Dinner for Four and a Pothy

Lupecyll-Atlon home, evening

Dinner in the Lupecyll-Atlon household really isn't that different from other homes. Oh, sure, the plates get moved around by unseen servants, and the delicate plum wine is from a small town in Xian. A well made meal of fish on rice, with fresh vegetables and bread for mopping up, though, wouldn't be out of place at a noble's table.

"...It was definitely one of the stranger things I've seen," Telamon is saying, sitting back in his chair. The empty plates are being carried away by the invisible servitors for cleaning, and a wine goblet is cradled in Tel's hand. "You really don't expect a divine servant to have a Heartlands accent. At least he was friendly." He takes a sip of his wine. "And his taste in vintages is excellent."

His eyes slide from his wife to his sister and her wife, regarding them warmly. "How're you two doing? I hope I'm meeting your high expectations as a cook."

"Intriguing," Verna comments regarding the recollection, "and the food is exemplary, as is usual." Her comparatively limited consumption from her plate is by no means a statement of dislike and merely of a lessened appetite. All likely due to reduced traipsing, gallivanting, and similar... and certainly in no way related to any increase in her own baking and the required sampling thereof.

Auranar looks... tired. Worn by years that have not passed her by. In spite of this, she has - as has become her custom of late - put that aside in favor of trying to enjoy the evening. "The meal was excellent as always Telamon." Dessert is for later, brought over in a basket for the eating. Auranar and Verna had made a huge pear tart with the thought that Pothy would surely eat anything left over. Not to mention the pixies. Auranar smiles softly at the thought that her sister's house seems so full these days. Full of life and happiness.

She sips her own wine appreciatively. Normally she's not one to drink wine, but she's learned that Telamon has an excellent taste for these things and the vintages are always pleasant to enjoy. Perhaps she's grown too. "Have you two had any other adventures lately?"

Hope burns eternal that they'll uncover something that will aid Verna... so far? Nothing.

"And a kitsune, which appear to be related to the fey in some way. I'm _still_ reeling about that one." Cor'lana's clearly a little giddy over the fantastical story of Telamon going with Corey and Karasu to meet Karasu's distant ancestor. It's a story that has some notes that are very familiar indeed, although her distant ancestor did not come with nine tails, fox ears, and a love of fried foods.

She gives a large smile at Auranar and Verna both. "Honestly, Telamon's the one who's been getting to have most of the excitement... Although there was that whole story with Shuichi." Her violet eyes twinkle a little for the mention of the tale. "I'll let Telamon recite that one."

"Shuichi and the fiend," Pothy says in a sing-song manner, plucking his beak up from the slice of pie he'd been cut. (Pothy always takes his time on pie. It's one of those little pleasures in life.) "I think that has a good ring to it. Shuichi and the fiend~ Shuichi and the fiend~!"

As dessert is served, Telamon's lips flatten slightly, but his calm optimism still shines in his eyes. "There have been developments, yes." He takes a moment to compose himself, mentally ordering his thoughts.

"Lana and I encountered the fiend in the Dreamlands, and battled it. While we weren't able to defeat it, we were able to eke out a victory of sorts by stealing one of his vessels -- a fey changeling named Yehor -- away from him. Much like that poor soul Simony tended to in the Arcanists' prison, Yehor had a summoning circle scribed inside his skull."

Telamon continues, "By carrying Yehor directly to Leca'fi Amdamu, I was able to remove the scribing -- though I credit Ni'essa with guiding my hand in that. I do not ever wish to try my luck with that again." His eyes flicker. "What was interesting is who came to collect Yehor immediately afterward: Captain Doyle."

"I do not believe in coincidences. I believe the Queen of Air and Darkness is somehow entangled in this affair. I don't know how, or why, but it beggars credibility that her most trusted servant has appeared -twice- in conjunction with the fiend."

