All in the Family

The Great Pariantha forest.

While further north than Alexandros, the great woods are more temperate at this time of year. The skies are clear; the sun shines bright; the chill, while present, is not so looming nor wet as it is by the Inmost Sea. Snows only linger in the mountains to the north and east. Spring has begun to unwind, here, and is most conspicuous. Birds sings, animals move in the undergrowth, leaves are green, buds grow. All the flora and fauna are awake and beginning to thrive anew.

Amidst this, in a small clearing, all coalesce into being with a ripple of Telamon's magic and displacement of air. New arrivals into a realm of brighter colors no longer dampened by winter weather as Alexandria has been.

The shimmering sphere of light fades, revealing the group, a last few glimmers of mana lingering in the air before winking out. Telamon flexes his fingers idly as he looks around. Dressed in fine traveling garb, the ruffled white blouse trimmed in dark blue over black riding trousers and his ever present well-used, well-cared-for boots. The sleeveless blue overcoat wrapped around him, and a new addition: a snowy-white broad-brimmed hat, adorned with a brilliant, deep violet feather stuck in the leather band.

"That wasn't so bad," the half-elf remarks with a smile. "Everyone all right? I have some soothe syrup if you need it..."

The moment that they arrive, Auranar seems to relax a little, and tense at the same time. Though she's never been able to explain the sense of peace that this place brings to her, there is no denying the anxiety that has risen at the realization that she's about to see her grandmother for the first time in some time. She soothes her skirts into place unnecessarily and looks around at those with her. She's already thanked Telamon and Cor'lana for their presence, so she stifles the urge to thank them again. Instead she takes Verna's hand. "No need here Telamon. But I appreciate the offer."

Her clothing today is more modest than it usually is, a dress of dark purple that falls all the way to her knees and covers all of her arms. There are ties up the sides of white that keep the dress in place, and are truly more decorative than strictly necessary. As proof of that similar lacing flows down the sleeves from shoulder to wrist. The modest collar is white as well, with designs of flowers and leaves embordered on it in a similar color.

Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon is dressed to match her husband, wearing her traveling gear of sensibly tailored dark robes that end at the knees, a small panel in the chest that allows the sorceress access to the curuchuil painted on her form. A short violet cloak hangs behind her from her shoulders, and a silvered circlet adorns her brow. She wraps her arm around his as she sighs a little. "I'm all right," she says.

And _then_ she looks a little green, but she shakes her head, and the moment passes. "Okay, _now_ I'm all right. Apparently my stomach needed a moment before it remembered that it existed."

Verna's bare hand is taken and Auranar's is given a light squeeze in return. While her attire is certainly modest in comparison to her companions, it is far more colorful and bright than her norm. She is here as wife and family, not as a Mourner. Her dress is calf-length with full sleeves, the skirts layered for some warmth. The panels and pleats are an alternating combination of an earthy brown and a floral pink. Aside from her complexion, there is no gray. "I am well enough. ...For now." She looks about the unfamiliar surroundings in expectation of meeting mostly unfamiliar individuals. "I presume we are where we expect, and are expected to be?"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (19)+17: 36
GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (11)+23: 34
GAME: Auranar rolls Perception: (1)+5: 6 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Verna rolls perception: (15)+29: 44

Telamon smiles fondly at his wife, giving her hand a squeeze as she settles in next to him. "It's been a while since I've been out this way -- and I haven't been here recently." His expression grows faintly wry. "My father might've had more advice for how things are going -- but then again, maybe not."

He turns his eyes to Auranar and Verna. "Alright then. Where to? I presume you've got a better idea of where we need to go -specifically-." He rubs his chin. "Not that I'm complaining. It's nice to be here as spring is coming."

Auranar is a little busy staring at her wife, snuggling close to her and closing her own eyes. It's Verna's question that finally draws her away from her comfortable cuddling. She'd been waiting really but now... "That's odd." She says quietly. "We seem to be close to where I expected but I don't see anyone. There should be someone to greet us. Or at least a patrol. A ranger. Someone?"

Cor'lana, quite suddenly, stops in place. She holds her left hand up and clears her throat, indicating she would like complete silence.

"Speaking of which, Auranar, I would greatly appreciate it if the eyes and ears observing us would, at the very least, _announce_ their presence first. We are peaceful travelers." Cor'lana's voice is raised to be loud and audible to the hidden figures observing them.

Verna has no issues with snuggles. None at all. It would calm the tension in her that Auranar can feel... were it not for her eyes looking to the trees about them. "Love, as Cor'lana says, we are not-"

Her response is broken by a brief cutting of the air before a pair of arrows embed themselves at the ground between her feet below her skirts.

