Closed Guess Who's Coming to Breakfast

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Fall, 512 AV, The Morning of the 51st As much as one could, Duvalyon was preparing to have his innards pulled out and strung on hooks. His agitation showed in the way he scratched at the basket's edge and periodically drifted from one side to another. It was probably the most nervous the medic ever appeared. He couldn't maintain small talk with the Ochiya operating the basket or look inward. His face beheld the dark and little else. What stretched before him was wretchedness pushed to sublimity. He wondered if the shame could be overcome, and if all he had sweat to build would crumble in an ignominious pile. Laszlo was going to meet Duvalyon's family. At once. All of them. And they would talk to him at length. Duvalyon imagined his claws being pulled out one at a time, and it seemed a comparative comfort. Duvalyon's family represented a force he could not control, or even maintain an illusion of control over. They would do precisely as they wished, and he would have to stand there and bear it in a good temper. Yes, he was dwelling in hyperbole, but it would make the uncomfortable reality seem less painful by comparison. Duvalyon had no guarantee that his family would accept the child's father. His letters had been largely one sided, with only cheery Melia taking the time to respond. Proud as the other Hellebores were, they might shun Laszlo and still expect him to happily bestow on them what would likely be his only child. And if they accepted Laszlo, there was still the chaotic blurring of the stark segments of Duvalyon's life. When he had first met Laszlo, Duvalyon had never conceived of the Ethaefal seeing him in any role but the one the medic had painstakingly chosen and sustained. The Symenestra was never so bare as when in the company of his family who could attest to the imperfections of his past. He should have succumbed to Laszlo's suggestion the night before. When the Ethaefal turned widow hesitated at the gates...

[Laszlo]

Fall 50th, 512 Not long after nightfall. "Duvalyon." Laszlo was not was as ready to enter the caverns of Kalinor as his companion was. He paused at the precipice between the upper world and the Symenestra home, with the cold moonlight striking his back. Leth laid an affectionate silver sheen onto the rock around him. "I, ah…" He glanced over his shoulder, as if hesitant to leave the sky behind. That could well have been part of it. It was cruel to ask Duvalyon to pause now that he was standing on Kalinor's doorstep. Laszlo knew this was the first time the medic had seen home in half a year. Considering the things he went through in Lhavit, it must have been difficult to wonder if he would ever see this place again. Laszlo felt guilty, making him wait another few moments, but it was eclipsed by his own concerns. If it weren't for the fact that Avalyon was sleeping against Laszlo's shoulder, Duvalyon could have just ignored Laszlo and kept going. Comfortably warm beneath a layer of both linen and fur, she barely looked like an infant at all beneath her father's cradling arms. Laszlo struggled for words, his mouth hanging open as his violet eyes trailed the cavern floor. "You should take Ava." It felt like a crime to disturb her, but he would only pull her weight from his shoulder once Duvalyon was ready to carry her himself. "The caravan is setting up camp outside the city. Most of them are too afraid to come in. They're leaving in the morning and I… I'm going with them." He didn't belong in Kalinor. Twice before he'd come into this place, and neither time on a positive note. Despite his irrevocable connection to the city, and even a fondness he kindled, he wasn't sure he had one happy memory here. "I can't meet them." There was no question that Duvalyon's family would accept the child, but how could Laszlo possibly face them? To them he was merely azo. Worse, the carelessness that brought about his daughter's life was beyond humiliating. Laszlo could not possibly stand in a room full of strangers who knew fully well what he had done. "I can't just walk in and… I just can't, Duvalyon." Visibly hesitant to surrender his daughter, he laid a clawed hand over Avalyon's covered head. "I know she'll be well cared for. Nothing else matters. There is no place for me here."

