The Arrival of Spring (And All That It Brings)
Log Info
- Title: The Arrival of Spring (And All That It Brings)
- Emitter: Ravenstongue
- Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon
- Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house
- Summary: Ravenstongue is just reading in the garden behind her house when a praying mantis lands in her book--and then talks to her. Telamon dives out of a window as he hears Ravenstongue scream and finds that there's now a strange praying mantis woman standing in their garden, apparently a messenger from a fey lady known as Matron Mantidalia. The messenger makes some pithy remarks about the two half-elves after discovering that 'Lady Lúpecyll' is already engaged to be married to someone outside of the fey, and is therefore dispatched in brutal fashion by the Feathered One, Ravenstongue's fey ancestor who has a chip on his shoulder (feathers?) about interacting with other fey nobility. The two half-elves discuss Grandfather's past with the Matron Mantidalia with the fey lord over cups of tea, and when he departs, Ravenstongue and Telamon discuss the possibility of holding a party to celebrate the arrival of spring--but really, to get Grandfather some more friends.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- 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 -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
- Lúpecyll-Atlon home, noon.
It's a beautiful spring Eliday--no clouds in the azure sky, a bright and gentle sun, and a cool breeze that blows in on occasion.
And Cor'lana is outside in the garden, sitting with a book that appears to be somewhat dry reading, as she keeps peering over its edges to stare wistfully at the sky. She is dressed in a short-sleeved, light cotton dress that has been dyed a blue that almost matches the sky in hue, the garment ruffling with every passing breeze.
And one breeze brings a praying mantis to rest in the fold of her book. Cor'lana blinks, only slightly startled. "Oh! Hello," she says, in a manner like one would greet a visiting neighbor cat.
"Lady Lúpecyll! Hello and good tidings," the praying mantis responds in the giddy voice of an elegant woman.
Cor'lana screams and drops the book right to the ground. Such a scuffle can easily be heard from inside the house.
Inside, Telamon is working in his study, bent over a paper he's writing with three books stacked on his desk and a fourth held open by one of his unseen servants. His quill scratching as he adds several lines to the report, before pausing, rubbing his chin. The window to the outside is open, a breeze helping to freshen the air, and he shakes his head. "Time for a break."
Capping the inkwell and setting the quill down, he stands and stretches, rolling his head. He's dressed in a loose-fitting, comfortable tunic and trousers, and simple slippers, in a dark green hue. Glancing outside again, he hmms. "Wonder if anything's started to sprout in the garden yet--"
And then Cor'lana screams, and there goes all rational thought.
It doesn't really occur to him to think twice. He immediately whirls and leaps out the window facing the garden. Unfortunately, he's never really been taught out to fall and while the drop isn't exactly far -- three feet -- he sprawls out before scrambling to his knees, hands out and ready to cast. "Lana! Are you okay?"
In the time that it takes Telamon to scramble out the window and to his feet in the garden, the praying mantis has leaped from the book and shapeshifted into what appears to be an elven woman--although her features are far more primal than the average elven woman. Her skin is a dusky olive green, and her slender figure is accented by a dress that appears to be made from a combination of fingered leaves and... bug sinew?
Most odd are the eyes. They are completely jet-black and glossy, like a polished stone. They are somewhat large in her pointed face. Not to mention the insect wings that jut out from her back.
"Oh, I am so sorry, Lady Lúpecyll! I didn't realize you were so easy to frighten," she says in the language of the fey, her tone musical and excited as she presses her hands together in a pose that more closely resembles her original praying mantis form. "I am a representative of my lady, Matron Mantidalia. I happened to observe you as I was flying by one day, and, well, here we are--"
The mantis woman stops as she turns to look at Telamon. She tilts her head to one side--almost a little too far. Mantises have flexible necks, after all. "Oh, Lady Lúpecyll, is this your mate for the season?" she asks. "Are you in need of disposal? I can take care of that for you."
"What? No!" Cor'lana snaps back in trade, before she switches immediately back to Sylvan. "No, I have no need for that. What is your purpose here?"
Alright, it wasn't the most dignified heroic entry, but from a practical standpoint, Telamon is (a) outside with Cor'lana, and (b) his hands are free. He slowly straightens, brushing himself off as he fixes the mantis-woman with a stern gaze. "And a joyous midday to you, milady. I assume there is good reason for this visitation." His Sylvan still has that faint accent, common among those who learn Sildanyari first. With deceptive casualness, he walks over to Cor'lana, standing in proximity, as he offers her a small smile. "Surprise guest?" he comments with a wry tone.
