Little Man for Little Pixie

Log Info

• Title: Little Man for Little Pixie

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Simony, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's home

The Lúpecyll-Atlon home, midday

It's a pleasant enough summer day. Yes, it's hot outside, but the breeze out of the west helps tamp down the worst of it. The air doesn't have that unpleasant humid feel that it's had some days so far, and it feels like everything is happily soaking in the sunlight.

The well-built two story house in the university district has its windows open, and a gnomish box-fan sits in one to help push a breeze through. The backyard flowerbeds have been replanted, to take advantage of as much of the summer months as are left. Indeed, the only disruption in the house nowadays is that half the living room is covered by dropcloths, and a modest little scaffolding has been set up for a special guest to work from.

Telamon is seated at the kitchen table, paging through some notes taken at the library, humming absently to himself. His expression has that abstracted air seen when he's thinking hard, but not so much that he's not paying attention. Meanwhile, the faerie dragon Jyndei perches on one of the covered chairs, watching the work on the ceiling with interest.

The sounds of a happy Goblin fill the living room area. The colour mix has blended well, the plaster above is at the right level of wet/dryness, and Simony is adorned with a cloth painter's smock, and an older summer dress that has seen better days, and has absorbed many painting accidents in the past.

The patter of her feet can be heard as she ascends upwards, and shortly there after, a rhythmic scraping sound can be heard as the colour is smooshed wetly into the plaster.

A low whistle can be heard, the refrain from a popular pub song, its significance either lost on Simony, or perhaps an indication of a sly cheekiness.

It's Cor'lana that mildly disturbs things when she enters in from the garden, her face blooming in a happy smile that matches the purple hyacinth that she has stowed behind one pointed ear. "Tel, the pixies are doing some lovely things--"

"Oouuuuut theeeeeeeere! Over by the 'mawr!

Taste a morning ouuuuuuut there!

Like ordinary meeeeeeeeen--"

The singing comes from a chipper little voice, a tiny woman with white butterfly wings that match the color of her flower-made dress. Her blonde ringlets are a stark contrast to the fact her eyes are jet-black from sclera to iris to pupil. She lands on Cor'lana's shoulder, tiny thing that she is, throwing her hands up as she prepares for her big finish.

Except for the fact that the little woman notices Simony painting, and she gasps. "Oh! Is that the painter who's going to paint HOT FEY BODS all over the place?"

"That was not the agreement, Lily-of-the-Valley," Cor'lana says with a sigh. "Simony, meet, err... one of my... 'servants', Lily-of-the-Valley."

Telamon glances up, blinking. "Oh! Well... sorry, I got pulled into this paper on pocket dimensions and I was a million miles away." He sets the paper down, standing up to stretch a bit. That done, he smiles at his wife, before picking up the jug of freshly-made chilled tea. "Care for a drink, love? It's fresh-brewed and cooled down." He glances over at the scaffolding. "Simony, I know you're busy but when you need a break, let me know and I'll pass you up a mug."

Then Lily gives her big musical number and he covers his mouth to stifle a grin and a laugh. "This is going to be tasteful, Lily. We will be having guests over and I don't think we want our ceiling looking like some kind of bordello."

Simony looks over to Cor'lana, smiling as the woman walks by and at the purple hyacinth behind her ear. The wee singing fey also earns a bright grin, and then a laugh as Lily spots her. "Hello, Lily-of-the-Valley, it is a pleasure to meet you. Erm. Hot fey bods? Erm, I do intend on painting some fey, yes. Why, I thought perhaps you might like to grace the painting. Much better than some silly fey boy, don't you think?"

The Goblin turns her smile on Ravenstongue, "Hello Cor'lana, it is good to see you again. That is a lovely colour of purple, the flower behind your ear. I am sorry that you have to endure the presence of a scaffold and distraction in your home."

The Goblin's ears stand up straight. "Pocket dimensions? Would that be Magpie's paper?", Simony wonders.

"Pssshhh, you think there's any bordellos with hot fey men in it?" Lily complains, pouting. "There aren't any to be in bordellos! They're all snapped up by the lords and ladies of the courts! Just like how Lady Lúpecyll snapped you up when she saw you!"

Cor'lana visibly resists the urge to sigh, instead wearing a pleasant smile with a slight glint of irritation in the violet eyes. She turns her attention to Simony instead. "Thank you, I'm fond of it myself. Our other pixie-in-residence, Mirabilis, presented it to me. She's the, ahhh, more grounded one."

