Law -- Logs

One bright morning Peony crawls into Slate's bed to waken him with a shower of little kisses over his face. The night before she had climbed into the bed given to her for her visit long before any of the angels were ready to sleep. Freshly showered, her braided hair is still damp and her skin has that pale just-scrubbed glow to it. Shateishael mmms contentedly, his arms coming up to wrap warmly around her. He grins teasingly, rolling slightly so she can't easily squirm free, and nuzzling her ear. "Mmmsmell good 'nuff t'eat, luachmor!"

The leprechaun wriggles in the playfully restraining grip, laughing softly as if trying not to waken the rest of the household. The nuzzling makes her squirm even more, bare toes wiggling, "Well, you can breakfast on me if you want, carraig, but I doubt it would be very filling."

Shateishael chuckles lazily, "Be lotta fun though." He quiets for a moment, just resting his cheek against her as he ponders the last few days... the last few years. He's still faintly astonished when he thinks about his amazing beloveds, and how they seem to so greatly return his feelings about them. And so many of them! He'd been astonished at having just one in about a millennia's worth of time... yet now there are three who enjoy him so?! He doesn't understand it... but he's overjoyed at his blessings, and happy to offer frequent prayers of thanksgiving for them.

Shateishael smiles slowly, and Peony can feel the curve of his cheek against her as he remembers her enthusiasm at teaching him. He's still only got a smattering of Gaelic, since she's easily distractible, but due to his habit of daily martial arts practice, she's taught him quite a bit more about acrobatics. He grins a bit sheepishly -- well, and the cleaning up afterwards is always a pleasure! Plus there's the curious nature of their shared True Names too. Admittedly the buzzing hasn't clarified at all when they try to simply talk mind to mind without their foreheads touching... but distance doesn't seem to matter when they 'speak' their True Names to each other. It gives him a curiously joyous, tingly sensation inside when he hears her call him so. He whispers softly to the little leprechaun, "Whutcha wanna do t'day, b'loved?"

Peony shivers happily at the term of endearment and nuzzles against Slate's neck, kissing along the line of it to the hollow of his shoulder, "Weeeell... I'd actually thought of seeing if you and Thea were up to that road trip we've been talking about. It'll be long and you might get tired of me along the way, but it might be nice."

Shateishael snorts amusedly, "Nah, doubt I'll be gettin' tired a'ya any time soon, beautiful." He grins ruefully, "Although y'might get tired a' Thea inna horse trailer after whiles. Not her fav'rite form a' transport!" He adds thoughtfully, "T'Asheville, right?"

Peony nods, wriggling herself closer in against Slate -- there are times she seems to positively revel in the fact that her lover is so much larger than herself. "Mmm... yeah, Asheville. Is there another way we can get her there?"

Shateishael grins and leans his head back enough that he can see Peony clearly as she wriggles, and for a moment he goes very still, his gaze silently intent as he simply drinks in her visual... the bright, laughing emerald eyes; the beautiful pale skin; the adorable light splatter of freckles across her slight nose... the way her fiery hair shines even when damp... her soft, kissable, mmm... lips... he leans his head down, thoroughly distracted, and draws her into a slow, savoring kiss... Peony stretches up into the kiss, arms sliding automatically around Slate's neck. She's thoroughly willing to be distracted with him as long as he likes. Shateishael comes up for air several minutes later, vaguely remembering he'd been asked a question, and rumbles bemusedly, "...uh?"

Peony's laugh is a throaty little sound, then she carefully repeats, "Is there another way besides the horse trailer? Does she have another form? Like your dragon-self?"

Shateishael says, "Oh, right! Uhh..." he thinks a moment, then mumbles thoughtfully, "...through th'Tethers, mebbe? Dunno if'n she c'n go that ways... never tried b'fore." He considers a moment, then shakes his head, "Nah, she should be able to! ...surely?" He grins, "Be fun t'try, 'm guessin'. She likes new thin's too. How's this, lover? You'n me drive t'Asheville, 'n then I c'n take Tethers back here, so's I know which route t'take, 'n then I'll bring Thea back wi'me?"

Peony stretches out against Slate as she thinks, one tiny hand moving to trace over the lines of his stomach, "That sounds just about perfect."

Shateishael smiles lazily, rolling back slightly so she's more comfortable, "'Kay. Didja say y'wan'ed t'do that t'day?" He pauses, considering -- geography, like time, is not his strong suit, "How long we lookin' at? C'n help drive too, if'n y'wan'?" He figures his driving aid could potentially shorten the travel time significantly, since he doesn't require sleep.

Peony wiggles her toes again, nestling like a small, contented animal against her lover's body, "Mmm... well, it's a little more than a day if you drive it straight through... three days if you drive just a little more than eight hours a day and take your time."

Shateishael says, "Which y'wanna do? If y'wan', I c'n drive all night while y'r sleepin'?"

Peony thinks for a moment, "I think haul ass there and then meander back if meandering is required or desired."

Shateishael leaves one arm warmly wrapped about Peony, holding her close, and lightly trails his free hand in a gentle caress along the lovely curves of her side. He rumbles a touch distractedly, "'Kay... though 'm bettin' Thea c'n get us home right fast once't she's got her bearin's?"

Peony smiles, catching that Slate just basically called the ranch her home, and touched at the wishful thinking revealed, "We'll meander another time, then."

Shateishael says, "'Kay, 'at works!" He grins cheerfully at her, completely unwitting of his verbal slip, "So, lessee, whutcha need f'r a road trip?" He rolls onto his back, thinking aloud, "Food, water, blankets... gasoline... y'r van need a tune-up 'r anythin'?"

The longer the leprechaun spends with the angels, the more she's fairly certain she'll be visiting them when she can. The notion that there will be another road-trip is a surety in her mind. "Food and water we can get along the way -- gasoline too. I had the monster tuned up before I headed down here."

Shateishael says, "'Kay." He chuckles quietly, "Had a frien', named his big ole van 'Chernobog' 'cause it belched fire sometimes! So, want breakfast b'fore we head out? 'M thinkin' Rosie 'n Bellisima'll wanna see ya b'fore leavin'?"

Peony wriggles her way out of the bed, "Breakfast would be wonderful. Let me go put something on." Staying around the ranch has brought out Peony's natural tendency to go nude a lot, but she still works on wearing clothes in the public parts of the ranch house. Shateishael wanders out of his room a bit later, yawning and lazily stretching his well-muscled form unselfconsciously as he glances around for the others. When he's not aware of 'clothes-preferring' guests, he's still casually nude.

Once breakfasted and properly goodbye'd (both Rosie and Bella insist on kisses for Slate and hugs for Peony), the leprechaun and the Seraph load up into Peony's SUV. The little woman wears driving gloves when she's piloting the oversized hybrid vehicle and Slate notices that every inch of bare metal has been covered with either fabric or thick powder coat paint. When she's doing the driving Peony keeps the radio playing cheerful Celtic music and melodic rock, which she isn't the least bit shy about singing along with.

The split-bench style of the front seat makes it quite easy for the two new lovers to touch one another and when Slate takes his turn driving, Peony curls up under his leather jacket with her head on his lap and tucked against his body. Shateishael deeply enjoys the warm, protective feeling he gets while driving, with Peony curled up so close. While he's protected children as well as adults, he's never had such a tiny lover... it makes him feel oddly happy inside to wrap her up in his jacket when she's tired and chilled.

The mountains on the east coast are much gentler than those in the west, carrying a sense of age and wisdom. When they reach Asheville, Peony makes sure she's the one driving as the SUV is piloted along a twisting mountain road, greenery pressing so close on either side that it's like navigating a living tunnel. The road spills into the driveway of an old farmhouse with a couple of small outbuildings and a large barn that looks like it's been completely renovated. Shateishael looks around with interest at the surroundings, enjoying all the flora. The Arizona desert does not lack for beauty, but it is nice to see lush greenery again. He rumbles, "This y'r place, luachmor?"

