Scones, Clothes, and Betrothed

Log Info

• Title: Scones, Clothes, and Betrothed
• Emitter: Verna
• Characters: Verna, Ravenstongue, Telamon, Aryia, Auranar
• Place: Mountain Road
• Time: June 13th, 2022
• Summary: Telamon and Ravenstongue check up on Verna at her house as Aryia catches them along the way down from training. They share some ongoings, most a surprise to the mute before more happy things are discussed. Auranar comes out with scones and jam. Everyone laughs and enjoys themselves. Aryia is suspicious as hell.

On the cliffward side of the mountain road, situated between the basalt temple and the rising path to the airship landing field, a stone home sits, projecting over the temple and academic districts far below. A home that some may be familiar with. Its portico contains several mana lamps which cut through the morning fog. They also provide light for any occupying said portico. At this moment, this would be only Verna, seated in one of the chairs to enjoy a book upon lap and cup of tea from the small table between the chairs. For once, she may be conspicuous against the gray morn as her gray robes are current absent, with a more simple, if brighter, white house shift.

There are two half-elves departing one of the shrines along the mountain road to Gilead and Tarien. Cor'lana clings rather tightly to the arm of Telamon with a sigh. "I just don't think this whole 'faith' thing is working out for me," she comments, a frown settling on her face.

But there is one among them who definitely does have faith. His blue eyes peer out at the world, a bountiful world filled with one thing:

"Snacks!" Pothy cries, and he goes sailing in the direction of that stone home that provides shelter to the Mourner.

Cor'lana blinks. "Oh, well, I suppose we should go visit... Just to make sure everything's all right," she says. "Verna's back, after all."

"Give it time, love," Telamon smiles down at Cor'lana gently. "This isn't a decision you make in a day, after all. And it's not like we're -desperate-. Just... looking for answers." He gives her a squeeze, as he watches Pothy go sailing off.. in the direction of Verna and Auranar's house. "Of course," he sighs. "It's nice to have constants in this changing world."

He nods to Lana. "Let's do that. I haven't heard any of the details, and I admit I'm curious... hopefully everything went well? Or at least, only the bad guys got hurt?"

It's not mentioned too often as of late, but the Mountain Road is a certain pugilist's stomping grounds, them going into quarries meant for expanding the city and essentially punching the bigger, tougher rocks out of the way.

Though, instead of taking the fast way down (lots of hazardous jumping), she decides to take a stroll down the long way, a dirt smeared towel over her shoulder as her usual jacket is tied around her waist with a tank top on. She spies a familiar home, and a familiar duo, and diverts course to meet all at the same time.

She lets out a loud whistle to announce herself, and waves.

It is sounds that catch Verna's attention first; afterall, the road receives a far amount of general traffic. Looking up from her tome, she notes Aryia's wave first, followed by the calls and flight of the voracious corvid. Pothy's presence prompts her to look to the road, as-yes, there are Cor'Lana and Telamon. Her book is set down upon her lap with one hand whilst another lifts to wave a greeting to all. One that appears to have all five digits, in fact. "Good day to you all. I trust all is well?"

Pothy reaches Verna before the half-elves do. He actually lands on her shoulder and... nuzzles against her cheek?

"Wow, Pothy, you're being cuddly today," Cor'lana remarks as she walks up to Aryia and Verna. She smiles and waves in greeting. "Hi, Aryia."

"Hi Aryia!" Pothy says in his cherubic boy true voice, although it comes out in the form of whistles to those who don't understand magical speech. He returns to dispensing affection onto Verna.

"Well, aside from some questioning of faith, I think we're pretty chipper, all things considered," Cor'lana says.

"These crises do help break up the monotony of summer days," Telamon comments dryly. "Verna, it's good to see you back and with all five fingers." He firmly packs away the memories of the Quelynos trip, instead turning to regard Aryia with a grin.

"And Aryia too, fresh from the quarries. What did those poor innocent boulders do to deserve your attentions?" His voice is light and cheerful, and he continues, "In all seriousness, it's good to see you again."

Ignorant of recent developments of digits and crisis, the mute gives a general up-nod for those that are more bird oriented. She shoots a raised brow to Cor'lana.

And a perplexed one towards Telamon as she glances to the half-mul. One two three... ten.