"Something like that, yes," Cor'lana replies quietly to Telamon as she immediately takes his hand for moral support--something she knows Telamon's never been shy about giving. "She sort of landed in my book and started talking to me as a mantis--hence why I screamed."
The mantis woman pouts a little as she looks at both Telamon and Cor'lana. "I see you have not chosen a mate of one of our kind, Cor'lana," she says. "I take it that it is a pairing purely for pleasure and that you are open to marriage betrothals--"
Then her eyes wander down and stop at the half-elves' hands. "Oh, no. You are. How... unbecoming. Is this what the Feathered One's line has come to? Then again, I suppose you are young and we all make mistakes of passion. Your ancestor did much the same long ago when he dallied with that mortal woman of his, choosing to spurn my lady's advances. She's still somewhat upset about that, which is why I was hoping to correct the matter by bringing you home with us, but..."
There's the sound of wings beating nearby. Cor'lana just makes a face somewhat like she's just smelled spoiled milk as she looks at Telamon and says, "If that's Grandfather, please get him to run her off."
Tel's hand slides into hers as naturally as breathing. "Phenomenal magical power, complete incompetence at schedling appointments," he replies. "Well, at least this one isn't out to stab me."
He cocks an eyebrow at the mantis-woman, struggling to keep his expression neutral. Coolly, he regards her. "That was in extraordinarily poor taste. Have the courts of Quelynos become so debased that they cannot make marital inquiries without casting aspersions on all involved? You forget yourself, your place, and where you stand, milady." He hears the beating of wings as well, and offers a tight grin. "And I hope for your sake that is NOT Alud'rigan come to visit. He can be... tempermental regarding his daughter."
Footsteps pad in from the side of the house. It is, indeed, the Feathered One.
And he looks deeply unhappy.
The mantis woman offers him a bright and brilliant smile. "Oh, hello, Alud'rigan! Have you come to greet me and reconcile our old differences? I hear you're in a different sort of attitude these days about the whole socializing thing--why, your birds aren't nearly so.."
She stops talking as the Feathered One clearly does not stop walking. In fact, he closes the gap between them so quickly that it's a whirl of feathers--until suddenly, his hand is around the mantis woman's flexible neck. Cor'lana yelps a little, squeezing Telamon's hand at the sight. "Grandfather!" she yells.
"Hush, child," the Feathered One says, his violet eyes normally so inscrutable now filled with utter rage as he looks at the mantis woman. "You are not allowed to visit my little bird. No one of fey kind may visit her. She is not a member of the Court and will never be regardless of what my mark upon her may allow you to think. Let me make it very clear: tell your Matron my answer is still the same as it was eons ago. I will never betray my wife, even when her memory is carried on only in my mind and in the blood running in Cor'lana's veins."
>SNAP.<
The great and terrible talons of the Feathered One go from a caress of the neck to a lethal crunch in the span of less than a second. The mantis woman's form then falls from his hand--and then withers away to magic.
He huffs and turns back to Telamon and Cor'lana, a suddenly genial smile replacing the expression on his lips. "Terribly sorry about that. How about some tea?"
As though nothing had happened.
GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (16)+11: 27 GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (7)+7+3: 17
Telamon reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Relax, 'Lana," he says. "She was a... messenger. A projection. I've been reading up a bit on Grandfather's trick coming here." He gives the spot where the mantis-woman's body had fallen and dissolved a rather flinty look. "A shame, we could've buried her in the garden for fertilizer."
Evidently he didn't like the mantis-woman's attitude much better than Grandfather did.
He slips his arm around Cor'lana's shoulders, as he regards Grandfather, looking darkly amused. "Some tea might be nice, yes. And then you can explain who Matron Mantidalia is, and why she makes you so grumpy."
Cor'lana's still a little disturbed to have seen her gentle Grandfather killing someone in front of her--messenger or no. Her eyes are wide and her hands tremble a little. "Still..." she says quietly, but that's her only word on the matter.
Grandfather gives a great sigh. "The less I have to speak of her, the better--it sets off my temper something awful," he says as he enters the house. "But, perhaps some tea will be beneficial for us all."
Cor'lana follows behind, leading Telamon into the house as Grandfather sets about the process of putting a kettle on to boil. She's awfully quiet as Grandfather begins to explain himself.
