A Curse Denied

It's not been an easy several days. First getting beat up and cursed by a deranged werewolf suitor, then racing to Quelynos to cure Grandfather's illness, then having to stage a raid into Hell to retrieve a friend's lover. Telamon is distinctly feeling... wrung out. All he wants to do is relax.

But there's work to be done. He walks steadily up the steps to the porch of Verna and Auranar's home -- despite Aura's current absence it's still her place. Then he takes a deep breath, standing on the porch, and knocks on the door. Three times: past, present, future, as is his habit. "She's supposed to be home," he mutters to himself absently.

The delay is brief before the door opens. There is no cautious peering: Telamon may be expected, his arrival already known, or perhaps some are merely less paranoid at present. 'Some' being Verna, who opens the door. "Telamon," she greets and acknowledges, "welcome." She subsequently steps back and gestures for entry. Within, the hearth provides some warmth and light, the latter in addition to the mana lamps.

Telamon steps inside, shutting the door... but then he firmly steps over and wraps his arms around Verna for a hug. "Hey there, sis," he offers with a small smile. There's some dark circles under his eyes, the signs of a man not sleeping as well as he should. Once the hug's done, he lets her go to look Verna over. "Lana told me everything," he says quite firmly. "I... wish I'd been more help to Aura, to teach her more."

Verna does not retreat from nor avoid the embrace, but neither does she actively return it. Afterwards, she returns his greeting with "Greetings, brother. I expect there to be many actions many would prefer were taken, not taken, or enacted differently, in retrospect. Such desires do no alter the past, however. We can only tend to the present, and by it, the future."

One gloved hand gestures to the couch, from which the center table was moved somewhat to provide additional space. "Please, make yourself confortable. I expect that, successful or not, this shall not require long and will not involve any discomfort. That said, my expectations may be disproven."

Telamon nods. He tilts his head at Verna, and offers a smile. "Once we're done here -- successful or otherwise -- I would like to talk to you a bit. About what you might do." He removes his boots and cloak, before walking forward and settling on the couch. Then he looks around. "Ah... where is Hunter? We probably wouldn't want him hopping around while you work."

"He is upstairs, in o-the bedchambers," Verna advises as she moves a chair between table and couch near Telamon. "I misproportioned the meal I prepared earlier and he was most content to ensure the remainder did not go to waste. He was deeply slumbering when you arrived, yet I closed the door as a precaution. He shall not interrupt."

She adjusts a few items on the table, making a glancing review of parchment and tome before looking back to him. "I am available for conversation afterwards, of course. Before we begin, do you have any information or insight concerning your receipt of this curse? Such may be useful in its removal."

Telamon doesn't miss the tiny slip, but his face gives nothing away. "That's good that he's tucked away. I have nothing against the fellow, but when you're working with magic, it's best not to have distractions."

At Verna's inquiry, his expression tightens. "He forced me to drink a potion of some kind. Foul tasting. There was a hair on my lip at the end -- hence why I initially thought it was an attempt to curse me with lycanthropy." He rakes a hand through his hair. "It was probably one of Lana's hairs, though gods only know how he got it. But that would've been useful for what he did."

Verna nods once at the first comment, then again after his recounting of events. "Had the curse been lycanthropy, and you had not suspected as much, it might have gone undetected for some time. In many aspects, the affliction is far more insidious than its conspicuous physical effects. Conversely, the one received is assuredly most spiteful and cruel. Let us attempt to remedy that."

She does not delay further, hand lifting to The Scales at her neck. "Harpist, with Your servant as conduit, may Your True Judgment deem this one unjustly and falsely judged, and Your power remove the invalid punishment afflicted upon him." Verna learns forward, placing her other hand upon Telmamon's arm.

Telamon can't hold back a tiny bit of bitterness. "He hated me at the end. I... didn't just take Lana away, but I also took away the illusion he had. I... think I made him realize he had to be the one to change, and he didn't want to. And so he just... lost all hope." There's sadness in his voice -- perhaps some pity for Zalgiman, even now.

