The Midnight Unkindness

Log Info

• Title: The Midnight Unkindness

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Telamon is awakened by Ravenstongue's fey forebear, the Feathered One, arriving at midnight to deliver an urgent, yet hushed message to him: Ravenstongue's father has gone missing. The troubling news is agreed upon to be kept quiet for the moment, and discussions turn to the wedding. Ravenstongue sleepily leaves the bedroom to join Telamon on the couch, although they make their way back to sleepyland soon after.

Lúpecyll-Atlon home... midnight.

It is another autumn night without Eluna nor the stars in the sky, hiding from the cold rain that is thrown down from the sky by an eastern wind. This is no night for flying, but yet a dark figure flaps down from the sky and lands over by the kitchen window, tapping at the glass.

And who happens to be in the kitchen at this hour? Pothy is. He's enjoying a cracked-open peanut on the kitchen counter when the tapping rings out from the glass window. Blue eyes lock onto violet eyes.

"Oh, hi Grandfather," Pothy says, and he lets in Grandfather. "You're here awfully late--"

Grandfather charges in, transforming into his usual humanoid form before he even hits the floor. "Awful night for a chat, but a chat I must have," he says to Pothy. "Where is Master Telamon?"

The master and mistress of the house are happily ensconced in their nice warm bed, sound asleep. Telamon, for his part, is spooned up against Lana, cuddling her as he slumbers, dreams unbothered by loathsome half-elves, hyena monsters, or inscrutable flumphs. He makes a little happy murmur, and shifts ever so slightly.

Cor'lana has, at least, adapted well to sharing a bed. Long gone are the days of the occasional elbow to the stomach or the near-headbutts to the face in the midst of sleep... and most importantly, long gone are the waking screams that echo what a certain half-elf necromancer did to her one unfortunate morning. She sleeps soundly in Telamon's arms, curled into him.

Which is to say that neither of them hear the discussion that continues to take place in the kitchen, nor the quiet footsteps that follow. The door creaks open...

And a clawed hand emerges first. Followed by the face of the Feathered One as he looks at the sleeping half-elves. There's a warm expression on his face as he looks at the two, followed by a sense of reluctance in his motions.

"Children," he says, loud enough to wake, but soft enough to not startle. Hopefully. "Telamon in particular. I must speak to you. The matter is... urgent."

Telamon's eyes flicker, and then open suddenly. He blinks, peering about in the dim light, before his stare lands on the Feathered One and he stiffens. "...What... Grandfather?" He sits up, looking around a moment, before reaching for his robe. "Alright... gods, this better be good, though." The words are rote, though. He knows Grandfather well enough that he wouldn't come barging in without a good reason.

With that, he tucks his feet into those ridiculous bear slippers, before checking to see if Lana's awakened -- if not, he lets her sleep.

Cor'lana normally wakes somewhat easily, especially since the incident with Karan'taara... but it appears Grandfather's voice is one of the few things that her sleeping senses don't register as an immediate threat. Instead, however, she mumbles, "Need to buy ham for Pothy," as she immediately sprawls out across the entirety of the bed once Telamon's up.

This sleep-talking puts a paternal sort of grin on Grandfather's face--one that's likely crossed it tens of thousands of times before--as he turns to Telamon and nods. "We'll speak in the living room," he says quietly as he waits for Telamon to walk out, gently closing the bedroom door behind them both.

Grandfather makes his way over to his rocking chair and takes a seat. However, he doesn't immediately lean back into it to relax. "I have... grave news to tell you. And I'm not sure how to break it to Cor'lana yet, either."

He leans forward, his face sober and his eyes... hollow. "Glórenacil has gone missing from his room at the Soldier's Defense."

Telamon covers his mouth to stifle the grin at Lana's mumbling, and follows Grandfather out as the door is closed. Once that's done, he moves on quiet feet out to the living room, giving Pothy a nod.

When Grandfather tells his tale, though, Telamon stares. "He... how? I mean, it's not a prison, but they don't just let you check out when you're in the kind of state he was in." He sits down slowly on the couch, gripping the edge for a moment before forcibly removing his fingers from the cushions. "Does it look like he left under his own power, or did someone -- or something -- take him?"

