Magnificent Divulgences of the 3rd Wheel & the Potholes of Terror (Pre-Veil & GF'd)

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

Melora, Spring XIV

Oh, the horror.

Nimavel and Calairiel were together. That in itself was a fact the Elementalist could cope with. Yes, that was a full plate, but the existence of children was something all together. What had inspired the fools to adopt! It brought a frown to the Syl’rosyian Elflord’s lips. He’d lost his best friend, yes, no more outings to the tavern, no more wing man at the Moonwillow. But see, now, he’d lost his best friend not to her, but to responsibilities. And bunches of them. Little Nimavels and Calairiels running around the house, bouncing on laps, playing hide and go seek and messing with all your personal belongings that you’d placed in a certain way, only to end up dropped and broken.

And here he was, coming to pay them a visit.

The thought in itself made him want to wince. Titles of ‘Uncle Eren’ or ‘Mister Mael’tharias’ bounced about in his head, causing him to wince even more. A portion of him was pleased that Nimavel had settled down and turned into a family man. A very small portion. The larger part that was currently winning out was the anxiety of how his assassin friend would cope with this new sort of responsibility Diapers, bottles, screams and crying in the middle of the night, it was an entirely different opponent, and one Eren himself wasn’t prepared for. Hell, he’d take the monolithic udran snake in the Barch any day compared to that.

He’d arrived unannounced at the Cheb a little bit after noon, convenient enough to miss lunch and not intrude on Nim or Cala’s hospitality should they be busy. He acknowledged the fact that they might quite literally not be there, and was content to leave a note or letter disclaiming where he was staying should it come to that. There was an odd nagging in the back of his mind that Motito would not be here, and that brought him heaps of comfort as he approached the front door. Although the Cheb was a fortress in its own right, it was quite different than Eren’s own, and the setting was a much happier one without the gloom of the Barch interfering. The Barch… he’d have to visit there later. Mental note.

Adorned in a simple gray cloak that shifted majestically with every movement, the Syl’rosyian Elflord considered permitting himself in but thought better of it and decided to knock lest a servant mistake him as some sort of… Pheods forbid, interloper. Or something.

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

OOC: Narrowing the TS down to the first of Melora since Cala & Nim leave for Chelseanna shortly after.

Calairiel was busy with various pieces of paperwork when the word arrived to her that there was a visitor. She –could- have used her abilities to see whom it was but there was such a thing as being surprised that she enjoyed.

Rising from her desk, she ventured down the hallway and down the staircase to the grand foyer, where all visitors were brought.

She could have expected dozens of other people, but nowhere in that list would Eren’s name be. Nonetheless, he was standing before her….and all she could do was grin and take a moment to tease him…just a bit.

“Well, well….it’s been quite a long time since you’ve been here. I believe the last time….oh yes! The last time, you were running as fast as you could away from here, never to be seen again.”

Arching her eyebrow a bit, she gave him a knowing look stepped forward to embrace him gently. Oh yes, Eren and herself had a past, but it hadn’t been –all- bad…and certainly nothing that warranted hostility for the rest of their lives.

The past was simply that…the past.

“By the way, I never thanked you properly for my present. A beautiful horse…thank you. I’ve enjoyed him quite a bit. Vahka –is- a bit temperamental but a wonderful companion…but I suspect you are here to see my wayward husband instead of talking about times past, yes?”

Eren was Nimavel’s best friend….this she knew and she’d never stand in the way of that. She embraced it more then anything. It was good that they had each other for in those dark times, one needed all the friends they could get.

The days of not trusting Eren were long past…and thankfully so. Everyone had to grow up sometime.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

The pitter patter of footsteps traced through his memory. Oh yes, he remembered. He’d given her that damn horse, watched Motito run off and do another split-second archmage level enchantment, then gotten into a pissing match with the Elflord for practically no reason at all. Not that he bothered to care, mind you . Eren had always thought Motito’s perception of arcana was brash and too tool-like for his own purposes… and what had the Minister of War done? He’d gone and blown up Port Alyxandrya, essentially – to the best of Eren’s knowledge – doing the same damn thing he’d done for Calairiel that brightening. Lovely.

“I suppose there’s no reason for me to shy away much any longer,” Eren shrugged and embraced her with one arm from the side, a half-hearted hug, still unsure if he liked the idea of hugging not only his best friend’s wife but also one of his ex-girlfriends as well. Awkward, if only subtly so.

