In the Wolf's Wake

Log Info

• Title: In the Wolf's Wake

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

Lúpecyll-Atlon house, evening.

There's a vase full of flowers from Grandfather's garden that Cor'lana is tending to on the kitchen table. She admires them for a moment once they're settled in the glass structure, but her eyes linger for a moment on the sprigs of lavender that linger there. Something crosses her expression--something dark and sorrowful--and her bottom lip wobbles for a moment.

But she closes her eyes. She nods gently. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. To no one in particular, it seems.

The door is still new, a heavy wooden one, engraved with images of swooping ravens. How Telamon found it, he wouldn't say, but it's clear he does not care for a missing door on the house. The placard Grandfather placed so long ago was also found, and put back in its spot. That didn't even seem damaged. The soft click of the lock heralds the other half of the pair, as Telamon wearily treads inside.

Shutting the door, locking it, before doffing his boots... and he can tell through the bond that Lana is in one of her gray studies again, in the wake of all that's happened. Quietly, he pads up behind her -- he can't surprise her, not the way they're bonded, but it lets him put his arms around her from behind. Pressing his cheek against her hair, as he draws in her scent, cuddling her close. "Hey."

Cor'lana blooms in that way she always does when Telamon holds her, especially in the days after the breaking of the curse. She lightly smiles, leaning back into his arms in the way that only someone who trusts fully in someone else can do. "Hi," she echoes back. "I... I was thinking about going back to the Temple again later."

The joy in the bond is replaced by the tangle of grieving, in that way that mourning can reduce someone so happy moments ago back into the running river of sorrow. "I picked out some flowers for him from Grandfather's garden, too."

A mixture of emotions and thoughts come down the bond, a flicker of worry, sadness, anger -- but not at her. "Maybe," he says in a noncommittal way. "But I think we need to talk, love." Gently, he turns her to face him, so he can look into her eyes, and she can do the same with him. "Let me put some tea on, and then we can sit on the couch together." He reaches up to stroke her face, and the love flows down the bond, as strong as it ever was. But it's got a thread of concern running through it, concern for her.

The violet eyes look up at the star-flecked ones, and Cor'lana smiles just to see the stars again in Telamon's sky. "I'm sorry for making you worry," she says gently. Briefly--and only because he needs to go to the kitchen to put the tea on--she nuzzles into that space underneath his chin, stealing the small comfort of the space.

Then she lets him go, and she walks to the couch. She pulls a blanket down and wraps it around herself out of comfort, even though it's not really that cold in the house to warrant one. It'll make do for a replacement for Telamon's arms until he can come and sit next to her.

Soon the kettle is on and brewing, and Telamon leaves an unseen servant to monitor it and bring it out along with cups when it's done. That finished, he walks back out to his wife, sliding onto the couch next to her, and putting his arms around her. "I know you blame yourself," he says quietly. "That you couldn't turn him from that path. But... I honestly wonder if he wanted to turn from it."

He strokes her hair, tucking her in against his chest, as he continues to speak softly. "We talked, you know. He and I, before you rode to the rescue with your army." A touch of teasing there, and awe, in his thoughts. "I... tried as well. Hell, I told him how foolish this was, asked him to turn away from what was coming. But... I think he had lost hope. Even when I showed him there was a way -- told him of Gustov, that werewolf who we saved -- he refused it."

"I know," Cor'lana says quietly, letting the blanket shrug down her shoulders and collapse into a loose heap around her as Telamon holds her. "Dolan came by earlier and we talked a little. That it... isn't my fault. That he had chosen that path. And that the path he had left open for his survival would involve me being someone that I'm not. Betraying someone who I could never betray."

She looks up at Telamon. "Yet... You know how when you read a story that ends sadly, and you wish it went a different way? That if a character felt differently, or simple was different--everything could have ended better? I... I find myself wishing I could have been some all-powerful fae queen, that I could have commanded his heart into a new purpose and new capacity. But I am only me. A poet. And I was only ever capable, apparently, of writing the tragedy that happened."

Tears brim up in her eyes. "I wish I had known from the beginning that he was like me. I regret writing those letters. I regret leading him on. I don't ever want to do anything like that ever again."

Telamon just folds his arms around her, pressing her close again. "Dolan's a good man. He gives good advice." Kissing the top of her head, letting her cling to him. The guiding star to lead her.

"The blame rests on both of us. We were fools -- children playing with fire, or worse." Telamon's voice is firm, without hesitation, but ladled with remorse. "I ...don't know if we could have stopped him from his end. He served the Nightmare. His story was never going to end well, regardless." He heaves a sigh. "He told me he was their recruiter. So perhaps we've saved more than a few souls from becoming infected with lycanthropy as well."

"I wish it hadn't ended this way either, love." He doesn't try and stop her from weeping, instead kissing her brow. "But never forget that he chose that path. As much as he may have been like you... I don't think he was worthy of you. He embraced the darkness, he never tried to fight it or move past it. Remember all his sins. Mourn for what might have been, for lost opportunities and missed chances and unsaved souls. But let him go."

