Dinner at the Rosalian Rose

Log Info

• Title: Dinner at the Rosalian Rose

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Telamon, Ravenstongue

• Place: The Rosalian Rose restaurant, in the Memorial Gardens district

• Summary: Telamon and Cor'lana are invited to share dinner with Gerald Branfeux, Lana's uncle and Addy Branfeux's father. The dinner is good, but the conversation is better as the trio delve into Lana and Gerald's past as well as plans for the future, and a promise to try and dine there again at a later date.

The Memorial Gardens District, evening.

The Rosalian Rose is a high-end restaurant specializing in the finest Rosalian cuisine in Alexandria, short of buying an airship ticket and going there yourself--or so the place is billed in food critic reviews. While the place has one or two detractors that say it's underwhelming for all of the clamor about it, one thing is for certain: it's nigh-impossible to get a seat there.

Unless, of course, you know people, and you happen to be invited to dine there with said people. This is the case as Cor'lana stands outside of the Rose, wearing her finest dress (the same one that she wore to meet the Queen of Air and Darkness, in fact). "Glad we left Pothy at home with Grandfather," she says, "although Grandfather might drive him up the wall with all of those bowties he brought for Pothy to choose from for the wedding. I didn't even /know/ that Grandfather had a bowtie collection."

She shivers a little from a cool autumn breeze and draws closer to Telamon. "I hope that Addy and her father arrive soon," she says. "It's awfully cold out here."

"I admit, the idea of a fey lord collecting bowties is... slightly surreal." Telamon is dressed quite comfortably, in a style that draws heavily from Rosalian culture -- probably purchased at Jovani's, no doubt. A dark blue doublet over a ruffled and puffed white and blue blouse, with long trousers and knee-high boots. "Still, Pothy has had to endure worse. I suspect everything will be fine."

When Cor'lana shivers, Tel puts his arm around her, letting her cuddle in. "We could wait inside, love. It's not like we -have- to stand out here waiting for them." His dark eyes scan the road, his expression pensive. "This will be interesting, though. I'm looking forward to meeting him."

It's at that point that an individual walks into view. He's a human man who's about as tall as Telamon, dressed in a long navy-blue peacoat with a finely-knit cashmere scarf tucked around his neck. His blue eyes and his dark hair, albeit greying slightly at the sides, as well as his fine facial structure, loudly announce that he is a member of the Branfeax family tree, and that this is surely Gerald. He walks along with a black wooden cane that seems to be more of a fashion accessory than anything, and he offers a tip of his short and sleek top hat as he approaches Telamon and Cor'lana, followed by a warm smile at Cor'lana.

"Well, it's true what Addy's said--you're Dina's child, alright," Gerald says with a warm chuckle. His voice is deep and affectionate--the sort of rumble that leaves a man that is an instant friend. "Goodness gracious, you are beautiful.--And you, sir, you must be the diplomat's son and the cousin of the boy that my Addy's besotted with." He turns to Telamon and holds out his hand.

Cor'lana smiles widely. "It's so nice to meet you at last," she says. "Err, what would you prefer I call you? And is Addy coming along?"

"Just Gerry will do," Gerald replies. "Addy, unfortunately, is tied up at work and can't come, but that means we can't have a good meal in her stead. Come along."

Telamon's eyes alight on Gerald, picking out the forthright pace and direction fairly easily. When he greets the pair, Telamon immediately takes Gerry's hand in his, shaking firmly. "Indeed, sir. Telamon Atlon of Ylvaliel at your service." Measuring the older man with his eyes, but his smile is genial and welcoming. "As Lana says, it's good to meet you finally. Addy's spoken of you on occasion."

At the news that Addy is tied down, he makes a rueful sigh. "That... doesn't surprise me, I'm afraid, thinking about it. It's the end of the current three-month; that means finals for the students at the University. Which means they'll be buying coffee and staying up late to cram for the tests." He shrugs lightly. "Well, we'll just have to take her out to dinner another night." He tucks Lana's hand into his arm, and follows Gerry inside.

As the group steps inside the Rose, a rather interesting series of events occurs. The hostess, a shorter human woman with a stern look about her, barely takes a look at Gerald as she smiles and says, "Mister Branfeax, your table is waiting. May I take your coat and scarf?"