Peony grins and nods, parking the SUV under a spreading oak tree, apparently unafraid of sap getting on the paint, "It is. Though on paper it came down to me from my great-great-grandmother. It's just easier to inherit it from myself every couple of decades."

Shateishael chuckles, "Ayup -- me'n Elly'n Rosie set up th'ranch that way too. Ha'n't needed t'han' it off yet, but we added Bella t'th'list a' options f'when we do." He slides easily out of the SUV, looking around in interest -- and half-unwittingly expecting dogs or something to come running up. Then he pauses, looking around a bit bemusedly as something hits him, "Um... y'live here all 'lone, darlin'?"

There are no dogs, but when Peony shoulders the front door of the farmhouse open, she is suddenly swarmed by a pair of loudly vociferous cats who seem to be telling her that they were abused and neglected the whole time she was gone. However, from the sleek appearance of their coats and the fact that both of them seem just slightly overweight, that isn't likely the case. The leprechaun crouches down, scooping them both up and slinging them over her shoulders, "Except for these monsters, yes."

Shateishael looks relieved at sight of cats, and grins, reaching out to gently rub the ears of the closer one on Peony's shoulder, "Ah, gotcha! Good t'have frien's t'hug."

Peony pours the gray tabby coated cat into Slate's arms, "That's Athena. This is Atlas." Atlas is a tortoiseshell shorthair. "I'm not always alone, but no one else lives here." As she's finishing her sentence, there's a voice calling from upstairs. It sounds female and middle-aged, "Peony? You're back already?"

Shateishael paces in quietly after Peony, looking around with fascination at her home. He's always curious to see how folks express themselves in their environments -- it seems to say so much about them! He's afraid he must be fairly boring to anyone applying the same standard to him, though. His room back at the ranch is fairly spartan, containing his clothes and non-forge equipment... and whatever any of his lovers feels like leaving there! He looks up alertly at the call, from where he was gently rubbing Athena's ears and rumbling quietly to her, then glances back at Peony to check her reaction. He wonders a bit bemusedly how someone like Gaelach could be such a jerk... in such lovely surroundings.

The house does indeed look like it was decorated by the great-grandmother of a human of Peony's apparent age. There's a lot of comfortable, heavy furniture and the walls are crammed with pictures and paintings. One of them is a portrait of what must be Peony herself with her hair done up in a bun, dressed in an Edwardian style dress. Shateishael gazes at it in silent fascination, then looks at Peony interestedly... then back at the photo. He smiles.

Peony smiles, lowering her voice, "One of the ladies that works for me sometimes. She's been pet-sitting..." Raising her voice, she calls out, "Got back early. Brought my beau with me..." Shateishael grins at that.

The woman that comes down the stairs is plump in that comfortable way humans tend to settle into around middle age. Her gray-streaked black hair is done up in a braid that's been twisted into a bun and she wears a faded plaid work shirt and jeans. Hiking sandals that look like she's actually put them to good use are on her feet. She's got the kind of skin that says she's spent most of her time outside and to hell with sunscreen, "Well, sugar, you shoulda warned me if you were bringin' back a fella." The woman grins up at Slate and offers her hand, "Annie Marshall."

Shateishael grins and nods politely, gently shaking the woman's hand, "C'n call me Slate, ma'am."

Annie looks Slate up and down appraisingly, narrowing her eyes a little bit, "You're a big 'un. You treating Peony right? Ain't like that jackass with all the hair, are ya?" From behind Annie Peony mouths the name 'Gaelach,' explaining who the jackass is.

Shateishael looks blank for a moment... then covers a laugh, trying to turn it into a discreet cough! It takes him a second before he rumbles solemnly, "No'm. W'uldn' dream a' it. Er, bein' th' jackass, I mean..." He rubs the back of his head a bit embarrassedly, "Uh, that din' come out right. 'M tryin' t'treat Miz Peony right...?"

Peony snorts and nudges the older woman, "Yes, Annie, he's treating me just fine... and I was hoping to get him to treat me even finer..." She arches a brow meaningfully and glances toward the door. Shateishael watches the interchange a bit puzzledly, wondering if Peony wants them all to walk outside or something.

Annie snorts laughter at Peony's not-at-all-subtle hint, "Oh, I see... well, I just fed the two Hoovers, so I'll head on home. Ya'll call me if you need anything, alright?" There is some very comfortable negotiating before Annie is completely out the door, having to do with the fact that Peony doesn't plan on being home for long and she'll need more pet-sitting in the near future. Once that's done and Annie drives off in the car she apparently had parked behind the house, Peony leans back against the front door and grins, "She's sweet, but she thinks I'm a trusting young thing."

Shateishael has been watching with interest, and at Peony's comment he curiously rumbles, "Y'ain't?"

Peony smiles, "She thinks I'm twenty-six years old and doesn't at all approve of some of the men she thinks I let come around. She liked Ajax, though. Read me the riot act when I explained to her that I had no intention of marrying him."

Shateishael looks a bit surprised, "The... er, wait, whut's that 'bout marriage?!" He glances around a bit puzzledly, "You... let lotta men come 'roun'?" then rumbles half under his breath, "Wonder how ol' I look now'days?"

Peony smiles and moves herself into Slate's arms, "No, not many, not really. But by Southern standards I do. Ajax has spent time here, and a couple of other lovers, and Gaelach shows up whenever the fancy takes him." She reaches up and touches Slate's face, "Hard to say. You could be twenty-seven, you could be on the downhill side of thirty."

Shateishael gently hugs Peony, smiling down at her, "Gonna hafta tell me whut a southern standard is later then, 'm thinkin', luachmor." He pauses, then adds a touch grimly, "An' when Gaelach turns up, if'n y'don' min' my buttin' in."

The leprechaun smiles, "Ajax and I have been lovers off and on. He stayed with me for a few months once and Annie started asking me when we were going to set a date. I very gently explained that I was not planning on marrying him just because he was a sweet guy and good in bed."

Shateishael ponders that for a moment, then rumbles, "Thought now'days y'weren' 'llowed t'say folks're good in bed?"

Peony smirks, "She was properly scandalized when I said it, so you might not be allowed, but I was aggravated. I almost said just because he was a sweet guy and hung like a horse."

Shateishael laughs aloud at that, tossing his head back! He grins down at Peony, his eyes alight with amusement, "She mighta been 'bit scandalized, yeah..." He grins, cheerfully hugging Peony close, "Well! Wanna show me 'roun' y'r place, sweetlin'?"

Peony grins, wriggling happily into the hug, "Sure..." Taking Slate's hand, she gave him her version of the nickel tour. The house is two stories, with a spacious kitchen and dining room along with a parlor and a den downstairs. Upstairs there are three bedrooms, all of which seemed to be guest rooms. The attic, however, holds Peony's own room. One half of the vast space is walled off; she explains it is storage. The other half is furnished with a large, comfortable bed and a venerable-looking bentwood rocking chair. Over the bed is an enormous abstract piece of stained glass that does indeed throw rainbows of light over the patchwork quilt on the bed.

Shateishael very much enjoys following his slight lover around, admiring her home. He's quite impressed with the lovely, huge stained glass window, reaching up to run his fingers lightly over one of the joins. "How'd y' c'nstruct this'n, beautiful?"

Peony beams proudly as Slate examines the work, "I put it together down in the workshop. Then I had a roofer cut the hole for it and a glazier I know install it so it was weather-tight. Or were you asking something else?"

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "It's beautiful, lover." He glances down at the cozy quilted bed, then smiles at Peony, "Y'gotta lovely home, sweetheart." The furniture is almost universally antique, solid, and comfortable. Shateishael is faintly relieved Peony seems to like solid, old furniture. He's been in more 'artistically' decorated homes where he's been almost afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking it!

