Seven
Lupecyll-Atlon home, evening
The bowls and platters are being cleared away, and cups and glasses refilled with hot tea or cider as the imbiber prefers. Of course, this being the home of sorcerers, the work is being handled by unseen servants that move with silent precision. The five members of the Lupecyll-Atlon family seated around the dinner table, with of course a sixth setting for a certain pale-feathered avian.
"That turned out better than I expected," Telamon remarks. "Although I don't think we'll be able to have it often. Sea serpent is not what you'd call a common game animal, not to mention the difficulty in actually securing it." He offers the others a crooked smile. "It's always fun to cook for my family, instead of just... 'decreeing' it, like in the mansion or the castle."
"Indeed, it has been some time since I've had sea serpent," Alud'rigan says with a wry smile, patting dry his mouth of stain and stew-blemish with a napkin. "And Pothy looks positively tired. He won't be flying all over the place now that he's weighed down by stew."
"_I_ feel weighed down by stew," Cor'lana says with a wide grin, patting her stomach. "It was good, though. Different, but good. And different is always a good thing."
Pothy burps. Birds don't burp, but Pothy does. "My compliments to the chef," he says, before hopping onto the floor and then... slowly... pattering away. Wobbling as he goes. "I'm going to hibernate all winter now. Like a bear. Like five dozen bears."
As Pothy walks, rather than flaps, through the house, Alud'rigan chuckles gently, before he looks to Auranar. "So... Shall you break the ice for us, dear?" he prompts. "Or shall I? Although I do not mean to replace dessert with the discussion of bitter things, it'll be obvious what merits the discussion."
"Most intriguing," Verna offers her opinion of the dish with Telamon's remark upon it. "It may best be an infrequent treat, lest we become jaded to others," she notes. "... Or involuntarily hibernate for decades." She, too, may be pleasantly (over?)full after the change from the norm that was dinner. Grandfather's words shift Verna's eyes, and a smile, to Auranar, before the mention of dessert compresses some of that expression to pursed lips.
Auranar sighs and smiles at Telamon. "Admittedly an excellent meal, one that I had not expected to enjoy quite so much. I hadn't expected it to be quite so sweet a flavor, but that unexpectedness was an excellent pairing with the other items you chose for the meal Telamon." She, being a baker knows well how to complement a fellow chef and she allows her empty plate to be taken away and tea set before her. "Personally I think a hard-won meal is one that is far more enjoyable in some ways, than one that you can magic up."
She lifts the tea cup and looks at the pale water in the cup for a time. "Though I wish that only glad tidings brought Grandfather and us to you for dinner." This somewhat ominous statement made Auranar looks at her wife sadly. "I do suppose that it ought to be me."
She gathers herself then a moment and explains a bit. "Verna has had a dream, a dream of a fae man who came on horseback to take something from her. We know not what. We have not been able to determine what it is. Only... that she feels the loss of it. We asked Grandfather to aid us in uncovering if it was in fact a real thing and not merely a dream and he confirmed that it was not merely dream. He also offered to aid us in the hunting of the man who too what was taken..."
Here she looks at Telamon. "Though we've questions many about the nature of the dreaming that we were hoping you might aid us in discovering the answers to."
Telamon smiles, watching Pothy wobble off and nodding at the compliments, his eyes sparkling. "Well, I do have excellent teachers and companions. I try my best to live up to your expectations." With the dishes cleared and the after-dinner drinks now in place, well... now it's to business.
And as Auranar speaks, Telamon's expression becomes cooler. Not hateful, but focused, deliberate. That mien he wears when he is about to apply himself to a task, without restriction.
"Well, first, a theft such as this is... very fey like. To not only lose something but the -memory- of it is a serious thing. Not unlike name-stealing." Telamon taps his fingers. "To reach through a dream to commit a theft, though... it's not impossible, but it would require some kind of prior contact. Not necessarily a contract or deal, but definitely someone you had met before. And the theft is not something... tangible. I think we might notice if you turned up missing an eye or a hand. Can you remember this man on horseback? His words, his countenance? Anything might help."