"Let me explain how Quelynos works," the Feathered One says as he searches through the tea leaf containers and finds the mint-lavender blend he'd given to the half-elf couple some time ago. "In the fall and winter, the Unseelie Court rules the Court of the Faerie. They are... disgusting and twisted fey, but they were not always malicious. In the spring and summer, the Seelie Court rules again--and, well, it is spring now, so the Seelie have come back to prominence in Quelynos and that means certain people I once... shall we say, rubbed elbows with, have decided to put their noses into business that they don't need to be in. Typical."
In turn, Telamon leads Cor'lana to the couch, settling her down and sitting next to her. "Don't take this too personally, Grandfather, but the fey in general do have a tendency to... meddle in the mortal realms, regardless of season." He smiles wryly. "Even you."
He sits back, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "And... to be honest, this is probably something we should have expected. You claimed Cor'lana as your daughter, your blood, regardless of... is distance the best word? I don't know how many 'grands' you have to tack onto that. Quite a few, I suppose." He tilts his head. "And so she would become a person of interest to those who have an interest in you."
"In the Matron's case, yes, she has an interest in Cor'lana because she has an interest in me," Grandfather sighs. "I've always been a tad... different. I never found much interest in carrying on affairs with my own kind. It was not until I met my wife I found love and--I'll be frank--lust thereafter. Which is why I recognized myself in Cor'lana, and why I pushed her to be with you, young Telamon. But at any rate, the Matron is one of... several individuals of my kind, who has tried to betrothe themselves to me or simply try to bed me. And I have refused."
He looks a little more grim. "The Matron is... shall we say, a bit obsessed with me. She's not often rejected, even though her appetite for killing her partners and then consuming them is well-known," he says. "There are people willing to die if that's what it takes to be with her. And for whatever reason, she's focused on me in particular. I thought she got the message after I sent back the corpse of her most beloved handmaiden about two eons ago, but..."
"You did what?" Cor'lana asks, violet eyes as wide as dinner plates. She has not seen Grandfather's rather frank discussion of his past before like Telamon has.
Telamon looks wry. "And now that you're out and about again, she's decided to come a-courting. Gives a new meaning to the phrase 'man-eater', I see." He gives Lana a squeeze, his expression thoughtful.
"Her behavior isn't without precedent. There are plenty of mortals who become obsessed with something that becomes unattainable. Stack that on top of the typical... appetites of the fey, which can get fairly exotic, and... even sending back a head immersed in alcohol might not dissuade them." He taps the fingers of his free hand on the couch surface, a staccato.
He looks to Cor'lana, and can't help but smile slightly. "Did you think Grandfather was a soft touch, love? I respect him deeply, but I have no illusions that he can be ruthless when it's called for."
Cor'lana squirms a little at Telamon's last point. "I mean, I just didn't think..."
Grandfather chuckles. "My apologies, little one, but I did conceal that part of me. I didn't want you to be scared of me when our relationship was brand new, and you were already so damaged from learning what you did about your sire. Your fiance has a tad bit more experience with that aspect of mine. So, to be abundantly clear... Cor'lana, I have slain dozens of fey who have tried to attack your ancestors or tried to steal them away from me. I share that sentiment to anyone and anything else that would hurt you. If it means my talons are bloodied and I wade in the blood of the dead, then so be it."
He says it so matter-of-factly that it serves to shock Cor'lana further. She eventually just snuggles closer into Telamon and murmurs, "I guess I knew, I just... didn't know how deep the rabbit hole actually went."
The kettle boils, and Grandfather smiles. "Aha, tea's ready. Three cups so all of us have one, then?" he asks.
Telamon admits, "Maybe I find it a bit more... understandable, because of my own feelings. I'm just as protective of you, after all. Whether it's Glórenacil," he refuses to call him Lana's father, "or some jumped up fey with delusions of grandeur." He reaches up to stroke Lana's hair gently, tugging her in as she cuddles close.
"Three cups please, yes Grandfather." He waits for the tea to be served, before continuing. "We've defined the problem. The question is, how do we solve it or at least limit it? I'm not hugely keen on setting up cold iron wards around the house -- that would be rude to Grandfather, if nothing else." He taps his fingertips on his chin, brow furrowed.