Peony perches on the edge of the bed and smiles, "I think so, but I've been living here a long time. I've had the leisure to wear off any rough edges."

Shateishael lightly traces a gentle finger along Peony's hairline, quietly studying her as she looks up at him. He rumbles thoughtfully, "Y'happy here, sweetheart?"

Peony smiles and nods, "I am. It's home. It's mine. It gets maybe a little lonely out here, but I don't have to be alone if I don't want to."

Shateishael nods quietly, settling down next to her on the edge of the bed, and watching her quietly, "I c'n see this's y'r home, but y'do know y'r allus welcome at th'ranch, yeah?"

Peony leans her head against Slate's arm and smiles, nodding, "I know. It's good to have places you can go."

Shateishael nods, putting an arm about Peony and gathering her close, if she doesn't mind, "'Kay." He hugs her gently for a moment, then rumbles slowly, "Um... sweetheart? Y'do know 's okay t'have other lovers too if'n y'want, right?"

Peony laughs and snuggles against Slate's side, "Well, I figured if you can have them, so can I. But thank you for making sure I know."

Shateishael nods, quietly reassured, and simply holds Peony for a while. He's not entirely sure how to behave in the home of a lover -- he's never been in this position before, since all his lovers have always lived with him. Peony eventually climbs into Slate's lap so she can kiss him warmly, guiding his head down if he lets her so that their foreheads touch, [Would you like to see my workship, carraig arrach, or would you rather bask in the sun up here a bit?]

Shateishael enjoys the kissing, holding her gently close and stroking her back while she's in his lap. At her query he looks up at the stained glass window, then thoughtfully traces a shining jewel of light where it falls on Peony's face. He grins a moment later, remembering her and Bella teasing him about blondes covered in color, in bed. A moment later he remembers the frighteningly multi-colored bruises he'd accidentally put on Peony the second time they'd made love... he hugs her quietly again, resting his forehead against hers to reply, [Be happy to do either, luachmor. How about we see your workshop first, and then if you want we can come up here again?] He takes a careful, deep breath, then adds, [And... if you want, we can try me being strong deliberately during sex this time?]

Peony smiles and wraps her arms around Slate's neck, hugging him tightly and whispering, "Sounds like a wonderful plan, love." It takes her a moment or two to convince her body that she really does want to get out of the big angel's lap. She pauses before actually heading for the door, eyes twinkling, "I've been thinking about getting you up here under this window for a while, you know."

Shateishael chuckles, rising to pad quietly after her. His eyes are dancing with mischief as he rumbles lazily, "Really now... gonna hafta tell me all 'bout it, then, so's we c'n be sure we cover alla th'bases, yeah?"

The leprechaun laughs as she scampers down the stairs, "Oh, I'm sure we'll get to all of them eventually." She leads Slate through the kitchen and out the back door. There's not a porch on the back, just a set of weathered stone steps leading into the backyard. The path to the doors of the barn is well worn; back here there are flowerbeds that look overrun, as if she didn't so much plant them as just not bother keeping things from growing there. Shateishael looks around and grins quietly to himself, easily imagining Rosie's eyes lighting up at sight of so much greenery wanting his care. He ambles along after Peony, smiling as he watches her enthusiasm expressed in her body language -- she's as light-footed and energetic as a kitten! He keeps finding himself wanting to either grin foolishly after her while she scampers happily around, or stroke her when she's within arm's reach.

Peony pulls her keys out of her pocket and undoes the padlock on the doors of the barn, shouldering them open. The big double doors slide open on tracks as she explains, "Took me forever to find good sturdy aluminum fittings for everything. I mean, I could get someone else to do the maintenance, but I like being able to keep up with things mostly on my own."

Shateishael grins at Peony's enthusiasm, and nods, "C'n unnerstan' that... w'uldn' wantcha t'get hurt just doin' simple thin's like openin' a door, too."

Peony laughs and kicks a couple of wedges into place so that the doors don't slide closed again. She grabs both of Slate's hands and does her best to drag him bodily into the workspace, "I actually used to keep some cows back here, and a horse, but I can buy milk at the local co-op now and I have my car." Her eyes are bright and wide with excitement at getting to share the place where she makes her gem-like creations with Slate, "I didn't drive for a long time, though. Powder-coat and driving gloves are a godsend when you're living in a world full of steel."

The open doors filled the enormous space with afternoon light and air, "It didn't have a lot of windows, but I had some cut in when I started using it as my workshop. It's just silly to work with stained glass in a dark building. Not to mention being disrespectful to the glass. It would be like keeping flowers in a basement. Sure, they'd be OK if you had a grow light, but I think it would be like prison for them."

Shateishael chuckles, obligingly following Peony's excited guidance and rumbling amusedly, "well now, c'n see how ya c'd get tired a'keepin' cows... 'n 'm glad y'r takin' care a' y'self 'bout th'steel." He wonders a touch worriedly how she keeps from getting accidentally hurt by unexpected steel -- then reminds himself to ask her about that later. Perhaps she can 'feel' it, like cold emanating from it... and for now, she's so very happy it's hard not to grin delightedly back at her! He nods, listening with interest.

Once she's got Slate guided inside the door, she scampers off, flipping on the lights. The ranks of bulbs chase away the few shadows remaining, lighting up the bright, white room. Every inch of available space seemed filled with jewel-like glass, either ready to be worked into something or being already fitted into a dizzying array of works in progress. Much like in the woods, she moves excitedly around the room, picking up pieces to bring back to show Slate, chattering at him about what they are and who they're for. There's a glow about her that speaks of just how much she takes joy in this work. The way she handles some of the work is almost like a proud mother presenting a child.

Shateishael blinks, astonished at the vibrant colors that spring into life as the lights are turned on. He's suddenly reminded of their hike back in Arizona as he watches Peony dashing excitedly around, and unwittingly his expression softens into quiet happiness as he watches her sharing her creative passion with him. To him she looks comfortably 'belonging' here, surrounded by her shining, brilliant creations, and he wonders a bit wistfully if she'd like him to build her another, smaller workshop at the ranch. He'd enjoy creating useful things for her to use... helping his community is his passion, so he can really understand her joy here. He grins as she darts over again, something ornate and beautiful in her small hands, and lightly strokes her hair as he listens, nodding, to her excited explanation of the object.

The piece she's holding is a three dimensional lily, very stylized, with milky glass petals and sparkling emerald-hued leaves. Halfway through her explanation of a local restaurant that wants a couple dozen of these as table decorations, she interrupts herself, "Oh! This reminds me! I've got a bid in on a really huge piece that you might be able to help me with." She tucks the lily back into the cubbyhole it came from and moves over to a table that's covered more with paper than glass. Rifling through the rolls and stacks, she pulls out a huge piece of paper that she unrolls across the table's surface, weighting the edges with odd-shaped lumps of lead, "There's a church up in Canada that wants a rose window, but the specs call for the bracings to be steel or iron, to match the rest of the stained glass..."

Shateishael is rather startled at the idea of three-dimensional stained glass, but finds it interestingly attractive. He's reaching out a cautious finger to touch it when Peony darts off again, and he laughs softly in spite of himself... then paces up quietly behind her to see her design work. He leans easily over Peony, one large hand resting lightly between her shoulder blades as he examines the drawing. Her excited enthusiasm is contagious -- he finds himself having to concentrate not to pick her up into a hug, or nuzzle up against her. He contents himself with gently stroking with his thumb along the smooth, warm bare skin uncovered by her halter-style top as he listens to her explanations.