"I have seen his face, through the offering of a shared memory spell that Verna has given to me," Alud'rigan replies smoothly, although his countenance reflects the same manner as Telamon's. "He had a dream mare, a creature that cannot be tamed, only captured and bidden to carry its rider into someone else's dream. He rode this dream mare into Verna's dream. He has short hair, indicating he is likely of a lesser noble rank, perhaps seeking to impress someone of his own Court by stealing from Verna."
Cor'lana frowns deeply. "I'm guessing you didn't see what it was that Verna lost?" she asks as she puts her hand onto Telamon's arm. It's one of her anchoring motions. When something concerning is being discussed, she reaches for Telamon to ground herself so that she doesn't get too lost in the emotion.
Alud'rigan shakes his head. "Merely the feeling of loss. Whatever it was, he stole it by magic means through the mechanism of the dream. Verna, could you share the appearance of the man with your excellent spellwork again?"
Verna's eyes linger on Auranar a moment before her focus moves to Telamon and his line of inquiry. As she prepares her response, Grandfather explains much of what she had to share, and had previously shared. A light nod is made of her brother-in-bond's assessment on the theft, first. "The sensation of loss was imprecise; only a feeling. Similarly, I held the notion that I believed the culprit fae without any tangible evidence. Still, an inventory of myself and our home revealed no absences. I fear it likely that, as you suggest, he may have taken a memory, or the memory of whatever was taken in addition."
"Of course," she responds to The Feathered One's suggestion and rises from her seat. Before stepping towards Telamon or lifting a hand for any gestures, she rests one up one Auranar's shoulder. "As I will share with you, love, should you wish. Not only for your insight, but merely that I would keep nothing from you." They may not share the continual mental bond that Talemon and Cor'lana hold, but that does not mean she withholds from her spouse.
After, she takes a step around the table towards Telamon in order to grant him the memory of her dream with incantation and gesture should he accept. It would be grossly impolite to reach across the dinner table, afterall.
Auranar has the grace to look a little embarrassed. "I have not actually seen the dream myself. Verna shared it with Grandfather and I didn't think to ask to view the dream as well. It seems that he was unable to take *all* of the memory. Since he left behind the memory of himself. That much at least remains intact." She falls silent as Verna offers to share the dream with her and nods in agreement. "I would appreciate it greatly. Perhaps I might offer some insight. I have in the past."
She hopes that it is so again. Let her be the key to unlocking some insight that the enemy does not expect. Her dark eyes flare happily with the thought. Most expect so little of her, and that in the end is their downfall.
She will however, await until Telamon has had his vision of the fae man, she can wait her turn.
Telamon's brow furrows. "A memory. Even more curious. I won't say it was -unimportant-, but... thankfully he did not steal something more critical. Like your mental faculties, or your remaining years." His lips curl in memory of a certain fiend who is now nothing.
His gaze moves to Auranar, and he smiles. "Your insight is -always- welcome, Aura. And the more hands we have set to unraveling this riddle, the better it will be. I have no problem with accepting help when I clearly need it." He takes Lana's hand with an impish grin, raising it so he can kiss the back of her hand.
At Verna's approach, he nods, beckoning her forward. "I am familiar with this spell as well -- go ahead and show me what you saw, Verna."
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/arcana: (1)+21: 22 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/arcana: (1)+21: 22 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/religion: (20)+13: 33 GAME: Verna casts Share Memory. Caster Level: 19 DC: 19 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (9)+26: 35 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (20)+26: 46
As Telamon experiences the memory, Cor'lana does, as well, and together, the two minds work together, figuring out quickly what the other does not. Cor'lana's eyes widen as she returns from the memory.
"That person... Is a shapeshifter. Not with spells, but simply a part of _them_, an innate ability. And... he stole Verna's 'Vital Spark'. The intrinsic ability for a body to create life."
