A Lost Fey Puppy

Lupecyll-Atlon home, evening

A rap of knuckles, a ranger seeks shelter...

Warmer than even a few weeks prior, no longer blanketed in white, the night city of Alexandria in this part of the city is usually kept to a minimum. It is entertained by scholar's candles and rustling pages rather than potent ale and stomping feet. The cowled ranger is out of place at the feet of academia, but when wisdom is something one seeks, are there many better places to find it?

Her breathy exhale steams out from beneath the hood, as she looks down one street and the other, a precaution very unneeded. Then, remembering, she tosses her hood back. Without her warpaints, it's mostly the large hooked nose that is her most defining and recognizable trait. Thankfully? Front and center should anyone peer through the peek hole.

The knock at the door jars Telamon out of his thoughts. Seated in his living room, a book open in his lap, the rakish half-sil picks up his tome and sets it aside. The blankets next to him shift and squirm, and a small orange head pops out.

"Shall I get the door, Lord Telamon?" Jyndei asks in his squeaky voice. Telamon chuckles, pushing himself to his feet. "I think I can handle it, Jyndei." He stretches, his slim form garbed in a simple woolen tunic, trousers, and slippers. Padding over to the door, he peers at the peek-hole, blinking a moment before unlocking the door and opening it.

"Carver," he says politely, his expression not unwelcoming, merely puzzled. "Please, come in," he steps aside, beckoning the ranger to enter. Inside it's quite nice, a blend of styles, and small pots and planters everywhere with flowers growing in them. Maybe not as extensive as the gardens, or the actual wild, but there's a nice green smell in the house. "Why don't I take your cloak? I've got some tea brewing."

At least if this is an assassination attempt, it might be the laziest one ever. Carver enters, expression placid as she looks around. One can see her hesitate on the flowers, a hamster's wheel spinning, no doubt recalling acquired knowledge solely for the purpose of botanical identification. His request has her unclasp the heavy, fur-lined thing, folding it gently. "It has needle near the right brooch. Don't pricka finger." She then offers it to the Archmage, or if he's more cautious, to the help. Who considering their nature probably isn't the 'help'. She also did not bring her bow.

Okay, definitely not an assassination attempt at this point. Gloved fingers are bit at to remove them, tucking into the collar of her briar-laced armor. "I ain't mucking up your plans, am I?"

The cloak is hung up next to the door on a stout wooden peg, and Telamon shakes his head. "Quiet evening for me. Lana went to visit her cousin, she'll be back later, and my friend Jyndei is here visiting." The half-sil leads Carver into the living room proper...

...Where a small orange dragon with butterfly wings perches on the back of one of the chairs, tail switching back and forth as he looks at Carver with interest. "Greetings," the dragonet says in a high-pitched voice, "and welcome to the home of the Lord and Lady Lupecyll-Atlon. I am Jyndei."

Telamon smiles at his friend, before pointing Carver to one of the chairs. "Please, sit down, rest." He turns to apparently empty air, addressing it. "Go collect the kettle and two cups, and bring them here." He looks back at Carver. "Can I offer you anything to eat?" There's a soft susurrus in the air, as -something- moves off into the kitchen.

"Carver." The ranger introduces herself without curtsey or bow, considering the fey creature for a heartbeat. No threat. Clearly a friend to the masters of the house, and usually more prone to mischief than outright harm. Too well socialized to be looking for trouble at this immediate time. "You're far from where I'd expect to see you." Out of place?

Well, considering the family of feycentric bonded by whimsy and ancient bloodlines? Probably not. Her eyes cut sharp back at peripheral motion. Too quick to take conscious stock of whatever that was.

She finally looks back to Telamon, running the knuckles over her left hand across her cheek at the gentle murmuring. "Nice place. Not hungry... I don't eat much these days."

She moves to the chair, sinking into it. Uncomfortable even with how comfortable it is. Blah, blah, blah. Saddle. Blah, blah, blah. Earth floor.

Soon, a teakettle and cups come floating out and set down gently on the table, as Telamon takes a seat opposite Carver. His dark, star-shot eyes full of calm, radiating thoughts of pleasant evenings, listening to the wind as Eluna makes her way across the heavens. Deftly, Tel pours the tea... one cup for Carver, one for himself, and one for Jyndei.

Jyndei perks up, large eyes blinking. "Oh, I once became trapped in the Shining Chalice's meeting place. I heard the Lord and Lady speaking my tongue, and approached them thinking they were from Quelynos. While they were not, they treated me kindly, and so they are my friends along with Apotheosis and the pixies!"

Telamon chuckles. "It was there that Jyndei discovered he had no taste for pickled mountain oysters. In any case, he visits me regularly, fills me in on gossip, and keeps me company. So why don't you tell me what's troubling you, Carver?"

"Goat eggs," Carver says, fingers drumming at the armrest. "Was pretty common in Dran. We preferred them to bulls, maybe jus' because they were more common there. Some clans, even, when they gelded a great beast would consume them to take the strength of the stallion." She sniffs at the cup as it brought to her, not out of fear of poison. She seems to take more comfort from the dull warmth through the mug than the drink itself. "Troubled isn't quite right. More like... anxious, innit? I have a favor to ask actually." She does not play coy. Instead, she lays the favor out and gives context where it is needed or wanted. He probably does not wish to hear about her well-heeled theories about the devil cat. "There's a mage what kept in the Arcanist's dungeon. He wants to make some sort of penance, and a way to give him that and somethin' I need is possible but... well, he's got some legal troubles first."