Peony has climbed into the chair at the table with her feet tucked beneath herself and she pauses in her chattering about the design to arch her back into the caressing of Slate's hand between her shoulder blades. She tips her head back to look at the big angel upside down, "You might be able to help me with that... the steel bracings, I mean." The "sketch" is at least three feet square and in bright, bold colors. The central figure is a blue-clad woman holding a large white lily in one hand, the other held in the traditional Catholic sign of blessing.

Shateishael grins down at Peony's upside-down face, distracted by her adorableness when she's delighted... then he nods, "Happy to, love." Looking over the artwork, Slate raises an eyebrow, then grins. He lightly taps one of the figures -- a male with golden hair holding a spike of pink flowers -- and rumbles, "'Zat me?" Even in miniature it's obvious he himself is the inspiration for the figure. He's quietly and inordinately pleased she'd want to put him into something meant to glorify the Light.

Peony laughs and actually blushes a little, "Sort of, yes. It's you, but it's also Saint Patrick, with gladiolus. It's for strength of character." Her fingers slide over the radiating spokes of the window, touching a depiction of an auburn-haired woman with a halo and a bunch of bright yellow flowers, "This is Bella, but it's also Saint Brigid and those are her dandelions. And this..." she said tapping a slender male figure holding a deep red rose with a dove on his shoulder, "is Rosenstern, but it's also Saint Francis of Assisi." She grins, "I had to do a lot of reading to match Catholic saints with people. The flowers were easier."

Shateishael grins, his eyes alight with shared pleasure in Peony's creative joy. He rumbles a bit shyly, "'At's nice, luachmor, thatcha think a' me like that..." then his voice gets thoughtful, "Mmm... dandelions're f'r... faithfulness, happiness, love's oracle? Never wuz sure whutta love's oracle wuz, though..." He chuckles at the inviting little 'St. Francis,' "Oh, yeah..." If Slate looks closer, several of the figures might look familiar. He studies the faces, impressed with Peony's skill at capturing likenesses. His fingers drift above the artwork, not wanting to smudge anything as he points at different individuals, "That... Ajax? Ah, 'at's gotta be Ayra, right? 'N... that... Bacchus?"

Peony chatters about several of the depictions, explaining them as she shows Slate each of them. There's Bacchus as Saint Francis de Sales, patron saint of teachers, holding a book and a bird of paradise. Ajax is depicted as Saint Andronicus, patron saint of smiths, holding a brush of artemisia. Saint Dorothea of the Trees is who Ayra is portraying, smiling gently and holding a spray of apple blossoms. Grinning, she smoothes her hands over the drawing, "I figured if it was going to be a rose window, it ought to have a lot of flowers in it. And I'm not good with creating people out of whole cloth, so I chose people I know..." She ducks her head slightly, "Once they're done in glass, they won't be quite so true-to-life, of course."

Shateishael murmurs half under his breath, "Bacchus f'teachers, 'n Ajax f'smiths' -- likin' that -- 'n artemisia f' dignity 'r happiness... heh. Yeah, Ayra'd be th'one f'th' patience 'n good fortune a' apple blossoms! Dunno much 'bout th'saints, though. Why's Francis de Sales gotta bird a' paradise? 'N whut's a saint a' trees?" He smiles at Peony's gesture, gently stroking her shining hair, "'S th'thought that counts, beautiful. This's a lovely tribute t'y'r frien's." He adds happily, "Gonna hafta take Rosie'n Bella t'see this once'tis done -- they'd be thrilled, 'm bettin'! So whutcha need from me, regardin' steel, t'he'p ya make this happen, beautiful?"

Peon nuzzles into the stroking, eyes sliding closed, "Mmmm... represents magnificence and joy and that man, Bacchus I mean, is a magnificent storyteller and teacher. Dorothea is the patron saint of trees. She's supposed to be the one that looks over trees and make sure they thrive." Slightly callused fingers trace over the spaces between the panels, "Wrought iron, actually, between the different tableaux. Each individual saint will be held together with lead and copper soldering." She opens her eyes just a slit, smiling, "It's kind of a complicated design, so if you think it would be too much trouble, don't worry about it. Oh, and I'd pay you for it. I wouldn't ask anyone for this much work without compensation."

Shateishael smiles down at Peony, his eyes alight with happiness again. The sheer, earthy sensuality she practically exudes is startlingly erotic, he finds. It's been a while since he's been around someone so exuberantly, utterly alive! He rumbles quietly, "Glad I metcha, luachmor... feel like y'r wakin' up sumpin' 'at wuz cold 'n hibernatin' 'n... a'most f'gotten how t'live, somewhere inside me..." He falls silent, suddenly a bit abashed, then glances hastily at the artwork, nodding firmly, "Uh, yeah, 'at'd be fine..." He's not quite sure what he's agreeing to, but it's something to distract the conversation!

Peony laughs and reaches back, touching Slate's face, "You seem pretty thoroughly alive to me. I don't know what I could have woken up that wasn't already there when I first encountered the three of you at Burning Man."

Shateishael flushes slightly, silent for a moment. Finally he rests both large hands on Peony's shoulders, still looking over her at the design, and rumbles quietly, "'S easy sometimes f'Stone t'brood f'a long time, sweetheart. Din' even realize wuz doin' it 'till y'all three came 'long 'n showed me life goes beautifully on." He glances at her, his ice-blue gaze quiet and steady, "'Ppreciate it, beautiful." He grins ruefully, adding, "Um... couldja repeat whutcha said 'bout th' steel, though? Wuz bit distracted, 'n if'n I've 'greed ta sumpin', 'd liketa know whut it wuz, please?"

Peony laughs and squirms around so that she's more facing toward Slate, "The frame for the window. Each saint is their own pane and will be put together with lead and copper, but then they'd be fit into a wrought iron frame to match the rest of the windows."

Shateishael rumbles, "Oh!" and grins, "Sure, be happy to." He lets his large hands slide along Peony's shoulders, down her sides, to almost encompass her entire, slender waist. The way her small hips flare slightly under his hands makes him feel quietly alight, and he has to concentrate to not let his hands keep roving contentedly over her form. He draws a slow breath, then rumbles with a touch of quiet pleasure, "Um... y'got anythin' else y'wanna show me here, beautiful? ...or y'wanna maybe go show me whutcha wan'ed t'do under y'r bedroom stained glass?"

The lithe little Ethereal stretches up against Slate's body until she can wrap herself around him, clinging playfully to him, "Upstairs sounds like a really lovely idea, actually... want to carry me?" The question is a little muffled because her face is buried against Slate's neck so she can nip at his skin with her sharp little teeth, leaving trails of sensation behind. Shateishael growls quietly, hungrily, his eyes going half closed with pleasure. He easily scoops the little leprechaun up into his arms, turning as he does so to pace swiftly and silently for the door. He leaves doors open and forgotten behind him as he moves surely through the house, bounding up the stairs and stepping carefully through the door to Peony's bedroom. His breathing is starting to get slow and deep again, and his eyes are beginning to smolder as he tries to keep in mind his promise to Peony: to let go again for her.

Peony does her best not to be too overly distracting on the way from the barn into the house and up the stairs. She seems unconcerned about leaving the doors to the barn/workshop open. Once safely upstairs, however, she starts letting her hands wander over the planes of Slate's shoulders and his back, voice breathy and eager, "I trust you..."

Shateishael firmly shuts the bedroom door, then draws a deep breath, closing his eyes for a slow heartbeat to savor the sensation -- and, to some degree, to really push himself to let down his usual rigid self-control. He sits down at the foot of the bed with Peony on his lap, his strong arms still around her as he rumbles a bit breathlessly, "Take off y'boots, beautiful." He knows better than trying to fumble with the long interwoven laces on tiny hiking boots, and he can easily pull off his own boots as she's so occupied.

