Faeology 101

Log Info

• Title: Faeology 101

• Emitter: Telamon

• Characters: Carver, Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

Lupecyll-Atlon home, midday

The sun pours out across the city, the green of springtime appearing around it. Fluffy clouds against a brilliant blue sky; it's perfect weather for any number of things.

The windows of a familiar two-story house are open to let in the fresh breezes and warm air, and in the kitchen Telamon is humming to himself as he stirs a thick soup on the stove. Chunks of chicken and fresh vegetables and herbs bob around in the broth, and the half-elf sniffs at it approvingly before sliding out a well-baked loaf of bread from the oven. Dressed in casual linens with a 'Kiss the Cook' apron on, his hair tied back neatly, Tel leans out of the kitchen. "A few more minutes. I think the soup can stand to simmer a little longer."

"A few more minutes?" That cherubic little voice belongs to Pothy, who is... 'supervising', for some definition of the word, in the kitchen. Yes. Supervising. He's on the kitchen counter, eyeing the soup longingly with those blue eyes of his. The white-feathered bird gives a few impatient and eager wing-flaps as he protests, "But it's already been an hour. I'm starving. Wasting away."

"Oh, Pothy." Cor'lana is at the table in the living room, glaring at a half-written poem in her hand-bound journal (something she's taken to doing as of late; a sorceress needs hobbies, and she can't do the knitting, crocheting, and sewing that her Grandfather does). She sighs and abandons the effort, going into the kitchen. "I promise you won't waste away to feathers and bone."

"I'm a stiff breeze from floating away. I'll become expired, ceased to be. An ex-Pothy." Pothy groans as he's collected up in Lana's arms and held like a baby in a rather undignified position. "Must you?"

"If you're going to whine like a baby, you're going to be held like a baby." Lana smiles mischievously. "Tel, hand me the kitchen towel so I can swaddle him?"

"NooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO," Pothy screams, wiggling a little in Lana's grasp, but... He's not exactly putting up that much of a fight for a bird who's screaming that much.

Carver clicks her tongue twice and Deathless stands to attention. She bats behind one of the ears playfully before looking back to the two-story house she visited before, flaring her nostril as the drifting aroma of baked bread and simmering soup. Ah, peaceful domestic life. Not her expertise. A deep breath and she steps away from her friend to call upon famous celebrity power couple.

Her knuckles rap against the front door, a hearty pop-pop, before looking down over herself to measure the attire. She's for the first time in a long time not dressed for war. Her long hair has been bound up and tucked into her liripipe of sky blue and the rest of her attire is of brighter colors, with long gray tunic and leggings. She kept her big, rugged boots though.

Her head snaps up at the tortured screaming, though, and the door slams open and she storms in with a long bared blade.

Much later perhaps she will admit that her sudden rush inside was ill-concieved if noble in intent.

Telamon just rolls his eyes at Pothy. "Pothy, you are a big salty ham. You had a nice bowl of fresh-grown blueberries this morning, do not even start with that garbage." He grabs the dishtowel and deftly tosses it to Lana.

At the knock, Tel says, "Can you get that?" turning to look at the front door as he leans out of the kitchen area. His starry eyes are amused. "I'm sure--" And then the door bangs open and the genial expression falls off with frightening speed. It's only a stroke of luck that he arrests his instant reaction to cast a spell, hands still up. "Carver! WHAT THE HELLS?"

Cor'lana's violet eyes are wide as dinner plates--same as Pothy's, who is now very still and not screaming in Lana's arms--as she has the towel in her hand, not yet in the motions to swaddle Pothy. "There's a reasonable explanation for this!" she says.

Pothy bird-blinks those blue eyes of his as he says, "Are you here to save me from starvation?"

That gets him a pair of fingers wrapped gently around his beak, which is Lana's usual nonverbal way of saying 'shush you'. Cor'lana sighs. "Sorry, Pothy's being a brat. You must have heard the screaming, huh? Everything's okay, I promise!"

