Day Three

Light snow has come to Alexandria. Winter has gripped the city in its thrall, and there are no signs of it stopping. While it has perplexed many an individual, especially the poor street-workers who pave the paths so that a wagon won't capsize on a pile of snow, one man seems perfectly unbothered by it.

Alud'rigan Lupecyll, best known to the ladies and other admirers of a small bookstore he used to work at as 'Mr Rigan' (along with about a hundred other affectionate and cloyingly sweet nicknames), is in his more mortal-seeming guise. He passes for a mul'niessa man, albeit an unusually tall one at six feet tall, and he's dressed to impress, with a velvet overcoat in midnight black silk that is embroidered finely with silver thread tightly buttoned around his muscular frame. A hand-knitted sweater in a deep royal purple peeks out from underneath the overcoat, and he has on a scarf that seems to have been knitted with a wool that somehow shimmers like moonlight. He strides through the streets with fine shoes and fine pants, and he doesn't at all break a single amount of strain on his face as he goes up the path to Auranar and Verna's home.

Once he alights on their front doorstep, he lifts a gloved hand and knocks politely on the door, lying in wait with his hands behind his back. He even hums a jaunty little tune that's been popular at the Fernwood lately. Alud'rigan is truly in a good mood.

Auranar answers the door in one of her winter dresses looking fine herself. Her red dress is a deep hue that brings out the rich color of her skin. An extra shawl knitted by the man on the doorstep of rich blue shimmers on her shoulders and she welcomes him inside but offers him a hug the moment that the door is closed and the winter cold is closed where it belongs. "Grandfather!"

She looks particularly tiny compared to him, but that hardly matters, a flare of red against his darker colors, especially the pink of her hair which makes her seem like a flare of flame. "So good to see you, and look at you!" She pulls back to look at his fancy attire. "You look smashing. Are you seeing someone special while you are here besides the family?"

Her voice is gently teasing. She knows of course that he has someone special in his life now, and though she's not entirely sure how to feel about the idea that Grandfather's heart will surely be broken in a few short years by some mortal's death... She has her own heart to contend with and she can't judge Grandfather without judging herself. "I've made tea and the bread from that recipe you suggested the last time we spoke. Though of course I had to modify it a little. We'll have to see how it turned out." She smiles warmly. "Would you like me to take your coat?"

The bread is already upon the table awaiting their guest, and Verna is just finishing setting the tea service upon the same. Her attire consists of a favored dress primarily in earthen tones with heavy accent panels of pink. It is presentable enough for company, yet also casual enough for comfort.

"Welcome, Grandfather," she greets as she steps to approach. His mul'niessan seeming is one that she is yet to fully acclimate to... or perhaps it is just the negative connotation she may bear that is wholly unrelated to him. A brow lifts to second Auranar's inquiry of any additional plans Grandfather may have, but she does not voice her curiosity.

Alud'rigan chuckles in that familiar and deep-toned melody of his as he embraces Auranar for a good and long moment, letting go of her as he replies, "Hello, my little rose! Yes, please, if you could. I do have a date later this evening, and I will have to acquire a gift for him, but I already know where to go for such a thing." His violet eyes twinkle with mirth as he shrugs off the coat, letting Auranar spirit it away.

He looks at Verna and holds out his arms for a hug--or a handshake, Alud'rigan does do handshakes. "Verna, it is lovely to see you. I am happy to be haunting your house again. Where is that delightful creature, Hunter? I hope cozied up somewhere warm and with a belly full of fish. Now, Auranar, that bread smells wonderful. I'll be happy to try it in just a moment."

Auranar does spirit away the coat, then reappears a moment later to sit in her chair and welcome Alud'rigan to sit down where he pleases otherwise. "Sit, sit, be comfortable Grandfather." She shoos him into a seat.

"Hunter is wandering around very likely, full of fish indeed. Capricious creature that he is. He's a boon pet keeping our home full of cheer and our feet warm through the winter." Auranar smiles. "Though I have to admit that the reason we asked you to visit isn't wholly just for Yultide cheer and to stuff you full of bread." Here her eyes flicker toward Verna.