"I think the Matron's the only one you have to worry about," Grandfather responds, bringing the teacups over on a tray that he sets down onto the table. He takes one teacup--which looks hilariously tiny in his claws--and brings it up to his lips to drink. "At least in the form of unwanted attention. You may have others come to visit, but they tend to just dispense gifts and compliments. They may even tend to your garden for you. I used to allow such visitors but I soon was annoyed with them--admittedly, because they kept trying to get my wife to wander off in the woods with them for a walk, and I didn't want her getting lost."
Cor'lana looks a little thoughtful as she looks up at Grandfather. "Maybe if we put up something on the door that indicates this house is... I don't know, under the protection of the Feathered One?"
She takes a sip of her tea and then finds herself snickering. "Gods, that sounds like a 'beware of dog' sign. That's awful."
Telamon takes a sip of his tea as well, looking thoughtful. "Gifts, compliments, and even services I can live with, provided there are no misunderstandings. I won't tolerate any shenanigans regarding 'Lana, though. Pretty certain she won't tolerate any shenanigans either." He grins at Cor'lana, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
He ponders her suggestion, though. "That... actually might not be a bad idea. A warning to other fey to not play games here, rather than an outright ward. That way, those who are seeking to -- let's be honest -- curry favor with you, Grandfather, will understand and if they mean well, won't be hedged out entirely."
"I really do not want to interact with others of my kind," the Feathered One growls--which elicits another look of worry from Cor'lana, which he assuages by giving her another genial smile. "So I would be happiest if you informed them that I am not interested in alliances, betrothals, gifts, favors, promises--only to be left alone. My interest in the mortal realm is not to be confused with an interest in socializing with other fey."
"Message heard loud and clear," Cor'lana replies. She manages a tiny smile. "Just, umm... Please try not to kill anyone else on our property? Even if it's just a messenger."
"That can be arranged, little one," Grandfather says. "In the meantime, I will devise something for you two to display that declares to fey visitors what is permitted and what is not. I will likely have it ready in a few days."
Telamon holds his hands out soothingly. "I think the equivalent of a 'No Soliciting' sign will suffice for the moment. I'll leave the particulars of that in your hands, Grandfather." He smiles. "I don't think it'll be necessary for you to interact with any of the fey courts. Ah... if any of the Ea-bound fey visit, I'll make sure they understand how the household works and why they should avoid any foolishness."
He takes another sip of his tea. "I would prefer to settle these things amicably and with minimal fuss. If nothing else, I think Lana would object to having to clean blood off the doorstep. As would I."
"Then I hope we avoid any further issues--and if the Matron gives you any trouble whatsoever, do let me know. I will be more than happy to appear before her in Quelynos and send her another bloody message if she requires it," Grandfather says, still smiling like he's discussing the topic of the pleasant weather outside.
"Please, no blood on the doorstep," Cor'lana requests politely as she echoes Telamon's sentiment, looking into her teacup.
Then an idea seems to dawn on her as she looks back up at Grandfather. "How are your bookshop shifts going, Grandfather? You mentioned it briefly two days ago. Are you... getting along all right?"
"Fairly well and splendid," Grandfather replies. "I work maybe one or two days a week, just for a few hours. All I do is help customers find books and shelve them. It's a peaceful existence, and I get to talk to new people every day."
"Excellent. Sounds like a plan." Telamon finishes his tea, setting the cup down before commenting, "Indeed, I was wondering about that myself, Grandfather. You seem to be in better spirits of late, especially with Lana's betrothal to me and taking on that job at the bookstore. I think... and I might be overstepping here... your loneliness has colored your thinking for a long time. And now... you don't have to be lonely any more."
He grins. "It's a good change. The world is full of wonder, after all. Some things are vast and impressive, and others are as small as... having tea with your family. But no less wonderful for it."
Grandfather takes a sip of his tea as he contemplates Telamon's words. Finally, he nods. "I think you are correct, sir Telamon," he says. "I would have been content with Cor'lana alone, but I was delighted when I discovered how she felt about you--and when I nudged the two of you together, I hadn't anticipated how I, too, would be drawn into your world."
He chuckles a little, the sound warm and musical. "I am very fond of what you two have built--and I am... very happy that you have let me be a part of it so far. I have not felt the effects of loneliness in some time."
Cor'lana smiles warmly at this sentiment as she leans into Telamon. "I'm happy we're all together, too," she says. "I didn't expect any of this to happen when I met Telamon months ago, but... Fate has a funny way of working."