“But yes… I stopped by to visit Nim. And the children, if they’re awake? I hardly know them, and if they’re to be a bigger part of Nim’s life than I was, it’s in my best interest to ensure they don’t snap off his fingers or strangle him to death, you know?” he was joking, of course, but it seemed like a rather lame joke and seemed to fall apart as he told it. At least in his mind. There was that false sort of chuckle that died afterwards before his hands drifted uneasily to his pockets, burying themselves deep as he rocked back and forth on the heels of his black leather boots.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

“Calairiel I cannot find the milk…”

The call came from the hallway, one bearing the exact likeness of the Heru Mynendil’s. As he emerged through the threshold of the main corridor, he paused surprisingly as his lavender orbs, noticeably speckled with weariness, settled upon the newest arriver to the Gil’dae Cheb.

A frown marred the elf lord’s features.

Nimavel Mynendil, garbed in all his glory (which included a sauce-stained apron attached around his neck and behind the waist), stood embarrassedly as he held two rambunctious elfin children in his slender arms. One, a Sylvyn toddler with a mess of black hair and lavender eyes, reached furiously across Nimavel’s body to grasp at the bottle clutched protectively in the diminutive grasp of a smaller, cuter elven girl with dark hair that matched her innocent eyes.

“Erenthril…by Phedos am I not glad to see you here.”

He bluntly stated, not because he meant it, but more so because it was not often that the allegedly ‘fearsome’ assassin of Silrosia was found mediating a battle between two little infants. Smirking slightly, the elf lord winced as one of the infants, the little boy, tugged wantonly at his long raven locks, occasionally giggling amusedly every time that the elf lord’s head jerked to the side with every pull.

“I’m kidding.”

He said again as if feeling the need to clarify.

Sighing and stepping over to stand next to his wife, the obsidian-haired Lord of House Mynendil brushed a kiss across her cheek before turning to face the elementalist. As always, there could no doubt that the elf lord was pleased by Erenthril’s unexpected visit. Whenever the Lord Mael’tharias was around, there was something always interesting amidst.

“How have you been? The last I saw you, I believe, was the wedding, was it not? Tell me you haven’t anymore super powerful mages after your neck...”

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

…a frown marred the elf lord’s features.

Then broke out into a fit of ridiculous laughter, followed almost immediately by a series of skittish giggles and heavy wheezing as Eren quite literally had to walk over to the wall and put a hand on it to support himself from falling over. The sudden turn of the corner… the look of surprise… the two toddlers in his hands and the apron. Phedos how had Calairiel managed to get Nimavel Mynendil to wear an apron. This was the very man he’d rushed into combat with! The very same who’d saved his neck many times, and had his own neck saved quite a bit too. Hell, this was the stalwart assassin brother who’d encountered the snake in the Barch with him! The very same who, out of all Erenthril’s peers and acquaintances, there would be none greater than to die alongside with, to put one’s life on the cutting edge of serrated steel for.

Eren gasped as his breath came back to him, flooding his lungs as he regained both composure and a sense of respect. He glanced embarrassedly at Calairiel, who probably wasn’t nearly as amused as he was, and threw back a genuine smile of pleasant surprise and jovial expression in Nimavel’s direction.

“Nim…wow. Just… oh my,” he had to put his hands on his knees to escape another relapse into snickering, shaking his head several times and taking more than a few deep breaths before he straightened and stood up with a serious expression.

Which only fell apart into a bemused wicked grin as Nim stood there with two infants in his arms, his childhood companion fully enjoying the throes of fatherhood.

“No, no, I’m fine. I mean, he’s still out there – but I’ve thrown him off for now. No sense in worrying about the inevitable. But look at you! I can tell you’ve been… busy,” he winked, though the mind behind the eyes registered the weariness sprinkled about his friend’s features. A quick glance to Calairiel confirmed his suspicions, which soon followed aloud, “Both of you. I don’t suppose you’ve thought of a babysitter or anything yet? Someone to lend a helping hand?” he wasn’t entirely sure how many of the rugrats Nim and Cala had running around. He recognized the Sylvan boy, sure, but the other he couldn’t place for the life of him. And if he’d only remembered one from the wedding, how many more had the two conspired to gather under their humble wing since then?

Eren caught a glance at Nim’s eyes and grinned, a plethora of teasing quips well on its way and soon to bubble out.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Sighing deeply, the elf lord futilely watched his childhood companion burst into a spasm of laughter. Having been accustomed to Erenthril’s comical fits for many patterns now, Nimavel was less taken aback than he normally might have been had someone else reacted similarly. Erenthril was, after all, perhaps the only person aside Calairiel whom Nimavel could share a candid jest with –even if it was it his expense.

“Yes, we’ve been very busy.”

Nimavel dully reiterated, hefting his arms upwards to maneuver both children more comfortably in his grasp. Wincing as one of his long raven locks was yanked wantonly by the Sylvyn boy, the assassin sighed hopelessly and shrugged.