Verna is nursing her wine, lightly, as pie is dispensed. Pothy, his serving, and his singing all receive a lingering glance and a modest touch of smile. Telemon's initial comment promptly draws her focus back to him, however.

First brows arch, and then lips purse as he expounds. None of the references evoke pleasant recollections.

While sthe he has a pointed suspicion as to one avenue by which the fey queen and the fiend have, or had, in common, she has no details of their possible goals. "Indeed. I concur that such a confluence has some cause." She is quiet for a moment before following with an inquiry, "Know you of any possible options to learn more of either?"

Auranar tilts her head, the name Yehor having no correlation to her at all. "What did he look like? Is he someone we've encountered before perhaps? Perhaps one of the people freed from that foul woman?" For a moment her face twists in displeasure remembering the woman whom had been taken by the same Captain Doyle. "If so... I greatly suspect this Queen. It seems ill that she is so involved in this."

She hardly touches the dessert at all, focusing on slowly drinking her wine and trying to keep herself relaxed and at ease.

"Yehor changed his appearance a couple of times," Cor'lana remarks, "but I saw his true form. He had a sort of strange luminosity to his skin, like it could glitter. His eyes changed color--the true seeing spell I saw him in had him with hazel eyes, but with blue and green in circles that spun around his irises."

She frowns deeply. "The Queen is... I'm taking notice of the fact she seems to be so involved in so many affairs lately. She acted oddly when I last observed her. There was that remark about finding Archmage Mikilos, remember?" Cor'lana shudders. She does not want to know what came of that, if anything.

Pothy has stilled considerably, looking at the group. He has no words to say, but Cor'lana frowns as she notices him. "I'm sorry, Pothy. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's okay," Pothy says softly. He concerns himself with the pie. Pie always makes him feel better.

Telamon shakes his head. "He wasn't among the prisoners we freed from Varyssa's clutches. But she knew of him. When I tried to use the trance dream to follow the thread and discover a connection if any, I received a vision of the Queen conversing with Varyssa, and Yehor appearing briefly before vanishing again." He sighs. "I'm not sure which way to take my next inquiry. It may have been that this fiend was possessing Yehor at the time."

"My own sources inform me Koz'gon is running quiet at the moment -- the moon dogs have been cautious about entering Alexandria as they don't want to kick off a panic about werewolves. But they don't think he's done with his machinations yet." His lips quirk up. "If only it was as simple as Shuichi picking his pocket as well."

He laughs softly. "I haven't told you this story. Evidently a div, a fiendish genie, had stolen a deific tool and was planning to use it to a foul end... except the lad Shuichi stole it from him unawares. I am currently sponsoring him at the Academy; he's a bright boy, and clever-handed." His eyes twinkle. "I like that."

Verna's focus drifts from the conversation (though her ears remain upon it) and to Auranar and linger with some concern. The hand nearest reaches to rest upon her wife: hand, arm, shoulder... the where does not matter, only the who and when. "I regret that her machinations may well have enabled those ever more concerning," she notes to all as her eyes return to the hosts. She then elicits less somber "Ahh" at Telamon's tailing bit of lighter news. "I would advise him caution concerning into which pockets he reaches... but perhaps that is too belated at this point."

Though the others are talking, Auranar is thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking of a man with changing eyes. A man whose form had tried to leak from her mind, but those eyes. "The man who took Verna had changing eyes." She says, then flushes a little in embarrassment that she had been so deep in thought that she'd missed almost everything else. She smiles at Verna's touch and her wife in general. "Do you remember anything specific?"

The comment from Auranar has Cor'lana freeze in her seat. "The man who took Verna had changing eyes?" she asks, before she looks at Telamon with a dawning sense of horror. "Tel..."

"The web is more interwoven than was thought," Pothy comments from his pie. "How many changelings do you believe are out there, doing work on behalf of the Queen?"