He closes his eyes as Verna invokes the Harpist, and Tel can't hope but silently whisper a prayer to Ni'essa as well. And... perhaps that makes all the difference. This feels different from when Zeke attempted it -- a lurch, like something has pulled loose. Telamon opens his eyes again, shining up at Verna -- and then they widen. He makes a gagging sound, slapping his hand over his mouth. He leaps off the sofa, but he can only take a few steps before falling to his knees.

What happens next, well, in the overall scheme of things it's a -good- sign. He did say he'd been force-fed a potion -- and the potion is now being rejected. Forcefully. He vomits, and it's not food, or drink, or bile, but a black, tarry ooze, that stinks of evil magic, spattering on the stone floor.

Some reaction on Telamon's part was certainly possible, if not explicitly expected. This particular reaction... well, yes, in retrospect, it is appropriate to the delivery. At the moment it occurs, however, Verna is promptly off the chair and on her feet. One step to Telamon, though, and she pauses as the black viscous fluid is regurgitated. It is not just that it is a vile sight. It is a vile sight that she has witnessed before, albeit in different context and possibly slightly different fashion.

Gloved hands lift again as she eyes the splatter upon the floor and she remains at the ready. This may not be yet completed... or she may merely be paranoid.

Telamon retches several times, until nothing comes up, and he manages to push himself away from the nasty black... substance. Flopping onto his back, he roughly wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic, before sucking in a breath. "Figures," he pants. "I... ugh. What... was that the -curse-?" He pushes himself up, before reaching into his haversack and pulling out a flask. Uncapping it, he takes a swig, before continuing, "Gods. I... yeah, that makes sense, doesn't it? And I'll take it. Fair trade for getting this curse out of me."

The black ooze burbles a bit, but is then still. A residue of hatred and malice. A curse denied.

Verna is already gesturing and incanting in Mynsandraal. As Telamon steps back, she looses any magic remaining in the ooze: burble or no burble. No presumptions made, no quarter given. She will deny it as many times as she deems necessary. She then watches it intently for several long moments in silence before finally sparing attention to Telamon.

"It is highly likely that, yes, the power of the curse remained in that form within you. This is not the first time I have witnessed something of this nature." Which may explain her caution and vehemence.

GAME: Verna casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 19 DC: 20

Telamon takes another pull from the flask, mostly to clear the foul taste from his mouth. Finally his brain catches up, and he winces. "...Sorry about the mess. I... can clean it up, if you want." He squints at the slime as Verna whacks it with a dispelling. "...I hope it didn't etch the floor."

Tel clambers slowly to his feet, and tilts his head at Verna. "You've seen something like this? Damn... you're ahead of me then, sister, because I'd have been confused just watching it."

"It resembled that," Verna notes with a gesture to the slime, "in appearance, yet it was a nearly-sentient form of vile magic. In some aspects, a curse; in others, a disease. Yet it was neither. It reacted dangerously to magic; further harming the afflcited, replicating and spreading to others, and worse. It became a plague that consumed a great many in the city and beyond. If this was such..." she makes another long observation, "it is now inert."

She moves to reseat herself, now, seeming content. "While only Cor'lana can confirm your freedom from the curse, I am confident that it was expelled." As they both just witnessed a rather conspicuous expectoration. "What further did you wish to discuss?"

Telamon shudders at Verna's description. "Gods." He looks down at the very inert slime again, and actually shuffles a step away from it. "Yeah, we'll need to test it, but... when Zeke tried to dispel the curse, that definitely didn't happen. I... have faith in you."

At the prospect of other discussion, Tel inwardly sighs, but takes a seat on the couch again. "Something Auranar and I talked about was her frustration with herself. She always thought of herself as... a hindrance." He raises his hand. "Yes, I know. I didn't see her that way, and I know you didn't. But... she was convinced of it. That's why she went to Quelynos, to study with Grandfather." He pauses. "I might have... counseled some thought about the pact. But my own past tends to make me leery of such deals, even with a relatively benign power."

Verna dips her head in a nod of acknowledgement. "We spoke of that frustration on several occassions, to include our last conversation. She was adamant in her self-doubt and concerns, regardless of statements to the contrary. I do not fault her for her worries. There are some truths that must be discovered by one's self to be accepted as such."

