Reunion of the Heart

Log Info

• Title: Reunion of the Heart

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: The curse is lifted. What follows is joy.

Lúpecyll-Atlon home, evening.

Cor'lana finds herself in a moment for celebration. A weight has been lifted off her shoulders at least partially, which is why she's setting the living room table with two cups of tea and a plate with one large slice of cake to share. She wears a silk robe, the color of which matches her eyes, that goes down to her knees. Pothy has even shut himself willingly into the study.

Which is to say it's the setup for an evening that's just the married couple of the household, an evening that's been long overdue for reasons that have, up until Telamon's visit to Verna's house, kept them from being close. Cor'lana fidgets almost nervously as she takes a seat on the couch, waiting.

It's like watching the moon rise, as she can sense him getting closer and closer. And then the door clicks open, and Telamon calls out with good cheer, "Honey, I'm home!" The last few days have been hard indeed, and not just because of all the stress of adventures.

Once he's inside, Telamon shuts the door and throws the lock. Boots come off, then cloak hung over a hook, as he comes padding into the living room. He pauses to take in Cor'lana, gazing at her in a way that's almost exactly like the way he looked at her on their wedding day. Softer, he says, "Hello, love. I think we're going to be okay."

Cor'lana returns the gaze in just as warm of a fashion, although there's a sense of anxiety that courses through the emotional bond. She rises from the couch and walks across the floor in bare feet--no fuzzy bear slippers, only his wife in that regard--and stops just short of him.

"How shall we test it?" she asks. "I... I want to hold you and kiss you. Yet..."

There's fear there in her violet eyes. "I think you'll have to close the distance," Cor'lana concludes.

Faith. Faith in Verna, in her skill. That's the thought in Telamon's mind. "I know," he says quietly, but gently, and his smile is warm. "I love you. And I always shall. Although," his eyes twinkle, "the couch isn't as comfortable as our nice warm bed."

Realizing he's stalling, Tel takes a deep breath. "Right." And he reaches out with both hands. To cup her face in his fingers. There's still the faintest flinch, but Telamon pushes through the reflex, his mind fixed into that diamond-hard purpose. To be sure. And they stand there, him touching her cheeks, gazing into her eyes.

No sick coldness spreads into his limbs, no horrid emptiness clawing at him as his life leaves. Just the warmth of his hands on her skin, and he smiles hugely, eyes wide with love and happiness.

Cor'lana trembles as Telamon approaches. There's love in her eyes and in the bond, the warmth of their connection there, but it takes one firm word in the space of the bond, a command to herself. (Stay.)

And then... His hands are around her face. His fingers on her cheeks. Her violet eyes closer to his star-flecked eyes than they have been in days that have felt like an eternity to her.

Tears bloom in her eyes as she smiles at him. "I love you," she echoes. And then she pushes herself to kiss him, her tiptoes lifting off the ground to find his lips with hers. A reunion desperately needed.

He doesn't try to stop her. He sweeps her up into his arms, as her lips find his, and for a while, there's... well, nothing really important outside the two of them. Probably for the best they're alone, in any case.

But at least one of them needs to breathe, and eventually the two of them surface again. He tucks her under his chin, the happy place, the spot where she can retreat to. "Lana," he murmurs happily, holding her tightly. Stroking her dark hair, breathing in the lavender, and knowing no matter what the future brings, now everything is right again.

It's fortunate that Lana has, at least, learned how to breathe through her nose in the time that's passed since that day in Vhast from the year before, because it's what she relies on for the moments that pass until the kiss is undone. She nuzzles into the happy place and sheds warm and happy tears. "Tel," she murmurs into his skin.

Her arms snake around him. "Do you... forgive me? For everything that's happened?" she asks. And then immediately after, she shakes her head. "No--I know you never blamed me to begin with. I... I need to forgive myself."

The notion of the cake and the tea has been forgotten for the moment. All that matters is that she's there in his arms, just taking in the warmth that she hasn't been able to hold.

He just hugs her tighter for long happy moments. You don't realize how much you miss something till you lose it -- or come close to losing it. "I blamed myself as much you blamed yourself," Telamon admits. "Because I should have known."

Looking around, he catches sight of the cake -- and the tea. "Come on," he says firmly, with a grin. Leading her over -- but not letting go, oh hell no, he's not letting go right now -- he draws her down onto the couch, settling her next to him. Practically hip to hip, in fact. "There were a number of things that went wrong. If you feel up to talking about them, we can. Or we can save it for tomorrow."

Cor'lana's not exactly trying to stray from him, either, keeping close as they go to the couch. She leans into his shoulder as they sit down, her arms just curling around his. It's only now that it probably occurs to both of them in the bond how touch-starved she's felt, and the notion of simply having him, holding him, is far more important in her mind than the tea and the cake.

"Tomorrow," she says. "I only want you for now. Us. To be close and to never be parted again." A sad little smile finds her face. "I know the last is an unrealistic expectation, but--a part of me simply wants to demand that you and I spend all day tomorrow by each other's side, not leaving the house."

Telamon nods. "Well, we can't spend all day. I did invite Verna over for dinner tomorrow." He rests his cheek against her head. "But that doesn't mean we can't have some quality time together. Even if we have to go to the market, we can still hold hands."

He lifts his head to look into her eyes, and his own eyes are shining with tears. "We have to take the time to savor the world, between our forays into saving it." Kissing her softly again, holding her close.