She has the boots off in mere moments and is starting to untie the neck on her halter as she watches the way the glass-filtered sunlight paints Slate's blond hair and suntanned skin. The sight catches her and stops all motion as she smiles, "You know you don't have to push yourself to do this for me." Shateishael smiles slowly at Peony, his gaze almost distant from pulling himself outside of his ordinary mental boundaries. He catches her wrists in one of his big hands, bringing her hands down to leave the halter top still tied, and leans to kiss her, his free hand cupping the back of her head. The kiss starts out gentle but rapidly intensifies, Slate almost hungrily pressing her to him, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest as he allows free rein to his craving for her. His hand tangles in her hair, pinning her to his increasingly fiery kiss, his heated nips along her lips and throat becoming greedy bites...

Peony feels her pulse speed up and her breath catch as she watches Slate's expression change into that almost predatory smile. She tugs against his grip, just enough to test the strength in his hands without actually getting away. Her whole body leans into the kiss, little eager whimpers and gasps against the devouring kiss. She squirms into Slate, skin flushing as she sinks into the intensity of the Seraph coming out from behind his careful walls. His hand tightens slightly, reflexively, as Peony struggles -- it's just this side of painful as she resists, and relaxes only when she surrenders to his restraint. Her vocal eagerness seems to inflame Slate; unwittingly his hungry bites and kisses start leaving marks on her pale, flushed skin, and he twists slightly, using his grip on Peony's wrists and hair to pull her off his lap and press her easily down into the bed. He leans to follow, his weight trapping her legs under him as he releases her hair long enough to casually tear the halter top away from her -- and then he continues his rough devouring of her softness, leaving impassioned teeth marks along her small breasts. His quiet growling is intensifying, his breathing deepening.

A very small, heavily suppressed part of Slate hopes Peony understands she can stop him if she wishes, and places its faith in their shared True Names. The rest of him is doing its best to fulfill his promise to her, despite any worries he may have at doing so poorly, or harming her badly in the process. The leprechaun goes still when the grip tightens, making a happily purring little sound at the restraint. The hungrier Slate's kisses, the more eagerly Peony squirms under his weight. Her reactions only get more eager, though she does yelp when the top is torn away from her body, more in startlement than anything else. "Oh... my arrach... my dragon..." she purrs to him, trusting the essential core of him through the delicious roughness of his lovemaking. The bond that seems to have formed since their camping trip has just strengthened her assurance that he won't harm her; that he would stop if she showed true pain.

On a non-conscious level, Shateishael is encouraged by Peony's reactions, and it becomes slowly easier for him. He assumes old training as their love-making slides, oddly enough, into a mental realm for him which is much like a story or a tango -- he the arrogant, demanding lover, she the helpless conquest. He does his best to pleasurably torment her pliant form with his rapaciously sensuous compulsion, becoming almost self-centered in his remorseless drive to possess her, to practically assault her in order to satisfy his own predatory desires. Conquest though she may be, the diminutive is far from passive. Almost feral sounds of pleasure escape her throat as she opens herself up to the story as well, surrendering herself to the moment. Half-opened eyes drink in the sight of her lover over her, his body painted with the light streaming through the stained glass. The leprechaun arches into Slate, urging him on in his hunger and letting her consciousness break down into basics: the light, the intertwining bodies, fierce heart-swelling joy, and over it all the intense abandon that love instills in her.

Shateishael swiftly has Peony stripped, spread out on the bed and firmly pinioned in place by either his weight or his powerful hands, despite her writhing. A moment for a predatory smile down at her as she thrashes breathlessly, fruitlessly -- she can tell her enjoyment arouses him even more than her struggling -- and then, like a slow burn, he shoves deeply into her. His back arches in ecstasy, eyes squeezing closed and a harsh coughing growl escaping him as he sinks into her slight body, reaching with blind hunger for her mind. His hands tighten on her, yanking her close in sudden, urgent need. Through the blinding instant, images flash through Slate's head: emerald hillsides, the thrill of riding fearlessly on a spirit of motion with trees whipping by in a dizzying blur, the dance and roar of a balefire and an image of himself: a being of fire and steel dancing on wings of brilliantly white feathers. Her body wraps around him in a silken grip, opening to him, and an alien music swirls through his senses like a layer to the Symphony that was hidden until now. There are no words, just the deluge of images and feelings, the joy and wildness at the core of the little Ethereal, a soul far larger than the tiny body would suggest.

Shateishael's almost brutal roughness with his slight lover is currently reflected in his conscious mind as well, in his straightforward, sense-based surrender to sexual desire. His boundless love for his beloveds is carefully tucked away into his non-conscious mind and not being considered at all -- he's afraid he won't be able to let his strength go if he lets his usual quiet joy in their presence rule his thoughts. He lets himself fall into the memories, riding them as reassurance as much as he rides his lover's wild, joyous abandon.

It is the music, curiously enough, which draws him in the most -- his own Symphony responds euphoniously in kind, swirling chords in wild harmony with the little leprechaun, powerfully blending their bodies and minds in tempestuous passion. The music transports the big Seraph, and release is as much an ecstatic orchestral crescendo to him, as a carnal explosion of sensual exaltation. Peony cries out, body thrashing as much with the flood of other-mind as with the intense physical sensations of Slate over and inside her. Conscious thought ceases and for a breathless, ecstatic instant, all there is is the music and the essence of the two beings: fire and stone, Celestial and Ethereal, and for a moment almost too quick to grasp, the Truth of how closely the are linked is there, but it slips away in the profound crescendo of the two almost-twin Symphonies.

Shateishael comes to himself slowly, head hanging as he leans on his elbows in an effort not to crush the little leprechaun pinned underneath him. His blonde hair falls across her face and chest, quivering slightly with the intensity of his panting, and for a moment he can't bring himself to open his eyes -- there was something, amazing, precious, wondrous -- he felt it, just for a second! -but it escapes even as he reaches for it. He sighs slowly, his arms sliding around Peony as he rolls carefully to his side. He's still holding her tightly close, as if remaining blended with her will allow them to recover that astonishing, ecstatic fraction of a second. He rests his cheek against the top of her head, eyes still closed, and sighs softly again as his heartbeat easily returns to normal. Her slightly sweaty form feels so good against him... Peony is utterly non-verbal, making little whimpering sounds and curling as close as she can against Slate as if trying to push her body through and into his. Clinging close, she reaches out for that instant of revelation, trembling in the aftermath of it. One of her hands moves up, wrapping close in his hair and clutching tightly.

Shateishael smiles slowly, his expression softening a bit at how Peony feels and sounds. One large hand strokes slowly, languidly along her back, and his eyes slide half-open in lazy contentment as he rumbles a relaxed, reassuring affirmation of his closeness to her. The almost alien colors of Peony's skin and hair seem perfectly normal to Slate in his current blissful state; it takes a while for him to lazily register that it's actually the jewel-toned light from the stained glass lying across her as she rests in his arms. After several minutes Peony starts to shift around, stretching her body out as if to pull herself back into it. Her eyes still aren't quite completely open when she speaks again, words gently slurred and colored more heavily than normal with her brogue, "Arrach, am I going mad, or was there music just now?"

Shateishael chuckles quietly, his relaxed rumble just as slurred-sounding as hers, "There's allus music, 'loved. 'S th'Symphony. How y'think I c'n tell if'n someone's truthful're not? 'S reflected inna music..." His voice trails off into a lazy purring rumble, as if it's too much effort to actually vocalize. He relaxedly sprinkles a few slow, savoring kisses across Peony's face as she shifts.

Peony returns several of the kisses as she blinks, thinking that through, "You hear that... all the time?"

Shateishael rumbles, "Mmhmm..." then mumbles against her skin, "Lovely, innit?" He adds a moment later, "'Course, wuz p'tic'ly intense this time. Think there's sumpin' bit diff'rent 'bout 'thereal music, cuz cain't hear that alla th'time." He adds contentedly, "Harmonizes kinda beautiful, though..."