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

After almost a year gone, Duvalyon paused on the threshold to his home. In Lhavit he had ceased to wonder when he would stand there next, as the idea would only awaken a dissatisfaction he could not appease. In the glowing mountainous city he didn't have the mental energy to uselessly pine for creature comforts. The tyranny of the immediate kept him sufficiently occupied. But now, he teetered on the brink of normalcy again, and it reminded him of all he had traded for the sake of others. How long since he walked outside and didn't feel scorn sear his shoulders? Before Duvalyon could pass into the cave mouth and its consolation, Laszlo hesitated behind him and declared he could not follow. "I understand, Laszlo." Duvalyon's face was clean of expression in the blanching moonlight as he turned to face the Ethaefal. His arms outstretched to claim Avalyon, but sharply diverted at the last moment. One hand clenched the collar of Laszlo's shirt, and Duvalyon's expression wasn't so tolerant anymore. "I understand there is no petching way you are staying out here after I spent gods damned seasons with sunborn in a city made of light." Duvalyon released his physical grip on Laszlo but his spectral one only grew stronger. "I'm not going to let you just pass Avalyon on and forever wonder who you surrendered your only child to." Duvalyon returned to the path. "You're coming to my home, Laszlo," he explained over his shoulder as he agilely picked his way among the stones, "Even if I have to drag you."

[Laszlo]

"Ah—!" Laszlo held his breath as he stumbled slightly forward, stunned to silence by the sudden flame in Duvalyon's scarlet eyes. Although they were only there to make a point, the Ethaefal was very aware that the medic's claws were just inches from his throat. Considering the restraint Duvalyon usually practiced, this was a staggering gesture from him. By the time he let go, Laszlo's expression was a mix between startled and apologetic. Duvalyon turned away, and Laszlo released his breath and reached up to correct his collar. Avalyon shifted against him, her tiny claws catching themselves (not for the first time) in the fabric of Laszlo's shirt. Not you too, Laszlo thought helplessly, laying an arm over his covered daughter. He glanced backward at the velvet blue night, calling him back outside. Duvalyon was right (he often was), but the thought of entering Kalinor put a pressure in his chest, as if someone were stepping on his heart with an iron boot heel. Hadn't he been through enough already? Even if the Symenestra forgave Laszlo for the sheer idiocy of his carelessness, the thought that they wouldn't give a damn about Abalia… Then again, Laszlo was fairly certain Duvalyon was't joking about dragging him in. Swearing quietly to himself, he began to step into the shadowy mouth of Kalinor. "Fine," he sighed. Although the shame mounted in his chest with every step, it mingled with a subtle sense of relief. At least he wasn't in this alone. Or maybe he'd get lucky and fall into the damned gorge on the way. "I've already suffered shame and loss. Wouldn't be a trifecta without humiliation." My home. Laszlo glanced up at the back of Duvalyon's head. The corner of his mouth lifted briefly. "Welcome back," he muttered, with no small amount of spite.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon's parents' home was considerably larger than his own, encompassing several of the cocoon like structures joined by well covered bridges. The curtained "front door" was on the side of the smallest room, easily accessible should head medic Svorador need to receive injured creatures of all races. A dark Hellebore flower was woven into the curtain that covered the entry, an address of sorts. Duvalyon hesitated before stepping out of the basket. Laszlo was passing a boundary long established, and it was at the Symenestra's partial invitation. Duvalyon secretly wished the Ethaefal had never learned Symenos so he wouldn't be privy to the effusions of his family. The lack of control was already annoying him and they had not even entered the Web. Nothing left to be done but pray and attempt to threaten his family with discrete glares. The Hellebore foyer was well appointed and Melia was in a nook speaking gently with an elegant fair-haired woman. Both were clad in shades of stunning blue. A girl near seven or eight sitting on the shining overflow of their silk skirts puzzling through a tangle of string and slivers of wood. When Laszlo and Duvalyon set foot on the ground, six eyes slipped toward them. Melia was the first to move, excitedly shooing the girl off her hems. "Duvy!" she trilled the title as she glided across the room. Semelia embraced her brother with abandon. In nigh a year of knowing him, Laszlo had never seen anyone do that to Duvalyon. One would wonder if the Symenestra even knew what the motion was or would interpret it as a sign of aggression and attack. The medic startled, grinned, then returned the hug with something like relief, as if he had been holding his breath for seasons. Surprisingly, he knew how to make the gesture. His sister's enthusiasm had almost pulled him over and her eyes were squeezed shut. "Hello, Melia. I told you to never call me that in public." "Your friend's not the public anymore," she said with fake impertinence. Semelia switched one guest for another, as the others competed for her brother's attention. "Hello, Laszlo," she said sweetly, "Welcome to the Hellebore home." Melia stood on tiptoe to kiss the Ethaefal's cheek before softly settling her attention on what he carried. "Hello, Avalyon." There was warm awe in her greeting. Suddenly, Laszlo could tell Melia had been waiting and hoping for this and all her uncertainty was now being put to rest. She had begun loving the child with nothing more than a brief description from her brother. "She's beautiful, Laszlo." Duvalyon's sister seemed on the brink of tears. Beside them, Duvalyon was dutifully bending so his mother could kiss his cheek. She was just entering middle age and very handsome, a jarring reminder of Duvalyon's youth. Their conversation was barely audible, but Duvalyon was mechanically repeating "I'm fine." Seeing an opportunity, he turned her attentions to Laszlo on his left. "This is my mother Evalene Hellebore. Mabda, this is Laszlo." "So pleased to have you, Laszlo," she said with surprising charm, "Come in and get settled. The others are elsewhere in the house." Duvalyon made a surprised hiss as the young girl finally won his attention by dropping directly onto his shoulders from the low ceiling. "Little carrion!" he said with a mild growl, while pulling her arms down from crushing his throat. If Duvalyon had used the same tones on Laszlo, it would have made Ethaefal pause, but the girl clambered for a better hold, giddy and un-phased. "Yon! Carry me!" Obediently, Duvalyon adjusted her to sit like a cumbersome pack, while she chattered in his ear. After her first effusions, she looked at Laszlo and said in stilted common, "Hello, Dovna Everfall! I am pleased to meet you!" "Ethaefal." Duvalyon corrected mildly. "Dovna Ethaefal," she was smiling at Laszlo, not yet aware she shouldn't show her fangs. "Loryanell insisted on coming," Melia cast aside an explanation, unwilling to look away from Avalyon. "She's missing Mene Madras. Our lessons." Duvalyon had been steered toward the other side of the room and was holding the mess of string and wood between his hands the child had been puzzling over earlier. Lorynell had been waiting for him to arrive and fix it, naturally. That was what cousin did.