"I've kept an eye on Glórenacil since it was discovered that he might be in a blood pact with my... cousin, the Corpse Eater," Alud'rigan explains, his clawed hands pressing together in his lap. "I took my more... genteel form and asked the healer woman that usually attends to him. She said that she'd left the room for only a moment, and when she returned, the window was open, and he was gone."

Pothy flaps over from the kitchen and lands on the couch. He worms his way into Telamon's lap, sitting down and providing him with all the mental and emotional support that his feathers can offer. "Do you think he left of his own free will?" he asks.

Alud'rigan sighs. "That, I'm unsure," he says. "I... am unfamiliar with the terms of the pact that the Corpse Eater has made with Glórenacil. It is also entirely possible that he's been manipulated magically again, although the healer woman assured me that he was doing quite well and they'd hoped to have him ready for a possible trial against Ainasse Son'doriel soon enough."

Telamon strokes Pothy absently, fingers caressing the feathers. "It's entirely possible he was compelled. Damn it..." He sighs. "We don't need this. I don't, and Lana definitely doesn't. As much as we'd washed our hands of the man..." His mouth flattens into a line.

"Grandfather, your... cousin. Does he prefer to discard his... tools, or does he have a kind of fascination with retaining them? Would he have a reason to collect Glórenacil again?"

Pothy's tail feathers flap up and down happily as he's petted. It's at least a normal motion in a meeting most unusual in almost every way.

"Hence why I was reluctant to tell her," Grandfather says with a nod to Telamon's first sentiment, "at least now before the two of you are even wedded. She deserves the bliss of being an autumn bride. She deserves the happiness... At least for a little while, since this reality is so cruel that she cannot be happy all the time despite all of my wishes in the world. But you, young master, I felt compelled to at least inform."

The questions regarding the Corpse Eater have an interesting effect on Grandfather. His violet eyes turn downcast, the soft glow in his irises flickering with the motion. "Legus was one of the reasons I decided never to return to the nobility," he says. "And he was also one of the reasons I fought my Unseelie nature for so long. I witnessed him do... cruel things. But his most favorite of all was to consume flesh left behind by someone else's kill--or to do it himself if he felt in the mood for such a thing. I feel he might be keeping Glórenacil as an amusement."

Then there's a twitch in the fey lord's face. An unusual crack in that wall of inscrutability. "He may be concocting a plan to get at me using Glórenacil."

Telamon smiles softly. "Well... I appreciate it. But..." He sighs. "The last time we saw Glórenacil, the priests had managed to start cracking the compulsions Ainasse had laid on him. And... he admitted Lana had just been a means to an end. A way to get you off his back."

He settles back on the sofa, still petting Pothy. "This seems awfully roundabout. I mean, you almost twisted his head off once. Exactly how does grabbing Glórenacil get this cousin of yours closer to causing you grief?" He makes a face. "That may be ruthless, but I can't forget that Glórenacil was trying to sell Lana to what he believed was a monster. Kind of hard to forgive."

Pothy nuzzles into Telamon's torso, that tail going a million miles an hour now, it seems. His quiet 'raven purr' noises aren't translated by the ward's effect on the house, but it's easy to interpret his quiet happiness regardless.

"It is no secret that I have no love for Glórenacil," Grandfather replies. "However, I fear that he may try to manipulate Glórenacil once again into hurting Cor'lana. I imagine she doesn't want to be in the same room as him. Worse, he could push Glórenacil into saying something that might push Cor'lana over the edge and..."

He seems to struggle to find the words to say, and finally arrives at a set that will do after a moment. "Give into the feytouched emotions that run high, and hurt him. Or kill him. Neither of which would be good for her reputation and would cause her further pain and stress. Which would, in turn, harm me. You are aware of how much Cor'lana's happiness is my happiness, Telamon." His voice aches in his last statement, like he's showing an open wound.

"A valid counterargument. Though I'm not sure your cousin has the full measure of you... or for that matter, myself, or Lana. Still... he might be capable of mischief." Telamon steeples his fingers. "Alright. We need to track down Glórenacil then, if only to ensure he's not..." He pauses, his expression souring. "...heading back to the Mythwood to see his lady love. Again. Crap. I just thought of something."

He looks upward, thinking hard, eyes narrowed. "You know, of course, I went to try and speak with that loathsome little bastard while I was in Ylvaliel. I wonder if he's acquainted with your cousin as well?"