"Silence, -you-," a voice calls from the woods in Sildanyrai. "The rest of, state your business!"

Telamon looks at Lana, then around again, before exhaling. "I really need to pay more attention--" And then the arrows strike the earth, and he stiffens. He visibly restrains his temper, but his eyes glitter for a moment.

Then he speaks with that casual, cool air. "We are here to meet with the family of our dearest friend and family-mate Auranar. We are expected -- I do not expect -welcome-, but I do expect the basic courtesies. I am called Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, and this is my wife, Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon."

Auranar startles at the arrows which land directly in front of Verna. Immediately she puts her hands up to show herself unarmed, her expression one of confusion and worry. "I am Auranar Lupecyll-Atlon, my grandmother is Shrendara Wynnfiel. We've come to see my family curuchuil and visit my grandmother..." Who really should have informed people that they were on their way. So why were their people here to ambush them instead?

There's a flicker in Cor'lana's eyes for a moment. And then... She adopts a sweet smile. "Surely this is all one big misunderstanding," she says, and then she gestures to Verna with the sweep of an arm. "Verna here is half-mul'niessa, but has been married into our family. She is Auranar's wife, and Auranar is my sister by bond. We are not your enemies, and we are not intending any violence. Merely a discussion with Auranar's grandmother."

To say that Verna is startled by the past few seconds would be an understatement. (Over?-)analysis follows. Did they arrive where they should? Did someone not inform? Are they merely overly cautious? Auranar can handle this, certainly! The others are excellent diplomats as well. Unless more arrows are loose- She brings her pondering to a forced halt with a frown, and remains at Auranar's side. She also heeds the directive and does not call out.

A long stint of silence looms after the explanations from the non-mul'niessa. A pair of sylvanori then make themselves apparent at the edge of the clearing. Both are dressed in woodswear, dark-complected: one blond the other auburn. "Come," the blond syl states. "You are expected."

Telamon's demeanour shifts to cheerful once again. "Excellent." He offers his arm to Cor'lana, and smiles at Verna and Auranar. "Shall we step along then, ladies? Let's not keep anyone waiting." He seems completely at ease, when the group begins to move again, looking around with an appreciative eye.

Still, his eyes never stop moving, and his pace is far more measured than casual and careless.

Auranar relaxes a little as the other elves make themselves known. An over abundance of caution then, and that is all. She can not blame them much with the recent political atmosphere, but the fact that the arrows remain in the ground unsettles her. She does not move to pick them up, leaving them in the ground where they have fallen and taking up Verna's hand once again. She offers the other woman a comforting smile, but her heart isn't in it the way she wishes it were. She follows silently in the wake of the other elves.

Cor'lana takes Telamon's arm and walks with him. She takes in the environment as her husband does, but hers is a little more... careful. Wary, even, like she expects the sildanyari to continue to belittle and question them.

But she remains silent for the moment. This is not fully her place to speak.

The arrows came near enough to her person as it is, thus Verna has no inclination to touch them. Her thoughts are rifling through her mental collection of sylvanori culture and customs rapidly enough for future faux pas to avoid they do not have time to spare for whether touching another's arrows might be a great offense. She simply clutches Aura's hand and follows along.

The two sylvanori both lead and flank the group, but there is every impression that those apparent are not the only watchful eyes upon them. Their path through the forest is not conspicuously obvious to the untrained eye, but it seems a familiar enough path to their escorts. In time, the Lupecyll-Atlons are brought to their destination.

The natural clearing shows far more signs of use than the trail, grasses and undergrowth kept down by travel. The ground shows signs of foot, horse, and even wagon traffic. Several tables, counters, and stalls are present, all formed from deadfall, vines and other natural materials. One of the tables bears and arrangement of food and drink.

The vicinity of the tables is where they are led. More specifically towards a trio of sylvanori (two women and one male) in discussion, all of whom look to the approaching group. The elder of the two women dismisses the younger, though her attention remains on the arriving guests. Her auburn hair bears streaks of blonde, from sun or possibly age, falling free down her back. Her dress is in subdued colors and is not ornate, though her presence, posture, and actions of those around her make some indication of her station.

Telamon looks completely at ease, apparently unfazed by the tense introduction. A breeze ruffles his hair under his hat, as the little group is escorted into the deep woods, until they reach the clearing. As the family -- for that is what it is, no matter what others might say -- approaches the tables, Telamon removes his hat, and offers a sweeping bow to the older woman regarding them.