Cor'lana closes her eyes for a moment. "I never dreamed for a moment of ever betraying you for him," she says. "You're the only one I could ever feel this way about, Telamon. I just--I wish there had been someone for him. Someone who could have returned the love that he wanted. Because I could have seen myself becoming lost in despair to see you with someone else who had entered your heart first. I could have fallen into the darkness that dwells in the Unseelie soul, and I might not have ever come out. A raven yearning to fly among your stars but never able to fly high enough to touch them--like how he was a wolf yearning for the moon he saw."

Her arms are tight around Telamon for a moment. "I know I'm lucky. Every single day, I think, 'how could he have fallen for me? I know nothing of romance,' and I am still reminded--I truly don't. Because you're the only one I've ever loved like that. The only one who's ever loved me like that. Even in the wake of Zalgiman, that's true--because his love was born of that dark and despair that he dwelled in."

A soft chuckle. "I never doubted you for a moment, love." Warmth floods down the link between them, and the absolute certainty of his love for her. "But Lana... you would never have done those things. The things he did. Not just being a werewolf -- he committed all manner of crimes against people, and drew others into the vicious cycle. It's like..." He pauses, and his arms tighten, just a little bit. "Like when I looked at Karan'taara, and wondered if we were the same."

"Then I realized we had nothing in common, beyond being the siring of elf and human. Nothing. I love you, and always will, until the stars go out and the sun goes cold and even then I will continue to love you. But like him, I think you had, have, very little in common with Zalgiman."

"It's..." Cor'lana thinks for a moment. She feels stronger, certainly, in the bond and in the way she holds Telamon. "I realize now that I have no way of knowing if some things that he and I shared interest in--such as poetry--were because of his obsession with me, or if he had always been interested. There were things like..."

She sighs. And there's a twinge of fear in the bond. "Do you remember that dress he sent to me? The one I had donated? I never tried it on, but I knew immediately that it would fit me perfectly. Like either he'd figured out my measurements simply from observing me, or he'd pressed Jovani for details. Even being in that bookstore one day--it seemed like he was hoping he'd meet me there, eventually. But I don't know. And I never will know. Because he's gone."

There's a moment, before she adds: "And... I should move on. I will always mourn, I think, the man he could have been. What I saw that could have been. But just like he imagined me as the perfect lover to save him--I could only be imagining that he might have been the perfect friend."

Telamon nods, gently rubbing his cheek against hers. "There are so many sad could-have-beens in the world. I can understand praying for him to find mercy in the court of the Grey Harpist. We both tried to save him, and we both failed." He closes his eyes, feeling tired for a moment. "All we can do now is continue what we've started. Tear down what he built, drive the werewolves out, and hope that the future will be better."

He tips her face up to his, and kisses her gently. "But don't let him haunt you, love. Whatever compassion you may have for him -- and I love you because of it -- should be tempered with the knowledge that in the end, he was the architect of his own demise."

She lingers in that kiss even after it's done, in the sense that the warmth of that small connection stays on her side of the bond because she's mentally holding onto it, compelling it to stay--maybe more accurately, savoring it like it's her favorite dish. "I'll remember that," Cor'lana answers. "Because it's worth remembering the evil that he did, willingly, enthusiastically. It's worth remembering what he did to you. I..."

There's a flare of anger now within her heart and in her eyes in that feytouched way, where the merest thought can suddenly stoke her rage. "Marsward Seraquoix. I intend to see him dead, so that he can't bring in someone like Zalgiman again into the Hound's service. I think--once he's dead, then it really will end. All of what I'm feeling, gone with his head on the ground."

Telamon gives her a squeeze, and nods. "Being a monster... very few people start out that way. But eventually..." He firmly nods at her determination, her anger. "He's got a lot to answer for. A lot of debts to pay. And I will be happy to help you collect." At this juncture, the unseen servant drifts over, carrying a tray with the teakettle and mugs. "Finally," he comments with a grin.

As the tea is poured, Telamon looks thoughtfully at Lana. "I think once we've dealt with Seraquoix, we both need a vacation. The world's our oyster, as the saying goes -- and we can go beyond if we need to. Grandfather's place, or the Jade Islands, or Veyshan. Get away for a while."

The anger melts away with the suggestion of the vacation. Cor'lana smirks a little. "I think a vacation sounds like a magnificent idea," she says. "But... I'll be honest and say I think I wouldn't mind that estate in Marniar'nir again. We got to be close enough to 'home' on multiple fronts to feel safe, yet isolated enough to feel like we really had the run of the place to ourselves."

Cor'lana nuzzles herself underneath Telamon's chin. "Granted, we also spent half of that honeymoon holed up inside. On account of the rain." It was truly and only the rain and nothing more. Clearly. (The mental bond, of course, betrays this jest.)

He tucks her into her happy place under his chin, arms snug around her. "The Vestreven estate? That's a possibility too. Hell, at this point I wouldn't mind crashing in my old bedroom back at the Atlon family home. Of course, we'd need a bigger bed..." Telamon wiggles his eyebrows playfully. "Or maybe not."