"That'd be grand, luv," Gerald replies, doffing his coat and scarf in a smooth fashion. The hostess takes the garments and hands them off to a half-elf boy dressed in a matching smart-looking uniform to hers, who disappears with them into another room. In the meantime, she leads the trio through another hallway and up a flight of stairs to an opera box-style private dining room that overlooks the 'general admission' of diners downstairs.

Cor'lana takes her seat and takes the menus that are handed out. She stares at them for a moment and then purses her lips. "There's no prices," she says to Gerald.

"I've got it handled. Please don't worry," Gerald says with a smile. "Normally you pay at the door for your intended number of courses, but you happen to be dining with the Rose's top investor."

Telamon seems oddly at ease -- there's a welcome familiarity to the surroundings, for him. "Father took me to some place like this, when I was working as his apprentice." He looks wry. "Actually, it was something of a test in itself, to see if I'd matured enough and listened to his lessons on table manners. And yes, I did pass -- and the meal was good, too."

He helps Cor'lana seat herself, before taking the seat next to hers. Inspecting the menu, his eyebrow rises. "Goodness. I can see why you invested, sir. I haven't seen entrees like this since I was -in- Rosalia." He lifts his gaze to Gerald's. "My compliments, sir. You have exceptional taste."

Cor'lana, meanwhile, is inspecting the menu. It's clear she's not nearly so versed with Rosalian cuisine as Telamon happens to be, and eventually she sheepishly looks at Telamon and says, "Umm, what do you think I'd like? I, umm... Mother never taught me about Rosalian cuisine." The last remark is delivered to Gerald as she looks at him, almost like she's trying to see if she's suddenly earned his displeasure.

But Gerald is instead smiling like he's in on a joke. "Ah, well," he says, "I actually should be honest--"

In strides a fair-skinned elf woman wearing a dark chef's jacket. Her striking green eyes and the elvish curves of her face are somehow familiar... But more familiar is that easy smile on her face as she walks up to Gerald and gives him a deep kiss on the lips that goes on... maybe a little longer than would be considered polite. But she pulls away and the two are grinning at each other. "He's co-owner, /not/ an investor," the woman says, rolling her eyes a little. "I'm Liandra Branfeax, and I happen to be the /other/ owner and executive chef of the Rosalian Rose. I'm Addy's mother."

"And the most beautiful and most gracious woman to have ever walked on this realm or any other," Gerald replies, "who happened to be struck with a fit of insanity and agreed to my proposal. I /do/ have excellent taste, but I cannot say for my good wife."

Telamon places a reassuring hand on Lana's. "Don't worry, I'll help walk you through it. This isn't a test, after all." He grins at her, before glancing to Gerald, his eyebrows shooting up. "Er..."

Then his confusion smooths out into a smile, and he rises to bow to the chef, careful not to jostle Lana. "Lady Branfeax, a pleasure. Telamon Atlon, and this is my fiancee, Cor'lana Lupecyll." He's pretty sure she knows who they are already, but introductions are important.

Returning to his seat, he grins at Gerald. "Oh, I don't know. I'm sure my parents might argue your wife was just being sensible, after all." He rests his hand in front of him, the other back on Lana's.

"Oh please, if you must address me with a title, make it 'Chef'," Liandra responds, although it's said with a smile. "Anyway, I just heard Gerry was in with you, so I figured I'd just drop in real quick and say hi before I throw myself back into the warzone."

Gerald takes Liandra's hand and kisses it first on her golden wedding ring, followed by several kisses up her hand to her wrist. "Go and carve them all open, my heart," he says to her wistfully. "I know that critic from the Tribune is down there tonight."

"I know," Liandra replies with a roll of her eyes again. "He won't stop trying to sweet-talk the waitress. I told her if she gets fed up with it to let Barry take over. If it was anyone else, I'd throw 'em out on the pavement and let them eat concrete. Anyway, gotta go. You kids order whatever, I'll make sure it blows your socks off."

She strides off and away. Gerald watches her walk away and sighs wistfully. "The most gorgeous diamond in the rough," he says. "Now, I'm sure you're not here for just the food, the wine, and the company. I'd be happy to talk about your mother, Cor'lana."

Cor'lana blinks a little--she'd been caught between trying to interpret the menu and admiring the two pieces of the puzzle that led to her cousin Addy being born. "Oh, umm. Err. I..." She reddens a little.

