The Hall, Dhemlan, Kaeleer, Monday Evening (Fandom Time)

[glacial_queen]

The Coach arrived on the landing web with a slight thump. Lucivar frowned a moment and then sighed. "So, I'm not a professional Coachman."

Karla looked up innocently. "I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking it, witchling. I could tell." He hopped out of the Coach and opened the door for them, helping Karla out first. "Ready for your first view of SaDiablo Hall?" he rumbled at Warren.

From the landing web, only a side of the Hall could be seen, towering over acres of thick, lush lawns, gardens in a riot of colors, and even the hint of some not-so-distant woods.

"Show-off," Karla muttered, though she couldn't deny a bit of pride, either. "Let's go inside. They're probably waiting on us, I'm sure."

[Up late, but for SP goodness! Still for one, and nfb. Karla and Warren will be back on the island tonight.]

Comments

[wwiii]

"That would be great," Warren agreed, grabbing on to the distraction that a potentially amazing dessert would be certain to provide, and grabbing on with a gusto. "It sounds amazing, I wouldn't want to miss out."

And now he was two or three shades less pink. This was progress.

[offers-choices.livejournal.com]

"No, no. I want to hear more about this picnic," Lucivar said, his wings flaring in amusement. "Do go on, Karla."

[glacial_queen]

"I don't see why everyone is acting all smirky!" Karla declared. "He promised me delicious lunches forever! Warren is a male of his word!"

Karla, stop helping. Just...stop helping.

[hells-highlord.livejournal.com]

"So we heard," Saetan said, apparently deciding that if Karla was going to keep pressing, he could stop trying to help her get out of it. "Whatever are all those delicious lunches for?"

[glacial_queen]

"Errm..." It was about this time Karla realized she should have taken the out provided. Ahhh, hindsight. She glanced over Lucivar's way. Mentioning that she'd spent several hours in the sun, scritching at Warren's feathers would almost certainly lead to an erroneous conclusion of three. "Services rendered?"

Great. That was much better.

[hells-highlord.livejournal.com]

"Would you care to try that explanation again?" Saetan asked softly.

[glacial_queen]

Eep?

Karla was just going to wince and babble for a moment, giving Warren the occasional glance of 'Help me remove my foot, will you please?'

[wwiii]

Warren, do not groan and bury your face in your hands. Don't do it.

He managed to settle for a sigh and one hand cupped over his forehead for a moment before he stepped in to say something again.

"I was having some difficulties with my wings at the time," he explained. "I'm not a bird, I can't reach back there the same way that one might be able to, and so she helped me straighten things out a bit."

There was a pause. And then, pointedly, "Not... whatever it is you're thinking."

[glacial_queen]

Do you feel that Warren? That is the feeling of pure gratitude being poured over you by one little witchling.

"He was molting," Karla said, her tongue loosening again, ever so slightly. It wasn't easy, being pinned under the weight of the High Lord's stare. "I was careful--I know wings are delicate--I didn't wish to harm them--but I helped. Better me than someone who didn't know. About wings, I mean."

[offers-choices.livejournal.com]

"You molt?" Lucivar asked. "Bet that's a bitch."

[hells-highlord.livejournal.com]

"Thank you, Lucivar, for that pithy and helpful summation," Saetan said, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose.

Immediately, a footman was by his side, pouring a much darker, thicker vintage wine into his cup. Unlike the previous times a glass had been refilled, the footman did not glance around to see if anyone else wished a their glass filled, simply bowing slightly and taking the bottle away.

Saetan held the glass, his black-tinted nails encircling it with an audible click. "A apologize to you both for my presumption," he said, still quiet, but the soft thunder was gone from him. "But Karla you know--"

[glacial_queen]

"I know," she said, glaring down at the tabletop. "Believe me, I know."

[wwiii]

"It was just a bunch of feathers and dust," Warren stressed, a little more quietly, himself. This sort of thing always felt a little sideways for him to discuss, like it stripped away a chunk of his already highly-questioned humanity and thrust him into that messy, uncomfortable corner of the animal kingdom where things like molting and hollow bones were commonplace.

At least he didn't crap on car hoods.

"It's just a touchy topic, for me. I'm sorry that trying to skirt around it turned out to be so misleading."

[glacial-warlord.livejournal.com]

"Boy, I would really love some of that torte now," Morton said brightly. He turned to Jaenelle. "What do you think? Torte now?"