There's another slow blink and Peony narrows her eyes, looking intently at Slate,

[I sing the Body electric;
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul]

The words come through clear but quiet. Shateishael smiles quietly, replying in kind, [Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass.] He thinks a moment, then adds with lazy pleasure,

[I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment -- what is this, then?
I do not ask any more delight -- I swim in it, as in a sea.]

Peony smiles, closing her eyes again, "It started out clear, but it's fading a little, I think..."

Shateishael grins a touch mischievously, adding,

[This is the female form;
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot;
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction!
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor -- all falls aside but myself and it...]

Peony laughs as she hears the first of the verse, but then it fades into the buzzing and she taps her forehead, "Damn..."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, whispering against her ear so his lips brush the skin lightly,

"A divine nimbus exhales from it from head t' foot;
It 'ttracts wi' fierce undeniable 'ttraction!
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more'n a helpless vapor -- all falls 'side but m'self an' it... b'loved..."

He sighs softly, his breath warm against her skin, then murmurs, "How're y'feelin', luachmor?"

Peony sighs happily and wriggles, stretching again, with a purr like a kitten, "Fantastic... dear heavens, fantastic."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, relaxing a bit in relief, "Ah, good... wuz hopin' I c'd do it right f'ya."

Peony laughs and stretches to kiss Slate gently, almost chastely, "You certainly did something right."

Shateishael grins, flushing a bit with pleasure and rumbling, "Thankee, ma'am!" as he hugs her gently close. He leans back a little bit a moment later, laying Peony carefully out so he can take a good look at her. "Lemme see if'n I put marks on ya 'gain, lover." He tries not to, but a hint of worry does creep through in his voice.

The leprechaun hugs Slate back tightly, her whole body wriggling for a moment, then stretches out on her back, displaying herself in a way that would be provocative if they hadn't just made love. "Look me over if you need to, love."

Shateishael finds Peony's complete relaxation and comfort in her body oddly reassuring. He gently strokes one large hand across her front and down one thigh just for the pleasure of how wonderful she feels... then he smiles, taking his time and carefully checking her for places where he should be careful touching her for the next few days. There are reddened marks on her wrists where Slate held her down and the marks of his teeth still show pink on her breasts, but the deep bruising of the first time he let himself go with her isn't evident. Shateishael looks more relieved at that -- then makes a mental note that letting go on a nice, soft, cushy bed, and with him on top, seems to mean less damage to his sweetheart. He'll have to remember that for the next time she wants him to play like this with her again. He grins a bit sheepishly at her, "Okay, 's not s'bad this time, 'm thinkin'..." then leans to drop a few light, gentle kisses on her breasts.

Peony laughs and strokes Slate's hair with a wicked little grin, "It wasn't bad last time." She leans down and kisses the top of his head as he's nuzzling at her breasts, "Slate, you know I don't have to have this if it worries you..."

Shateishael murmurs quietly against Peony's slightly damp skin, "'S not bad... 's jus'... findin' out still, y'know?" She can feel the curve of his lips as he smiles against her breast, adding a bit sheepishly, "Still learnin', sweetheart... long's y'r patient wi'me, 'm happy t'give ya whutever y'wan'."

Peony looks down at Slate, both brows going up, "And what do you want, Slate? What can I do for you that would make you want me so badly you can taste it?"

Shateishael sighs contentedly, rolling onto his back and stretching with lazy, unwittingly leonine grace, "Ooooh, dunno, lover!" There's a short bark of laughter, then he grins wickedly down his front at her, "Gimme good crack at Gaelach? Oh!" He sits up, adding, "Sh'd fly on home, get Thea here so she don' worry none, 'n c'n find th'place later." He thinks about that a moment, then looks inquiringly at Peony, "Figger that'll take me... oh, hour'r two, tops. Wanna show me th' 'ddress onna map a'th'Tether?"

Peony rolls over and crawls over Slate to sit on his stomach, smirking, "Besides knocking Gaelach on his ass." She adds, "And I'd be happy to show you the Tether."

Shateishael laughs, his big hands gently caressing the lovely curves of Peony's thighs and rear, "'S Truth, lover... dunno f'sure jus' now." His eyes warm with happiness as he watches her, and he adds more quietly, "Think big part a' wantin' ya is th' beautiful way y'react when I do sumpin' y'really, really like, my luachmor..." he hesitates, then adds a bit shyly, "...my Peony..."

Peony wriggles under the stroking, smiling down at the big Seraph, "I'll keep that in mind." The leprechaun leans down and kisses Slate's forehead, murmuring back, "My Slate."

Shateishael's face relaxes a bit as she doesn't seem to mind being referred to as his, and he reaches up to gently stroke a curling strand of fiery hair back behind her ear. His eyes are alight with happiness at her reply. He rumbles quietly, a hint of joy still evident in his voice and demeanor, "'M kinda simple angel, beautiful... like givin' m'self as generously as I know how t'm'hearthfolk, 'n knowin' they keep me close in their hearts 'n works, y'know?"

Peony shows no actual rush to let Slate getup and go back to the ranch to bring Thea back. She nods and strokes Slate, smiling slightly, "So basically, what gets you really turned on is seeing your lovers really turned on..." The Ethereal brushes random kisses over Slate's chest as she thinks. "And you seem to give everyone something different."

Shateishael nods happily, momentarily at a loss for words from the quick, ecstatic rush of memory her words provoke. His toes curls and he draws a slow, deep breath... then he pulls his head back together and rumbles a bit distractedly, "Uh... whuzzat 'bout diff'rent?"

Peony laughs softly and mmms. "I love when you do that..." She nuzzles her cheek against the center of Slate's chest, "You give everyone something different."

Shateishael grins bemusedly, "Uh... happy t' 'blige? Whut'd I do? 'N whutcha mean?"

Laughing, Peony kisses his chin, "You just got this really dreamy look when I was talking about your lovers being really turned on. And I mean you give something different to Rosie than to Bella and something different to Bella than to me."

Shateishael says, "Oh!" He thinks about that, then beams, "Guess I do... but it's real, real nice t'be able t'give y'all whutcha want." He strokes Peony's flame-red hair, rumbling contentedly, "You want anythin' in p'tic'lar jus' now, lover?"

Peony wiggles her toes and then stretches again, "I want to lay here a few more minutes and feel you breathing under me."

Shateishael chuckles lazily, putting one arm behind his head and continuing to gently stroke Peony's hair with his free hand, "'At's easy, beautiful. Take alla th'time y'want..." After several minutes Peony's own breathing smoothes out and her body goes limp in sleep. Shateishael smiles, then very slowly and carefully slides the little leprechaun off himself and onto the bed. He'll draw a coverlet over her, then look around... he'd like to get Thea here while Peony's asleep, so she doesn't have to sit around waiting for him, but he wants to leave her a note so she doesn't worry too. He quietly gathers up his clothing, then tiptoes out.

There's a notepad and a pen under the phone that hangs on the wall in the kitchen for Slate to leave his note on. He takes a few moments to pull on his clothes, then leaves a beautifully calligraphed note reassuring Peony he'll be back soon with Thea -- since he doesn't know how to write any other way. He pauses and considers then... he knows the closest Tether is one of Stone's, which makes him inordinately happy -- something called (amusingly enough) Devil's Courthouse, which he's been told is a big granite cliff. He grins quietly to himself, suspecting he can find it pretty easily... and then he can fly through heaven to Gabriel's Sonora Desert tether, and thence to home, to collect Thea and reverse the path.

Just for a moment he wonders how Gaelach knows when Peony's alone for the day... then he reassures himself that the little leprechaun did mention the unpleasant sidhe's visits were usually during long work projects -- he shouldn't worry. So he takes a moment to Sing into Celestial form. A moment later the big Seraph darts up through the house into the sky above, stretching its wings and Singing of love and protection. A couple of joyous swoops and aerial tumbles -- then it looks around for a big granite cliff, still humming happily to itself.