Telamon's arm curls around Cor'lana, and he rests his cheek against her head for a moment, tenderly. "My world has changed dramatically -- but for the better. No matter what problems might surface, it's all worthwhile." He smiles at Grandfather. "I have no desire to see people in undeserved pain. There are always those who court their own misfortunes, but... it pleases me greatly that you have found some peace as well."
He suddenly grins again. "As you hopefully noticed outside, I've started a garden. Hopefully I won't make a huge mess of it, but the initial signs are good. Violets and lavender, lilies and some berry bushes -- I doubt I'd make a great farmer, but I think I can manage this."
"Gardening is a worthwhile hobby," Grandfather says with a smile. "The lavender is a favorite of mine--you've likely noticed, but most of my baking recipes call for fresh sprigs in some way. All fey love lavender as it is a sacred plant to us. It's a scent of invitation."
"Is that so," Cor'lana murmurs into Telamon's ear. After all, she's close enough that Telamon can easily pick up her natural scent if he hasn't gone noseblind to it by now.
Grandfather finally finishes his cup of tea and sets it down onto the tray. He stands up and nods to the two half-elves. "Speaking of peace, I think you have had a rather exciting day at hand and deserve some," he says. "Give my regards to Pothy--I slipped a bag of cookies into the kitchen for him before I went to go attend to your unwelcome guest."
Telamon manages to keep the faint smirk off his face. "Of course, Grandfather. Thank you for coming by, even if things were a little intense there. You're always welcome here." He grins. "I wondered why Pothy hadn't come to bother us. Poor bird's probably sleeping off the cookies."
After Grandfather departs, though, he looks at Lana and smirks. "Remember, you were the one who wanted me to plant lavender. Granted, I'm not sure you were in full command of your wits at the time, dear..."
Cor'lana immediately blooms into a blush as he alludes to the shirtless incident. "Look, it's not my fault that someone decided to take his shirt off and douse himself in water in the full light of the sun." The way she rattles that off suggests that she's had a lot of time to think about it. Probably more than she'd care to admit to it.
She looks back at him with a bit of a side-glance. "I mostly just remember you asking what seeds we should plant in the garden, and... my mind started taking that to other places, and... I think the first word I remembered how to speak was 'lavender'. But I'm certainly not opposed. I do like it."
Telamon kisses her cheek softly, as she blushes. "I'm not opposed either. Although it's more because lavender reminds me of you, for obvious reasons."
He wraps his arms around her comfortably, pondering. "I... have a confession to make. I kind of half expected something like this to start, with the fey coming to visit. One of the things I saw a couple times, when I was apprenticed with father, was that when someone becomes ennobled -- getting a title, and a place at court -- a lot of people take notice. Sometimes the attention's good hearted, but that's unfortunately rare. Most times it's 'can we make a deal?' -- they want to see what you can do for them, and they're willing to do something for you. And then of course there are the hangers-on and smooth talkers trying to make an easy coin."
"I mean, I suppose I saw something like this, too," Cor'lana says with a sigh, "but I didn't expect it'd be in the form of someone trying to use me so they can climb in bed with Grandfather. I didn't quite realize he was apparently an eligible bachelor in the eyes of some in Quelynos. Everything he's ever told me about my ancestor--his wife--is that he was more in love with her than anything else. Still is."
She smiles a little, although it's a bit of a sad smile. "I haven't asked many questions about her. I don't want to... make him sad. Or upset. Especially after seeing him do what he did to that messenger today."
Cor'lana shivers. "Thank gods that wasn't a real person."
He ponders that for a little bit. "Remember, fey are just as prone to obsessions as mortals are, and since they're effectively immortal it's even worse. Bad habits get ingrained very deeply." Telamon looks at her. "I wonder if somehow, Grandfather realizes that on some level and is trying to shake himself out of things by spending more time not just with us, but with mortals in general."
Tel snorts. "You'd think they'd come up with a better plan though. But maybe that's for the best. I don't think we want their schemes to get complex enough to cause us grief." He strokes her hair, letting her rest her head on his chest. "It's... well, when I was studying conjurations and summoning, there was a passage I came across. Summoning, and projections like that, they're... kind of real. There's some interesting overlap between those arcane works, and what're called 'shadow projections' where you craft an illusion into something that's a rough approximation of real. People talk about 'something's real or it's not', but they've never studied how blurry that line can get with magic."
He shrugs. "Suffice to say, that... whatever it was, will reappear alive and well in her home realm, but I'm pretty sure she won't be in a hurry to come back."