Jaenelle barely had time to nod before Holt was coming back out, followed by three other footmen, all carrying a large, silver tray stamped with the SaDiablo crest. The first three carried large, still-steaming tortes, a sweet, rich fragrance wafting out from the pastries. The fourth footman carried a large pitcher filled with freshly whipped cream, to be slathered on top.

Ah, the healing powers of Mrs. Beale's baking.

[glacial_queen]

Not caring if it lead the males to growling again, Karla slipped her hand down to her side and reached for Warren's fingers. "It was my fault," she said, apologetically. "I spoke too quickly and unwisely, because I didn't want to--"

didn't want to call you out on something I know still troubles you

"--say something impolitic. So, shockingly, I said something even worse. I'm sorry."

[wwiii]

"Well," Warren noted, managing another smile as he felt her fingers brush his, and then reached back to hold her hand, to give it a light squeeze, "no real harm done, right? And that torte smells amazing."

[hells-highlord.livejournal.com]

"All credit for that goes to Mrs. Beale, the Hall's cook." Saetan was wincing a bit, and from the steady stare Jaenelle was pinning him with, it was a good guess that he was getting soundly lectured on a Black psychic thread.

"I don't know how much Karla has told you of our culture, but the Blood put great faith in triangles. A Queen, for example, is supported by her Steward, Master of the Guard, and First Escort. The Hall rests on the unflagging work of Beale, Helene, and Mrs. Beale. Without them, this would be an impressive pile of stones but that's all."

[wwiii]

"The difference between a house and a home, right?"

That was about the closest analogy that Warren could come up with, considering his own upbringing. But he hoped that he wasn't completely missing some bigger picture, somewhere in all of that.

After another moment's pause, he ventured, "Like part of the family?"

[changeable-eyes.livejournal.com]

"Very much like," Jaenelle agreed, shooting Saetan one last look before turning back to Warren. "Though they'd all sniff and say they were far too professional to confuse themselves with family. While we're off, flitting about and doing Terribly Important Things, they keep the homefires lit for our return. It's that extra bit of thought and care and even pride that they bring to everything here at the Hall. So, yes. They make the house a home."

[wwiii]

Warren's smile was a bit more genuine at that, and he ducked his head slightly, because obviously genuine smiles were intended to be directed at the tops of tables.

"Well, then my compliments to the three of them. From what I've seen so far, they've made the Hall very much into a home for you."

[glacial_queen]

Karla squeezed his hand back, then let go so she could help herself to a giant slice of torte and ladle of whipped cream. "Try it," she whispered. "It's better than it smells."

Since Karla was bad at sharing Warren had never seen a honey-pear, she asked Holt to bring one for him to see. The fruit holt returned with was a greenish-gold sphere, roughly the size of Warren’s fist. While the skin looked just like a regular pear, when Holt cut it open with a paring knife and held it out, the flesh below was tinted a slight gold color, with long threads of a darker gold.

"Take a bite," Karla urged him.

Warren's first bite came with a small crunch and the taste of honey—the golden threads were actually veins of crystalized honey. And instead of a core, the center of the fruit was a column of liquid honey, in a slightly darker shade of gold than the flesh. "Careful," she warned impishly. "They're a little messy to eat."

[wwiii]

Yeah, Warren had noticed, once he made it to the middle of the core and found himself faced with a dribble of honey oozing down his chin.

He gave Karla a look that was intended to be stern, but the fact that he was trying not to laugh spoiled that one pretty thoroughly. The truth was, this fruit was divine, and he couldn't help it, but his wings had actually unfurled a little, all of him relaxing while he savoured the flavour.

"I think here is where I ask for a napkin," he stated, setting what was left of the pear on his plate and cupping a hand under his chin so that his honey-dribble didn't end up in his lap. "Please."

[glacial_queen]

Karla laughed and went to hand Warren hers, but Holt was already there, holding out a warm, damp cloth. He'd been expecting that, really.

"They're almost impossible to eat neatly," Karla said. "For one thing, if you're concerned about staying neat, it means that you're not paying enough attention to the taste. So, what did you think?"

[wwiii]

Warren nodded a very grateful nod toward Holt as he mopped off his face, still biting back a laugh as he did so.

"I've never had anything like it before," he replied. "That was amazing."

Yeah. His new favourite fruit just had to be the one that would never, ever show up in the supermarket in New York.

[glacial_queen]

Well, he'd just have to stay friends with Karla to make sure he was kept in ready supply, wouldn't he?

"You missed our trip to the orchards in Narkhava," Karla teased. "I came home with tons honey-pear cordials and liqueurs and chocolates and things."

Please don't ask why she hadn't shared any of that. There was totally a good reason, really.