Cor'lana's lips press tightly together into a fine line. "We gave him back to the Court," she says. "We let Doyle take him home." That sits very poorly with her. Anger is a difficult emotion for Cor'lana to grapple with; she finds herself wishing she had Grandfather's great big claws at times. "Auranar..." Her sister's name is said like an apology.

Telamon raises his hand. Only to calm the tension, not to reproach. "There was no way for us to know," he says firmly. "Indeed, Yehor -himself- may not have known. He was being possessed, after all, and he bore the same inscriptions that Simony's patient did." His brow furrows. "Which raises questions. The Unseelie are -very- sensitive about being equivocated with fiends -- why would the Queen be so willing to treat with them? Especially as Yehor was the demi-fae son of an Unseelie noble. Said noble might be willing to engage in machinations, but allowing his son to be turned into a vessel for possession by a fiend?"

Tel's eyes glitter with a frosty light. "If the Queen is abetting fiendish machinations on Ea, then she needs to be... encouraged to find her entertainment elsewhere." His fingers tap out a staccato rhythm. "I know what my first inclination is, but... before I tell you, I want to hear from the rest of you."

Verna takes a firm sip of her wine and then regards it in the glass as her thoughts drift elsewhere. One thing that does not drift is her other occupied hand. "I never witnessed his eyes," she notes lightly, as if to the glass or herself. Her tone gains some strength after, yet also becomes flat.

"He was only in my presence when he came to feed, and each time he approached from behind, as he did in the streets outside of the theater. I do not know whether this was for ego, to sow fear, or indulge in some fiendish amusement. What glimpses I obtained were vague and his visage mutable and elusive. Far too soon, I was in no state to observe clearly, regardless." A pause and the wine is swirled again, lightly. "I inferred there was some arrangement with Varyssa, as his appetite was ... restrained. I was not aware of her dealings with the fae queen until afterwards."

Her eyes finally break from the wine after another moment to look to Auranar, then her in-laws. "I apologize and regret my lack of information and insight regarding said events."

Until Cor'lana says it, it's not true in Auranar's mind. So many people could... do... have... changing eyes? No. This was the person that took Verna and now... Now they're beyond her reach. She sets her wine glass down and she covers her face.

Every step they've taken has been met with two backwards. Two, three, four. An impossible race that she can't win. All of it stating clearly that the damage done by that horrid woman and her allies is permanent.

Telamon's question brings her to the present and she looks at Telamon with a glimmer of fire in her eyes. "We may not be a match for her up front, but... If she is purposefully meddling in the affairs of mortals... of *our family* like this? Encouragement is definitely on the menu."

What Verna says only reaffirms this to her thinking. They'd wanted her wife afraid. For what? For their own amusement. Her dark eyes are touched with something darker than fury. Hate.

Cor'lana takes a deep and hard breath. "We need answers," she says. "Encouragement, yes. But we need someone on the inside. Someone who can observe what's going on in the Court and report back... Or to catch Captain Doyle and convince him to help us." She frowns a little.

"Telamon... When we met the Captain for the first time, and he escorted us out when the Queen took Pothy... The Captain looked at us both like he knew our pain." Cor'lana looks at Telamon more squarely. "There's something there. Some kind of pain or weakness that we might be able to use to ask him to help us."

"Should I go?" Pothy's voice is a small thing. "I know that the Court hates me, but the Queen seems to like me, and if I can be helpful..."

Telamon watches Auranar carefully. He doesn't want her falling into despair. Better the anger, the hate, that can be stoked and controlled. Hopefully. "It is not impossible this is personal, rather than merely amusement. Remember, Grandfather turned down the Queen's advances and offers of position." His lips quirk. "Some women carry grudges."

His eyes flick to Pothy, and he reaches out to touch the familiar gently. "You're very brave, little brother. But no. This will not be negotiated from a position of weakness." Tel's eyes grow icy cold. "I will call Captain Doyle to Leca'fi Amdamu, my place of power, the house entrusted to me by Ni'essa Sky-Singer. If I must I will /compel/ him with spell and ritual. I do not wish to do this, but I -will- if necessary."

