Turning Reputation into Charity

Log Info

• Title: Turning Reputation into Charity

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

Lupecyll-Atlon home, late afternoon

The University neighborhood is warm with the setting sun's rays. People coming home from work, or errands. Some leading or carrying children, others bearing baskets from the markets.

A pair of slender men amble down the walk towards a familiar two-story house. One is of course the dapper half-elf known as Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, clad in a cream-colored linen tunic and trousers with a broad brimmed hat on his head. The other is a redhead, dressed in a similar tunic and trousers in dark green. The two chatting as they walk.

"...So your next task is that essay on how to construct a spell in your head. Every one of us does it differently, Shuichi, so don't worry about getting anything 'wrong'. Just go with what you know." Telamon's voice is cheerful, almost carefree.

Shuichi isn't subservient, but his voice is respectful. "I'll work on it, master. But it may take some time, mother and I are still getting settled back in..."

Telamon chuckles. "Not that much. After your mother was cured, I made arrangements. The house was cleaned top to bottom, dusted and swept, and I even laid in some supplies in the pantry." As Shuichi goggles at him in confusion, Telamon turns to face the young man. "Did you think you would have to learn to fly alone? I won't coddle you, but I'm not above making sure you have the time to properly study and practice." The half-elf claps Shuichi on the shoulder.

Cor'lana descends the staircase, having groomed herself to be semi-presentable, and she peers out the window. "Mmm. I know Telamon's just about coming home. Are you going to be good, Pothy?"

Pothy, who is splooted out on the couch on account of the heat from earlier, peers up from his spot. Blue eyes carry mischief in them rather suddenly. "No. I am never good."

"That's a lie. Your goodness can be bought," Cor'lana says with a snort. "At least the soup is ready." She'd started the soup earlier in the day with breakfast and it's smelling heavenly now.

Suddenly it's a bit heartwarming as Shuichi suddenly hugs his teacher. A mumbled, "Thank you," comes from the boy, and Telamon pats him on the back.

"No worries now. Go home, hug your mother, and tell her I said hello. You can drop the essay off at the Chalice if you finish it before Gilday." Telamon gives Shuichi a hug, before letting go and waving happily as the boy heads off homeward with a bit more of a spring in his step.

Still smiling, Telamon walks up to the front door of his house, reaching out to touch the ravens and moons carved into the door's wood, before unlocking it. "I'm home," he calls -- perhaps unnecessarily, since Lana knows where he is. But it's something he likes to do. Stepping inside, he shuts the door again, locking it before doffing his shoes and padding over to find his wife and his 'little brother'. "Lana, Pothy. I hope your day went well?" He folds his arms around Lana for a proper hug.

Cor'lana grins at Telamon as he steps in through the door, coming over to envelope her husband in her arms. "About as well as it can be," she says. "I could only stand so long of doing rewrites for yet another bad Handel Boyd Weaver musical. Weaver'll probably push back on what I'm suggesting, but the narrative is so bad. I keep telling him it's structurally flawed, but he's spent so long writing musicals that I think he believes he's good at every part of a musical."

She sighs deeply, squeezing Telamon a little. "Some days, it makes me want to become a hermit again, but I so vastly love the life I have more compared to all the way back then so much more. How is Shuichi doing?"

"You two sure spend a lot of time inside though," Pothy grumbles. "When are we gonna get that soup?"

Telamon strokes Lana's hair, and gives her a kiss before nodding. "Some people can handle constructive criticism, some can't. And I think you're right. His success went straight to his ego and he's probably convinced he can do no wrong." He shrugs. "But what can you do? We all have our lives to live."

Tel leads Lana over to the couch where Pothy is sprawled. "Well, judging from the scent, not too much longer, Pothy." He reaches down to give the raven his scritches. "But I wouldn't stay inside if it wasn't so brutally hot. Hopefully the weather breaks soon."