[Laszlo]

With his dull, sun-starved vision, Laszlo watched the vague shapes of Kalinor move closer with a growing sense of dread. The hanging homes in the cavern city were defined by irregular points of faint light, and with enough study, he could even make out rough dimensions. This was his second return after his extended stay in year 510, and although Kalinor was not a vast city, this was one corner he had never visited before. The basket came to a stop, and Laszlo swayed and fortified his footing. Avalyon stirred and yawned against his shoulder, distracting Laszlo from the shadows that held them. He reached a hand beneath the blankets that covered her and discreetly unsnagged one of her claws from his shirt. His fingers remained holding onto her hand and her soft little arm for a lingering moment. This is it, he thought at her. The option for backing out had long since expired, although he briefly wondered at what Duvalyon would do if Laszlo tried to commandeer use of the basket and make a run for it. Without having the slightest idea of what he was about to face, Laszlo followed Duvalyon into his famiy's home. There was a moment of deadly silence as everyone in the room acknowledged each other. The lighting was just enough for his weaker eyes, while theirs sparkled in relative shadow. Laszlo's heart felt still. He said nothing. Couldn't if he wanted to. The air seemed to seize in his lungs. He felt very much like he was stepping into den of wolves, but he was only a sheep in wolf's clothing. Laszlo only moved slightly, turning his neck to watch sister embrace brother. Semelia's face was the only one he remotely recognized, as he had seen her very briefly during his last visit to Kalinor. A different person returned Semelia's affection, speaking in warm tones Laszlo had never heard from Duvalyon before. The smile fit his face unusually well. This wasn't the man Laszlo had been living with for the past year. Suddenly, the Ethaefal felt more alone than he had been five seconds ago. Semelia either seemed to sense this, or she was finished with Duvalyon, and Laszlo watched her move onto him next. He couldn't help but notice she was speaking Common. Laszlo opened his mouth to speak, finding it dry. "Thank you—" The kiss on his cheek left a lingering tingle, and as he wondered at it, he looked down and pulled some of the covers away from Avalyon's pale, round face. Semelia called it beautiful, and Laszlo felt his features break out of their stoicism. He didn't smile, but for a fleeting moment, he did look like a father. "Semelia, I presume. Your brother has spoken well of you." The woman standing in front of him was Avalyon's adoptive mother. He found himself staring at Semelia, trying to envision it. Evalene Hellebore's voice nudged him back into the moment. "Yes." It was not the perfect response. Laszlo looked up, reminding himself he was expected to say more. "Thank you, Mabda Hellebore. I am honored by the invitation." Sudden movement drew Laszlo's attention back to Duvalyon, who was being assaulted by a tiny Widow. She was more knees, elbows and limbs than an actual girl. The same stranger that hatched out of Duvalyon absorbed this as well, miraculously acquiescing to the child's demands. The medic was rapidly growing in depth and character, showing himself not only to be a man of his word and a pious follower of Viratas, but a caring family figure. In this moment, Laszlo couldn't possibly understand how anyone could look at the Symenestra race and call them evil. The girl's unabashed cheer drew a hesitant smile out of the Ethaefal. It had been years since he had seen a Symenestra child as young as her. The fangs were a prominent reminder of the killer she would grow into. "Hello," he answered. "It's just Laszlo." He shifted his attention back onto Semelia in front of him, who was still enchanted by the infant in his arms. She was a small thing to look so motherly. "You may hold her, if you wish." Laszlo arranged his arms so Avalyon could easily be taken. "She a little fussy from travel. I've been using this blanket to keep her nose dry." Once the child was lifted off of him, Laszlo remained awkwardly on his own. His shoulder felt suddenly cold. Duvalyon and everything familiar was now out of reach. Rubbing at the front his neck, Laszlo fell back at step from where he had been standing, making himself able to lean against the wall near the entrance. Fear, gratitude, and shame coagulated into a lead ball in his chest, and so Laszlo stared at the ground and listened to the ambience of the Web. Even someone like Duvalyon had family. It helped him to know that this was what he was giving to Avalyon. If Abalia could see this, she wouldn't have made him promise to keep their daughter out of Kalinor.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