Whatever mul'niessan unease she may have, Verna knows that he is Grandfather regardless of seeming and hugs Alud'rigan firmly and welcomingly. "Whilst we always enjoy your company, we will also not hamper your itinerary." Afterwards, she adds, concerning Hunter, "He is prompt to wake us in the mornings when food is scarce, as fits his namesake." The mighty Hunter, indeed.

She subsequently dips her head to Auranar in acknowledgement of the cue before continuing to Grandfather on that topic. "We seek your wisdom and advice on a matter. It may prove to be inconsequential," she caveats in advance, "but it is prudent to inquire all the same." After taking a breath, she begins to expound, "I recently dreamt of an individual unknown to me, yet received the distinct impression that the man was fae."

Alud'rigan takes a seat, not needing much more than the shooing gesture to convince him to take a seat and stop towering over his granddaughter and her wife. Curiously, he takes off his gloves, stowing them into a pocket on his pants. These are not the more ordinary-seeming hands that he typically wears in this guise. They are, in fact, the claws that Auranar knows very well, ink-black and with sharp points at the ends. His granddaughters know very well the gentleness he is capable of having with them... And also the cruelty. (Such was required for the blood pact.)

However, his good mood darkens a little the moment that Verna elaborates. "A dream. Of a man of my people." Alud'rigan frowns severely. "Do describe it in full for me? I may be able to identify this man, and if not, provide clues as to who he _could_ be." Not that Alud'rigan is guaranteed to know every fae entity, but... Well, time and proximity means he knows _of_ many.

Auranar here waits for Verna to explain the details. After all, it was Verna's dream and Verna's vision not her own. Instead she busies herself with important hosting duties, cutting a slice of the bread and serving it to her grandfather so that he can try it if he likes and setting it down for him. She's interested to notice his new comfort level with his claws, and pleased as well. A positive indicator from his mortal companion? If so, she approves. She wonders if and when she might meet this man.

Verna joins Grandfather at the table, taking a moment to gather her thoughts as Auranar serves. Her lips purse somewhat, whether from concern at the shift in their guest's mood, thought, or a combination thereof. "I do not recall many features in detail, yet a few were conspicuous," she begins. "He rode a steed. Gray hair, eyes of green, dark clothing." A succinct summary of traits, as few as are recalled. After a beat, she adds, "Much less distinct and certain were the sensations I had that he was fae, and that he had taken something from me." The purse to her lips deepens in perturbation.

"Gray hair, green eyes, dark clothing..." Alud'rigan looks thoughtful as he thinks over the description given to him, pausing to take up the slice of bread and trying it. Unsurprisingly, it's good, and his expression indicates so, lighting up a little and offering Auranar a fond smile. "This is quite good, little bird," he says. "As to be expected, of course, from you."

One of those talons runs against the lines of his mouth, chasing away the crumbs, and he says, "Verna. What manner of steed did he ride? Furthermore... Are you able to show me the exact vision through magic, perhaps? To conjure an illusion that resembles what you saw, or to share, perhaps, the memory of the dream?"

Auranar flushes and beams with pleasure that the food meets with expectations and that her grandfather likes the bread. "Verna has shared memories with me before." She comments helpfully and hopefully. She looks at the other woman. "If you are comfortable doing so with Grandfather, then that might speed things along greatly."

Verna's brow begins to lift at the inquiry, then promptly lowers; it is a very logical and efficient course of action, so why was she initially surprised? Perhaps she had learned the mundane method of creating and sharing memories with Auranar far surpassed any magic...

"Yes, of course," she nods to Auranar. "I can do so, and it would preclude any lapses in communication. You are as wise as ever, love. To say nothing of your culinary talents. A smile follows; she is wholly unsurprised at Grandfather's approval of Auranar's baking. It is one of the constants of reality, in Verna's (well-educated) opinion.

Her focus then returns to Grandfather, though also inward as she collects her thoughts on the matter and makes a brief gesture whilst incanting before reaching a hand to Grandfather to share her memory of the dream.

GAME: Verna casts Share Memory. Caster Level: 19 DC: 19
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+27: (10)+27: 37

For a moment, Alud'rigan sees. He feels.

When he comes back from the memory, he rather promptly rises to his feet, before he seems to remember himself and sits back down in his chair. His violet eyes are dark, a perse-hued storm of anger, and he takes a moment to breathe deeply.