Carver isn't the same girl that stumbled into Alexandria, in some ways she is far more impressive. In others? Still impulsive and reckless. She's baring a blade at the Power Couple of Alexandria, urged on by sleepless nights poking and prodding for hidden enemies; murderers, fey, black cats, oh my.

She licks dry lips as green eyes sweep across Ravenstongue, across to half-cradled little bundle of white-feathered trouble, then across to Telamon with hand raised. She very slowly, very obviously, lays the knife on the nearest flat surface. "Sorry, I... sorry."

"I heard him." She puts the clues together now. "I thought something might be happening inside."

There's a moment, a breathless one, where Telamon stares at Carver. Looking at her, and what's scary is not that he's angry, but the possibility that he sees more than just what might be initially apparent. The moment passes then, and Tel lowers his hand, taking a breath. "Fucking hell, Carver... I must've forgotten to throw the bolt when I came back from the market. I'll check it later and make sure there's no damage. Would you mind closing it?"

Tension drains away, as the sorcerer returns to that steaming pot, stirring it again. "You're just in time for lunch. There's your penance; you have to sit down and eat with us." His lips quirk up. "Don't worry, the only utensil you'll need is a spoon."

"Considering what has happened inside this house before, I don't blame you for making the call." Cor'lana smiles as she finally swaddles Pothy in the dish towel, and she walks over to put swaddled-Pothy in a chair like he's people. She then walks over to Telamon and gives him a comforting rub on the shoulder, followed by a kiss on the cheek (that she has to get on her tiptoes to give him). "Everything's okay," she murmurs softly.

Then she looks back at Carver with a smile. "And maybe a tolerance for Pothy," she adds onto Telamon's second remark. "That's not really utensil so much as it is an act of mental fortitude."

Pothy, swaddled up in cotton, murmurs, "Sorry for yelling," exactly in the way that one might expect a five-year-old boy to.

"I knew he talked, but... did not know the voice that came with the knowledge." Carver admits, turning to secure the door. Which surprisingly has a very large horse's head sticking through and looking about curiously. "Oi, what are you.. Tu-tu-tu," The ranger gives the command to back up and seems surprised when there is no initial response. Instead, the horse just stares at Raventongue and Pothy. "Oh come on, I've embarassed myself enough. Tu-tu-tu," The command comes with more emphasis and the horse head bows back out with a practiced retreat. Carver sighs as she closes the door and secures it. "Sorry, maybe he sensed there was trouble by what I did. I can eat, thank you... an iffin' you don't mind?"

She works anxious fingertips together. "I have some questions I'd like to ask."

"See, even the horse is curious about what's for lunch." Telamon can't hide a slight grin as Carver backs Deathless up onto the street. "Or maybe he wonders what it's like to deal with sorcerers."

"As annoyed as I might be, I can't fault you too much, Carver. There are never enough people willing to charge to the sound of trouble." Tel shrugs. "No blood, no foul." Smoothly, he begins ladling soup into four large bowls, setting each on a large wooden platter along with spoons. The bread is sliced and placed on another platter, along with honey and butter. Then both are carried to the dining room table, and set out. "Alright, lunch is on. Sit, sit, we'll get to your questions. You know I'm happy to help when someone needs it."

"Aww! Poor horse. I think we have a carrot or two hanging out in our pantry," Cor'lana remarks. "In case you want a treat to give to Deathless on your way out later." She takes a seat at the table, smiling at Telamon for the meal.

Pothy looks at Carver for a moment. "Yeah. I'm me. I talk like this freely in the house--or whenever Lana kisses me on my head." He looks oddly pleased with himself for this knowledge. "This is my true voice."

"Don't get it wrong, though, Pothy is very old. He was passed down from one of my mother's ancestors, at least a few centuries ago. Whoever gets Pothy gets their magic awakened." Cor'lana is smiling as she makes sure Pothy gets a bite of bread. "Now, what questions do you have? Like Tel said, we're always happy to help."