When offered the baby, a light awakened inside Semelia. Despite the awkward delivery, she quickly adjusted the child in her arms. It was a natural gesture for her. With the father still present, she was trying to contain her instinct to possessively mother the baby. Laszlo had not known her long and had not witnessed the preparations she had already begun in earnest for Avalyon's arrival. A transition was necessary before she whisked the child into her life. For now, she could only anoint the baby's head with kisses and show it to her mother. Both cooed appreciatively and made strange syllables that might have had a root in Symenos. Across the room the girl was gravely explaining to Duvalyon the state of her toy. "It's supposed to be a moth." Duvalyon was staring at the mess between his fingers. "Can't you see, Yon?" "No, not particularly." Duvalyon turned toward the Ethaefal, saw him retreating, and frowned. There was the Symenestra who had kept him company. "Don't skulk in the corner, Laszlo. You're not done yet," he smirked, "There's at least four more of us." "Duvalyon Violet-Hellebore, the way you talk to people is astounding." Evalene paused her rapt attention to regard Laszlo. "He was raised better." "I overcame it, thankfully," the medic quipped. Semelia was trying not to smile and doing a very poor job of it. Her mother caught the look, forcing her to play peacemaker. Her performance was a little lack-luster. She was obviously a terrible liar. "Very rude, Yon. Shouldn't have a friend in the world." "Indeed," he answered. Neither appeased nor trusting her eldest's graciousness, Evalene covered for her inconsiderate children. "Come inside. You'll meet my other son and his wife. He's easier company than Duvalyon. Also, my nephew and Semelia's husband." "Is Svorador here?" Duvalyon asked casually without even looking up from the tangle of string he was plucking at with his claws. "No," Evalene seemed surprised at the very suggestion, "You of all people know how hectic and demanding the Purging can be." "Of course." Evalene was leading them inward, but talked to Laszlo over her shoulder. "He sends his particular regards to you though, Laszlo." From his place in the back of the small parade, Duvalyon smirked at his mother's lie. Svorador didn't send anything to strangers save bills for treatment. Beyond the hallway was a room that resembled Duvalyon's home save it was stripped of the macabre and glittering bric-a-brac and curtained spaces. It was for siting or eating, with some rich looking furniture and long and low niches in the wall. A table was pushed in one corner set with various glasses and decanters. Curtained arches showed the dwelling was still much larger than what was shown. Voices were muffled by the drapes, but broke into the room when a good-looking young Symenestra with lighter features entered. A round-eyed, waifish thing clung to his arm, her gold eyes fixed on him adoringly. "Duvalyon!" he said brightly, "We come bearing gifts!" he raised his hand showing the wine he carried. "To have later," a grin charmed his mouth, "I have to clarify with you." He laughed and his wife joined instinctively. "You must be Laszlo," he extended his hand and smiled with uncommon friendliness. "I'm Veyatove. Duvlayon's brother, and this is my wife Rivenna."