Once gathered, he utters, "I do not know this man. Lesser nobility, by the cut of his hair, trying to curry favor. Riding a dream mare, captured and convinced to act as a steed specifically to ride into your dream to steal something from you, Verna. Yet he made a foolish choice. He showed you his face."

Alud'rigan looks at Verna, and he smiles, but there's no real joy or mirth in that smile. It's a grim one that's well-known to the Lupecyll-Atlon family. "And you have shown me his. I will hunt him."

"He was real then." Auranar says, her voice unhappy and grim. She looks at Verna worriedly. "Yet we haven't been able to determine anything at all that was taken. She seems fine. What could he have taken that we wouldn't notice?" She seems baffled, reaching out her hand to offer it to Verna in concern.

Verna blinks, then frowns. She yet had belief (or hope?) that all was no more impactful than a night's sleep hindered by an overactive mind. Now it seems apparent that prudence was justified. Auranar's hand is accepted and taken, gripped both in welcome of assurance offered and offering the same in return.

She looks to Grandfather with one or more questions, one of which Auranar already voices. "Do you have any theories as to his intent or purpose? As Auranar noted, nothing was discovered to be absent." Yet if the dream was truth, they must accept that the sense of loss was likewise valid.

"That depends, Verna," Alud'rigan says, looking at her seriously. "Do you possess something that the fae might consider to be theirs? A memory? An emotion? A name you have given? Beyond the fact that you have married into my family, have you offered something, even unknowingly, to the fae? Perhaps taken it back without realizing? If so... That is what they took."

He presses his lips together into a thin line in worry. "It could well be a memory," he says. "Especially if nothing comes to mind. Some fae find the memories of mortals to be of particular curiosity and delight, and so they steal them at any opportunity."

This seems to be concerning to Auranar even further. "I would worry that myself, but surely I would remember then. I've had no such dream. Is it possible that this fae is a thief in truth, having taken something wholly without permission?" She knows it is less likely than with a human but surely some fae have less morals than others. "Or perhaps they took whatever they took and the knowledge of the agreement as well..."

She wrinkles her brow in frustration. "I wish that there were a way to be certain of what was taken." Auranar sighs then before looking at her Grandfather with determination and no small amount of ire. "Though you may ask him ungently when you find him."

Verna considers a long moment before exhaling a breath. "In truth, I have had numerous encounters with fae. Present company excluded, the vast majority of said encounters were uncomfortable or unpleasant. I could only wildly speculate at this time," her eyes shift to Auranar, "and I believe that such would not be productive. If a memory was taken, for example, I would not be aware of its absence."

Turning back to Grandfather, she concurs, "The culprit is the best source of truth on the matter, should you inquire of him." She pauses briefly before adding, "With all due respect to your prowess, Grandfather, I would ask that you not undertake any undue risks on my behalf in this matter."

"Life, and living, are already risks, dear Verna," Alud'rigan says, a soft chuckle leaving him. "But, if you are so insistent on reducing the amount of harm that could come to myself..."

He stands to his feet, and he comes to Auranar, gently resting those taloned hands of his onto Auranar's shoulders. His violet eyes sparkle a little. "Auranar, my little bird. Killer of my disgusting cousin, the one who killed the Corpse-Eater with her courage and a cold iron arrow: I call upon you for your expertise in hunting fae, and I welcome your noble wife to join our hunting party. You may bring any who are willing and ready to help you. Telamon, perhaps? Either way, we will not let a thief go unpunished. Especially when he has aggrieved _me_ by way of aggrieving my granddaughter's beloved."

Auranar's dark eyes blaze to life and she beams up at her grandfather with such warmth that it is worthy of the earlier suggestion of flame beside his darkness. "Yes! We will gather a hunting party and let it be known to this thief that he has harmed the Lupecyll-Alton's! Let him know and fear it! We will join you!" She looks at her wife fiercely, daring Verna to say otherwise.

In the past, Verna would have had concerns of such a call to arms involving Auranar... yet such was in the past. In the present, it is quite the opposite: Auranar's fire and zeal warm Verna's heart and weaken her knees. She shares this to her wife with her own eyes and the warm smile below them.

"Indeed, we shall." The pronound receives some emphasis; Slayer of Fae or not, she would not leave her wife, her heroine, to face such challenges in Verna's stead.

-End