"She woul' appreciate it." Carver says, taking a seat awkwardly. "I try not to jus' leave her out but, well, I don't usually do house calls an' I'm wild enough of a disturbance, iffin' you can't tell." She studies Pothy as some of their story is ladled out along with the soup. "Quite the legacy. I, er, named Deathless like I did cause I'd like if she could live long like that after Lambchop. I'm pretty sure hundreds of years is not something either of us are likely to get though. Thanks, I'll try not to ruin your appetites. Some of yous," Glance to Telamon, "Are maybe a little more caught up than others but recently got more fey can shake a stick at. Two nereids, both from the Midnight Foam, with one jealous of the other's mortal lovers. Little petty players in the summer courts, I think, that also cared enough to try to keep the pair apart. Got a cat, unlike any I've seen, changin' hands between all of them."

"I got to admit. I'm a bit loss. Every time I think I got a lead, I get stuck with more whimsy. Got me thinkin'. My perspective? Wrong."

It's a simple meal, but hearty and the kind that warms the soul as well as the belly. Telamon takes a spoonful, nodding, before he turns his attention to Carver's words. His expression thoughtful.

"It won't be the first time, I'm afraid, and it won't be the last. The fey... like to play in the world. Sometimes it's fairly benign, other times... not so much." The sorcerer dips a bit of bread in his soup before chewing on it contemplatively. "And their schemes can get convoluted. Remember: when you have all the time in the world, you can plan out all sorts of things."

"So this is bound up in Lady Sura's woes. And the cat, of course. Can't forget the cat." He looks at Lana, making a face. "I almost think we need a chalkboard and diagrams."

Cor'lana looks contemplative. "Mmmm... You know, it could be a weird case where you're right and wrong at the same time." She finishes a bite of her own bread. "Like Telamon said, fae plans are convoluted, often in response to old grudges that may have happened many, many years ago. Sometimes those grudges are hardly remembered, save that they are grudges."

She thinks for a moment. "The Court of the Midnight Foam, as I recall, is aligned with the Unseelie. So they swear fealty to a new monarch. The Summer Court is the court ruled by the 'leader' of the Seelie, King Obyron. When you see Seelie and Unseelie at each other's throats, it's not uncommon. They're considered opposites, like summer and winter. When they're smaller players in the courts, though, they tend to be going after each other about their smaller squabbles and grudges..."

Pothy looks at Carver. "Maybe you could... talk to one of these nereids?" he suggests. "Not this Lady Sura, but the other one. I'm sure Cor'lana or Telamon can help get you an audience."

Carver tastes the soup with caution, blowing on the spoon to cool it. At Pothy's suggestion she nods. "Let no one say you have no wisdom. Though when last I saw 'Mori'? It was while aiding her capture of person and threatening her man but if I am wrong and these nobles are from the Unseelie, than that points even more to Sura. Who definitely has the greatest motive."

"But, there is a little more. It is a bit violent so if you want to uh...". She mimes covering her ears, no doubt meaning the little baby boy. Her spoon stirs thd soup. "There is the matter of the Puppy. We escorted one of the Lord Tamlins to the arcanist dungeon. The other? I shot and killed. In the Sweetlands. If they are of the Unseelie court than I fear caused more trouble for their new Queen."

Telamon shakes his head. "Don't be fooled. Pothy's seen and heard worse." He frowns, tapping his fingertips. "With the new Queen of the Unseelie, you'd think they'd be busy jockeying for position in her new court, not meddling in random love affairs with mortals."

His eyebrows shoot up at the news one of the 'Lords Tamlin' is now in the dungeon, and the other is dead. "Well. That may put an end to it. Or not. Though I doubt Alexandria will be able to keep a fey for too long. Easier just to kick them out." He takes another spoonful of soup. "Why'd they even come at the Pup's call? The whole point of discarding a tool is you don't go back to it. You don't answer their letters, or their callings. Stupid."