"Part of me wonders if maybe he's just transmuted his feelings for his wife into his feelings about the bloodline--and me, by extension of that, as I am his bloodline and now the 'head' of the family," Cor'lana wonders. "After all, he mentioned not liking other fey coming to visit his wife."
She eventually just shrugs her shoulders and snuggles into Telamon, shuffling herself so she's in his lap--annnnnnd there she goes to her spot under his chin. "I suppose I don't mind. It's a little scary, but... he loves me. Enough to do what it takes to protect me. In a way, you kind of are like that, too, Tel. How many adventures have we gone on together where we've had to kill to get out alive, now?" she asks.
"More than a couple. But here's the thing, 'Lana. We've never gone out looking for trouble. Well, as adventurers we usually get called in to handle it, but you don't go around charming people at random, and I don't roll fiery death through the roads." Telamon seems quite happy to let her cuddle in under his chin, her usual spot. "Yes, we've had to fight and kill to protect ourselves, and even to set some things right, but that's not the same as willfully going around causing the trouble."
He hrms thoughtfully. "He... may have transferred those feelings, yes, though I can't rule out his loneliness driving him for something, anything, to soothe it. But as long as Grandfather's happy with the state of affairs I don't think it's worth shaking the tree much." He ponders. "He must've loved that ancestor of yours very deeply indeed, to keep faith with her down through the years. It's very noble of him -- I'm not criticizing, if anything I'm impressed. But I wonder how much of his outlook is filtered through that?" He mulls this line of thought over. "She must've been an amazing woman."
"I don't know--maybe if you're a random swordsman in the sewers, your perspective on me charming people at random might be a little different," Cor'lana says with a tiny smirk. At least enough time has passed where she's joking about it now.
The half-elf sorceress pauses to think again. "When he came to stay with me in that time after we summoned him the first time and before when I confessed my feelings to you, he told me a bit about her. She was the village leader's daughter, and she came to complain on behalf of the village because Grandfather's birds were weeping and screaming because he was weeping and screaming from sheer loneliness. This was some time after he chose to isolate himself from the Courts, mind you."
Cor'lana smiles as she continues to recount the story. "She found him, and he told her why the birds were weeping and screaming. So she offered to be his friend and teach him of love. Then later on, she confessed to him that she fell in love with him--and so he asked her to also teach him of love. He called her, 'the greatest teacher that ever was.' Said she had patience unending, although she did have to be firm when he acted in ways she didn't appreciate."
Telamon nods. "I think you had told me the story at one point. But stories are just that. To him she wasn't just a story, or even an ancestor. She was a person, real, with all the virtues and flaws of such." He gives Cor'lana a squeeze. "Sometimes it's hard to reconcile the two, but it's usually worth it."
He sits back in the couch a bit, relaxing. "I wonder what his perspective is on life. I mean... we all get older and eventually pass on, though it takes some of us longer than others. But what's it like to never have to contemplate such a thing? And the dark side -- watching those you grow to care about get old and pass away." He shudders. "No wonder so many old tales warn against the pursuit of eternal life."
Cor'lana deeply frowns at the last notion. "I think it's why his curse hurts him so much," she says. "And why he urgently kept asking my father to go looking for me. He's had to bury so many of my ancestors that have lived with him... All of them passed away there in his home, as well as his wife. No wonder why he gravitated towards us and why he makes so much of his time here..."
She ponders something a moment longer, pushing her head deeper underneath Telamon's chin. "I think I'd like to do something for Grandfather. Something that will introduce him to more of our friends--the ones who haven't gotten to meet him. I think he'd like that a lot."
Telamon lets her push his head up a little, before drawing back enough so he can kiss her gently. "You know I'm up for it. What've you got in mind? I presume this is more than just a surprise birthday party." He pauses. "Do immortal fey even have birthday parties? I mean, granted, any excuse for a party, but how would you know when it was?" He grins at her, eyes twinkling. "Sorry, lost my train of thought. You had an idea?"
The kiss is enough to restore the smile to Cor'lana's face again, a little joy for the surprise gesture. "I guess it's sort of like a birthday party," she says. "We could call it just sort of a--I don't know, a 'yay, the spring's here and the awful winter is gone!' party. You can have parties just because, but the arrival of spring's a good reason as any."
Her violet eyes twinkle a little. "Maybe we could have everyone bring food so Grandfather can try out more mortal foods. I think he'd really like that."
