herself smoothing Pothy's pale plumage down as she continues to talk. "Tel's got a garden going--although we discovered the garden's roaring success is due to two friendly pixies that have taken up residence there. And I've been working on poetry, as well as translating Grandfather's recipes. It's been nice, although not entirely without... trouble. But if I talk about that, I'll be chewing your ear off all day."

Violet eyes look around as Aryia mentions looking around for someone, as though she's also trying to find whoever it is Jinks might be looking for.

Someone comes along the path then. A certain someone. While Jinks goes for excess, Telamon's tastes tend towards sharp lines and contrasts -- in this case, a ruffled white linen shirt, black leather trousers, polished half-boots with silver buckles, and a sash tied around his waist in deep green. His cloak is tossed to one shoulder, as he ambles along the path, bootheels tapping that calm, easy pace out.

He catches sight of Jinks first, raising a hand to the gnome. Then, of course, he sees Cor'lana, and his eyes immediately move to her. Approaching, his expression turning from the usual neutral-genial expression to a genuine, joyous smile.

"... and I thought summonings were barred in the city," Jinks laughs, eyes squinting a fraction as he smiles at Telamon's arrival. The sorcerer gets a nod and then he offers Aryia a puzzled look. "Looking for..?" He thinks a moment and then realizes what she means. He glances back over his shoulder again and walks around the topiary to block a few sightlines.

"Keeping an eye out for the warden," jests the gnome. "Or maybe a minotaur. This is a labryrinth... or at least near-enough." He deflects with a wink, working coat buttons to buttoned.

Aryia glances over to the newcomer, her giving a polite nod of the head and a simple raising of a hand in greeting. Though, she squints at Jinks in that appraising manner. That staring, glowing, I-kind-of-want-to-call-you-out-on-your-bullshit-but-I-don't-feel-like-it-right-now manner.

Remembering something, the mute rises, her putting a hand on her wide-brimmed black hat as she reached out to give Pothy's head a pat. "Don't destroy that plush or I'll end you," she gestures like she was talking about the weather. "Need to check on some boat stuff. Catch you all later."

The well dressed mul gives a wave, and heads on out. <Handspeech>

"I wouldn't dream of destroying this, Aryia!" Ravenstongue says with a bright smile, made only brighter as Telamon approaches. Pothy gives a little happy-merp goodbye as he's patted on the head. "See you later!"

She pats the spot on the bench that's been freed up by Aryia leaving. "Hi, love! Take a seat, please--as Jinks just implied, we were just talking about you. Only good things, I promise. And look at what Aryia made!" she exclaims, pointing to plush-Pothy in her lap. <Sylvan>

Pothy gives a hello-merp to Telamon, too, but the corvid seems intent on remaining in her lap so he can love on his near-identical fiber twin.

The sorceress looks back to Jinks and says, "Okay, what'd you do to be hiding here? Should I be concerned?" she asks, a brow rising on her face.

Telamon bows his head to Aryia, as the mul departs, and deftly slides into the spot she left, settling close to Cor'lana. "Goodness. It's the spitting image of him, isn't it?" he remarks, studying the plush toy. He grins at Cor'lana, putting an arm around her before turning his eyes to Jinks.

"Having problems? The world not as willing to dance to your tune?" he comments to Jinks with a wry expression. "I doubt you've done anything unforgivable, but your reputation precedes you, good sir." His free hand beckons. "Still, if you're in need of a good barrister, I'm sure you could find one here."

The sweetest smile ever smiled is offered to Aryia as the mul gives Jinks the Look. The smile becomes another laugh as the press continues. He shakes his head and then smooths his goatee. "Those stories are all true... and entirely false," the minstrel assures Telamon. "Reality requires a very specific lens to appreciate the actions of Coyote's agents properly." A moment's concentration and the butterfly-kisses piercings beneath his black eyes warp into platinum pince-nez.