Elegant half-sil he may be, but Telamon can't keep the smile off his face at Gerry and Liandra. Perhaps it's a reflection -- and a good one, for a change -- of watching his own mother and father. "As you will it, Chef," he replies politely. He lets the back-and-forth between the two regarding the critic go by without comment, though he looks at Gerry quizzically when Liandra departs. "What's with the critic? Is he looking for trouble?"

At Cor'lana's getting caught flat-footed, Telamon shifts his train of thought. "Let's order first, then we can discuss Nadina," he says smoothly. "I can recommend the tomato basil soup for an appetizer, followed by the gnocchi a la salsiccia or the eggplant parmigiana. The lasagna, or 'pasta cake', is also quite good." He tilts his head at Gerry. "Or if our esteemed host has recommendations, I will of course defer to him."

Gerald gives a little huff at the question of the critic. "That self-important blowhard simply likes to abuse his position," he says. "He spends the Tribune's money on the most lavish meals and has taken lately to flirting with every pretty face he comes across on the way there. Never you worry, however--I /am/ a writer myself, and I happen to know that, ahem, the next quarter's budget for the Tribune will see a reduction in certain... specialist roles, but oh, with a fundraiser campaign, they might suddenly recruit a bright and rising new star in the world of food criticism."

He offers both Telamon and Cor'lana a grin and a wave of his hands. "Such is life, you know?"

Cor'lana looks to Telamon's recommendations and says, "The soup and the gnocchi sound good to me."

Gerald smirks a little. "I wouldn't be able to offer a recommendation, anyway, beyond 'throw a dart at the menu'. My wife developed this menu by herself, and there's a reason we have the reputation that we have. Everything is sublime.--Barry, I know you're lurking around the corner, my friend."

A jotun in the same smart-looking uniform as the rest of the staff comes out. He's clean-cut and well-groomed, his dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He's much taller than any of them, and there's a slight air of intimidation to him...

"Yes, boss," he says, surprisingly soft-spoken. "I would be more than happy to take your orders when you are ready."

Telamon snorts. "I think I know the one you're talking about." He looks up at the ceiling a moment, but then offers Gerald a crooked smile. "See now, that's what I like to see. Problems and solutions. Well, maybe he'll learn a lesson." A genial shrug. "Stranger things have happened."

Tel nods to Lana, "Good choices. I think I'll have the soup myself, but I definitely want lasagna. It's hard to find good lasagna outside of Rosalia. Even Jovani's been known to bemoan the lack of, ah, 'migration'? Of the recipes. Then again, he may be having a little laugh on me -- he does like to occasionally play the dramatic type."

Looking up at the imposing giantborn, he doesn't quite react with fear, but there is an impressed look on his face.

The orders are placed, and 'Barry' the jotun says nearly nothing, only nodding as each item is placed. "I'll have them right out," he says again in that softspoken tone, and he departs quite silently despite his large frame.

"Beautiful soul, that man," Gerald comments with warmth as Barry leaves. "A consummate professional with a real love of the art of service. Now, I /do/ know Jovani, and you're right, he can be a little dramatic for the sake of a joke, but that is somewhat of a Rosalian sensibility, too--their passions can run hot just as they can be the warmest people you might ever meet."

Cor'lana blinks a couple of times. "Who /don't/ you know?" she asks after a moment.

Gerald laughs at that. "Softball on that one, luv," he says. "You and Telamon, I do not know. But we're fixing that."

Telamon leans back in his chair a bit, comfortably. "There's something to be said for a ... hmmm. Cosmopolitan, I suppose? Outlook on things. Of being well-traveled. It opens doors you might not expect to open, if you can show some familiarity -- or at least fake it." He waits for the wine to be brought, and glasses poured, before he continues speaking.

"We were discussing Nadina. And, of course, Lana by extension. You probably know a fair bit about me, Gerald -- it's not like I've been the retiring quiet type. Though I'd like to think my career has met with father's approval -- you know how it is. The son can't help but look to his father."

Gerald takes his glass and raises it a little at the mention of Nadina, a sort of silent toast to her memory, before he takes a sip from it. "I suppose I should correct myself--I have heard /of/ you, but I do not know you. I like to make a distinction between those things, as news and rumors are merely another person's opinion of someone else if you were to boil it down to the most basic bit. If I want my readers to know a character of mine is a villain, then I paint him as such, my opinion of him slowly influencing theirs. That, of course, doesn't stop me receiving fanmail from those who think some of my antagonists are highly attractive, but the zest of life is often accompanied by astonishment and surprise."