GAME: Verna rolls sense motive: (14)+15: 29
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Sense Motive: (7)+25: 32
GAME: Auranar rolls Bluff: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive: (1)+29: 30 (EPIC FAIL)

Verna's eyes snap to Pothy at his offering, but she does not put her concern into words. Not before Telamon denies that option, perhaps far more graciously than she might have. The note of women and grudges brings her eyes back sharply again, now to Auranar. They then linger there and her hand gives her a pat and light squeeze. "Love. We must attend this informed and with preparation, yet all -shall- be attended. What might I do to assist?" She includes all with her last statement, though her attention does not fully leave Auranar.

"I think it is past time that Captain Doyle answered some questions." Auranar says, her eyes drifting to Pothy. Oddly, she doesn't voice like the others that he shouldn't get involved. No, she understands the desire to help and how it feels to always be considered too weak to do anything useful. It's been her life.

Power has always been outside her reach.

She touches the mark on her chest. The one that Grandfather had given her to bring her into the family. To gift her with false memories of being loved. Being supported. She'd never really had any of it. "We'll do what we always do." She whispers. "Research. Find a path forward. Find some answer." Find nothing. Do nothing. She closes her eyes, remembering Magpie and a book. Remembering a path to power so close at hand. Her hand trails away from the mark and her eyes open. There has to be *some* answer.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Sing: (15)+19: 34

Cor'lana looks over at Auranar, and she frowns deeply. She leaves her seat and walks over to stand behind Auranar, putting her hand gently onto her sister's shoulder.

"If you would go on and leave, My lovely rose, who else will I love? I'll follow you, my sweet soul Who Harpist sent to guide me to grave." <Sylvan>

It's a portion of a Sylvan lullaby that she and Auranar both know. They both know it, because Grandfather sings it to his children when they're overcome, when they're overwhelmed by the world. Despite the opening lines of the song, it's a beautiful song about finding comfort with what is there and who is there with them.

"I want to get this done, too," Cor'lana murmurs. "I am all kinds of _angry_ and _incensed_, Auranar. But we'll do this together, okay? We'll do this together, and we'll find a good way forward. We're sisters--we found each other even if the world did not make us initially of blood for each other."

"Together," Telamon echoes, reaching across to take Auranar's hand. "We do this together. We study, we plan, we act. If you have an idea, -say so-." He offers her a smile. "You think you're weak. You're not. We need you. Verna needs you. Lana and I need you."

Telamon's eyes blaze with light. "Who faced down the Corpse-Eater, Auranar? Who drove an arrow into his eye? Yes, we faced him together, but you did that. My sister. Who stands as tall as the rest of us."

Verna may catch something in Auranar's connotation that belies her literal words. That, or perhaps there is worry that past follies of excessive concern for her wife might once more be viewed as restraints or belittling. Her countenance and tone soften. "Together, in all things, Auranar. Where you tread I shall follow." As prepared as possible, preferably, but at a sprint if necessary.

The song calms Auranar's hate around the edges. The memory of Grandfather singing it to her brings such sorrow and love to her heart. Even if the memories are only his wish of love for her, that makes them no less from his heart. If he could have found her as a child... The world would be a different place.

It's easy to forget that she has done what she has done. That she was part of those who saw the end of the man who'd stalked and harmed her sister. That she had faced the Corpse Eater toe-to-toe. That she'd struck Verna's mother down with her own hand. All her.

She breathes. "It's not beyond our reach. Not yet. Perhaps Captain Doyle can bring him to us. We have to try. We can question him, we can get answers." Auranar knows that the words are self-soothing, but she looks at her family and admits what she hadn't wanted to say out loud. "I'm at my wits end. I don't even know what this Koz'gon wants. What is his purpose? Why free the mages? Why work with that woman? With the Queen of Air and Darkness?"

They're all good questions.

-End