Pothy looks at Carver for a moment, before he says softly, "The previous Queen of the Unseelie tortured me. Telamon speaks true." Which are absolutely horrible words to come out of the raven's mouth in so young and innocent of a voice, but he pauses a moment to eat soup. "I think, Telamon, it's mortals that are precisely the problem. The new Queen was, until recently, a mortal woman."

Cor'lana blinks on that comment. "Meaning that anyone known to be dallying with anyone not fae might be scrutinized," she says. "Even more intently than before. Telamon's right, though. It's either ineptitude or some kind of power that Cerberus had over them without even knowing about it. Or they thought they could strongarm him into some new mission." She looks at Carver for a moment more thoughtfully. "The other 'Lord Tamlin' is in the dungeon... Have they not been willing to talk? I imagine not."

"Fey was not something I learned about in Dran. Other than how to kill them. It wasn't until I came to Yggsdrassil's teachers that I learned a little more. They taught me of the most recent cruel leadership, I am sorry you had to suffer that... an, yous got it, I think. Maybe they wished to finangle their own value from the Puppy's desperation. They certainly did not believe me when I, and others, warned them. They did not believe us worth anything more than scorn. Now I got one's hatred at least."

She shrugs. "An' no, uh, Lady Mage. She ain't spoke a word to us since. Not that I can blame her as she seemed quite upset at the death of her blue friend. Got her mask but not her tongue."

Carver stirs the soup again. She doesn't eat very much. As Aelwyn would say, being so uptight is bad for the stomach. "I thought about lettin' them slip free. Make sure they target me, an' not Cerberus. He's got his whole new life. If they direct it to me, the one who did the killin', seemed fair... an' makes for easier targets." To maybe kill others. Though this time. Maybe she'll use the dream-arrows rather than cold iron.

Telamon idly runs his hand through his hair. "Interesting. I wonder if we should meet with this Lord... Lady Tamlin." He rubs his chin. "If she's Unseelie, I suppose we could dump her back in the Unseelie Court with a request to not let her roam around unsupervised." His lips quirk at the sally. "If not, well... we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

He looks at Carver. "Sometimes it's hard for those who stand outside Ea -- fey, celestials, fiends, and whatever else -- to take mortals seriously. The ones that have more contact with mortals, ironically, -do- take us seriously. They know we can be dangerous." He shakes his head at Carver. "These two idiots set a desperate young man up to commit acts of brigandry and worse. Stop losing sleep over having to kill one. They started it."

Cor'lana nods soberly to Telamon's point regarding extraplanar entities taking mortals seriously. "There are fae who are prejudiced and believe mortals to be nothing more than toys and playthings," she says, reaching over to pet Pothy's feathers. He's very sweet when he's calm and quiet, as he actually nuzzles up against Cor'lana's fingers. "The previous Unseelie Queen was like that. And now she's dead--killed by a woman who was once mortal, who has taken her throne. I think the nobility of Quelynos are seeing a long-overdue reckoning, and it's scaring them badly."

Then she smiles sympathetically at Carver. "I don't think anyone enjoys taking a life, beyond sadists--and Telamon and I have met our fair share of those. You have a good heart. The fact you cared about Cerberus that much is proof. You want him to have better... And he should. Everyone who is gentle at heart should."

Pothy finally pipes up, "You know, if 'Lady Tamlin' is Unseelie, I don't think her new Queen would like her very much for bullying Cerberus. I'm just saying."

Carver says, "He would have been dead without Deathless, so... its easier when she is around. He's a good boy, and deserves a chance for his life. Dumb though.". She takes a deep breath, "No, Pothy, I suspect that would be terrifying for her. I met her. She was... intense. So this Mori or the new Queen, either of which you can make introductions for? Any, uh, things I should avoid if I do talk to them?". Can you shake a fey's hand without suddenly being married to one?