"Fuck the boulders, the fuck you all on about?" she signs, tossing all the pleasantries and cordialness out of the way in a manner that only she can. <Handspeech>

Verna is startled at Pothy's choice of landing spot, moreso at his unexpected affection. After the moment of surprise, a small smile forms and her formerly waving bare (for once) hand reaches up to lightly run a fingertip down the back of his head. Is that how one pets a bird? She is tentative as she has not the slightest notion of proper general animal care nor etiquette, much less corvid-specific.

"One should always question, Car'lana. Else how would one find the answers? It is good to be home, Telamon, and well, thank you." Before addressing Aryia's question, she assures Pothy. "I may have some snacks for you, but I will need to fetch them." Now she looks to Aryia. "That is a rather broad inquiry, and the answer rather involved given an excess of recent events. Most recently, Caracorothans desired to use me in attempt to break some of the chains holding the Red Maw. Silmeria and I, by the judgement of The Harpist, were able to thwart them, for the moment."

Cor'lana looks a little relieved. "I'm just glad everything is okay now. Well... For the moment, that is. I hope the journey wasn't too arduous."

She really has no clue.

Pothy, meanwhile, is accepting the very careful fingertip pets happily. He even makes little pleased raven noises. "Snaaaaacks," he eventually groans in a drawn-out manner like someone might do on the massage table as their muscles are being pushed around.

Telamon clearly doesn't know the particulars either, as he exhales out a sigh of relief. "It's good to hear that, Verna. I... didn't like telling Auranar you'd gone off with Silmeria." He sighs. "Considering how she'd helped me, it seemed like a pretty poor way to repay her."

He straightens his shoulders, and grins at Aryia. "We've been tangling off and on with the Nightmare's minions. Lana and I ran into Sir Seldan the other day, and he made a good point: we need to start pressuring whatever cultists they've got in and around Alexandria, as much as we can, so they don't have time for mischief."

He makes a face. "Which may be easier said than done, what with all the refugees coming in fleeing those Dragonier wights..."

GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/religion: (5)+5: 10

Aryia cocks her head to the side as multiple explanations are given unto her about the goings of nightmare cults, maws, Grey Lady...

She shifts on her feet. Picks her nose and sniffs. "... C-r-c..." she starts to sound out, thinking... "C-ck-c-rnth-rn." She nods to herself. "I don't know how that is but they sound like a prick."

She holds up a hand, palm flat as he points a finger to the center of it. Traces the finger allll around her hand. "That all. All that. Right here? Sounds like a big pile of 'fuck-that-shit'," she surmises before tossing the 'pile' over her shoulder. <Handspeech>

Verna gives Pothy another few scritches before lowering her hand. Given his behavior in regards to food, she would not want to enable him acquiring a secondary obsession. "Speaker Silmeria's actions were commendable, and I shall be ever grateful for her presence. She accompanied me at great risk, she halted the lycanthropes, and she returned me to the temple for revivification, and to Auranar." Despite the implied unpleasantness, she smiles once more, though it dims momentarily. "Though she was understandably displeased at the state of my return."

A frown forms at the reminder that there exists no shortage of concerns at present. "There are far too many threats at present, though The Nightmare may be the worst; a force of chaos such a danger that all of the gods, light, dark, and twilight, cooperated to seal Him away. I fear our escape was only a reprieve, as agents of The Nightmare sought me again in my own temple. I expect that will not be their last attempt, so I advise you all to be cautious and ware. I am currently distancing myself from Vardama's Hall in Alexandria at present, for that reason." Admittedly, that distance is only a few hundred meters, and her home and the temple are visible from one another.

Telamon nods, his expression slightly sour. "Would that we could 'toss the pile' Aryia. Unfortunately, it seems there are faces in need of punching and spells in need of casting." He gives Verna a tight grin. "Indeed. Though... retrieving Eluna's avatar might shift the balance a little in our favor. A card palmed at a crucial moment, we can hope."

He taps his fingers, then Verna's words catch up to him. "Wait, -what-? Revivification? You -died-?" His expression looks even -more- guilty now.

Aryia's head whips over to Verna at the mention of being ressurected. And another shot glance towards Telamon about Eluna's avatar.

Well, that one didn't garner much of a reaction considering her time in other places. Meeting other... entities.

She mostly just looks uncertain she should be hearing all this.

Not really knowing what to expound upon, she sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of her nose.

That also gets Cor'lana's attention, her expression on her face wilting. "Verna, I... I'm so sorry. Ah, and Auranar! I..."

She reaches up to her eye and brushes away a tear that's welled up. "I'm so sorry. We should have... Done more. Done something!"

To this, Pothy just looks at Cor'lana. "What /could/ you do?" he asks. "Verna made up her mind to go, didn't she?" (More magical speech that translates to whistles, of course.)