He leans back in his chair. "Which is to say I have heard both of you do great things. Addy speaks nothing but praise of you both, especially for helping her get her business off the ground. She was adamant that neither her mother nor I help her--she wouldn't entertain the notion for a moment that nepotism is the reason she has succeeded, rather than her own skill as a pastry chef and a barista. In a way, Telamon, I suppose that's somewhat like yourself and your father--Addy knew her mother wouldn't respect her, either, if she coasted on her coattails."

Cor'lana smiles a little at that, relaxing a little with the conversation and with the flow of wine. "I guess I should start by asking... What was my mother like when she was younger? She told me that she went to live with you and your family when her mother couldn't really care for her any longer."

Telamon nods. "There's a similar pattern. I noticed it myself with Addy -- that drive to distinguish oneself by one's own deeds. I never resented the prospect of following father's path, but I wanted to make it my own, not just be his son." He smiles, taking a sip of wine. "I love my father dearly, but I would like to be known for my own actions."

He listens with interest as Gerald notes their rising fame. "It does seem we have become names of note here in Alexandria, and points elsewhere. Every once in a while I'm mystified by it -- surely people cannot be interested in me -- and then I remember the things I have done, and contemplate what I might yet do." Tel smirks. "My ego, however, seems to be thankfully kept in check by a very wise and gracious lady of my acquaintance." He gives Lana's hand a squeeze.

"Aren't all who are in love with wise and gracious ladies kept in check by them?" Gerald says with a wistful sigh, clearly thinking of the chef who is likely toiling over their food as they speak. "Fame is a curious thing--a thing I have partially avoided by publishing almost all of my work under a body of pen names. Some I have disclosed publicly as mine, others that I have kept to myself but may reveal at a later junction, and a couple that I'll take to my grave--as they were my most dreadful and earlier of works. Just see to it that you stay humble, lest you become like the critic who is soon to lose his employment."

He watches Cor'lana flush a little and smile from Telamon squeezing her hand, and he smiles warmly on his own, before he looks more seriously at Cor'lana. "Your mother was... well, she was a wild child, to a degree," he says, a tad cautiously at first, but then with mirth to follow. "She was young when she came to my house--just a little thing with a bird and a mantle of responsibility she could barely comprehend. She tried to pretend like her father's death didn't affect her, and that her mother essentially abandoning her to us to raise didn't affect her, but it certainly did. Over time, she grew to trust us--I think when she realized that we weren't going to disappear. And yet when she left home as a teenager to go strike it out on her own, I knew she'd be fine."

He raises his glass again. "There are some truths about yourself that you must find on the road--to travel the world is to also travel the depths of your heart and emerge a better person."

Telamon takes another sip of the wine, regarding Gerald. "Not really an option for us at this point, unless we want to abandon our identities and wear masks or something, like a copper-dreadful tale. Besides, Pothy would give away the whole scheme." He grins a bit at that, before sobering again. "There is something to be said for daring, but humility is... not a bad idea."

Tel recalls the tale of Nadina's father, but he says nothing. Instead, he listens, and nods. "As you say. I spent time as father's apprentice, but eventually it was time to spread my wings and fly on my own. Just as Lana did, in time, when she left Rune." He looks at her gently. "It must've been a shock to venture out into the world, as wild and weird as it can be."

Cor'lana does giggle a little. "Pothy is one-of-a-kind," she says, "and I don't think he'd care for me trying to use a spell to make his feathers a different color, or to turn him into a /different/ bird. So, no disguises for us, and therefore no escape." Her eyes twinkle a little as she looks at Telamon. "Not that I mind, so long as I have you."

Gerald nods at Telamon's final remark, a sober sort of look on his face. "I imagine it was hard at first for both of you," he says, looking at Cor'lana--it's possible that he means Nadina and Cor'lana, but it could also be applied to Cor'lana and Telamon. "Addy told me how you'd come to be, Cor'lana, and about your life. I won't make you go through the sorrows of your youth--not here, at least. The only sobbing that's allowed in the Rosalian Rose are the tears of joy from eating the food, as Liandra likes to say."

Cor'lana nods appreciatively. "It was hard," she says. "At first it was. Then I made friends. And... I met special people." It's her turn to squeeze Telamon's hand as she looks at him, her gratitude and love for him being there for her fully apparent in her violet eyes.