Shateishael: a palpitating, wingéd snake, bright and cirque-couchant. A gordian shape of dazzling hue: vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue. Eyed like a peacock and all crimson barr'd; full of silver moons that, as it breathes, dissolve or brighter shine, or interwreathe their lustres -- so rainbow-sided!

The cliff isn't hard to find and the Tether nearly sings with the beauty of the place. Shateishael is silent for a moment, awed at the magnificence of Stone's ancient and powerful Tether... then it darts happily in that direction. Once it arrives, it hangs in the air before the Tether, Singing a courteous greeting to the still-invisible Seneschal, requesting to travel to Heaven.

After a long moment the Seneschal appears. The Celestial Form it wears is of an enormous black bear, its wings gleaming ravens-wing blue and a golden glow surrounding it. It rumbles a greeting in return and activates the Tether for Slate, making the Symphony nearby thrum as if a particularly deep note had been struck. Shateishael whirls joyously along the Tether, Singing thanks to the dramatic looking Seneschal and guessing it must be a Cherub from the form. A moment later the big Seraph emerges in Stone's Caverns and wings its way up to the surface, still humming contentedly to itself. It takes a few seconds to orient itself, then starts winging past Michael's eternal practice grounds towards Gabriel's distant, brooding volcano. It Sings cheerful greetings to the warriors present, dipping a wing in salute to them, since it knows a few from previous time spent here.

Shateishael is not really familiar with the realms of Fire, and so despite Stone considering Fire an ally, it pauses at the edge of her realm to politely Sing a request to enter and use a Tether, both coming and going. It waits a moment for any sign it should not continue. If there is nothing, it will go on, under the assumption Gabriel and her Servitors have more important things to do than, say, hand it an engraved invitation! Nothing steps or flies or flares up to stop it, and so it continues, winging quickly along and searching for the usual signs of a Tether. If necessary it will politely ask for guidance to the Sonoran Desert Monument Tether, but as much as possible it would like to not be a bother.

As Shateishael flies along, its many multi-colored eyes glancing back and forth, it wonders about how familiars work. It's had Aletheia as its familiar for quite some time now, but never tried leaving earth with her before... can she shift into a Celestial form if it helps her, or will they have to progress to and from the Tethers on earth in Corporeal forms? If the latter, a bridle for disguise would probably be helpful... one of Gabriel's Ofanim wheels by and leads Shateishael to the Sonoran Desert Monument Tether, spinning around it almost excitedly before zooming off to another location at the speed of thought. The Seraph brightens at the assistance of the Ofanite, Singing a grateful blessing after the flighty thing, before Singing a polite greeting to the Tether's Seneschal. Again it asks -- may it use the Tether, please, both to leave Heaven now and to return very soon?

The Seneschal, also an Ofanite, sings permission for Slate to use the Tether on the trip both directions. Shateishael dives down the flaming Tether, Singing thanks, and bursts upwards into the harsh, pitiless desert light. A pause to orient itself... and then once again it's off, wings beating strongly as it starts the last leg home. Shateishael is soon diving happily down on the Circle-H, Singing joyous greetings and alighting in Corporeal form.

Slate: big human male; looks about 20 to 25 years old; bright blonde hair tied back in a long, shaggy ponytail. Slightly sardonic grin most of the time; narrowed, sharply blue eyes and heavily tanned skin. Broad shouldered, with the strong, muscular arms and torso of a blacksmith. Moves deliberately, speaks in a soft Texas drawl. Tends to wear pragmatic, sturdy clothing: heavy leather boots and jeans; flannel shirts only if he must -- stuff like that.

Shateishael happily hugs all his beloveds that are present, assuring them he and Peony arrived safely and she has a lovely home! Once things have calmed down a bit, and he's shouldered the backpack of tasty goodies Rosenstern insists he take along to give Peony from them, Slate grins a bit ruefully at Aletheia, "'Kay, sweetheart, y'ready t'try this thin' wi'me?"

Thea stamps one front hoof slightly restlessly. "Bear, I have been ready since you brought the idea up," she informs him with gentle amusement.

Shateishael laughs quietly, running a caressing hand along her neck under her mane, "'Kay, sorry... jus' never tried this b'fore, so not sure whut t' 'xpect." He draws a breath, then Sings into Celestial form again...

...then hangs in the air, two golden wings beating gently as it waits, watching with many eyes to see if and how Aletheia can change form.

Around Thea there is a slight trill in the Symphony that dies out. After a moment, it happens again. After a third try, Thea speaks aloud, "It would seem, Bear, that I need a bit of help." Shateishael nods a bit, unsure how to do so... it considers a moment, then waves a dark-barred, cream wing at her to try again. It Sings powerfully of strength, encouragement, and a need for its beloved familiar to run Celestially by its side, trying to pull her to it! The trill in the Symphony starts again and Aletheia puts her head down, stepping forward as if pulling against a large load. As she steps, she fades from Corporeal to Celestial existence. When she leaves her Vessel behind, she manifests as a negative image of it:

Aletheia: a big mare, standing about 16 hands at the withers and with a flowing mane and tail. Her conformation is long-limbed and clean, and she carries herself with confidence and grace. Her coat is a beautiful testament to the breeding skills of the Comanche: mostly white with rich reddish-brown spots all over her body, clustering into a lovely mahogany roan across her rump. She bears a Medicine Hat pattern over her ears (one of which is slit), and her eyes are an eerie blue.

Shateishael warbles a startled admiration, its tone several chords higher than normal in its surprise, and suddenly Aletheia can clearly understand Shateishael's words in the Angelic language, "How beautiful you are, Sincere Truth!"

Thea tosses her head and stamps at the ground in pleasure at the compliment, "You're a very sweet stallion, Bear." Her tail swishes as she swings her head, seeing the world through the slight distortion of this form.

Shateishael brightens, stroking a wide, swan-white wing along her back, then beams at her, "Come, we shall fly together, dear one." It curls the very end of its serpentine tail about a lock of her flowing mane, then turns and wings slowly forward, encouraging Aletheia to walk alongside... then to a trot, and swiftly to a canter. It's only a small mental leap for her to take that last step, bounding into the air after the happy Seraph and stretching her legs in a long, distance-eating gallop. Indeed, they rapidly find she can easily outdistance Shateishael in this form, and they end up with the Seraph looping several coils of tail around her strong chest, and her towing him along. Their laughter is as much joyous Song as anything else... and they're soon heading swiftly down towards the Sonoran Desert Monument Tether, Shateishael Singing strongly to alert the Seneschal of their arrival.

The Seneschal, remembering Slate from the first trip, simply rolls along with them for a while for the sheer joy of the motion, singing rings around Thea before returning to its post. Shateishael laughs delightedly, Singing thanks to the Ofanite and trilling happily as the big Celestial mare practically bursts up into Fire's realm. It glances around quickly, directs Aletheia as to which way to go, and continues its joyous Song, the hot winds of Fire ruffling the feathers on its many wings as it's cheerfully towed along. Thea's flaming hoofbeats leave glowing imprints for a short while, and her mane and tail stream flame beautifully until they're out of Gabriel's home.

Shateishael does not notice the falling silence as the two of them gallop swiftly along past the practice fields of War -- it's intent on guiding Aletheia to the cavernous entrance to Stone's realm. Thea, however, twitches an ear and whinnies a giggle at the parting comment she overhears from the startled warriors, "Now that's something you don't see every day, Chauncey!" Within David's realm Thea's galloping hoofbeats ring an echoing, almost martial tattoo, and both creatures feel a little more at peace here, in their natural Heavenly home. Shateishael directs Aletheia along the path it knows through the labyrinthine caverns, and Sings greeting and alert to the huge old Cherub Seneschal. For a moment alone do they pause, so the Seraph can again exchange the comfortable greetings between siblings of Stone, and introduce its beautiful familiar... and then they're clopping forward again, leaping down the dizzying fall to Earth, to emerge in the air by the Devil's Courthouse cliffside.