"Yes," Verna notes rather flatly, "but that is remedied." She looks to Telamon's and Cor'lana's fretting and Aryia's pinching. "Please, do not fret. My most recent visit to The Harpist's Hall was deliberate and purposeful, rather than due to folly. There are..." she begins, words trailing off to a pause with wrinkled brow and pursed lips "... there are worse fates than death, and judgement comes to all, in time." Is it so odd that a Mourner would not consider a visit to Vardama, much less one of many, to be any cause for concern? She does add the caveat, "Of course, as with most, I prefer that my own final journey and judgement shall not occur for quite some time."

"Auranar is well," Verna shifts to more pleasant events, with yet another uncharacteristic smile. "We may venture to Llyranost in the near future. Her family's Curuchuil is rests there, and we shall make our own additions to it."

Telamon stares at Verna, his arm going around Lana instinctively. But he takes the response at face value, and nods. "Indeed. Would that we all put off such journeys till we're quite ready to go." He offers up a hesitant smile, trying to rally his spirits in the face of the discussion.

Hearing about Auranar, and a curuchuil, though, makes his eyebrows shoot up. "Truly? Then... even with Llyranost in a bit of an uproar, that is good tidings indeed. Lana and I will be doing something similar when we finalize things." He grins impishly, looking at his bride-to-be.

GAME: Aryia rolls intelligence: (7)+1: 8

Aryia glances to Pothy's whistling. "Yes, the bird's right. Not much you can do about that." She leaves it at that, her sighing again and brushing a hand through her hair. "Just don't go chatting to the old woman just yet," to Verna.

She tilts her head to the side slowly at that. She looks to Telamon. To Verna. To Cor'lana. "A what."

Right. There is a mul in the mix. <Handspeech>

"A curuchuil is... Well, it means life art, literally, and it's typically passed down through families. It's a painting, a tapestry--a work of art, basically--that's added onto over time. If you get asked to contribute, it's a big deal," Cor'lana explains.

She gestures down to the mark on her chest. "Unless you're from my father's family--which is currently just me and my father, at this rate. The firstborn children are supposed to receive feather marks on their chest after birth. That's our curuchuil."

Cor'lana then looks over at Telamon, her face melting into a blushing smile. "Yes. Instead of wedding bands to go with our engagement rings, we're having Pothy paint matching designs onto our left hands that will be turned into our own curuchuil. We are, after all, going to be Cor'lana and Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon."

Verna gestures to Cor'lana as she offers insight. "It is not a custom of mul'niessa, Aryia, and Auranar had to explain the nature of it to me, as well. It is as she says. Auranar's family's Curuchuil is a vast garden, to which we will add our own flowers and pattern. We shall be a family, and I part of hers. In human terms, I believe," she shifts her gesture from Cor'lana to Telamon and back, "we would be wed."

"A garden? That sounds delightful, Verna." Telamon seems genuinely thrilled at the idea -- probably due to his own gardening work. "Any thoughts on what flowers you'll use?" He nods to agreement with Lana and Verna, smiling at Aryia. "It's... a surprisingly serious thing. At first you might not think it, but considering the personal touches involved... especially as it's something you do as a couple..."

Aryia rests on her back foot as she gets an explanation of elvish culture that she's yet to be exposed to. She raises a brow, face impassive as she looks at Lana's mark before looking over to Verna for a more consiece and less 'blushing-and-flustered-from-thinking-about-it' explanation.

Her brows raise. "Huh. That's rather interesting. Wish we had something neat like that."

The Mourner's typical factual tone takes the mul'neissa a long moment. Three... two...

She abruptly stands square shouldered, eyes wide and long ears pressed against the sides of her head. "Oh you're- that's great!" she grins. <Handspeech>

Cor'lana smiles, too. "I'm really happy for you," she says to Verna. "That'll be... How many couples now, getting married as of late? Three, including us, Tel?"

"Love is in the air~" Pothy sings, imitating some showtune from the Theatre District. The bird has presumably been exposed to more Handel Boyd Weaver shows than presumably anyone should ever be.

Then he looks at Verna expectantly, still on her shoulder. "Snacks?" he whispers into the Mourner's ear. They're very important.

Verna's explanation was factual and direct as ever. At Aryia's delayed realization, though, a grin starts to form. It widens further with Cor'lana's smile. At Pothy's song... Verna explodes into laughter. That might be new. It is brief, but hearty enough to shake the bird on her shoulder. "Yes, yes, Pothy, I will get your snacks..."