Telamon nods thoughtfully. "A spring celebration would definitely lift everyone's spirits, not just Grandfather's. And I think you're right... getting him out to meet people might be just what he needs. I know he's kind of starting small, what with spending time at the bookstore."
He savors the joy he sees on Cor'lana's face, the way her eyes light up. "What does he like, though? This is where you're going to have to lead, I'm afraid. I don't know his tastes as well as you probably do, and I don't think we should try cooking with fey ingredients for a party."
"Well, we can probably adapt a lot of his recipes to mortal ingredients," Cor'lana says, hopping out of Telamon's lap to go retrieve the hand-bound cookbook that was given to her months ago. "I did adapt that chicken soup from Quelynos ingredients over to mortal ones..."
She looks at Telamon for a moment after she admits that line, sitting down with him on the couch again. "... Maybe not that one, though. That's our secret." Then she snickers and settles back into his lap to flip through the recipes. They're all written in Sylvan, Grandfather's fine handwriting clearly evident. Even more impressive when one considers he's writing with such massive claws.
Telamon gestures as Cor'lana hops up to get the cookbook, and a sheaf of blank paper, as well as his quill and inkpot, come floating in from his study. When she mentions the chicken soup though, he actually blushes a touch. "That's going to be a point of humor for us for the next several decades, isn't it? We're going to be sitting in rocking chairs and you're going to make some joke about chicken soup, and we'll both laugh ourselves silly."
The servitor lays the papers and writing tools on the table in front of the couch, as Tel welcomes her back to his lap. "How does he do it?" he mock-grumbles. "Do you know how long it took me to get halfway legible penmanship? At one point father was threatening to send me to a monastery to work with the scriveners until I could write in a straight line."
"Well, I have to admit, I really didn't think about how I was going to go about asking... for that," Cor'lana says, blushing too, "until I finally mustered my courage. I thought about it after you proposed, but it felt too soon... And the day after that, too, but I didn't want to come off as, I don't know, too strong? I didn't want to scare you off somehow. So I made the soup, and we were having a nice conversation, and finally I thought, 'Lana, it's now or never, you better ask him or you're going to end up waiting until the wedding night and it's going to be awkward and painful for both of you--'"
She shakes her head, smiling. "The point is! I never intended to seduce you with soup. But it's kind of funny now and probably will be forever. Plus, Pothy likes when we have soup. And if you'd really been sent to a monastery, we would never have gotten to... Well, what comes after soup!"
Cor'lana ends up laughing so hard, her whole body shakes. It's a real sort of joy that only comes when the joke's been elevated to a new level.
"So... that wasn't planned, just spur of the moment? Oh goodness. And here I thought you'd set out from the start to lure me into bed." He tries to come off as aggrieved, but the fact is...
Tel just can't keep a straight face. He starts laughing as well, mirroring the joy, the glee he sees, and his arms just wrap around her in a close hug. The giggles, of course, take a while to subside, but who's complaining, really?
After he catches his breath, calming a bit, he says, "Alright. Yes. Let's not try to adapt that one. Our little secret. What else has he cooked that we can adapt?" He helps move the book around so the two of them can look, and he hmms. "Well, there's this bread recipe, that might work. It only uses a couple of Quelynos ingredients."
"That bread recipe does look good," Cor'lana notes. "We could easily substitute the fruit for something equivalent. And... Hmm, the pudding recipe doesn't look half-bad or too complicated. You could even make that one, Tel..."
The two half-elves discuss more recipes and make the beginning of their plans for a spring party. Pothy slumbers in the study atop his stack of books, presumably in a food coma from having eaten too many Grandfather cookies.
And outside in the gardens, a tiny pixie peers up from her work on the ground. "Hey Mirabilis, do you think he'll notice? That cute blond boy in there that we were checking out the other day?" she asks, gesturing in arcane motions as her magic concludes and the tiniest bit of greenery sprouts up from the ground, weeks ahead of when it should.
The other pixie scoffs as she, too, blesses another one of Telamon's flowers. "Lily-of-the-Valley, you know better than to get crushes on every cute tall boy you see! He's a hundred times your size and he's promised to Lady Lúpecyll!"
Lily-of-the-Valley grumbles, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she shakes her head. "No! I don't want to kiss him, I want them to kiss each other! It's so cute! I'm their number one fan! My days of dreaming about tall boys are behind me!"
It would appear that the Lúpecyll-Atlon home already has little fey helpers... who are cheering on the young lovers. The flowers will be ready before the spring party.