Telamon furrows his brow. "I hate calling on her Majesty again, after getting her to take in Cerberus. I think the first step might be an interview with this 'Tamlin'. Before we make any plans to call on Lady Mori, or anyone else." He shows his teeth in a hard grin. "Although I'm tempted to bring Grandfather along. See how high-and-mighty this 'Tamlin' might be in front of the Feathered One."

"If you deal with fey, Carver, don't thank them, don't accept gifts right off, and listen carefully to their words. Introduce yourself as 'I am called' or 'Some know me as', because some of them like to steal names, and that's a whole bag of trouble you don't want to deal with."

"And no thanking them," Cor'lana adds as she finishes up a slice of her bread. She's enjoying her meal greatly. "Say 'I appreciate it' instead. Thanking the fae is more or less acknowledging an oath. It's complicated; it has to do with the laws of hospitality."

She looks at Telamon. "I'm not sure if bringing in Grandfather is wise. While he's not really an active member of the Court, he still played a role in the previous Unseelie Queen's death. She might well clam up around him..."

"Take me." Pothy looks at Carver. "I was known in the previous Queen's court as the Ever-child. So long as Lana kisses me on my head, I can speak with my true voice outside of the house for about half an hour before I need to be kissed again."

The ranger smiles, though it does not reach her eyes. "Be careful with their fruits and wine, lest you lose the taste for those that grow on normal vines. The druids taught me that one an' uh, my Mada, she taught me names got power. Why no one really knows mine. So that one at least will be easy. Though I guess I would be pissed iffin' they took it from me all the same." Carver admits. The stocked smile softens a little at Pothy. "Ever-Child, eh? I guess you'd prefer not to be called that though. Not a peaceful time in that long-life."

She gives up even her half-hearted attempts to satisfy a guest's courtesy of appreciating food with an apologetic look to the Archmage. "It is very good, but I guess jus' not much appetite right now. I, heh, appreciate it. Your wisdom even more so. Both of you."

"There is, uh, one more thing."

"The world is sometimes messy, confusing, and there's always tears. So it falls to us to try and set it right, when we can, as much as we can." Telamon's smile is gentle, and his starry eyes kind. "But never, ever be afraid to ask for help. You might think you're bothering, or perhaps feel a little humiliated, but I assure you it's much, much better than failure. Especially if you fear you might fail someone else."

He tilts his head, his eyes flicking to Lana curiously before back to Carver again. "One other thing, hm? Well, let's hear it. I admit I'm curious."

Pothy gives a little tail-wag that is fairly universal of a happy animal at Carver. "I'd like it most if you called me 'friend'," he says sweetly. "It's a better moniker than Ever-Child. Even if most people who have called me that have gone on to the Halls... it's got happy memories associated with it."

Well, Cor'lana finds herself stroking Pothy in a placating gesture, smiling fondly at the bird before she looks at Carver. "One more thing?" she asks in a dumb echo of Carver's remark.

"I can do that, friend." Carver says. "It woul' be my honor."

She avoids matching either of the Archmage's gaze, "Ah, well. After this is resolved. Iffin' you're okay with it... Pothy, he said, he said you let him share his voice with a kiss. Maybe when this is all over you could, uh..."

Awkward silence. VERY VERY VERY quiet question.

"Coul' you maybe kiss Deathless too?"

Cor'lana blinks, but then her expression blooms into a wide, wide grin. "Of course," she says. "I think everyone deserves to know what their best animal friend sounds like."

Pothy looks up at Cor'lana. "Cheater," he mumbles in an accusing tone.

"Cheater!?" Cor'lana eyes the raven with more than an ounce of (faux) ire. "You're such a strange little bird."

That prompts a little boyish laugh from Pothy, who flies away from the table before Cor'lana can catch him.

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