The tea smells of lavender and mint, a soothing concoction. Something to warm the heart on a cool evening. Telamon nods and grins. "Yeah, I saw some of that when Father and I were traveling. Goats are easier to manage, too -- a full sized bull can be a bit of a hassle if you don't have enough pasture." Tel takes a sip of his tea, his eyebrows rising at the mention of a favor. Curiosity shines from his eyes.

"Hmm. If someone's in the Arcanists' dungeon, they're generally there for a good reason. But... I've always been a proponent of redemption and penance, and if he's serious it's better than having to lock him up again -- or worse." The half-elf glances at Jyndei, before continuing, "What kind of trouble is he in?"

"He's half fey." Carver says. This is an important bit of context. "Mother human, father some evergreen lord. Got some potential as a spellcaster, tried to drown Deathless once and some frost magic. Nothin' at your level but considering it's likely all self-taught?" She shrugs at the implied talent. "Got pulled into a plot between a mortal lord, one Ahu, and a Nereid Lady. Some masked fey who didn't want those two reconciling. So hired him to do some banditry in turn they would show him to the 'Green World'."

She ticks off a few things, "Attacked a winter's strawberry shipment, some other things. Don't know how many he killed himself but know the men he hired? Not good lot. So possible he was involved with a death an' maybe he wasn't." Lack of evidence is good, but doesn't stop the potential what business he got into? Would have led him to that moral event. "Got a few people, not me, who vouched for him already but the jailers are not fully convinced."

Telamon blinks, slowly. "A changeling? That's... unusual. I've encountered one before." His expression grows a bit stern. "But turning to banditry isn't a good path, no matter who's offering you things in return." He takes another sip of tea. "Plus... hm. I don't know if changelings are actually -liked- in Quelynos. Whoever this was may have been stringing the poor bastard along."

"I heard Lord Ahu hadn't been seen for a while." Telamon's eyebrows rise. "He was romancing a nereid? Huh. Well, who am I to judge? But that's not the issue here -- this fellow cooling his shoes in the prison is." He sets his cup down, tapping his fingers together. "Anything else about him?"

"Of course they were." Carver says with a scoff. "He was a tool. You don't reward tools cause they did their job. Iffin' they wanted him to come along, they wouldn't have hid their faces. There's more, I 'spose. Not sure how much is relevant. There's this black cat who was in Ahu's posession that isn't a cat. Or maybe not jus' a cat."

She sips from her tea. "Uh, the Mourning Lady, she looked into it deeper and whatever it was caused her to faint. When I asked her about it, she could not exactly tell me what it was other than it was a lot." She nods, satisfied with that explanation. It's about as good as it gets. "Well, the Nereid and the man, they were romancin'. Then split. So, if these other masked feys got involved, it's likely cause they have ties to the nereid in some ways. The one lead we have is that Cerberus was to call out a name at a circle of stone if he wanted to meet with them. Lord Tamlins." She smirks. "It's not much to go on."

"Seen that before too. Doesn't surprise me much. And if they were dangling the bait of somewhere to -belong-, well... my wife can tell you all about that feeling. You'll do anything to try to get someplace you don't feel alone." Telamon stares into his teacup, before refilling everyone's cup.

"I've not heard much about fey black cats, though there are plenty of powers -- mortal and not -- who could go about in such a guise." At the name Carver mentions, Telamon barks out a laugh. "Might as well have called themselves Lord Potter or something. Now I'm -really- curious as to who these fellows are." He lays a finger alongside his cheek, and grins in a way not too different from his fey-blooded wife. "But first, we should talk to this -- Cerberus, you said his name was?"

"That's our sad lil' puppy." Carver says, licking her lips clean of the tea. "Tool to a bunch of Saul Sodoffs." She sets the tea cup down on the table next to her, reaching into a pocket to fish around it. She then pops the mint down her maw. "Cerberus isn't likely to be his name, ya know, cause of the fey obsession. It didn't matter much to me. Not like Carver is mine. People make their names whatever they want. If he likes it, who am I to judge? There is one thing. I do believe he wants to really see the fey world. I could maybe find him a Way, but I ain't got no business there. You?" She ticks her finger, "That's the real favor. If I am bein' honest. If you can take him if we figure out these Tamlin business? I'd appreciate it. Consider it a debt an' all."

Telamon hmmms. "I can get him there, but that doesn't mean he can make a home there. Although..." His expression becomes that of a man who's thought of something amusing. "I -might- have a favor to pull with someone in the Unseelie Court."

Jyndei shifts a bit and looks at Telamon worriedly. "My Lord, are you certain?"

Telamon nods firmly. "She owes me. At least a little bit, for helping her get revenge and put her where she is now. Maybe she can find this 'lost puppy' of yours a place." He takes a long pull of tea. "I should be able to pay a visit to the prison tomorrow -- I doubt I'll need an appointment. They had me fix the wards after that breakout, after all."

"I never seen one so desperate to belong." Carver scoffs. "If he was treated even with a bit of kindness, I actually believe he would die on a sword for whatever king, lady, or bitty what gave him a pet and some scraps. Yeah, visit him. Make your own judgements and wot. Maybe you disagree with me. I don't like people. Can't read 'em. Maybe I'm the fool an' got us all tricked." She shrugs, "I was certainly wrong about that Ahu fella'."

"Anythin' else you think you might need to know? If not, I should go before your Lady Fair comes back."

Telamon nods somberly. "It happens. But maybe we can make something good come out of this. I think you've got the right track, probably better than you realize, Carver." He gives her a wry smile. "Remember what the Fire-Blossom said. You are much more than you give yourself credit for. And I thank you, for bringing this to me. If nothing else, Lana would want to see if we can put this fellow onto a better path."

He rubs his chin. "I'll see if I've got any law books here -- probably not. May need to make a trip to the Serrielite temple tomorrow before I hit the prison, so I can get some legal advice."