“Exceptionally busy…”

He added for good measure.

At the suggestion of a babysitter, Nimavel spared an amused glance to Calairiel, a subtle indicator that he would allow her to answer that particular question. Of course the Heru Mynendil was surprised that he had never entertained that possibility before, but as he considered the question himself, he began to realize how fortunate he and his wife were to have the company of so many loyal vassals to take care of the children whenever they were gone.

And that was quite frequent.

“I am glad to hear that. You do know that you are always welcome here, Erenthril…should you ever need anything, anything at all.”

The elf lord said, eyeing his childhood companion firmly to be certain that the Lord of House Mael’tharias was aware of that perpetual offer. Indeed, as far as Nimavel was concerned, Erenthril was like the brother that he never had. There was always his cousin Ixerirus, but he and Nimavel had not yet forged the type of bond that he shared with Erenthril –and perhaps he never would.

“And of course, should you be available to lend that helping hand that you speak of, we’d be very much obliged. You would probably like the children, too, misfits and all. By the way, this is Arandron and Caladwen.”

He gestured to the boy and then the girl respectively. Both of them, no longer preoccupied with inflicting pain upon their adoptive father, seemed momentarily concentrated upon Erenthril.

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

Calairiel watched the ‘boys’ with amusement. While Eren’s antics were sometimes childish, she couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that the elven Lord brought out a side of her husband that few could.

Eren’s question was met with a soft laugh by the young elf.

“More then enough help, Heru. One of the luxuries of actually having money. We wouldn’t have adopted them if we couldn’t have taken take of them properly.”

She slipped her arms around Arandron and lifted him from Nimavel’s grasp.

"If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see what I can do about locating the milk for this one before Caladwen feels the need to whack him over the head with hers. Herus…"

Giving a small, exceedingly graceful and completely unnecessary curtsey…complemented by a wink, the Arwen of House Gil’dae moved swiftly to the kitchen, leaving the two alone…save a very small and cute girl.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

“Vedui Calairiel,” Eren gestured a wave to her as she slipped her arms around the small boy, taking him with her as she departed from their company. Her comments had elicited some thoughtful curiosities of the Elflord, however, and although he’d never ask after the financial funding of Gil’dae or Mynendil for that matter, he sincerely hoped that if the two ever did fall upon a stroke of misfortune – say, if Nim botched an operation and needed money for bail – they wouldn’t hesitate to track down the Elementalist and slap upside the head for some help.

“Little Caladwen,” he grinned, stepping up towards the child and shuffling his hands behind his back as if he was observing a glass window. There was something about children Eren just simply couldn’t overcome, not yet in his life, though how Nimavel had managed it of all people was simply beyond the Elementalist’s comprehension. A small smile slowly spreading at the corners of his mouth, he withdrew his hands from behind his back, and with it, a miniature glistening rose made completely of ice. He handed it to her, though he suspected it might end up shattered along the ground sooner or later.

“Thanks, Nim. I should probably have dropped by sooner – but I’m just visiting, and I don’t intend to stick around the city for long. Might not even go into the Barch, for what it’s worth, given how much of a pain in the rear it was before I left. I’m cooped up in Chelseanna now, beautiful place, you should visit,” he mused, eyes fascinated by the child and gauging how she’d react to the present he’d given her. She reminded him of someone… he couldn’t place his finger on it.

His eye contact broke and he looked up at Nim, shrugging his shoulders with a lopsided smirk streaking across those lips before he cast a look around. “Glad to see you moved in without problem…” he grinned, slightly teasing, though given Motito’s absence the adjustment had probably been as smooth as the carpet they were standing upon.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Relieved of the rambunctious Arandron for the meanwhile, Nimavel watched as his wife vacated the main foyer to satiate the rowdy toddler’s whims. Sighing deeply as she left, the elf lord maneuvered Caladwen higher up in his arms as he returned his attention to Erenthril, possibly the only real friend that he had outside of his wife.

As Erenthril produced the magical rose and offered it to Caladwen, the raven-haired infant, completely enthralled, gazed at the crystalline object with evident wonder. Giggling and clapping her hands together as she realized that the prize was for her, she reached out and clutched the rose of ice, clasping it between her tiny hands as a smile illuminated her youthful face.

“Thank you, Eren.”

Chuckling as the toddler continued to be enthralled by the elemental flower, Nimavel nodded appreciatively to his childhood companion. If there was one person that he could count on should anything ever have happened to either him or Calairiel, it would certainly have been the Lord of House Mael’tharias.

“Don’t worry about it. I know that you’re busy.”

Nimavel immediately replied, and as he did so one of his hands instinctively shot outwards to catch the bottle of milk that Caladwen had released in exchange for a two-handed grip on Erenthril’s gift.