"My lady," he says in his perfect sildanyari, but he offers no further introduction for the moment. This is Auranar's show, not his, and he's deferring to her.

Auranar of course instantly recognizes her grandmother. Though they are parted by a generation there is a fair amount of likeness between them. In some ways they are entirely different, if Shrendara is any indication with her subdued dress; Auranar did not get her penchant for bright cheerful ones from her. "Grandmother." She offers respectfully, bowing her head to the elder woman, and moving forward somewhat (with Verna still in tow) so that she is at the apex of the little group. "May I present to you my beloved wife, Verna. Verna, this is my grandmother Lady Shrendara Winnfiel."

Cor'lana politely curtsies with Telamon's bow, but her violet eyes stare down the introduced Shrendara when she comes back up. Her expression betrays very little about what she thinks of the woman, save that she's not visibly impressed by the woman. "Greetings," she offers in a similar manner to Telamon, but she lies in wait for the moment... Waiting to see how this plays out.

"Granddaughter," Shrendara acknowledges Auranar flatly, promptly turning her eyes to the presented Verna. "So this is... she." It is far less question than statement.

Verna clears her throat lightly, awkwardly, before releasing Aura's hand to offer a bowing curtsey. At the very least, a fair approximation of one. "Lady Winnfiel, I am-"

Once again, she is cut off. This time not by arrows, but a nearly as sharp 'tut-tut' shushing from Shrendara, who steps to Verna and holds out her hands expectantly. "Hands." Admonished and confused, Verna glances sidelong to Auranar before placing her hands in Shrendara's. An evaluation ceremony? Some symbolic gesture of acceptance or approval?

It is something, indeed, as a vine spawns and coils about Verna's wrists, binding them together. After which, Shrendara releases her hands as if they were hazardous to touch, eyes narrowing. "We know exactly -what- you are."

Telamon seems quite amiable until the Lady Winnfield binds Verna's hands. Then his voice slices the air. "-Do- you now?" His tone is the purr of a jungle cat, casually flexing claws. "I must protest this, Lady Winnfiel. You are free to accept... or not... the chosen of your granddaughter, but mistreating her may have repercussions."

Deliberately, Telamon steps next to Verna, and places his hand on her shoulder. Then his starry eyes fix on the elven lady's, measuring her. Watching to see what -she- does.

Auranar isn't best pleased by the greeting that her grandmother gives Verna, but... It's not wholly unexpected either. She is then surprised when the woman takes Verna's hands in her own. She is even more surprised when vines lash out to wrap around Verna's wrist. "Grandmother!" She states with concern, moving forward herself. There's room for her on the other side of Verna and she looks at the vines in confusion, moving to pull a dagger from her boot. It's a bit awkwardly placed, but she's learned not to go around unarmed anymore. "What are you doing?"

Cor'lana goes from carefully neutral to an expression that Telamon's seen before, but on a different member of the family: _wrath_, violet eyes almost burning with it. "Is this how you treat someone who has not proven anything beyond their mere presence in your vicinity?" she growls. "This is poor behavior. I understand the need to be cautious, but cuffing someone for doing nothing but greeting you? _Explain yourself. Now._"

Of all the potential social errors Verna was attempting to calculate... this was not even an option on the list. Surprise becomes bewilderment, eyes flitting to her beloved as she steps forward with the dagger. "Aur-mmf!" She is cut off for the last time when, with a minor nod from Shrendara, the vines at her wrist sprouts a tendril to coil up her arm and promptly cover her mouth. Only now does Shrendara shift hard eyes to Auranar. "Step away from her, child."

"I do not fault your ignorance, nor those of your companions," she explains, eyes roaming over Telamon and Cor'lana, now. "You were deceived, all. Her crimes are many; you should be grateful that I was made aware of them. You wish explanation? I am most pleased to do so." She retrieves a scroll from her dress, previously unsealed, and unfurls it partway to recite from it.

"Vernavyraelistea-muriel, of House Calana'el-Xarr.." Verna can say nothing, though her eyes widen at this. "Wanted in Charn for several acts of theft and destruction of valuable property. Numerous accusations of practicing necromancy in the lands beyond Charn... presumably during flight to avoid capture..." She lowers the scroll, not requiring it for the remainder, revealing a scowl to match her gaze.

"More recently, consorting with demons, on -multiple- occasions. To include the very same fiend that Murdered. My. Daughter. When that proved not enough, she took it upon herself to murder my granddaughter, as well." She does not even look at Verna now, nor Auranar so much as the other Lupcyll-Atlons. "Is that enough explanation, or do you still consider me an ungracious host?"