"I can't say for certain where Glórenacil is headed," Alud'rigan says with a sigh. "Nor how much Legus knows about you and about Lana... But I know for certain that he took joy in trying to hurt me. He recognized my 'sensitive heart' and tried to 'harden' it on many instances. The last was when he learned my wife had passed away, and he arrived on my doorstep to ask if he could..."

His hands grip together, and there is a look on the Feathered One's face now that suggests pure and utter intent to kill. But he draws in a sharp breath and lets it out, closing his eyes. "I should have killed him. I nearly did. But my first grandchild was sleeping in the nursery in the crib, and I didn't wish to wake the little one. I often ask myself if that was the right decision. I... ask myself that about many decisions."

Slowly, his violet eyes open again. "If he's affiliated with that necromancer, then I imagine it is because they are of the same sick and twisted flock," he says. "But I doubt that necromancer would act as a tool to my cousin. There seemed to be no indication of control when I..."

His eyes flicker to Telamon's face. "I might have paid him a visit, too, after you did. I assure you that he is unharmed."

Telamon's mouth flattens again, and there's a glitter in his eyes. A shared empathy, and agreement, with Grandfather's rage. "There's always going to be people like that. Usually they can be discouraged. Sometimes that's not enough, though." He takes a deep breath.

"But you're missing something here, Grandfather. That necromancer, that wretch, might not have been under control -- but did he need to be? Is your cousin a... what's the khazadi term... a 'small manager'? One who insists on being in charge of everything and grants no flexibility? Because that son of a bitch? He likes to cause pain too. He's proud of it. Told me about how he kept himself happy in that cell by revisiting all his past exploits."

There's another moment where the Feathered One is clearly filtering through events of the past in his head, that face boiling with rage beneath the surface in such stark contrast to the usual feeling of stillness that plays out normally there. "From what I remember," he says, "I recall that he had... associates. They either did his bidding or performed acts that he approved of greatly on their own initiative, as they mirrored his own sick and twisted desires."

The Feathered One raises a hand to his face as he leans back into his rocking chair at last and sighs. "I went into that necromancer's prison and I told him only one thing. And then I left. I didn't linger to see his reaction."

GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (5)+13+3: 21

Telamon scowls. "See, that's what I'm worried about. And I wasn't able to talk to anyone about Ainasse, so I don't know if she's got one of those pact marks either. What's more, it seems to me that your cousin and that bastard have enough in common that they'd at least agree to work together for mutual... 'entertainment'."

His fists clench reflexively. "Damn him. I'd have happily laid his head at Lana's feet... or delivered him bound and gagged to you, Grandfather... if I could've gotten away with it. I'm amazed you were able to get inside in the first place."

His lips quirk. "I may have told the royal inquisitor, 'Yes, there is a fey lord with a vested interest in Cor'lana, so you might want to put your prisoners somewhere with lots of warding.' Nothing personal, Grandfather, I just didn't want Ainasse to slip away because that little shit got his head twisted off one night."

Grandfather sags a little more in his rocking chair at the mention of Ainasse possibly having a pact mark. "It's... entirely possible," he says, "as none of us are certain as to when exactly Legus arrived on this plane. There could have been ample time to mark Ainasse. There could have been ample time to make arrangements with that necromancer. We need more information, and I can only do so much intelligence gathering on my own."

He lets out another sigh. "But I won't have you doing anything besides wedding preparations for the next few weeks. Don't let your happiness with Cor'lana be taken hostage by worry and doubt. We are less than a month now to the finish line."

Ahh, of course the smile returns to Grandfather's face with wedding talk, and it's widened a little by Telamon's remarks on the prison warding. "Well warranted," Grandfather says. "Perhaps you underestimate me. I can be quite charming when I want to be, Telamon. I had... a rather admiring clientele when I worked at the bookshop. I fully admit that I flirted with some customers in order to secure a sale. Harmless, might I add."

Telamon eyes Grandfather. "I don't like keeping secrets from Lana, Grandfather. One, it sits poorly with me, and two, she's getting better at 'reading'. She's also a damned good bluffer in her own right and is learning to sniff out when someone else is playing a line on her." He exhales. "But you're right. Right now, all we have is 'Glórenacil snuck off' and honestly... after the pain that man caused Lana, I have a hard time caring."