She turns in the chair to focus upon the materials upon the table: organization of those yet needed and stowage of those no longer required. "You counseled and trained her a great deal, in many ways that I could not. I believe she is most grateful for that, as am I. Now, Grandfather graciously offered to do so, and I expect her knowledge and abilities shall further grow. With that, perhaps, so too shall her confidence. Any direct power he grants her shall only increase that further. As a whole, I view all of this as great benefit to her."

"Still, separation is... never pleasant." Telamon says quietly. Then he adds, "But as much as there is to do here... you should consider visiting her." He regards Verna with those calm starry eyes. "I mean, you're definitely a more powerful spellslinger than me, and I can get there. Granted, I have to cheat a bit. And Lana is coming along nicely too."

He rubs his chin. "Remember what we discussed, back when you and Aura were about to get hitched. You can't keep putting things off just because 'something else came up'. You'll never actually -do- them otherwise." He smiles warmly at Verna. "You don't need to pack and go tomorrow. But I think we should check in, make sure Grandfather's fully recovered, after a few days."

Verna is in the midst of closing a tome as Telamon speaks. She pauses to listen, despite facing elsewhere, and then closes the tome after. Firmly. "No."

She now turns in the chair to face him again. "She chose to do this herself, for herself. I will not steal that from her. There are others who can aid her where I cannot, and I will not deny her that. She believes herself a hindrance, a distraction to us over more important tasks. I assured her that such was not so, and I will not renege upon that."

Verna pauses a moment before adding. "You are correct in that I should not delay vital tasks when something else occurs, and I intend to abide that wisdom. My focus is upon the lycanthropse, the portal, and facilitating the Red Maw's destruction. It will not be ... 'put off' due to this 'something else coming up.'

Telamon takes a deep breath, but simply rises from the couch, and walks over to Verna... placing a hand on her shoulder. "Alright," he says gently. "I don't totally agree... but you're not wrong, either." He smiles at Verna. "And Auranar does need time. Time to learn, to train, to grow as much as she can." Tel's shoulder slump a bit. "I wish I could've given her more, but... the talent isn't like wizardry. It has to be applied, again and again, like artwork."

Tel lifts his head. "Thank you, Verna. For removing the curse, for letting Lana and I be whole again. However..." and his eyes twinkle, "...I think you should be thanked properly. Will you come by our house tomorrow evening for dinner? I promise not to keep you overlong... but it's good to be around family."

Verna looks up to him as he steps to her. She is seated, yet even when standing he is head and shoulders above. "I am as fallible as any other, Telamon. I may be correct in one instance, incorrect in another, or median in a third. Respecting her wishes, regardless of my opinions concerning them, is the most appropriate path." One that she is wholly accepting and comfortable with, surely, if her flat neutral tone and unexpressive countenance are any indications.

Her eyes lower as she considers the invitation. "I expect that I shall be available on the morrow's eve and it would be agreeable." Her eyes and chin lift again and she nods.

"Me too, Verna." Telamon comments wryly. "But then, I guess that's part of being a person. Trial, error, and correction." When Verna agrees, his eyes light up. "Excellent."

He turns to where the slime still adheres to the floor, and irritably gestures a cantrip to wipe the stuff away, now that it's inert. "It's this way or I demand you show me where the mop is," he quips. Once the sludge is disposed of, the floor clean again, he leans down and kisses Verna's cheek. "We'll see you before sundown."

Verna considers correcting or intervening when Telamon uses a cantrip to cleanse the floor... yet the lack of reaction from the slime has her leave it be. If it were to react, it would have, and what was before is not what that is, now. It only appeared that way.

She is exhaling a breath, perhaps in relief, eyes drifting back to the table, when her cheek is suddenly kissed. Her eyes widen in surprise, and then close. She turns her head away, with sudden interest in ... the cupboard(?) as a tear starts to journey from at least one closed lid down her cheek. There is a moment of silence before she bids him farewell in a broken, not-as-neutral voice, "I bid you safe journey, Telamon."

Telamon gives her shoulder another gentle squeeze. "See you tomorrow night, Verna." Warmth, and reassurance. Yes, things have changed, will continue to change. But the family is still there. And she will always be welcome in that happy little home in the University District. "Let me know if you need any supplies. There's still work to be done."

As Tel collects his cloak and boots, he adds, "But the work is always easier when you've got family to help out." And with that, he slips out the door.