"You mean killjoy," Lily-of-the-Valley replies, before she zips over to Simony to inspect the work that's been done so far. "ANYWAY. Me, in a painting? Nah. Not interested. Cute fey boys in a painting? NOW you're talking. Even better if they're kissing their lady loves. Or each other. I'm not picky."

"Please get me a drink," Cor'lana responds to Telamon's offer with a shake of her head. "The tea, not the alcohol, but I think I might be adding something extra to my tea if we're exposed to Lily-of-the-Valley overlong."

Telamon just starts pouring a mug for Lana first, shaking his head. "Lily, we are not painting that. It is going to be artistic and tasteful and something that I don't need to explain to guests while Lana blushes." He tilts his head, eyeing the little pixie as he hands the mug off to Lana before pouring his own. "Actually, you know, you could watch and learn from Simony, then do your own paintings."

Jyndei advises, "I do not believe the Lord Lúpecyll-Atlon is requesting additional artwork, though."

Tel looks like he's going to facepalm. "Yes. Please don't use our walls for experimenting, if you decide to take it up." At Simony's inquiry, though, his eyebrows shoot up. "No, this is an older paper from a Myrrish wizard who studied the subject. Magpie wrote a paper on pocket dimensions? Huh... I'll have to look it up. Have you seen it?"

"Aw, she's a dear then, she chose well, it is a great colour on you, Cor'lana." Simony smiles, and then giggles at Lily-of-the-Valley. "Well, I think the lord and lady here have requested a distinct lack of nudity and uhm spicy situations. Perhaps you could convince them to allow a fey or two... just a thought now." The Goblin's face has flushed a mottled red at this point, and it slowly seeps into her pointed ears. Her voice lowers, "A shirtless boy fey? Or perhaps, one with their shirt unbuttoned?"

"Oh, Jyndei, hello! How are you?" The whole time the Goblin speaks, the little trowel scoops up dried paint, dunks into water, and then scrapes the mixture across the plaster, laying the background for the darker sky, the starry side.

"Telamon, please excuse me, I trust you're doing well? And if I might have some of your frosted tea? I can leave it up here and sip as I go along. It looks like it's going decently, I think, this should work out well... Er, I have not seen her paper, she just happened to mention it when we were dining the other day. We also imbibed quite a bit of wine. I'll never get why she orders the regular sized wine bottles."

Lily-of-the-Valley looks like she has devious plans now. "Oh. OH. I could draw my OWN FEY BOYS KISSING. Teach me your artsy ways, Simony! I'll never have to watch a real man so long as I live! All the unbuttoned men chests! All of the hunky abs and pecs! ALL OF THEM WILL--"

Cor'lana coughs loudly. "Lily, rejoin your pixie-sister in the garden, won't you?" she asks.

Lily-of-the-Valley stands at attention and offers Cor'lana a crisp little salute. "Yes, milady, right away!" she says, zooming back out from whence she came. The house seems a little quieter now for it. And peaceful.

Cor'lana takes the mug of tea and sips from it with a little sigh. "Hello Jyndei," she greets him. "I'm glad to hear Magpie is authoring such interesting work. Maybe I ought to be... offering mentorship myself these days. Doing something to give back instead of locking myself up in the house and writing poetry."

Telamon just watches Lily zip back outside, and shakes his head. "I swear, I should find her a boy. Give her something to do." He pours a third mug for Simony, and casually levitates it up with a cantrip to the gobbo painter.

"I'll look up her paper -- or if that doesn't work, I'll just chase her down at the University. Won't be the first time." Tel grins. "I suspect dealing with wizards, she probably wants a bit more than a wee cup of wine to help soften the day's blows."

He glances at Lana, and reaches over to take her hand in his. "Do what you want, Lana. But it might not hurt. You write good poetry, and it's a salve for the soul. But I think you'd give excellent advice as well, to anyone who came asking for it honestly."

Jyndei switches his tail back and forth. "Indeed, Lady Lúpecyll-Atlon. You have a unique heritage -- a daughter of magic and the blood of the fey. Your perspective might be most welcome to one in need of counsel."