Telamon's eyes are hooded, contemplative. Listening to Lady Shrendara recite a list of crimes, serious ones. Ones that, in many lands, would most certainly be grounds for execution -- or worse. "An interesting presentation. Of course, one may say many things. The Charnese certainly do -- and so I would not take their word for -anything-."

The half-elf casually folds his hands behind his back, stepping away from Verna -- though it seems less an attempt to distance himself and more to give himself some space. "Accusations are not charges, and charges are not -proof-, my lady. I would hear what Mourner Verna Lupecyll-Atlon would have to say for herself, for starters." His voice drops. "I do not cast aside any member of my family over mere words."

Auranar can not help but be stunned by the accusations leveled against Verna. The things in Charn... she can only imagine are to do with Verna's leaving of her family. That they would want her back is no surprise at all to the wild elf, but that her grandmother would care about them at all... That _is_ surprising. But in the end the truth comes out. The reality comes out. Her black eyes darken and she deftly cuts into the vine with her boot-knife. Not caring that her grandmothers plant might be harmed. "Telamon is right. You should let Verna speak for herself. Tying her up like this..." She looks firmly at the older woman again. "If you took issue with my wife you could have said something, asked me what was going on. You have no right to do this to her."

"I agree with my husband," Cor'lana says firmly, coming up to right beside Telamon as he steps away from Verna. Her violet eyes are still ablaze. "As the current head of the Lupecyll-Atlon family, I am not willing to cast out someone without proof. Without _evidence_. Where were these concerns to be presented before the wedding happened? Are you really that concerned with my sister's wellbeing?"

She crosses her arms. "In fact, where was this concern for Auranar a year ago? Years ago, even? Why was my sister raised in an orphanage when you were capable of raising her yourself? You had two arms with which to hug a child and a mouth with which to give loving words, but you didn't. Why _did your granddaughter_ tell me, in tears, that she always wanted a family? Don't you _dare_ pretend for a moment you cared about her until the moment she brought home someone who wasn't full-blooded sildanyari."

The vine is not invulnerable, nor even strong against Auranar's blade. Once cut, its enchantment fades, the tendrils wilting to leave Verna unbound and spitting out a few drying bits of leaf.

Shrendara's eyes widen and an arm snaps up at the elbow to lift hand in a signal. Nearly every sylvanori in sight with a bow (which is to say nearly all of them) promptly nocks, draws, and aims. "The bindings were for OUR protection! You have no idea what she is capable of!" she snaps out. "I will protect -what is left- of my family. If there is so much as a wiggled finger or a word in Mynsandraal..." The implied threat leaves Verna to consider her next words. Quite carefully. For the moment, none are forthcoming.

"I was not aware of this truth until recently," Shrendara adds, "or I would have taken action earlier. As it is, -I- will not be judging her. A delegation from Charn arrives at any time. She is their problem, they will deal with her as they see fit."

Telamon arches an eyebrow. "Is this what one of the houses of Llyranost has come to? Acting as the gaolers for Charnese paymasters?" He sweeps his eyes around the clearing, fixing every archer with his gaze. "Think very carefully what you do next. Words are one thing, but actions taken here will have consequences far beyond a small family of half-elves and elves."

That said, he turns his stare back to Shrendara. "Cor'lana's question still stands. What is Auranar to you? Why suddenly this concern? And the last I heard, Llyranost kept its own counsel. Why act to assist -Charn- of all places?" He draws himself up. "I think an answer is in order."

Auranar falls into shock, moving as it were between her grandmother and Verna. Blocking the line of sight between arrows and Verna. Few will have a direct line of sight to shoot through with her standing there. She even spreads her arms to block more of Verna. "Why are you doing this grandmother? Tell me the truth." There's tears burning lines in her heart. The last vestiges of the connection between her and her grandmother are wilting away and it hurts more than she expected it to. "Cor'lana and Telamon are right. You've never shown such concern about me before. If you've only just learned these things of Verna, then know that you know only half-truths. You've learned the worst of her without ever trying to learn the whole of it. Tell them to _stand down_. Or they will strike me and the last of your family will die here slain by your own will."

Cor'lana glares down Shrendara. She seems even more incensed than before. "Listen to your granddaughter," she says firmly. "If you want to have any hope of a relationship with your granddaughter, you will _listen_ to her. She is a grown woman. She can make decisions for herself now. She is not the child you left for the caretakers whose names you do not know and faces you can't recall to raise. You may have missed her whole life up until now, but she is grown. She is mighty. She is one of the smartest people I know. One of the kindest people I know. And even if your little stunt here prevails and you send Verna off with the Charnese--do you _think_ Auranar will want to have anything to do with you? She'd never want to speak with you ever again."