She rises, still chuckling, and steps to a covered jar that was far closer than she might have implied. Possibly to keep someone unaware of its purpose, hmm? A handful of nuts and bits of dried fruit are retrieved from within that she then pours onto the table for Pothy perusal. Only now does she address Telamon's inquiry, her sudden mirth having settled to a rather content smile. "I do not believe that we decided upon all of the details as of yet. Preferably, an exceedingly hearty variety, as I am rather inept at gardening."

Aryia's brows furrow. She looks over to half-elf duo and holds up a finger. Her head turns towards the stone house with Verna resting on her porch. Another finger joins the first.

She looks up, to the side, to the ground, then to the group as she scratches her head with the two fingers. "Who's the third?"

She startles in surprise as Verna breaks into laughter, her blinking stupidly at the unusual act from the stoic woman. She shakes her head, chuckling.

Then. "Ah fuck I'm going to need to buy more fabric for all this shit going on." <Handspeech>

"Andelena and Dolan's the third couple, according to what Telamon told me. Which is kind of funny, really. I asked Auranar to be one of our bridesmaids, and Telamon asked Dolan to be one of his groomsmen..."

Cor'lana looks at Aryia for a moment. And she just grins from ear to ear. "Speaking of which, do you and Seyardu want to come over to our house? Not tonight, but soon, whenever you're both free. You seem to run into her more often than I do."

Verna had not caught the disparate number, or had presumed it a pair unknown to her. At the revelation, her expression brightens anew. "That is wonderful news. I am most pleased for them." She is uncertain what else to add in that regard, and waits for Cor'lana to complete her invitation to Aryia before she address the mul'niessa. "Speaking of the other note you made, concerning fabric... I do not wish to impose, but I had wished to inquire of commissioning further garments from you, Aryia. Nothing excessive nor formal, and merely casual. My own wardrobe is rather lacking, at present, and your work is excellent. If you are available, of course."

Aryia blinks. "I thought they were already married," she signs, a little confused before shaking her head. "Oh well. That's pretty cool."

She blinks at Cor'lana. Stares.

Fey bullshit assessment.

Vibe check passed. "Al... right? I was talking with her a couple days ago. We can swing by. She's usually at the temple of Althea so..."

She turns to Verna, her half stepping onto the porch and leaning against a rail. "All I do right now is punch rocks, work on my boat, and make clothes. I'm available. We can talk shop later for certain," she 'says' before giving a crisp thumbs up and putting her shades on. Fashonista on the job. <Handspeech>

"Cool!" Cor'lana exclaims, clapping her hands together happily. "I look forward to it. It'll be fun." She may not exactly be forthcoming about why she's just invited Aryia over, but she's all smiles, and it seems just like a genuine invitation.

Pothy, meanwhile, is tearing into the snacks provided by Verna. In fact... They're already gone. The bird has just hoovered them up. "Snacks!" he says, very happily. The bird has been sated--

No, wait. He's looking at the snack jar again.

Cor'lana claps her hands together. "Yeah, I'm afraid we'll be troubling you for outfits, too. You'll be paid generously, though."

Verna does not know the purpose for the invitation, but she can make hypotheses based upon existing imperical data. To Aryia, she offers, "Perhaps she wishes you to participate in the ceremony for herself and Telamon? and within the week you will need to prepare for your own?" Perhaps not a pure hypothesis, as her smile makes a brief surge in strength.

Ah, yes, Pothy. "One moment. I should warn you that, should you devour them all, there will be no more for later." Not that she expects this to dissuade nor deter him in the slightest. As she fetches another handful from the jar, she comments, presumably of Andelena and Dolan, from Aryia's surprise, "The two of them do seem innately... comfortable with one another, yet also very much... enthused, as well. I should seek more wisdom from Andelena." Her parroted phrase from her at the Fernwood seemed to earn a positive response, afterall. More fruits and nuts are deposited on the table for Apotheosis.

The door to the house that lies behind those talking opens with a soft sound. Not a creak, but a light click before it allows a somewhat tousled looking Auranar. She is wearing a soft yellow dress with white lace around the bottom, and in three places on the sleeve. It ties up the middle with a white ribbon, that crosses over her chest and makes a little bow behind her head.

It's mostly her hair that looks tousled, either from recent sleep, or washing it's hard to say, but its far curlier than is normal. She smiles at the guests and opens the door the rest of the way. "I thought we might have guests from the sound of talking out here." She shifts her weight so that the door opens more easily on her hip and reveals a tray of scones in her hands. "I've made scones if anyone wants them."