"Anyhow..." he chuckles, "it's most likely that my lady love longs for my embrace and scatters her agents to return me at all costs." He tugs at his cuffs, adjusts his tie. "Though equally-probable that the Watch seeks a keenly-disguised cat burglar espied skulking through the grounds of a vacationing marchioness."

The remark on the illusory nature of truth and falsehoods in storytelling puts a certain sort of expression on Ravenstongue's face, frowning slightly as she seems to think on it for a moment--then there's the observation of Jinks' piercings morphing. "Gods, you sound like the books I've been reading on the fey," she states with a tiny amount of exasperation. "The better ones impart various tales and stories, only to then opine that it's hard to separate truth from false in stories about them... At length, for pages upon pages."

She looks at Telamon and says, "Remind me to use my newfound pixie-alliance powers to have them hunt you down and bring them back to me if I ever find you running away. That seems like a solid use of 'agents' to me--wait, are you saying you're being suspected of theft?"

Telamon just looks at Jinks. "Keenly disguised? Of course, that's why you're standing out of line of sight, is it?" He shakes his head. "As always, I suspect the truth is in the middle, no matter how much you protest. Nice piercings, by the way."

He settles back on the bench. "No surprise, 'Lana. The gnomes are well known for connections to the fey world. There's a certain overlap, after all." He suddenly pins Jinks in place with a stare. "So, how deep are you in the cesspool this time?"

There's clearly some entertainment value to be found in watching folks poke through his obfuscations. Jinks' solid, onyx-black eyes twinkle in amusement. "Well now you know I can't be wanted for theft but SOMEONE might be." The Weave ripples around the gnome and he turns into a gobber in greasy leathers littered with tools. Another moment and he's a kobold in armor and the tabard of a Sunblade. "If I was going to steal something I'd never wear my good face." The kobold turns his face and lifts its snout to give a coy wink.

A quick sigh and the illusions fade, leaving the dandy gnome behind.

"I just need a moment to catch my breath," Jinks explains with a lazy smile and shake of his head. "Someone is looking for me-- someone is always looking for me... but right now I'd prefer to not be found." The gnome's smile fades briefly only to be doubly reinforced. "The Harpist expects Her daily devotions as per our arrangement... I'm just enjoying a small detour before returning to other... obligations."

Ravenstongue looks absolutely mystified as Jinks changes his face as easily as changing clothes. She blinks a few times before she manages to say, "Remind me to never have anything you'd want to steal, then, because they would never catch you."

Then she has a bit of a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she looks at Telamon. "Although the only thing I think I have that's worth stealing is my 'beau' here," she says with a snicker. "And I don't recommend doing that. You'd have to answer to me and you'd have to answer to a very angry fey nobleman... And he is scary when he is angry."

"Not worth stealing," Pothy says, mimicking Cor'lana's voice. Ouch!

"I can understand wanting a moment of respite--maybe consider that your thing stolen," Ravenstongue says, choosing to ignore her familiar's barb. It's not worth reprimanding the raven--at least, not in this instance.

"I'm sure Jinks here has much more interesting things to steal than me," Telamon says with a self-depreciating grin. "Besides, I'd be more trouble than it's worth. In any case..." He just raises an eyebrow at Jinks. "'Lana makes a good point. You thought you were stealing, but in fact you were making a trade."

His dark eyes sparkle. "Oh dear. You're becoming -respectable- now, even despite your shenanigans. What ever will you do?"

"Demons in Alexandria, the Veil leaving the elves, and a respectable Jinks..." the smirk threatens to take Jinks' left-ear clean off. "These truly are the endtimes."

The bard's expression twitches at something down one of the paths and he lifts a hand, rubbing his thumb against a ring with a milky-grey stone. The light from the setting sun pushes through the gnome's form as he fades out of view.

"Enjoy each other," advises the empty air without the gnome's previous mirth. "Coyote laughs."

The half-elf sorceress seems mystified again by Jinks' exit as the bard seems to just fade out of existence and into the air. She sighs a little. "Coyote laughs indeed," she says. "I wonder if Tarien has any better champion on this plane."