Telamon smiles back at Lana, his dark eyes sparkling as well. "You were, are, the best reason to come to Alexandria, love. I have no regrets and no worries." His fingers against hers, as he raises her hand to his lips for a moment.

"But, as Gerald says, no tears here. The soup is probably enroute as we speak and it'd be rude to cry into it." He finally pulls his gaze from Cor'lana's and turns it back to Gerald. "Have you spoken with Luthel of late? I know he had opted to emigrate here... mostly, I suspect, so he'd be able to spend time with family, both Lana and you. While our first meeting was... a trifle tense, I've grown to like the man and approve of him."

Cor'lana's eyes sparkle in that manner that they always do when Telamon kisses her hand, and she smiles warmly at him. This results in a similar smile finding its way onto Gerald's lips, and he chuckles. "Luthel, ah, my brother. That's what I've come to think of him as over the years, that is. That man's been busying himself with all manner of things. In fact, from what I understand, he's been working on something for your wedding with that fey ancestor of yours.

That gets a blink of astonishment from Cor'lana, her eyes widening afterward. "Uh--they're working together?"

Gerald grins impishly at both of them. "Yes, but you didn't hear it from me," he says. "I don't think I was supposed to know, either, but Luthel doesn't exactly keep lemon-lavender shortbread cookies on hand when I go to visit him, and /I/ know a tad about the fey--albeit through Liandra and her family's stories about them--to know that they awfully like lavender."

Clearly Tel didn't know about this either, because he fails to keep his own genial expression, surprise shining through. "I... huh. Well. I... didn't expect that, but they do have a certain common interest. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised."

The soup arrives at this juncture, steaming bowls with spoons set before the diners. Telamon smiles appreciatively, and nods to Gerry. "Still, it's a good sign -- I don't want any bad blood between the various and sundry elements that make up our extended family. There will always be errors and misunderstandings, but they shouldn't be allowed to fester."

Cor'lana takes a polite spoonful of her soup, blowing a little on it to ensure it won't scorch the roof of her mouth off--she's not resistant to heat like her fiance is, after all--and sips it. She hums appreciatively as she finishes her small portion. "Gerry," she says in surprise, "that is /really/ good. Your wife is amazing."

Gerald grins from ear to ear, having already sampled it himself. Apparently, he will brave a burnt mouth or tongue if it's his wife's food. "Of course she is. She is both the tempest and the calm in the storm. But it's funny that you mention bad blood in family, Telamon--Liandra's parents did not want me to marry her at first. 'Why would you marry a poor human writer who churns out copper dreadfuls?' they asked. 'He'll pass away before he ever gets any good at the craft!' They came around when we had Addy, but they still think my writing is not up to snuff."

The impish grin returns to his lips again. "However, that is because they don't know that I am the man behind the detective series that her father's rather fond of, nor that I am the man behind the adventure series that her mother is fond of. Perhaps someday they'll figure it out, or I'll tire of the mask and reveal myself, but not anytime soon."

Telamon sips the soup as well, though he's clearly unfazed by the heat. "Mmm. Oh yes. Now there's a taste that takes me back. You realize I will have to tell my parents about this place -- both of them appreciate a well-done meal."

Tel nods soberly at the travails Gerry had to endure. "Father and mother discussed things, before they married. But they're both of the opinion that life is meant to be -lived-. You can't sit by for fear of loss. So while we live, let us -live-."

There's a cadence to his voice that suggests he's quoting something. Then his eyes twinkle again. "How do you find the time, or the patience, to manage all these pen names in your head, Gerry? I don't think I could handle it myself."

"Well, truth be told?" Gerald continues to smile impishly. "I have a photographic memory, at least for certain things. I remember all of the covers of my books, you see. And given that they are never reprinted or republished with a different pen name--as per my contracts with the publishers--I remember them quite well. So, I am able to keep myself straight. But I do employ an assistant to help me keep storylines and characters straight for some of my longer-running series."

"That must be a fun job to have," Cor'lana murmurs. "An author's assistant. It might be the most maddening job ever or the easiest one, though, depending on the author."

Gerald shrugs his shoulders. "Either way," he says, "she doesn't seem to mind. I try to not be a nightmare of a person. I've made a comfortable living off my work, but Liandra is the real powerhouse for our finances. The Rose and our past ventures have, and were, quite profitable."