She pauses only a moment in her anger. And then she says, "I know I wouldn't, in her place."

"Auranar..." Verna's voice is soft behind her. The single word carries a great many intonations: affection, gratitude, fear, concern, and more... A word that, if nothing else, her grandmother and those prepared to loose should NOT mistake for some sort of incantation.

"We have guarded the borders for generations. We do not tolerate brigands, thieves, and the like seeking to use our lands to hide from their crimes. A threat from one land to ours is still a threat."

After the explanation to Telamon, she continues,"That line was broken with my daughter's death. I protect what remains. If my granddaughter truly wishes to mend it, and become a part of that family, then she will stand aside." Shrendara now focuses upon Auranar, though her expression and gaze looks no less sharp than it did upon Verna. "If you would prove yourself worthy of this family, Auranar, then stand with it. If not, then you are nothing more than an orphan with sylvanori blood."

In the not-so distance, a horn sounds. Shrendara's ear flicks. "Whatever you choose, this will not be my concern much longer."

Telamon's expression has grown steadily more thunderous. "Threat? THREAT? She lives in Alexandria! We only came here at your invitation!" His eyes flash now, crackling with starlight, and contempt stains his voice.

The half-elf steps back to Verna and Auranar, placing a hand on Aura's shoulder, then Verna's. "I cannot speak for Auranar, but I for one would not wish to be part of any family that would blithely do the bidding of Charn. You will -not- take this member of my family. You will -not- gift her to Charn. They are -not your bargaining chips-."

Auranar is speechless for a moment. Not because she even considers her grandmother's demand, but because of the outrageousness of the thought that she would. Her eyes prickle with tears and she... All she wanted was one last chance to see the trees that were planted for her parent's union. To say goodbye. This woman before her stands between her and that, but she can not stay and fight this battle. To risk losing Verna for anything. "Take us home Telamon." She says coldly, her voice tight with unshed tears. "I'm not an orphan Shrendara. I have a family. And they love me."

A single tear slides down her cheek.

Cor'lana looks every ounce like a bird contemplating whether to tear out the throat of the elder sylvanori woman before her or to go for the eyes instead with Auranar's tear. But she draws in a strong breath and takes Auranar and Telamon's hands.

"You have a family. You, too, are one of his children, and it does not matter to him what color your feathers are."

She doesn't hesitate. "Take us out, Tel."

GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (6)+16: 22

Telamon glares at Shrendara, and suddenly intones, "Anungal, kaskal, nu siten, ula'ulla." The sphere of light wraps around his family, and rockets them away...

But something...

...is...

...WRONG.

There's the characteristic POP as they appear on the road to Alexandria, just outside the wards, near the guard tower. But... Verna is not with them. Telamon is already looking around in panic. "Shit! SHIT! They anchored her, they somehow anchored her and I didn't pick it up when I started casting!" His dark eyes are wide with horror.

GAME: Auranar rolls Will: (10)+5: 15

Auranar looks around herself, as if that might by some pull of magic make Verna reappear. She turns and grabs Telamon by the lapels of his shirt and gives him a little shake. Whether to calm him or calm herself she's not sure. "Can you take us back? We can't just leave her Telamon!" She's not panicking. Not yet.

"They _anchored_ her? Oh, that--" Cor'lana hisses wordlessly, the breath just expelling out of her as she finds no words that can possibly describe how she feels about the lady who so callously disregarded her granddaughter's feelings. "Tel, we need to go back. Now!"

Telamon forces himself to calm down. "I can only do this two more times. Dammit... I should've -known- it wouldn't be that easy." His fingers form the complex forms, wrapping lines of force and space around the trio and chanting the incantation again. "No more mistakes," he hisses, as the light wraps around them and sends them rocketing back again.

The time between departure and return is brief. A minute or three, at most. How this time was -perceived by all of the Lupecyll-Atlons, however, may vary. The clearing the trio re-appear in is much as it was. Verna is in approximately the same location as left. The largest change is in those surrounding her.

Bows remain drawn and ready, but the semi-random smattering of sylvanori has become more organized into a rough near-circle around the half-mul, still at some distance. Shrendara stands among them at one end of the opening of the formation. Her attention is not upon Verna, but the arriving ... conveyance at the open end.