Her brows furrow together as she looks at Alud'rigan. "We only know one person who's having issues with that."
Alud'rigan's expression curdles. "The Queen's son," he says. "This was stolen from Verna to give to him."
Verna knows well that Telamon and Cor'lana are the foremost authorities on matters of dreams and fae; thus sharing this with them (in addition to they being family). "Shapeshifter, thus they could readily encounter myself in the past and yet not be-" Her words stop abruptly and she blinks as the rest of Cor'lana's evaluation is parsed.
"He stole -what?!-" The reserved and neutral countenance that accompanies most planning and discussions distorts in surprise. Shock. Horror?
Auranar seems equally surprised by the fact that something so intrinsic to Verna's body was stolen. She looks at her wife worriedly, and as always offers her a hand to hold. A piece of solidity to rely upon in a world that seems so often uncertain and cruel. "They could have been anyone then. They could have extracted a promise of gratitude at any time and then come back for repayment years later." Her words feel hollow and empty.
Telamon's eyes glitter in anger and fury. "How the..." He takes a deep breath, stifling the profanity that's about to erupt at what he witnessed. "That son of a bitch."
Another breath, as his eyes meet Lana's and Grandfather's. "Exactly. Cul. And there's more. This heavy snowfall -- it's not coincidence. The Harpist is angry, Verna. This snow is her display of anger -- she's not happy with someone stealing something so important from her chosen."
Telamon's eyes glow with starlight. "Alright then. This is probably in response to Koz'gon being pulverized. But since the Unseelie Court wants to pick fights, I will be -happy- to oblige them. But I do have a side trip to make first."
"If Vardama is displeased with this state of affairs, I will ask her -- politely -- to not take it out on Alexandria but instead assist us in fixing it."
Cor'lana looks at Telamon with wide eyes. "You want to visit the Gray Harpist herself?" she asks. Her tone is somewhere between amazed and flabbergasted... and then she looks at the others. "Wait... We _could_, couldn't we? Or... I actually don't know if we can."
She frowns. "I mean, people don't remember when they come back from the Gray Halls, generally speaking. Right?"
Alud'rigan pauses for a moment. And then he adds, "Might I come with you? If I'm allowed in? If..." He seems reluctant to say his next words, but he does anyway. "If Lana'lel is around, still... It'd be nice for you to meet your Grandmother."
Verna's shock and ire are assuaged the moment Auranar's hand is take, insofar that her expression relaxes to the more typical neutral. Her grip upon the hand suggests that her feelings on the matter are not wholly dismissed. Her eyes do widen at Telamon's observation that The Harpist, Herself, is displeased at this and making such known, but they promptly relax, or rather lower to furrow, as she gives all some thought.
"I advise against hasty meetings with The Gray Harpist. If She is displeased with current events, and I must admit doubt that She might act so directly solely due my involvement..." A pause before she speculates, "It may be the blasphemy The Great Cycle, rather than the individual, that garners Her displeasure. Still, I can seek Her counsel on the matter..." Her eyes shift to Grandfather, "As well as make an inquiry of those now or formerly in Her Hall, if desired." She does not offer any meetings or message-bearing, nor does she explicitly counsel that such may be impossible.
As to what further action to take, she offers nothing yet. All continues to be considered.
Auranar herself is quiet, perhaps too quiet on this matter. She doesn't know what to say. If she should say anything. Her eyes glitter with rage. "Let cooler heads take the reins for now, I want nothing more than this man's head on the end of one of my arrows." She says with a grim finality at long last.
Telamon isn't what might be called a 'cooler head' at this point. But he grips Lana's hand, not hard, but drawing on her to help control his own temper. "...Please do seek her counsel, Verna. I don't wish to offend her -- after all, we all wind up in her Halls eventually." His lips curl up in a slightly insouciant smile. "But this is one more insult from the mad Queen and her idiot son and I am -done- with tolerating them."