Telamon furrows his brow as he eats his soup, clearly trying to work out the effort involved in this sort of thing, before shaking his head. "Well, sir, you clearly have a better head for it than me. I think I'd blow it six months in and start introducing -myself- by a pen name."

He tilts his head, looking thoughtful. "Ventures. Hmm. If I might ask, sir, what kind of ventures have you explored? Lana and I have pursued some side projects, but those have been hobbies -- I'm always curious to see what other people are doing to keep food on the table, and it never hurts to have a backup plan."

Gerald chuckles. "Well," he says, "I told Liandra that if her restaurant at the time was failing and my writing wasn't pulling in enough, I'd quit it all and go ice fishing up north somewhere. That was something of a little joke during the winters--she'd send me out to fetch something in the market and would tell me it was good preparation for my future career as an ice fisher. Honestly, I, well... I never contemplated failure or a backup plan. Part of my body of work is because I felt /possessed/ to write. Not all of it was good or even inspired, but I needed to get it out of my head and onto paper. For that, I can always thank the Lady of Inspiration."

That gets a small smile onto Cor'lana's face. "Vaire is a kind one indeed," she says, before looking to Telamon. "Honestly, Tel, we could /retire/ on the money that we have now, but... I'd like to keep going. Call it my mother's adventurous spirit living on in me."

"True, but I want the income so that I can keep you in the manner you clearly deserve, love." Telamon's voice is light and teasing. "You know how I am. I'd build you a castle so long as I could share it with you."

He nods to Gerry. "Never a good idea to plan for failure. I just like to always have an extra arrow or two in my quiver, so to speak. I don't plan to work myself to death or spread myself too thin. I just like to have plenty of possible tools." He touches his brow in amusement. "Gods, I should've been a wizard, not a sorcerer."

Tel takes a sip of water, before continuing, "Sometimes, having that drive and harnessing it is for the best. Put it to use, make it earn its keep."

Cor'lana grins at Telamon's teasing. "What would we even /do/ with a castle?" she asks, teasing him back. "Build a spacious room for everyone who could possibly live there? Give ourselves a palatial wing for the sake of it? I'd be fine with a cottage somewhere in the Mythwood, my starborn prince."

"Perhaps you could learn how to make magic items," Gerald suggests, having finished his soup. The main entrees arrive as he speaks, and he gives a silent nod to the runners as they don't dare to interrupt him by asking who has what plate--they simply know. They're /that/ good. "That Mithralla fellow may be experiencing a, shall we say, thinning of hairs when it comes to the customer base after what was supposedly aired out at that inquest."

Cor'lana sighs a little, shaking her head. "Mikilos's decision aside, Gerry /does/ have a point," she says. "It would probably be a worthwhile investment."

Telamon makes a nonverbal sound of disapproval at the mention of Mikilos, having already heard the details. "That... is not the worst idea. Although I've been a dabbler in alchemical concoctions, perhaps I should start taking it more seriously." He taps his fingertips together, as the food arrives. Once the servers depart, he continues.

"Obviously, there's always a market for the kind of minor -- or not-so-minor -- magical 'sundries'. Warriors need sharper swords and stronger shields. Magicians can always use implements and staves. Even potions and tinctures are in demand."

"Maybe you should give it a serious look," Cor'lana suggests. "I, well--the only thing I can craft are words. My poems. Maybe I'll give writing fiction a try at some point." Fiction that doesn't include her teenage writings about books she was reading, as Telamon knows, of course, but she doesn't have to disclose that. Instead, she tries the gnocchi, and her face lights up.

"Wow," she exclaims almost breathlessly. "I've /never/ had anything like this. Gerry, you're awful--how are we supposed to get a table here without your help? I'm going to /need/ to come back here." There's a pleading look in her eyes as she looks back at Telamon. Uh-oh.

Gerald laughs. "Well," he says, "so long as you send a familiar or letter ahead of time--about a day or two in advance--and I don't have anyone I need to meet with here that time, you can reserve this table. I'll add you two to my list of authorized 'VIPs'."

"Ah, but love, you craft words so wonderfully. Granted, I may be a little biased." Telamon's eyes are dancing, his smile infectious. Taking a bite of his lasagna, his eyebrows rise. After swallowing -- and savoring the bite -- Tel remarks, "Good gods. That is -excellent-, Gerry. Your wife is a genius. Part of me wants to bring my parents here, and part of me is terrified father will try and steal her."