The rhythmic scratching continues, while Simony bids Lily a good day with a little wave and apologetic smile. The scratching pauses as the tea settles next to her, the Goblin sitting up and swinging her feet over the edge. Sipping at the tea, she lets out a pleased sigh. "Delicious!", she exclaims cheerfully, "Thank you, Tel!"

"Jyndei is right, Cor'lana, you have a unique perspective and have much to offer. I think Magpie would be delighted with your guidance." Simony cants her head slightly, and holds up a finger. "However, I would like to point out that you should not feel that you are 'required' to do anything. I do believe the last enemy who faced you mildly injured Telamon, and you disintegrated them..." She snaps her fingers loudly. "Like that!"

The Gobbo giggles lightly. "Give back because you are delighted to do so, not that you feel obligated, because honestly, I can count on few fingers any who have done as much or more than either of you, and perhaps but one or two who have done as much or more than the both of you put together. You do not owe anything, it is we who owe you. Gratitude, thanks, our lives."

Cor'lana looks at Simony with a smile that seems mildly hollow, a sad sort of lilt to her eyebrows. "Mildly injured," she echoes. "I wish that had been the case. I hope that no one ever has to see..."

She looks at something beyond Simony for a moment and then she sighs, turning her gaze back to her tea. "Gratitude is a tricky thing among those of my fey bloodline, Simony. Did you know? To thank a fey creature is to acknowledge an oath--that they have given you a gift or service that you will repay in kind. And an oath is a serious thing--a thing that is binding down to the soul. There are some that I have entered into happily and freely--such as swearing my eternal love and devotion to Telamon. And there are others that I have come to regret. I find myself struggling with the notion of gratitude sometimes--stuck halfway between the fey notion and the mortal notion, like all other things."

Then she takes a sip of her tea. "But I am trying to claw out a life beyond the destruction now. Beyond all that I have done and the future I want to build with Tel--somewhere along the way are the steps that will take me there. I just have to figure out what they are first."

Telamon winces ever so slightly at Simony's comment, and shakes his head. "Let's not follow that line of thought, Simony. I appreciate the thought, but... that was not fun for Lana." He squares his shoulders, his arm going around Cor'lana and giving her a squeeze.

"But yes, fey notions are not mortal notions, so take care when you toss around words like gratitude and thanks in their proximity." Telamon's expression is serious, as he looks up at Simony. "I mean, there are fey -- the Ea-bound ones, primarily -- who won't take it as an oath. But the ones from Quelynos? There's a reason I introduce myself as 'I am called', not 'I am,' or 'My name is,'. Because it'd be hellishly inconvenient to wind up name-stolen or oath-bound."

He takes a sip of his tea. "However! Let's not brood on such things, and darken the day. I for one accept your gratitude, with my sole request being that you do good for others in turn."

"I am sorry, I did not mean for that to come off as flippant. As a healer, I can empathize with how you must have felt, Cor'lana, forgive my careless words, please?" She quickly drinks down the cold tea, and putting her feet either side of the ladder, allows herself to plummet quickly to the floor, squeezing the ladder hard to pull herself to a halt just above the floor.

Her bare feet pad quietly along the drop cloths towards Cor'lana and Telamon.

"I trust you both. I do not regret thanking you, and if I must swear an oath, then I do. I will swear it to you both."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Oratory: (20)+24: 44

Cor'lana offers Simony a small smile, a little thing that looks like it might ignite into a fond laugh at any moment. "No oath is needed, Simony," she says. "I simply enjoy having your company. The lighter moments, they are ample balm for the moments of darkness. I hope you will remember them when you encounter your own moments of darkness."

She closes her eyes and says:

"For when there are none who stand

As a bastion against the darkened night,

And you are all alone in the empty world,

And left to stillness with your thoughts:

You will remember the times of light,

Where there were people who cared

And there were people who laughed

And the empty times from before go

Like shadows into the dark, never there.

For nostalgia is limited to a single color

And the palette which we paint the past

Is monochrome either in joy or in sadness

Unless you remember, unless you recall,

Unless you care to record the ways

In which all of your ghosts were there."

The poetry tumbles out of her like breathing. There is a power to her voice with them, something like magic. Tiny sparkles of it on the syllables. Something that makes them glitter in addition to being heard.

Telamon listens to his wife with a warm smile, listening to her work. "I swear, Lana, you could make the flowers themselves sit up and pay attention to you." He leans in to kiss her cheek briefly, before nodding to Simony. "As I told you before, when the world weighs upon you, sometimes you need to take a moment, reflect, and rest."