Cor'lana turns to Telamon and gives her fiancée a great big smile, shifting a little closer to him--even with Pothy and Pothy-plushie in her lap. "How's your afternoon been?" she asks, a sort of sweet sentiment in her voice. "Don't tell me you were at the market trying to figure out where I made my 'swimsuit' purchase yesterday."

"If he does, he's not saying." Telamon's response is wry. "Jinks is certainly his most devoted follower that I know, at any rate." He shakes his head, settling in a little closer as well.

"Well, I -was- at the market for a bit, but no, I wasn't trying to figure out where the 'swimsuit' came from. I was looking into cookbooks and recipes -- a lad at the Chalice had mentioned a volume called 'Magic In the Kitchen' which is evidently geared towards spell-weavers." He glances over at her with a smile. "And then I opted for a nice walk in the gardens, where I find the prettiest flower of them all."

Cor'lana flushes, of course, at being called the prettiest flower. No amount of accidental 'swimsuit' purchases nor pacts with fey ancestors will change that Telamon can make her about as red as a rose with just a few words. "Really," she murmurs, that quiet disbelief in her voice that she's managed to end up with a charmer for a fiance.

She looks into his star-dotted eyes and smiles sheepishly, saying, "Well, if flowers could walk, I'd say it was you instead, but..."

"You gotta work on it," Pothy says, mimicking the voice of the average Tribune hawker in the marketplace.

Cor'lana pouts--which, fortunately for her, is a pretty cute facial expression. "Hey now, I can give back your new best friend to Aryia. Do you want that?" she threatens.

Telamon gives Pothy a quelling look. "She can't get better if she doesn't practice," he says firmly. But his eyes do move back to Cor'lana's. "Like the lavender in bloom," he teases gently. "With the stars overhead admiring them back."

He lets that one sink in, before continuing, "Why don't you let me take a look at this little fellow?" he points to the plush-Pothy. "Good gods, Aryia's outdone herself. Tell me you offered her a bottle of good wine and a basket of cookies at least."

Cor'lana can't muster up a comeback to that one at all. She tries, the odd syllable or two slipping out of her mouth, but eventually she just sighs, rolls her eyes and leans in to kiss his cheek. "You know, despite the fact my expertise is in charming magic," she says, "you are absolutely the better one of us two at charming with mere words alone. No wonder we're together. Maybe Tarien saw the irony and thought it'd be hilarious."

She holds up Pothy-plush--Plushthy? Yes, Plushthy--and grins from ear to ear. "Isn't he adorable? He is so soft. And so lifelike! Pothy won't stop cuddling him. And honestly, I think I will the next time I see her--I suggested it as a joke, originally, and then she outdid herself."

"Maybe. Or maybe it was chance. Whatever it was, I'm glad we're together." Telamon snuggles close for a moment. "It feels right. Like whatever happens, well, it's the two of us in it and that makes it better."

When Lana holds up 'Plushthy', he deftly takes it from her, turning it in his hands. "You'd think it would be simple, but... gods, the stitching on this is almost invisible. And the way the fabric's shaded, it matches him." He grins. "I could easily see one of us thinking it's the real Pothy in the morning and sleepily offering it treats."

"Right?" Cor'lana grins as Telamon admires the plushie. "I was thinking we could keep him in the study to keep Pothy company for... Well, you know. He does like to grumble at me about not being able to sleep in the bedroom anymore, even though we moved his book-nest out of there and into the study."

"I'm right here," Pothy complains in the voice of a child--not his voice, which Telamon has heard before, but more like a little girl's. He receives a pat on the head, which does nothing to help his childlike image.

Telamon hmms. "I was thinking he could talk to the garden pixies, to be honest. He might appreciate dealing with something smaller than he is for a change." He scratches Pothy on the chest gently, before handing the plush toy back to Cor'lana. "So have we had any more visitors? I half expected there to be more as word spreads."