[Laszlo]

It was almost a relief to be chided by Duvalyon. A subtle reminder that the warm, family-oriented uncle was still the same medic who could barely tolerate some of Laszlo's behaviors. Alvadas had made the Ethaefal grateful for whatever foothold he could maintain in familiar realities. When Veyatove appeared with wine, it was only Laszlo's discomfort and astonishment that hid the relief from his face. Thank the gods. There's wine. The thought was cut short by Veyatove's quick, conscientious addendum, and a unexpected dart casually thrown at Duvalyon's dignity. It surprised Laszlo to see his friend absorb it; if he had said anything of the like, the response would be pointed and cruel. "Veyatove," Laszlo repeated, wearing a glib smile as he nodded respectfully. He shook the man's hand gladly, but his astonishment deepened. This was Duvalyon's brother? If these were not Symenestra, Laszlo would begin to wonder which of the two had been adopted. It seemed Veyatove was given all the warmth that Duvalyon lacked. "I'm very pleased to meet you both. Sibea Rivenna." He sharpened his smile for her benefit and extended his greeting to include her. As an afterthought, it occurred to Laszlo to indirectly defend Duvalyon. He inclined his head toward the wine, drawing on forgotten grace and courtesy he hadn't employed since he'd left Alvadas. "Not too much later, I hope. I haven't had good wine in ages." The room, spacious and decorated as it was, was filling with thin figure and gray faces—finely and colorfully dressed as they were. Laszlo was clearly different than they were, dressed very much like azo and with a broader structure and different hues. And yet they were treating him like an honored guest. Considering what he was giving them, it was understood and appreciated, but Laszlo could not help but think how vulnerable it made Duvalyon to let him—an outsider—meet his family. It was like a beast showing its belly. Semelia seemed preoccupied, in love with her newly met daughter, so Laszlo decided against prodding her with inquiries about the family Avalyon would be growing up with. He removed himself from the center of the room and chose a seat that placed him at an uneven distance between Evalene Hellebore and her eldest son, who was still preoccupied with the young girl. Leaning toward Evalene, he offered her a more genuine smile than he had worn all morning. This was her home, and Laszlo was pleased to pay her his respects. An ingrained fragment of his soul remembered lessons of etiquette lost to some previous lifetime. "You have a beautiful home, Mabda Hellebore." It was true, by Kalinor standards. A human would in all likelihood be daunted by its unusual shapes. "And your family is lovely. You've raised your children well." Laszlo remained conscious of Evalene's ealier excuse for Duvalyon's rudeness. He smiled in good humor and looked over at the medic. Laszlo was relatively certain he was too distracted to overhear. "Duvalyon's conviction is inspiring. Without his help, I truly don't know how I would have managed. Badly, I think." The Ethaefal straightened in his seat, trying to look dignified. He was supposed to be a creature of beauty and grace, the immortal servant of the Goddess Syna, but all he could think about were the reasons he was here. Abalia was dead because he was thoughtless. He only met Duvalyon after nearly killing himself out of curiosity. As an Ethaefal, he made a poor example of his kind. "You can tell your husband I appreciate his regards," Laszlo said gratefully. Quiet and distracted though he was, he was not forgetting a single word that had been said to him. "To see that my daughter will be so loved by a family like this one brings me relief I can't begin to describe to you. What your son weathered on the surface to bring her here, I wouldn't wish on anyone. Certainly not her." If Laszlo had chosen to raise her on the surface, she'd bear every bit of the abuse Duvalyon had received from fearful sunborn. He had already seen the effects it could have on a halfblood. Dra-Seven's bitterness had warped him into something monstrous.