Chuckling, he looks out over their happy home. "I'm so glad I'm here with you. I know you wake up wondering 'why did he choose me?', but I feel exactly the same. I'm astonished to be here, like... it's some impossible dream. But it's not, I know it's not, and it makes it even more amazing."

Cor'lana grins a little. "I'm small enough I could probably fit in your old bed," she says. "That being said... I wouldn't put it past your mother to have installed a bigger bed already without your knowing. She wants grandchildren as badly as Grandfather wants them, and... Well, a bed's not required for them, but it certainly is helpful."

... And with a blush on her face thanks to some unbidden mental images in the bond, she shakes her head. "It is very much something I never thought I'd have," she says. "Being your wife. Being anyone's wife, really, but being loved by someone wonderful, who adores me for me? I dreamed of it and wrote of it as a teenager. I never thought it'd truly be. But then I took a daring chance and moved here to Alexandria. And I met you that fateful day in the fall."

"Sometimes, dreams come true, love." Telamon gestures, and a cup of tea floats over, which he offers to Lana. "And sometimes... it feels like it was meant to be. I know I don't usually put much stock in that -- I prefer to make my own luck -- but I'm not complaining. Not one bit. You were beautiful the day we met, and you're beautiful now. And I think you're a lot stronger than you realize, and when you do realize it, well... the world had best step a bit more carefully around you."

His eyes twinkle. "Because I, for one, am not going to save people from their own foolishness if they decide you look like a soft touch. I know the feathers hide sharp eyes and sharp claws."

Cor'lana happily takes the tea, sipping it gently. "I don't think I was beautiful then," she says, "but I will happily accept any lapse of judgment you made in falling in love with me. I can only hope I am worthy of your love in the modern day."

Her violet eyes twinkle over the rim of her teacup. "Speaking of which--I do believe I have a Guild assignment for tomorrow," she says. "I know you have a Chalice meeting. But I'm admittedly looking forward to seeing how this adventure pans out. Since I discovered I can shift between planes successfully--I am eager to see what all I can do."

Telamon nods, slightly sourly. "The Chalice was kind of insistent -- evidently I have to chair the meeting to boot. Something about 'leadership responsibilities'." He just sighs. "In what started as a club for noble dilettantes. What the hells..."

He hugs Cor'lana tightly. "Just be careful. I know you're strong, that your powers have flourished just like mine. But don't showboat or get cocky. Do the job and be done -- I'll have dinner waiting for you." His eyes sparkle as he looks at her, taking a sip of his tea.

"Well, I have to admit I am a little... Excited, I suppose you could say. This is apparently a job to do with a member of fey nobility called the Lord of Ears." Cor'lana smiles. "Given that he's entirely unknown to me, this will be... a quenching of curiosity, and perhaps a chance to prove myself to another aspect of the Courts."

She squeezes Telamon back. "Make it a dinner favorite for both Pothy and I? I'll be bringing him with me, I think. Although I wouldn't object to being whisked off my feet as soon as I'm home to be brought out to dinner... Say, at the Rosalian Rose?" She's pushing her luck, but hey, maybe Uncle Gerald can slide them in.

Tel hms at that. "Sounds vaguely ominous. I mean, 'Lord of Ears'? Hopefully he doesn't have a necklace of them... well, with you there any kind of discussion should go all right. Maybe he's heard of you, too." He kisses her cheek, trying not to let too much worry leak down the bond.

"The Rose? Hmm. Well, let me see what I can do. Gerald likes me, and I think Liandra does too. I'll put that boyish charm to work. If nothing else, maybe I can convince them to let me get takeout." He laughs softly, and nuzzles her before taking another sip of his tea.

Cor'lana grins a little. "For all we know, he could be the Lord of Ears because he likes music. Or poetry. In which case, he and I might become fast friends."

The idea of Telamon getting takeout from the Rosalian Rose, however? That puts astonishment into the bond. Cor'lana looks at Telamon for a long moment. "You're worried for my safety, Tel? I pity any poor bastard that walks up to Liandra asking for her food in a portable container to leave her restaurant. She might do it for you and solely on the basis that she's married to a man related to me by blood and has children with him."

She snorts just a little, shaking her head. "You are braver than I am in many instances. Foolish, too. But--I can't complain. At the end of the day, I love you for both."

Telamon shrugs lightly. "Could be? Let me know how it goes. I'm really curious -- I mean, usually fey nobles tend to be a bit esoteric in their titles."

He laughs softly. "Oh, if I was just anyone I wouldn't even try, love. But if they can't find us a table I'll impress upon Gerald and Liandra how much you desire a wonderful meal, and that we'll make sure Pothy is on his best behavior, and if we can't have it there could I at least bring it home to you?" He bats his eyes in mock innocence.

"Yes, foolish. We're both fools, I suppose. And in love. But that's how the story goes."

And so life goes on in the Lúpecyll-Atlon home.