At Lana's question, Tel's eyes glint. "He's doing well. He's very sharp -- I think he's brighter than I was at his age, to be honest. Terrible sense of fashion, but he's had a lot of other things on his mind." Telamon rubs his chin. "I spent the day working with him, practicing some basic cantrips. He's got a lot of raw potential."

Cor'lana smiles brightly at Telamon. "Sounds like we made the best choice," she says. "I mean, it was the best choice, even if we ruffled some feathers and we both felt absolutely exhausted for the next few days afterwards. But can you imagine what he might have become if he lost his mother so young?"

"Well, you're a living example of someone who's lost a mother to tragedy, but you're doing well," Pothy says. "Also, I want to know if you really had a sense of fashion at that age or not." That's accusatory.

That earns Pothy a wry little look from Cor'lana. "Don't you remember Telamon's father, Pothy? I think it's in the family bloodline."

"It was the right decision," Telamon says firmly. "Saving lives is what we do." The memory of Shuichi holding his mother afterward, sobbing as Shiori gently hugged her son back, floats through Telamon's thoughts. He smiles at the image, and continues, "Well, fortunately we won't have to worry about that. Shiori is getting her feet back under her quickly, and I may have helped a bit." His eyes twinkle mischievously.

"To answer your question, Pothy, yes. Father made a good point: sometimes you can say something with your garments that you can't with your voice. Besides, some colors simply don't work with each other." He shudders. "I was at a Myrrish ball once with father and some fellow came in wearing the most eye-searing yellow outfit I've ever seen. He was trying to start a trend, and I think all he did was encourage tailors and clothiers to avoid yellow in a garment."

Cor'lana makes a face. "Yellow. Eugh. I mean, you could wear it," she informs Telamon, gesturing to his ensemble. In fact, she even give him an image of Telamon wearing a lovely tunic of goldenrod silk and dark brown hose, an autumnal look that's accented by the white zinnia flowers that she pictures to be in Telamon's hair. "You could make any color look good. But I can't imagine wearing anything so bold."

Pothy makes a mischievous snickering sound as he flaps over to the table by the couch, peering up at the two. "You know... If you two ever get really bored. Maybe you two should make a game out of wearing the most ridiculous clothes and seeing if you can start a fashion trend."

One might think Cor'lana would object to it... But her eyes actually light up a little. "Oh! That would give them something to talk about besides the Temptress allegations," she says. Cor'lana then looks up at Telamon in excitement. "Do you think Jovani would go for it? Or would he want nothing to do with this silliness?"

Telamon smiles broadly. "Yes, but love, you have taste. Granted, I've taught you some of it but you do have your own innate talent for coordinating colors. This fellow..." Telamon focuses for a moment, and the image is of a slightly portly Myrrish noble dressed in bright yellow, looking like a canary. "It might've worked if he'd added a second color to break up the first. Maybe."

At Pothy's suggestion, Tel rubs his chin. "Biggest problem is that I'm still teaching at the University. I've spent a bit of time getting my students to be respectful. Maybe if we make it part of a contest, especially for adventurers -- 'the most ridiculous outfit, voted on in the Tribune' -- with the beneficiary being the Soldier's Defense? That'd work nicely."

"Ah! Have people send in their designs, and the most ridiculous costume set, as voted on by the readers of the Tribune, will be worn by Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon and Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon for a charity event benefitting the Soldier's Defense!" Pothy is a happy boy, his tail feathers wagging up and down.

Cor'lana is clearly on board, nodding feverishly. "And we'll charge people to get in, and all proceeds from that--as well as any auctions that people donate; I'm sure we could ask some people to donate things--will benefit the Defense! Actually, that's perfect. Something to help people take their minds off of the summer heat and to celebrate life."

She beams at Telamon. "Like I bet we could get Aryia to donate some signed memorabilia from her Colosseum team!"