His voice drops a little. "All they had to do was leave us alone. Now I will have to kill them, or assist in such. I wanted a season of rest, and now I must go to war again." His eyes flare. "With whatever force I can muster. Because this sort of thing never stops with just -one- person being assaulted or stolen from."
Cor'lana nods heavily to that, looking at Telamon and squeezing his hand back to help him marshal his own feelings. "I admit... I would be interested in meeting Grandmother, if she is still in the Halls, although... That would be a very long time to wait, wouldn't it?"
Alud'rigan nods gently. "I told her not to wait for me, as I might well live forever," he says. "She told me in her dying days that she would do as she pleased, and what would please her would be to wait for me and to bother the Harpist by waiting. She also pointedly told me that she expected me to live a full life and not get hung up on her, and that if I do come to the Halls, I'd better have plenty of stories to tell her."
He looks a little bashful. "And I have plenty of stories of sitting at home, caring for children. I feel like she wouldn't think those were terribly exciting ones."
That puts a little smile onto Cor'lana's face. "We have time to write new ones, Grandfather," she says, before looking at Telamon. "I do agree with you. We need allies. And on that note... When you do go hunting for this entity with Grandfather, Auranar, and Verna? I think I'll be in contact with Faphinae Cari'thana to talk about her plans."
Verna continues to clutch Auranar's hand and remains silent as multiple threads of thought form, split into different possibilities, dissipate, or even merge. While the facts and reasonable hypotheses of the matter are few, there is a great deal for Verna to process, personally. Auranar receives an acknowledging brief squeeze of hand as she makes plans of vengeance plain.
This sparks yet another thought amidst the many hypotheses, evaluations, and even some self-pity concerning the fact that such as happened to her. This new thought: gratitude. Whilst much has been taken from her, now and in the past, all pales to what she still has: Auranar, Telamon, Cor'lana, Grandfather. Her family.
'May their appointed time be far in the future,' she beseeches The Harpist internally. Formal communing or prayers shall occur later to aid their cause; in the now, she seeks blessings for her family.
The shadows lengthen, standing out in stark relief to the rest of the room. Darkening and the world seems to become pale in the this much darkness. Then comes a voice. The voice of a matron. An aged motherly woman. "DO YOU ASK NOTHING FOR YOURSELF MY CHILD?"
"AFTER SO MUCH WAS TAKEN FROM YOU, DO YOU STILL ASK FOR NOTHING?"
Auranar shudders at the sudden darkness, her hands suddenly wrapping around Verna's one. It's not fear really, but something else. Something more primal. Something that sends a shiver up her spine and she feels warmth again in her heart when she feels Verna's touch. That voice. She knows that voice. It's almost like her grandmother's voice. Almost. It makes tears prickle in her eyes. She'd almost forgotten the woman.
Telamon stiffens as well, though his own handclasp with Lana keeps him from doing something reckless. He wants to speak, wants to argue... but he's not the one being addressed. His sister is the one in front of the desk, so to speak, and she must answer.
That doesn't mean Tel can't look to her. Nod encouragingly. Let her put into words what she needs to. He gives Lana's hand a squeeze, as he faces the darkness fearlessly.
Cor'lana knows that voice. The hair on her neck stands on end. It's the voice that came out of Verna when she asked, many moons ago, if Zalgiman Joaki was at peace in the Halls, and then the voice responded to her, beseeching her to wait a moment while she found Zalgiman to speak to her.
She bows her head in reverence, knowing who it must be, and she is grateful that the Gray Harpist is so kind a goddess that she would lecture Verna, her beloved servant, as a mother would. "Bless you, Vardama," she murmurs.
Just as one might think the unexpected had reached its quota for one evening, this is proven false. Verna's eyes widen in surprise. No thoughts are formed of possible chicanery and she promptly genuflects in reverence, yet she keeps hold of Auranar's hand(s) still. "My Lady..." It is both respectful acknowledgement and the start of a response.