(But what if you are my world, Tel?) Cor'lana asks through the mental bond as they kiss. It's not long before her arms unwrap around his arm and find their way around him in entirety at the waist. She pulls away from his lips for a moment before she, somewhat clumsily and hastily, pushes him so that he's more horizontal onto the couch now, her eyes glittering with tears as she hovers above him.

"I just want you and only you," she says. "For the moment, for the night--call it loneliness, call it the feytouched impulse, call it the Unseelie blood that runs in my veins--I only want you. Can you forgive me that much?" She leans down and kisses him again.

Telamon finds himself being pushed over onto the couch he'd spent a few nights on. But now, thankfully, it's not a bed per se, just a couch. And as she clings to him, his arms go around her in turn, fingers combing through her hair. "Don't you know, Lana? You're the only one I want as well." Showing her in his mind, how much he loves her, lives for her.

"There's nothing to forgive between us, love. We erred -- but we did make it through. Rejoice in that." When she kisses him, he accepts eagerly, and the warmth floods through the contact, the telepathic bond thrumming between them as they cling to each other.

The desperation that comes across in Cor'lana's words and face is abated by the images and the warmth in the bond, but there is simply still... Desire for contact, and that won't go away too easily. It's the opposite of a problem, really, except for the fact that it looks more and more likely that the tea and the cake might well and truly be forgotten by the end of it.

Eventually Cor'lana does pull away, and she simply lies on top of him in the lazy manner that they sometimes do on this couch--particularly on rainy days where the weather is dreadful and they end up cuddled together with cups of abandoned tea. Fancy how that configuration matches this one. Her violet eyes peer up at him, however. "I will never take this for granted ever again," she says, quietly. She means it.

There are much worse ways to spend an evening. Telamon, for his part, seems perfectly content to cuddle with Lana as long as she wants or needs (and to be honest, he needs this too). When she finally subsides from her desperate clutch, he begins stroking her hair again. Soothing, gentle touches, reassuring her that yes, it really is all right, and that he's not going anywhere. "Agreed," he says with a smile.

He makes a face. "But getting the curse off me was not a bed of roses. No regrets about that, but if I'd known what would happen I'd have packed something stronger in my flask."

"I felt that in the bond," Cor'lana replies, making a similar face. "In retrospect, maybe I should have pulled out a bottle of wine from our reserves instead of the tea."

Which, she casts a glance over to the tea and the cake on the table... And then she just nuzzles in closer to Telamon, her head finding its way under his chin. Even when lying down, the happy spot is still a thing. "You might have to get an unseen servant to do it," she says, teasingly. She's really not letting him up, it seems.

"Mmm. Maybe in a bit." Telamon is definitely in no hurry to get up. "I'm comfortable where I am right now, and this is better for me than any wine." He looks at her. "I didn't have any time to try and tighten down on the bond either. It kind of came out of nowhere. Weirded Verna out too -- she mentioned there had been a plague of stuff similar to that, and she insisted on whacking it with a dispel magic spell just to make sure."

"All the more reason to indulge in this comfort, then," Cor'lana responds as she continues to snuggle into her husband. "Although... a plague. That seems to imply to me it wasn't a plague at all, but more of a massive curse..."

Her thoughts about plagues and curses are interrupted by one feytouched reminder of joy: Telamon's in her arms. She lifts her head up a little to look into his eyes, and she smiles from ear to ear. "I can't even think about much besides you right now," she says, although it's obvious since he has access to her thoughts. "Just you. Only you. I just--I just love you so much." It's an all-consuming warm and hazy glow now in the bond from her end, not desperation but simply happiness from having him, acceptance that it's real and it's not going to be taken from her.

Telamon brushes his nose against hers, playfully. He can be mischievous too, when the mood strikes. "I know. It's all right. I... don't really want to think about anything else, except you. And us." He squeezes her close, nuzzling her. "I told you that you were going to be stuck with me." he murmurs with a grin.

After a few more moments, he continues, "Do you think we should cook here, or use the magnificent mansion? Honestly, I think Verna would be more impressed if we made dinner here -- the mansion's nice but three of us still rattle around in it like dice in a tall tankard." He furrows his brow. "Well, at least a certain servant of Ni'essa has wandered off for the moment, so we can do something besides fish."

"I'm alright with either one, but I must admit I'm partial to the mansion," Cor'lana says, a glint of mischief beginning to play in her eyes. "After all, the magic does everything for us. That's more time I get to hold you."

The impish look on her face only increases as she gets up from the couch, taking Telamon's hand. "I've been keeping a secret," she admits, and then she waves a hand over her silk robe. The secret is conveyed by mental link only, and confirms that she had prepared for all manners of closeness once she'd received word from her husband about the curse's lifting.

So she gives him a certain look. "We can have the cake and tea when we're done." And she pulls him off the couch in a rather insistent manner.

Telamon laughs softly. "You say that because I built a fairy castle for you from the mansion. But I admit there is some benefit to being catered to and not needing to cook." He takes her hand when she levers herself up, and his eyes widen ever so fractionally at what's passed down the bond.

"Well then," Tel remarks with a grin. "I imagine if we don't eat the cake we can give it to Pothy as a consolation prize for putting up with us." He returns her intent look. "But in the meantime..." His arm around her, the two of them retire to the bedroom.

And so life returns to its usual cycles, in the Lúpecyll-Atlon home.