It is a palanquin the size of a cheap inn room: large enough for several individuals. Pennants flutter from its corners with Charneth coat of arms. The walls are lacquered wood with delicate inlay, with finials, trim, and even rivets looking to be of silver, mithral, or other precious metals. It is borne by two sets of four individuals, front and rear. All the bearers are at least partly armed and armored and are all larger individuals. A black-scaled Makari, an oruch, and two burly Dranei at the front. Another pair of oruchs (one perhaps partly so), a human, and one who might be Giantkin to the rear. It comes to a stop at the formation just as the group arrives and re-orient.

Auranar takes in the surroundings in the space of the few seconds of their arrival and slides up behind Verna. She slides one hand into the other woman's, and thinks furiously. If she tries to get Verna out of the center of these bows then one of them might shoot her or Verna. There is however one person that they woudn't dare shoot. Her free hand which still holds her knife tightens on the hilt of that weapon. She whispers in a low voice to Verna. "Stay close to Telamon and Cor'lana." Then she 'palms' the weapon and steps casually toward her one-time grandmother. All she can think is that until the anchor is off of Verna... they can't leave.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (5)+17: 22
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (5)+17: 22
GAME: Auranar rolls spellcraft: (5)+8: 13

Cor'lana's inspecting the bonds on Verna, but the tension of the moment gets to her, and it's difficult to identify what exactly it is that she's dealing with. She looks up at Auranar...

And there's a passive look on her face. Perhaps even the hint of a smirk on her lips. Like she's about to be okay with what she thinks might happen. Palmed weapon and all. The Lupecyll-Atlon women have been described as steel hiding under silk before, and... it might be true this time in more than one sense.

Verna was so focused on the arrival of the delegation that she did not even realize the others had returned. Not until Auranar clasps her hand, startling her... and then continues walking? She wishes to call out again, but ... maybe the sylvanori have not noticed her?

This is, of course, NOT the case. While Shrendara's may or may not have noticed the return of the others as she is focused on the other guests arriving, those in the inward-facing circle are quite aware. Most remain locked upon the murderous mul'niessan necromancer, though some adjust to follow the returning guests.

Then there is the delegation. With the conveyance stopped, the black-scaled Makari leaves the front to step near the door, where he lowers to kneel on one knee, head lowering, tail held out in a purposeful (and uncomfortable) line behind him. The door opens to emit a mul'niessan woman whose white hair is done in a complicated pattern of braids, cross-braids, and crownbraid. Even then, the unbraided remainder still manages to fall to mid-back. Her clothing could be considered adventurous attire... if one had no momentary need to go adventuring nor had to do one's own laundry. A pure white silken poet's blouse beneath a black leather corset studded with mithral studs. A matching studded skirt with stark white leggings beneath. Lastly, glossy black finely scaled... leather(?) boots.

She grasps a horn from the 'door-sith' to dismount to his back and then descend him like a living ramp. While her size and his would not make this a burden, each footfall causes a slight twitch in the makari. Footfalls from boots that nearly match his own scales, save smaller, unworn, and far more shiny.

"THEEERE YOU ARE!" the mul woman calls out to the center of the circle, gesturing with her hands as if this adds more volume.

GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (13)+16: 29

Telamon pops back in. Alright, this is... less than ideal. In fact, this has 'major diplomatic incident' written ALL over it and Tel can just imagine his father's expression. "I am so going to hear about this from him," he mutters. As Auranar stalks towards her grandmother, he turns his eyes to Lana -- a flash of mental connection, before he leans close to Verna.

"Verna, we're going to try and get you out of this, but it's going to be tricky. We may need to stall for time." he whispers. Seeing the mul'niessa striding out of the gigantic carriage, he has a sudden thought. "...Tell me that's not your mother, Verna."

It's not until the woman comes out of her little carriage that Auranar begins to doubt herself. It's not the woman herself but... It's horrible the way she treats her servants and wonders if she has it in her to leave them to this woman she doesn't know. No. Verna. Verna has to be her priority. She knows she's being watched by everyone but if she can only get close enough... She all but holds her breath and then... She charges the last few feet, surprising not only herself, but everyone as she throws herself bodily at the other woman. She doesn't even care if she gets shot at this point. She'll take an arrow for Verna.

Ask and ye shall receive? Oddly enough, with all the drawn bows around, it is not an arrow that flies. Nor does it come from the circle of archers...

Instead, it is a bolt of electricity, not unlike a lightning bolt yet not as all-encompassing, that strikes the charging Auranar. Rather than singe or cook, it tightens muscles against will, halting the charge to leave her crumpling over in a convulsing puddle. Permanent damage? Not likely? Painful? Indubitably.