Telamon taps his fingertips on the couch absently. "There's always someone who thinks they're funny. We'll have to make it clear the outfits have to be outfits, not just 'Cor'lana wearing three seashells' or 'Telamon wearing a strategically placed fern frond'." He snorts. "Don't think someone won't try that."

"With that in mind... yes. Something to celebrate the end of summer as it approaches." He catches Lana's hand, raising it to his lips with a smile, before offering Pothy a grin. "You are both genuises. We'll see if Aryia's interested in the idea."

Cor'lana grins at Telamon, flushing a little at the idea of Telamon with only a fern frond. Focus, Cor'lana, she admonishes herself in the mental link, which, of course, Telamon can hear. (He hears it quite often, actually.) "It has to be 'modest' enough that if we wear it out in public, we won't be arrested," Cor'lana replies. "As much as I'm sure your adoring fans will try and put you in as small of swimclothes as they can design. And we should ask around and see if other adventurers might want to donate something."

"An itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-yellow-polka-dot-Tel-swimmy~!" Pothy sings, before he cackles and flaps his wings into the kitchen, as though trying to run away before Cor'lana or Telamon can catch him.

Except Cor'lana's laughing hard, leaning into Telamon and holding onto him for support. "A Tel-swimmy!? Where did you get that from, Pothy!?"

"Exactly. Let's shoot for casual or evening wear, not for, well, swim-wear." Telamon grins at Lana's flush, and he lightly squeezes her hand. "The only adoring fan I want to impress with swimclothes is you, dear heart."

Telamon blinks and stares as Pothy does his little song, looking slightly dumbfounded before he heaves a sigh. "I bet he got it from the pixies. Lily specifically. I just know she's probably been writing off-color lyrics about us between marathon ogling sessions." He hugs Lana close. "Family. What can you do?"

Cor'lana's flushed still, but she's smiling all the while, sighing gently like Telamon is sighing. "Probably from the pixies, yes," she says. "Lily-of-the-Valley is exactly the type to write such words. Although she's been occupied more and more these days with her... Temple duties."

"I heard she got kicked out," Pothy calls from the kitchen. "The dummy actually touched one of the men. As I recall from Mirabilis, she sat down on the guy's shoulder and said, 'Is all of your muscle up here, or is there some further down?' and that's when Primrose tackled her and... Well, it went from beyond Angoron's wheelhouse to Kor's battlefield."

That makes Cor'lana blink. "Yeesh. How haven't I heard about this?" she asks.

"Oh, she's sulking and hiding out with the Wee Queen, or so Mirabilis told me. She'll probably be back. Maybe with a small army of pixies to take over the Temple... Or more likely, just glad to be back." Pothy sighs. "I doubt the Wee Queen's cruel, but... Hey, wait a minute, don't you two owe her blood?"

Cor'lana blinks. "Oh." She looks at Telamon. "Oh, we do."

Telamon just shakes his head. "I knew that girl needed a hobby. We'll have to soothe some ruffled emotions over that one." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Probably have to get Primrose to settle down first, though."

Tel looks back at Cor'lana at the mention of the Wee Queen, and then quietly curses. "Yes. We didn't remember because, at the time, we were slightly distracted with a few things." He grumbles, a number of projects fluttering through his head as he rearranges his mental timetable. "Well, we can always insist we were on fey time, not mortal time."

He smirks faintly. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if she was... reticent. Even powerful entities might step lightly around two archmagi."

"Maybe?" Cor'lana supplies, looking thoughtful and frowning both. "She might insist on it more just because we're powerful, and magic in the blood, or... Maybe you're right, and it could be too potent. Like how you can add too much to a pot and it's just too bold to the taste."

"If you're a coward," Pothy says with a huff. "Now are you two going to have soup? And am I going to get a bowl?"

"Of course you are, Pothy," Cor'lana replies with a grin as she steps toward the kitchen. "I'm even going to be nice and make sure you get a big bowl of it before I whisk Telamon away for other things."

Pothy groans. "Not the soup seduction technique again!"

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