"I sought blessings for my family, Harpist. They are everything to me." It is succinct, direct, and truthful. The following words bear more of her typical verbiage. "We shall correct this wrong. To that end, I would also seek your wisdom and guidance." She just had not done so yet.
The darkness lightens becoming more twilight. "I HAVE SENT MY SERVANT TO YOU. THEY HAVE ENTERED THE CITY AND COME AS SWIFTLY AS A MORTAL MIGHT. KNOW THIS MY CHILD, YOU ARE MY BLESSING, MY WOMAN BETWEEN WORLDS. FOR YOU I WEEP EVERY DAY AT THE LOSS OF THE GIFT THAT WAS YOURS ALONE TO GIVE."
There is a moment of silence. And then... "YOU ARE PRECIOUS CHILD, DO NOT DOUBT THAT. WHEN YOU HAVE NEED, YOU NEED ONLY CALL."
Auranar looks at Verna, unable to find the words to express what is in her mind. She knows that she should speak, should say something, but there's nothing in her but her love of Verna keeping her together. She feels strangely mortal in the face of Vardama, the goddess of death.
You'd think Telamon would get used to this, but no -- there's no getting used to this sort of thing. But... one can adapt. Strengthen one's will in the face of the incredible, the amazing, or the just downright bizarre.
A servant of the Harpist on their way... Tel opens his mouth to ask something, then decides to save it for later. If this servant is on the way, it'll probably show up -here-, though the image of some nebulous servitor of Vardama waiting on the porch of Aura and Verna's house like a faithful hound is... actually pretty funny. But not likely.
With the Harpist's blessing upon Verna, though, Telamon lets out a breath. His eyes flick to Lana's, and something passes between them, a telepathic conversation faster than the spoken word.
Cor'lana nods to Telamon, something passing from her to him. Then she looks at Alud'rigan, who has been very still and without comment this entire time. What surprises her are the words that her grandfather speaks next.
"You know, there were times I would have gladly welcomed a servant of Vardama on my front step," he says. His eyes lock onto the door. "And there are times that I would have chased one away, for fear of leaving my wife widowed and all alone in Quelynos, or for fear of leaving my descendants without me to care for them. Now... I am uncertain."
He chuckles softly. "I suppose all we must do is extend some hospitality. You don't happen to have any more of that stew, do you, Telamon?"
"As You will it, my Lady. I am grateful for your guidance and boons." What else could one say but this? Verna is not accustomed to such titles, especially uttered by her matron... but she can hardly refute Her words. She straightens, then, and moves closer to Auranar, bringing her other hand to cover the hand(s) of her wife already held to better convey and/or receive solace to and/or from. Eyes do flit to Grandfather with initial uncertainty before she realizes he speaks of the impending servant and is not seeking to offer the stew to The Grey Harpist, Herself. Right?
A knock comes at the door in a particular pattern. One that visibly makes Alud'rigan stiffen and stand all the taller, his eyes widening momentarily. He even adjusts his sweater, as though he's trying to look good for a particular someone.
"Hold on, I'll get it." That's Pothy's voice. Apparently he never actually made it all the way upstairs and has been lounging around by the front door the whole time. There's the sound of wings, and then the door unlocks, swinging open.
A sildanyari-seeming woman stands on the other side of the door. She is just a few inches taller than Cor'lana, two inches shorter than Telamon, but what is most notable about her size-wise is that she is generously formed, shaped like a woman who has borne several children and never particularly worked off the excess fat that came with it, yet she is beautiful for it. Her red hair is immaculately braided together, keeping her hair out of her sky-blue eyes that sparkle with warmth. She wears a dress of pure white that shimmers in the light.
"Hello, Rigan, sweetie," she says, before those blue eyes flit over to the rest of the room, and she beams as she adds, "Hello, my sweetlings and _their_ sweetlings. I'm so happy we've been given this rare opportunity. You probably know me as Grandmother. I'm Lana'lel Lupecyll, and I'm here to help." She's smiling from ear to ear.
-End