“But Chelseanna? That’s quite far, even for you.”

Smirking as he considered the isolated islands, the elf lord shrugged again.

“Do you intend on situating there permanently or until…well…”

The assassin cut his words short as he investigated Erenthril’s visage. Nimavel was quite aware of the powerful enemies that the elementalist had made –even though the assassin was unsure how Erenthril had accomplished such a feat. Either way, though, sometimes it was better to fight than to run and live in fear.

At the mage’s remark concerning his ‘moving in’, Nimavel’s pale expression returned to its lackluster appearance.

“During the days, yes, but I find the lightless sanctums of Hillwillow far more conducive to sleep. Have you been home recently? I’m sure that your kinsmen have been worried about you.”

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

“I’ll probably be staying there a while, it’s a beautiful place and I love the people. Besides, five hundred souls and a few thousand tourists means I can keep a rather low profile without worrying over anything,” Erenthril grinned and shuffled his hands back into his pockets, smiling at the small child Nimavel was toting about and watching in mild fascination of her reaction to the glistening ice rose he’d presented to her.

He frowned a little when Nimavel brought up Kard en Tel Arrna. “Can’t say I have… no. I probably won’t, in all honesty Nim. I only came back to drop by and check in on you and Calairiel. It’s been a while. Did you guys vacation for your honeymoon?” he inquired lightly, eyebrows raised and a crooked grin sliding over his features, pearly whites just barely showing as he teased his childhood companion. How things had turned out for Nimavel were… interesting, to say the very least.

“But no, Chelseanna’s a great place, and I intend to make it my permanent retreat once I have this archmagery all figured out. I’m not sure why I’m going to pursue it… but I think I will. I’m constructing an airship somewhere in Primus with the Imperial Sage, so probably after that I think…” his head cantered slightly as his chin bobbed, eyes darting down to the floor and voice trailing off.

“How about you? Still busy in Imperia?”

[Nimavel Mynendil]

“Chelseanna.”

Nimavel answered, and rather ironically too considering that he and Calairiel had probably been on the island when Erenthril had.

“If I had known you were frequenting there, I would visited much earlier.”

He quickly added, and there was a level of sincerity in his tone that implied much more than face value. Unbeknownst to Calairiel, their honeymoon to Chelseanna wasn’t all that it appeared to be. There had been intrigue, secrets, and money involved, aspects that Nimavel had prudently withheld from his beloved wife. Of course it was better that he had. She probably would have frowned had she known that their vacation had resulted in more deaths than Nimavel could count on four hands.

Some secrets were better left untold.

“I can see why you like it there, but I can’t imagine why you’d ever replace it for the forests…”

Lavender eyes flickered upwards to meet his childhood companion’s. Nimavel’s statement was not spoken as if to judge, but rather to gauge where Erenthril was coming from. Unlike Nimavel, Erenthril had always been more of a wanderer, someone whose pathway was as unpredictable as a leaf caught in the autumn wind.

“Be careful in your pursuits for archmagery, my friend. I have heard that it can be a dangerous road, and should you ever need any help…”

The Heru Mynendil went silent again, obviously allowing Erenthril to mentally finish the assassin’s sentence for him.

“Of course I know nothing of airships and would be less helpful to you than a handless cether, but be sure to write if supplies or money become tight. As for Imperia, well, it keeps me busy.”

Adjusting the little girl in his arms, Nimavel maneuvered one of his hands to steady the child’s head against his shoulder.

“You should visit some time. It’s…changed.”

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

“So you’ve been there then?” Eren asked, right eyebrow raised speculatively as he eyed his childhood friend. He knew the business Nimavel was in, oh very much so, and had always been curious as to just how far it ranged when it came to handling… obstacles and their ilk.

Shrugging his shoulders, he let the silence brood between them. This was how he pictured Nimavel to be; quiet, nonjudgmental, and intrinsically motivated.

“Mmm… when the only forests you spend your time around harbor dead trees, poisonous air and bogs, and freakish hellacious offsets of your ancestors, Nim,” Erenthril winked, “you can imagine why I like to get out of the house, so to speak.”

He skipped over the Archmagery topic with a nod, though it did bring a question to the forefront of his mind, and tongue, inevitably.

“Did you ever Master…K’tesh, was it?”

Rubbing his temples slightly and offering a smile to the child in Nim’s arms, he glanced up as Nim mentioned how things had changed. Erenthril couldn’t imagine for the life of him that they had changed too much, not within such a short span of time. The place was filled to the brim with vile underhanded dealings, bribery, murder, theft, and… well, the Elf’s experience in such a place had not been too great.

“Changed? How so? I remember the Aedile there being a underhanded bribed crook.”