He furrows his brow. "Which reminds me. Did Grandfather bring by the plaque yet? The 'no soliciting' one he was going to craft?"

Cor'lana takes Plushthy from Telamon--gently, almost like it was the real Pothy, which is understandable due to how lifelike the toy is--and puts it back down into her lap. Pothy resumes cuddling into the fiber-twin, nuzzling into its feathers. "No, no more visitors, although I did see Mirabilis and Lily-of-the-Valley briefly earlier as they were tending to the garden. They're quite a funny pair--it sounded like Lily was 'planning' something and Mirabilis kept shutting it down."

She actually smiles a little. "It's hanging on the front door now. Very lovely raven-feather wreath with a little wooden plaque inside that reads, 'No solicitors. No emissaries of the Court may come here on Court business. No emissaries of the Court may come here to seek the attention of Alud'rigan, the Feathered One. Disobey at risk to your life; this domain is under the protection of the Feathered One.' Rather clear-cut and dry, and you can't miss it." <Sylvan>

Telamon hmms. "A little heavy, but I suppose Grandfather is quite tired of, to quote my father, 'dealing with fey court horse shit'. His words." He chuckles softly. "I don't mind if someone wants to politely pay respects. But I don't think either of us wants any more damned interference with our relationship."

He looks wry. "I think... the pixies are absolutely enthralled with us. Not just me, or you, but us together. It's like... we're some fascinating, romantic play for them and it nudges all their interests at once. Ah well, there are worse things."

"I'll take 'fascinating play' over 'I think your relationship is disgusting and I want it to end' or 'you're just a useful pawn for my attempts at playing at nobility' any day," Cor'lana says, in rather firm agreement with Telamon's notion. "I can't decide what's worse: our brief brush with fey court nobility or my father's idiotic attempts at elf nobility 'horseshit', to use your father's quote, too."

She sighs and leans into Telamon, although eventually, leaning onto his shoulder is going to lead into the happy spot at some point. "I think Grandfather simply decided to opt for the most clear-cut wording possible--although you are right about him being tired of fey courts. That is, after all, why I'm here to begin with--he would have never met my ancestor if he hadn't withdrawn from the Courts to make his home in the wilds of Quelynos, far from others."

Telamon nods. "Definitely. I can live with onlookers; I really am tired of people who see you as a prize to being pulled away from me. Aside from my own personal feelings on the matter, you are -not- someone's 'prize'."

He opts to skip ahead a bit and tucks her under his chin. Happy place is fine with him! "Indeed. I guess it's all for the best. But even after a token bit of reading I can completely understand Grandfather's desire to get the hell out of that situation. I'm glad things played out the way they did."

"The only prize I want to be is yours," Cor'lana says happily as she's tucked into her spot. "Just yours and yours alone in general--which isn't hard to say. I can't say I've ever had any suitors that are madly in love with me besides you. And before you ask about Stjepan, although I'm still not convinced he felt anything for me, I did tell him about us before he went and vanished, and he seemed very, very happy for us both."

She closes her violet eyes and just remains close to Telamon for a moment before she says, "I'll keep saying it over and over again, and maybe I'll even work it into our wedding vows, Tel... But if all of what happened in the past, even beyond what happened to me, happened so we could meet, then I would never ask for history to be rewritten. Never."

Telamon cuddles her in against his chest, stroking her hair. "I'm glad you were able to tell him. That's... something that should always be resolved, I think." He rests his cheek against her head, just enjoying the contact, the nearness.

"It's been an endless mile, waiting for this dawn to gleam. But if I can make you smile, then it seems to me that it's all worthwhile." He gives her a squeeze. "I wouldn't change any of it. As long as it meant we were together. That's all that matters, really."

A gentle, warm smile. "Let's go home, love."

"You've been working on your poetry," Cor'lana says with a smile. It's true--he can make her smile. Has there been a single day since they met at the Society for Progressive Arcanists spent in his presence where she didn't?

The half-elves make their way home, accompanied by the spring air and the gentle promise of Telamon's words.