"No, there will be no oaths here. We are friends; that's what matters." He pauses. "But, ah... watch yourself around Grandfather. He has a weird sense of humor sometimes and he might think it's funny." Tel glances at Lana to head off a protest. "Remember, this is the man who took a job he didn't need at a bookstore just so he could get the first printings of the latest Crimson Pen."

The expression on the Goblin's face says she does not know what will come next, and she blinks at Cor'lana saying no oath is needed. "They are a light against the darkness. I..." Her mouth closes with a click as the poem is said, Simony's eyes saucer-wide. Towards the end, something pops, and the waterworks start, the Goblin in tears as Ravenstongue breaths out the last line of poetry. Several times she attempts to speak, and nothing comes out, except gentle sobs. Her wrists rub at her eyes and cheeks, attempting to damn the flow. "Sorry. I was not expecting that. I thought maybe you'd be mad, or indeed make me swear an oath. But a poem? About.. colours. Much like a Goblin's darkvision, nostalgia, that single colour. Well, a lack of colour, but it's a uniform lack, so, it is almost like a colour. I don't know if that makes sense."

She turns away. "I have heard about Grandfather. I will be careful should I ever meet him. I know a little bit of what you have said, about thanking them, and while the name thing confuses me, not sure how saying I am me can trap one or let them steal your name... I will take care to say that I am called. Perhaps even give myself a nickname or stage name for such a purpose." She continues to wipe at her eyes.

Cor'lana gives a sad little smile to Simony. "I suppose with my reputation and all the things I've done as of late, you might expect me to explode in rage," she says, "but I've had enough of that for a while.

She goes to let go of her mug and holds her arms out to Simony for a little hug. "It's all right. Everything will be all right in the end."

Her violet eyes close for a moment. "As my beloved husband said--rest. The tears are okay. They are in of themself a form of healing, and you were frightened by me, so let them go and free yourself."

Telamon deftly takes Lana's mug as she passes it off, setting it down. "With friends and family, all things are possible. This house is a haven to all goodly folk, who find themselves here in need of hope. That's what Lana and I deal in, more than anything else. Rekindling hope, and keeping it alight for those who might need it."

He smiles gently at Simony, and fishes a handkerchief from a pocket, offering it to her. "Can't have you soaking my tunic again, or Lana's dress," he says with a grin.

"Frightened? No. Awed." The hug is eagerly accepted, the Goblin squeezing tightly, leaning in. "You have me in awe. I am sure your anger is mighty, but muse is in you is mightier. If I could paint as you speak poems, I would put fear into artists everywhere. And thank you, for allowing this creature into your heart and home."

Simony laughs at the handkerchief, and uses it to dab at her eyes.

"So, the painting? Would it be alright if I give Lily one handsomely painted fey man, with the barest hint of a neckline and a tease of chest?" She snorts and giggles.

Cor'lana rolls her eyes and laughs happily, letting go of Simony to return to her husband's side. "One fey man," she says, "and he has to be her-sized and in the corner so she stares at him all day and leaves us alone."

She thinks that's a reasonable enough deal. "Your tunics have been put through worse, my love," she informs Telamon with a small grin. "Now, shall we let Simony get back to it? I think you might want to step outside to see what the pixies are doing with the garden."

Telamon catches Lana's hand, raising it to his lips. "I think my wife has the right of it, Simony. Let's not get carried away -- but I suppose a little something for our resident boy-watcher might not hurt." His eyes twinkle merrily. "Indeed, I think I've distracted you long enough, Simony. I'd better make sure the backyard hasn't become a jungle."

Jyndei pipes up, "If Simony needs anything, I will let you know, my lord and lady." The faerie dragon opens his wings, flexing the butterfly like pinions before relaxing on the dropcloth again, watching with interest.

Tel grins and nods. "And on that note, let's go see what's going on out there..." And with that he ambles for the backyard door.

The light clatter of feet on a metal ladder is followed by a return of the steady scraping, the dark blue spreading with each swipe of the trowel. "If we don't tell her, don't breath a word, she'll be pleasantly surprised when she sees it. I'll save it for last. It'll be her size, with a coy smile like Telamon's." There's a little giggle, while the scraping never stops.