At Lana's pleading expression, he hurriedly takes a sip of wine to keep himself from snickering. "We'll work something out, dear," he says reassuringly. "But.. hm. I do have a small, minor sideline in crafting magical liquors, Gerald. I've only managed a few recipes thus far, but they seem to come out quite well -- albeit with some entertaining effects. Not really something I'd want to use as an income stream."

Gerald laughs heartily. "Your father could try, but Liandra is impervious to all," he says. "Not even do I own her heart. She has only found me to be a funny, sad little creature that she takes pity on, like a she-wolf that keeps the sheep around because she thinks its wool to be a splendid color. That suits me just fine. As I said, she is a tempest--no one owns the storm save for the storm herself. Not to mention that I imagine your dear mother would have something to say about it."

"I can only imagine Ari politely asking Liandra for the recipes and then dragging Telperius away by the ear," Cor'lana says with a snicker, almost helplessly. It /is/ a very funny mental image.

"As for the matter of the liquor, well--liquor is a funny thing," Gerald says. "I've looked into investing into vineyards before, but there is so very much that goes into it. A bad crop, or simply a crop that isn't just like the year before last, can ruin a vineyard's reputation. I dislike gambling so heavily on something so associated with prestige, so I shied away from it."

Telamon is unable to conceal a grin at the images that spring forth. "You're a lucky man, Gerry -- as lucky as me, I'd wager. Lana really did take my life by storm, and before I knew it I was head over heels." He gives Cor'lana a cheeky smile, before bending back to his food.

After paying his meal some more attention, he picks up the thread. "As I said, I wouldn't want to rely on it. I've known a few vintners, and to be honest, the work is a -lot- harder than people realize. I'd rather take up farming -- and that's not a slight against farmers, either." He glances at Lana. "I think we'd best play to our strengths. Magical crafting it is. We'll have to start doing some research on that -- probably -after- our wedding."

Cor'lana wipes her mouth clean of sauce politely before she leans over and gives Telamon a kiss on the cheek. "It's the same for me, you know," she says with a giggle. "I may not be able to cook like Liandra, but I think we're just too enthralled with each other for you to ever find anyone else that interesting."

She contemplates the idea and then she nods. "After the wedding," she agrees. "Nothing else happens before that. The day is approaching, and it's approaching /fast./"

Gerald raises his wine glass. "I propose a toast to that," he says, a twinkle in his eyes. "To your marriage and your love. May both last forever."

Telamon colors ever so slightly at Lana's kiss and her compliments, but he brushes his nose with hers playfully. "Can't imagine anyone else. Don't -want- anyone else. Period." This close, his eyes are full of the stars she loves, whirling in his gaze.

"Gods. It's close now, isn't it? A little over a fortnight. Aryia sent a message, said the wedding clothes will be ready before we leave for Mythwood." Tel lays his hand in Lana's. "Suddenly I understand how anxious you feel."

When Gerry offers his impromptu toast, though, Tel rises to the occasion, taking up his wineglass in his free hand. "Absolutely. Thank you, Gerald -- I definitely am glad to have your approval and blessing."

Cor'lana's eyes are twinkling, too, but not with stars. She's just in admiration--her eyes the lavender in bloom, the stars admiring them back. "Never anyone else," she echoes, her hand curling around his. "A fortnight and then we're bound forever. I'm anxious, too, but I'm ready more than anything."

She smiles to Gerald and lifts her glass, too. "We both are grateful," she says. "A toast!"

Eventually, the half-elves make their way out of the Rosalian Rose with full bellies and full hearts. Gerald sighs wistfully as he watches them depart from his spot in the opera box. "Did the kids have fun?" Liandra asks as she walks in, hand on her hip.

"They're lovely," Gerald says. "Cor'lana is... so much like her mother and so unlike her in so many ways. She's so quiet, but there's that strength that's hiding there beneath the surface. Whereas her husband reminds me of a dagger hidden in silk sleeves."

That gets a smirk from Liandra as she pours two glasses of wine for both herself and her husband. "Going to write them into a book?" she asks.

"Please," Gerald says with a wave. "No one would ever buy a love as true as that exists--except for the dreamers, of course, which is to say people like you and I, my darling storm."

And so ends a night at the Rosalian Rose.