Aryia slowly bobs her head over towards Cor'lana, her rubbing her neck. "Okay. I uh, give me a time frame so I don't end up having to make ten things in four days," she agrees.

She has no idea what trap she's set herself up for.

She looks at Verna. Squints. An orb of soft light coalesces in her hand and is promptly thrown at the Mourner. It harmlessly scatters into moonlit sparkles. "Oh hush," she snorts, rolling her eyes. "I don't really know them much. I just the buff woman like's to get trained from me from time to time."

And then Auranar appears. Her gaze flicks down to the scones. Then over to Pothy. Aw crap-

The mute moves in a near blur as she vacates her railing spot, swipes a scone, then is on the opposite side of the group, her holding the scone defensively. "Hello. Thank you for the food," she gestures, the gist of the motions understand as she munches on it, watching Pothy. "Congratulations by the way." <Handspeech>

It's a good thing that Aryia goes and gets her scone as soon as possible. Pothy makes a beeline for it, landing on Auranar's shoulder. "Snacks? Snacks? Snaaaaaacks?" Pothy stage-whispers into Auranar's ear--all while imitating Cor'lana, that is.

Cor'lana, meanwhile, looks at Auranar's hair, smiling. Her own hair is let down in well-defined waves today. "I like your hair," she says. "Did you do anything different? There's a marshmallow cream I get from this one place that helps me out."

Verna blinks as she catches, bodily, the small orb of moonlight(?) which sputters to spattering of sparkles. She may be considering a response when Auranar emerges. With scones. The train of thought promptly switches tracks as she turns at the delightful sight. "Dearest, my apologies if we woke you..." The proximity of delicious food and Pothy, and the risks thereof, belatedly register and she reaches for the tray. "Allow me to assist?" And interpose herself between bird and tray of minus one scone, as she does not react nor move nearly as rapidly as Aryia. Unfortunately, said birb can fly. Fortunately, scones are still present. "As do I," she affirms Cor'lana's compliment, "along with the rest of you. You look wonderful."

Telamon says nothing, but he doesn't need to. He's made his opinion of Lana's hair quite often, and at length, and his grin pretty much says he approves of anyone trying similar techniques. When Auranar comes out with her tray of scones, he eyeballs Pothy balefully. "Pothy, be polite." Probably hopeless, but what can you do?

Still, he smiles at Auranar, and offers her a short bow. "I'm glad to see you in better spirits, Auranar. How go your studies? Or were those paused for the happy reunion?" He winks impudently.

Auranar should have been more prepaired for the bird that flies to her shoulder, egging her on for snacks. Even so he gets a slow blink from her and a warm smile. Thankfully, Verna is there to help her with the tray. "You can have _one_ if your mistress allows Pothy." They're just plain scones, but there's plenty of jam and other accurtamonts for putting on said scones if one desires. She lets Verna take the tray, but not without a kiss, and then returns her attention to her guests.

"Congratulations?" She asks curiously of Aryia, not having actually overheard the earlier conversation. As for Cor'lana's statement she touches her hair self-consiously. "Yes actually! We must shop at the same vendor. It's a little conditioner also, as I just washed it." Which brings her to Telamon. "My research has somewhat concluded. Verna is clearly who the werewolves were after and I think I know why."

Her expression firms into one that is almost angry. "They nearly killed Verna! And..." She wraps her fingers around themselves and sits down on one of the other chairs on the porch. They should get more chairs. "It was terrible."

Aryia is busy slowing down and savoring the baked good, all angles of attack from the avian being thwarted at present. Even going so far to stop forth and partake in some of the other additives laid before them.

She sighs dreamily. Sometimes simplicity is all that it takes. Or, being hungry after breaking rocks about thirty minutes ago. "Life art," she throws out with a hand, not knowing the word in Handspeech.

Her attention snaps back as Aura gets a sharp edge to her tone. Oops, lost in the cranberry (jam) sauce. Filtered shine flicks behind her shades as she looks between the rest present after that.

A slooooow crunch comes from the mute's scone. <Handspeech>

The order's been given. Pothy slowly turns his head to Cor'lana. Those blue eyes plead. They beg. He has never been fed before in his life and will soon waste away to feathers. "Snacks?" he asks.

But Cor'lana does the unthinkable.

"We have snacks at home, Pothy," she says.