"AURA!" Verna's silence is broken as she screams and tries to push from Cor'lana to run to her wife, bound hands or not. Yes, ignoring what she was told to do.

The mul'niessan woman holds a device in hand that was not a moment before, wisps of smoke wafting from it. "Shrendara... -dear-, you really should better mind your... people." She gives Shrendara a light shrug before looking back into the circle. "... and don't you think it's time that you introduced me to your little friends, ViVi? You never write, you never message..."

As for Shrendara, she is left to blink, then glower. First at the convulsing Auranar and then at her rangers for their lapse.

A flicker of movement, and a rod of ivory has practically popped from Telamon's haversack into his fist. The sorcerer stares at the mul woman icily, before his gaze flicks to Shrendara, and the other elves. "This is who you've sought a compact with," he says in a hard tone. "Don't even think it'll go unnoticed." As Verna pulls away from Cor'lana, he clenches his teeth, before coolly striding after her. Putting himself between the mul, and his friends. "And who might you be?" he says with a deceptively vague kind of interest in his expression.

Cor'lana looks like she's about to lift up her hands and incinerate the place, to give in fully to the Unseelie bloodline that runs in her veins and to simply give into the sort of neck-snapping rage as she has seen Grandfather do once before--

And then Telamon speaks. He walks. Her violet eyes focus on him and him alone for just a few seconds. She breathes in a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She goes over to Auranar and Verna, preserving the instruction that Telamon gave her previously, leaning into Verna's ear for a moment to whisper while Telamon's got the attention.

Auranar twitches on the ground. Unable to let go of the knife in her palm, but that's okay. She twitches, pain still lancing occasionally through her body, but she bites it back to smile at Verna. "Hey you." She manages. The knife moves toward Verna. Slowly. Jerkily. She focuses all her attention on cutting those damned vines. Misses. Her hand shakes with the effort of controlling her own limbs. Tries again.

GAME: Verna rolls will: (5)+24: 29

"Shhh... be still... it will pass..." Verna kneels at Auranar's. In attempt to comfort her, be a solid foundation while failing to stop tears. As well, she seems to have some experience with... whatever that was.

"Vivi," calls the mul woman. "You are being most rude."

Verna ignores her and nods to Cor'lana in answer to the whisper.

"Do you recall recall how many settings are available, Vivi?" Another call, now a question. And perhaps more.

Verna straightens just enough to yell loudly out, towards the woman, and not in Aura's ear. "May I present Lady Varyss, Matron of House Calanael-Xarr!" even shouted, it is a very rote recitation. Until she adds, "Now, what in the Iron Hells do you want, bearer of the womb from which I emerged?!" Simple fact. That is all she is getting.

Which receives a light laugh from Varyssa. "So you -do- remember, afterall. I'm here for you, child, and you are only half correct. It is House Calana'el once more. Humans are such... transient things."

Tel spares a single glance back to where Auranar and Verna are, and Lana coming to their aid. Then he takes a deep breath, and fixes his eyes on Lady Varyssa. "You're a long way from home, and in... an unexpected place, Matron." His dark eyes glimmer with starlight. "However, there is some... question over the Mourner's place."

"For she has bound herself to a sapling of a house -- a new growth, grafted from two older houses, I grant. So there is a conflict." Keeping his face absolutely calm, he continues, "Let us negotiate. The alternative is really, really quite messy."

Her diplomat--for that is how Cor'lana sometimes thinks of her husband--is speaking truly, trying to do what he's been trained and raised to do since he was young. Meanwhile, she will do what she does and knows best. Defiance. And magic.

It's a spark of it. A word is murmured, as short and as quiet as she can manage. Enough to, hopefully, break the bindings on Verna. Because she deserves freedom. Because the woman Cor'lana calls sister deserves it. Because they are all stuck here until she is.

And the notion of a bird in a cage is, by nature, something distasteful for Cor'lana. She may not have wings--a thought that has crossed her mind again and again--but she can give them, in a sense, to someone else.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 13 DC: 20

Auranar falls still at Verna's prompting. She trusts the other woman, but it's hard. Really hard not to do _something_. Anything really. She watches Telamon step forward to speak for her and Verna. It should be her! But she has no way with words. No knowledge of the diplomacy that he wields so easily and smoothly. She has to trust her family that they will be able to do what she can not. In the meantime she'll do what little she can. She steadies her hands and tries to cut that damned vine.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+sorcerer: (8)+13: 21

While Auranar has a bit more difficult time with muscles only recently recovering from the .. overcharge, the vine, itself, is no more difficult to cut than before. Cor'lana's followup unravelling removes what effects remain. To maybe distract from this activity, Verna calls to Telamon. "Be cautious, she is a master at bargaining..." Feeding Varyssa's ego will not hurt their cause at all.