Tel smirks at Grandfather. "Oh, please, Grandfather, I know the dance too, even if I've had less time than you to practice it. Though I admit I've had some interesting complications." He rubs his chin, grinning a bit. "The marriage and reception is going to be very, very impressive. I don't expect any trouble, but there are going to be a number of adventurers, plus my family, plus friends, plus Lana's family on her mother's side as well... My goodness, I'm glad we sprang for the biggest festhall in Ylvaliel."

There's a wry smirk from Grandfather. "Well, my little one is slowly learning how to fly in that regard," he says, "albeit likely because of your influence. I can take very little credit there. It was my wife who taught me how to talk to mortals."

There's the quiet sound of a door opening and footsteps padding out. Cor'lana rubs her eyes and yawns as she steps out into the living room, wearing a knee-length silk robe in a deep violet that matches her eyes. "Mmm, what about dancing?" she asks sleepily--and then she registers that Grandfather's in the room with a little nod and a wave.

And then she just sits on the couch next to Telamon and puts her head on his shoulder. "Mmmmkay, goodnight," she says sleepily, albeit with a grin. She's kidding.

Telamon shrugs lightly with a smile. "Well, she did teach me Sylvan, and she's marrying me. The least I can do is return the favor by teaching her some of my tricks." He looks around. "I think I got a pretty good deal out of it, at any rate."

When Lana comes padding out, he looks up, his expression taking on that gentle, loving look he often wears when he looks at her in quiet times. As she sits down, he folds an arm around her, cuddling her close. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Sorry if we woke you. Grandfather popped by, and he doesn't grasp business hours."

Cor'lana wraps her arms around Telamon and she whines a little in faux-protest. "It was horrible," she says with a little pout. "I woke up a little and I couldn't find you in bed, so I really did wake up then. After all, how am I supposed to sleep without the love of my life holding me~?"

Grandfather simply cannot help but snicker at the two, warmth settling in on his face as he just watches the two half-elves engage in their affection for each other. He finally rocks a little in that rocking chair of his. "I didn't take you for a clinger, little one," he teases.

"I'm not," Cor'lana protests more genuinely this time. "I just sleep more soundly if I'm holding something, or if someone is holding me. I cuddled with Pothy for years before I met Telamon, after all."

Pothy takes flight from Telamon's lap to allow Cor'lana more space to nuzzle into her fiance. He lands on an arm of the couch. "It's true," he says. "Lana snuggles are the best snuggles."

"I think we may be biased though," Telamon remarks with a grin, though he's happy to wrap Lana up in his arms for some cuddles. "And I definitely don't mind. I find I'm used to having Lana with me as well, and I do sleep sounder."

He kisses Lana's cheek, and smiles at Pothy. "I'm glad you were there for her until we finally met, though. She deserves peaceful sleep." Tel looks over at Grandfather. "Still... it's late. And we can discuss things tomorrow morning, if you like, Grandfather."

Grandfather chuckles as he rises from his chair. "Of course," he says. "I'll take up residence with Pothy in the study, and provided you two don't sleep in too late tomorrow morning, I'll be here to cook you breakfast. Good night, children."

He walks over to Pothy and scoops up the white bird in his clawed hands in a completely effortless motion, putting him onto his feathered shoulder where the dark raven feathers begin the feather mantle. "Hey, wait, why are you taking me with you?" Pothy asks.

"So we have some alone time," Cor'lana tells Pothy as she grins at Telamon. Grandfather and grand...bird? leave the living room, and Cor'lana takes the opportunity to nuzzle herself into that space under Telamon's chin briefly. "Although I have a feeling you want to take our alone time back to bed," she adds playfully.

Telamon raises his eyebrows as Grandfather offers to make breakfast... and absconds with Pothy. "Well," he says with a poorly concealed grin. "That was... unexpected, but not unwelcome."

He looks into Lana's eyes, before tucking her in under his chin again. "Mmm. Yes, I think we definitely need to move this back to the bedroom. Take advantage of the bed since it's bigger than the sofa." He takes her hand, and kisses it. "Shall we?"

"I mean, we haven't tried the sofa yet," Cor'lana whispers very mischievously before she giggles, rising from the couch. She takes a moment to smooth down the side of her silk robe in a slightly flirtatious manner.

It's true, she is learning some of Telamon's tricks. She offers him a grin as she helps him off the couch. "I'll happily take the bed. It is cozier and warmer. Especially with you in it."