Pothy's entire world has been undone. Snacks? At HOME? That's so far away. And it's uncertain if he'll even live that long. He's wasting away! (Pay no attention to the fact Verna gave him a handful of snack material just moments ago in the conversation that he finished so quickly!)

Pothy huffs and flies over to Cor'lana's shoulder... And he sulks.

Meanwhile, Cor'lana looks upset as Auranar mentions Verna's dealings with the werewolves. "I'm dearly, dearly sorry about everything that went on, as I told Verna. Telamon and I both feel guilty and upset about the whole thing."

Verna has the tray, and suddenly much more. For a moment, her smile might threaten to break something in her visage, or sever her ears and cause them to fall off. This is followed in short order by a blink at the realizations Auranar has come to. Verna is still attempting to process all that has occured to her: what, how, why... and she was there when it occurred! Her lips fade to a thin line at the last, though, and the tray is promptly set upon the table (atop any unsconsumed snacks, as well).

A step takes her to the chair Auranar chooses and she puts a hand upon her shoulder. "I am still here, Aura, with you." A simple statement, but an assurance with multiple contexts. "All is well."

Telamon covers his mouth to stifle a snicker at poor, underfed Pothy. After a minute (it's hard), he clears his throat. "Yes. But, as an acquaintance of mine once said, 'nearly' and 'almost' only count with area-effect evocations. They lost, we won, so -screw them and the hellhound they rode in on-."

His eyes flash, the stars in them shining a little brighter. Deliberately, he reaches over to take a scone. "So rejoice in our victories, because every one of them counts." He smiles at Verna's reminder, and continues, "I thought spring was the season for marriages, but it seems even the heat of summer can't keep it down for long."

With a surprised look at Aryia for her comment on the 'life art', Auranar briefly looks embarrassed. It seems that Verna has been spreading the news. Still she can't help but smile at the thought, and it takes the sting away nearly as much as Verna's touch on her shoulder and the reminder that Verna is at her side. Telamon's statement gets a firm nod from her and she clasps Verna's hand with her own. "Indeed. We all deserve a bit of happiness."

Aryia watches the exchange go around and continue, her gaze hopping about from person to person before it settles on Verna. The mute munches the last of her scone. The half-mul's visage nearly snapping in half from joy was... different.

Munch.

Filing the anomaly away, she gives a slow nod along with Telamon. "So say we all." <HAndspeech>

"That we do." Cor'lana grins, threading her hand into Telamon's. "And as soon as travel outside of Alexandria is safe again, our wedding preparations will be back on. Hard to plan to travel to the Mythwood when hardly anyone can go, and I'm /not/ having Tel's family travel here when they're just fine up in Ylvaliel... that, and our house is cramped-feeling as it is."

"Snacks," Pothy says sadly. Still lamenting over his inability to eat a scone.

"Yes, because of all of the snacks we have to stockpile for you, Pothy," Cor'lana says very pleasantly, but it's clearly pointed. "It's a wonder we have room for people to sit." That's definitely hyperbole.

Noting the flush of cheeks, Verna crouches down beside the chair to be level with Auranar. Hands still in place, she leans in to soothe away the ruddiness nearest her with a peck of a kiss. "I am sorry, but I could not contain my glee." An apology that is half-hearted and for a not terrible act, for once. Her smile is no longer in danger of maiming her face, but warm, soft, and still atypical for her. The scones are forgotten. She has whom she needs. That Auranar can also always craft more scones is entirely coincidental. "Indeed, and I shall see that you receive more than 'a bit,' Love."

Then there is Pothy, and the logistical nightmare about him that Cor'lana reveals. And thus it happens again. Verna laughs.

Telamon squeezes Lana's hand as it slips into his, and he remarks, "Joy shared is always a good thing." He deftly breaks the scone in half first before Cor'lana claims his hand, and offers her half before munching on his experimentally. "Mmm. These are good. Have you considered a side business in baked goods? Adventuring has its benefits, but there's something to be said for a reliable income."

He continues, "But yes. The house is... well, it's not stuffed to bursting. But Pothy has an appetite, and we enjoy cooking in as well, so the pantry is usually quite full. I'm wondering if we -shouldn't- try to put in a cellar, or even add a second story to the house, just to get some room."

Auranar laughs at Verna's laughter, proving that the urge to share joy with one another is a trait shared in both sides of the couple. She like Verna has - for the moment - forgotten about the scones in favor of resting comfortably with Verna listening to the conversation. It's good, to share good times with friends. And even better to know that this moment at least, there is peace.

-End Scene-