"What? Negotiate for what? Her freedom?! That is unaccept-" Shrandara begins, but it is she who is cut-off for change, by a raised finger and a shushing from Varyssa as she smiles to Telamon. "So, there is a brain, or at least a bold bone among you. Please, go on. I do -love- a good negotiation. What are you offering?" Her tone manages to purr in excitement and carry veiled threat all at once.

Of course. But then, Telamon grew up the son of an elven diplomat. There's no fear of the verbal thrust and parry in him. "Well, it depends a great deal on what you want, after all." He gives Varyssa a cool but smoldering stare. "Tell me, do the charges against Verna have any actual substance to them? I had them pegged as a clever ploy, to be honest."

He gives Shrendara a dismissive stare. "Shush now, the adults are talking." His attention flicks right back to Varyssa. "I'm surprised you'd go to all the trouble. But to answer the question, I'd be amenable to some kind of shared arrangement. Perhaps a half-year in Charn, and a half-year in Alexandria. Poetic, isn't it?"

The vine is cut! She ignores the conversation between Telamon and the woman that birthed Verna but was no more her mother than was Shrendara a grandmother to her. She lays where she is, playing hurt and injured though she is fine save the occasional twinge of lightning in her fingers and toes. She holds Verna's hand and looks up at her. Giving her a little nod. She mouths a few words to Verna. 'You first'.

Cor'lana is at least content to see Verna is freed and that Auranar's up. While she notices that Telamon's occupying the woman, she enacts her own plan. She murmurs again into Verna's ear, and she takes Auranar by her other arm. Sister stays by sister.

Verna clutches Auranar's hand, though looks confused a moment. Until Cor'lana's whisper, that is. Now all makes sense... or as much as it can in this situation. She gives her wife a smile and turns slightly to Cor'lana before nodding. She's ready and waiting.

Meanwhile, Shrandara looks to be growing more and more annoyed: first at being shushed and now that she is all but ignored. Varyssa is more than happy to accumulate all of the focus and flashes Telamon a coy smile. "Bold, mildly handsome, AND shrewd. Perhaps my daughter has better taste in friends than I thought... but I digress. What I want, is my daughter. Her late father, perhaps in a pique of annoyance, decided to bequeath her a large portion of our holdings... and then decided to die. They are rightfully mine, so I would dearly like them returned. She can rejoin her house, whereby I regain stewardship of all; she could sign over her holdings; or she could meet a tragic and untimely end, thereby passing them to her sole living relative..."

Telamon ahhhs, understanding dawning in his eyes. "-Now- things become a little more clear, Matron." He taps his chin. "I presume these holdings are in Charn, correct? I can't imagine otherwise but you never know. Hmm. I think... please allow me to confer with her, but I believe we can furnish a document, signed by her and notarized by myself."

The elegant half-elf casually brushes a hand back through his hair. "As a proctor of the Shining Chalice in Alexandria, and the technical 'head of house' for our little family -- yes, I know, we're small. Everything has to start somewhere. I believe I can act in this capacity."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Bluff: (3)+21: 24

And then comes the cue. The one that's been, unbeknownst to almost everyone, been arranged via a combination of subtlety and mental link.

Cor'lana bluffs. She coughs a cough that isn't needed. Twice. Her grasp is secure on Auranar, almost squeezing a little as though to cue Auranar that something's about to happen.

Auranar had been trying, as subtly as she could manage to tell Verna to teleport home, but the other woman didn't seem to quite grasp what she was saying. Or didn't want to. Didn't want to leave her behind. She sighed and looked at Cor'lana in confusion when she coughed and squeezed her arm. Dumbly she just sort of looks at the other woman.

Heads were turned. Coughs where made. Thus all is checked.

While Verna may have understood Aura's meaning, and very much the reasoning behind it, that left the possibility of leaving one Lupecyll-Atlon behind. No matter how remote a chance, it was not something she wished to risk. He is family.

Grandmothers, mothers, houses... all of this was nothing of the sort. Greed, power, manipulation, perhaps, but not family. Real family is in Verna's arms... almost.

As Telamon approaches, however, she makes an urgent, brisk gesture and incants. As she completes, she jabs out a leg at Telamon, kicking low. Not anywhere Cor'lana might be upset about, but low-low: a swift kick to the shin. To make contact so that they all vanish.

And possibly for making smoldery eyes at her mother.

-End