Shateishael takes a moment to orient itself again, Thea impatiently dancing back and forth, snorting in eagerness to get rolling again... then it extends a wing, Singing, "That way, please!" It guides the spirit mare the last short leg of the path, taking a moment to circle and be sure they're descending into the correct plot of land before they do so. It certainly doesn't want to manifest in Corporeal form around innocent bystanders, after all. Shateishael laughs delightedly at Thea's enjoyment of this form, in no rush to pull her back into her Corporeal vessel when she seems so happy. Eventually, however, it will Sing a suggestion that she take a bit of time to get to know the land corporeally, so she can easily return to it via the Song of Celestial Motion she knows.

Peony's home is just as Slate left it. Almost. Parked in the driveway is a car that looks too sporty to be good on gas mileage. The paint job is a deep green metal flake. Shateishael looks curiously at the car -- then brightens. Maybe this is the Chicago guy who spent so much on Peony's last job? Although... what would he be doing here? The big Seraph looks around, checking a good landing spot for them. The plot of land is no more than 10 or so acres, most of it hilly and wooded. The cleared area is maybe two acres... so Shateishal directs Thea down to the edge of the clearing, in the back and shaded by trees. They won't want to spook any 'normal' friends or clients Peony's got visiting. A moment of Song, and Shateishael 'pulls' Aletheia back into corporeal form again with him. He hugs her happily from where he sits astride her still, then grins and rumbles, "Go have fun 'xplorin', darlin', 'n once't Peony's visitor's gone we c'n try y'r Song, 'kay?"

Thea shakes herself all over when she steps back into her Vessel, neighing happily at the sensation she got to experience as her spirit self. But once in Corporeal form she stops short, ears flicking and tail lashing, "I'm hearing raised voices, Bear."

Shateishael straightens startledly from leaning forward to hug Thea, but then simply nudges her side gently with one heel, "Le's hurry, then, beautiful. House 'r barn?"

Stepping carefully forward, she tossed her head toward the large former barn, "The barn..." Her nostrils flare in displeasure. The louder one sounds male.

Shateishael nods, his voice grim, "Gallop past th'barn door, sweetheart, wouldja?" She bursts into a swift canter, and Slate swings down gracefully as the big mare gallops past the open door, not bothering to stop -- it's an old Comanche riding trick. A few running steps to shed his inertia, and he's advanced into the barn, looking around silently to see what's up.

What's up is Peony standing with her hands on her hips, head back and face set defiantly as she pours out a stream of what, even to Slate's newly introduced ear, sounded like Welsh. The man standing over her is well over a head taller than she, but still smaller than Slate. The venom in his tone as he speaks back in a voice not quite a shout is clear even through the foreign words. Shateishael looks a bit confused as he continues to silently advance. Who is this guy, and why is Peony so angry with him? Bounced check? The glasswork broke? Welsh... umm... could it be Gaelach? Slate can't tell for sure from behind, but he checks for an inordinate amount of hair. Or maybe one of Gaelach's toadies... Slate can't imagine Peony being this angry at Soma or his people.

The form is human, but the facial structure does look similar to Gaelach's. His hair is cut in a trendy style: very short on the back and sides, longish and spiky on the top. The man's body language is tense, taut and obviously angry, hands tightened into fists at his sides. He looks like he's doing his very best not to hurt Peony, leaning toward her aggressively. Shateishael can feel a quiet growl growing in his chest, that Peony should have to keep telling this pretentious jerk no over and over and over... he wishes for a moment the little ass would take a swing at the leprechaun, so he'd have an excu- no, that's not right. He sighs internally, schooling himself to calm so he can try to defuse this situation peacefully. He draws another breath -- calm, calm... then rumbles quietly, "Hey, guys, take it easy, 'kay?"

There's a momentary flash of image/sensation: fire raging through a forest and the strong desire to kick the guy in the shins -- and Peony raises her voice, switching into English, "But this isn't the old fucking court! It's a new court and I'm not some trembling maid glad to have the lord's son pay me attention. I'm a being unto my own right and you just can't accept someone not kowtowing."

Shateishael blinks a bit startledly, wondering what just happened... did he step through into a glamour or something? He looks curiously at Peony and Gaelach, to see if he can see their true forms now. Gaelach is still snarling down at Peony in the other language and they're both looking just as they did when he trotted through the door. Shateishael shakes his head confusedly -- that was weird! Must be something to do with the link with Peony, maybe? He looks up again, realizing neither of them have noticed him yet. Hmm... time to stop with the screaming, he thinks. He paces up behind Gaelach and sets a hand on the man's shoulder, his voice still calm, "Dude, breathe!"

Peony's eyes snap open wide in surprise as Slate seems to just appear behind her unwelcome guest -- to not have noticed his approach, she must have been very caught up in the argument. "Carraig!" she yips in surprise. At the same time Gaelach snarls in irritation, shoving Slate's hand off his shoulder.

Shateishael raises an eyebrow at the tall sidhe, glancing down at him in faint amusement, then nods to Peony, "Hey, pretty lady. Whutchy'all arguin' 'bout so angrily?" He grins, adding teasingly, "Y'make cute soun's when y'r startled... like a fox cub yippin'." At Slate's last comment, some of Peony's irritation slips, one corner of her mouth twitching upward.

Before Peony can explain Gaelach spins around, "What she and I are discussing is none of your business, angel."

Shateishael tilts his head thoughtfully at Gaelach, rumbling relaxedly, "Well now, 'm guessin' tha's up t'th'lady too, don'tcha think?"

Gaelach's lip pulls up almost in a snarl, "You were asked to step into Court business, warrior, not my personal disagreements with one of the court's people."

Peony raises her voice again, "He has every right to step into my business, Gaelach."

Behind Slate, visible through the open door of the barn, Thea grazes relaxedly... although one ear is tilted towards the barn's occupants. Slate grins, "Ayup, tha's true. Fortunately f'my curiosity, 'm thinkin' th' lady's in effect asked me t'step in... er..." he pauses at Peony's interjection, then grins again, "Uh, yeah, whut she said." He rests a hip against one of the big worktables, folding his arms and amiably asking, "So, whutch'all disagreein' 'bout?"

The sidhe snaps his head around to growl at Peony, "Just because he's shared your bed doesn't make him a member of the court, leprechaun."

Shateishael rubs his chin thoughtfully, wondering if there's any peaceful way to convince this little popinjay that no actually really does mean no. He grins, rumbling quietly, "Well now, don' think this's court right here, is it? 'S Miz Peony's place, so mus' be her business y'r innerested in... 'n me too."

That stops the other Ethereal cold and his eyes narrow as he stares daggers at Slate. Peony smiles in a way so sweet it could induce diabetes, "If he is my bond-mate he speaks as if he is me, Gaelach." Shateishael smiles relaxedly at the angry sidhe, although his thoughts are a bit perplexed, [Huh... guess bond-mate means when the exchange-in-love thingie happens...?] He makes a mental note to be sure he never says anything that might cause Peony embarrassment or upset. That'd be bad, he thinks -- at least in the fae courts.

Gaelach slowly turns and peers down icily at Peony. "What?"

Shateishael considers a moment more, then shrugs, "'Kay, if'n you don' wanna tell me, I'll jus' ask Peony." He grins at her, "So whutch'all arguin' 'bout?"

Peony repeats still in that gently sweet tone of voice, "Bond-mate." She looks over his shoulder at Slate, still smiling warmly, "Gaelach here has apparently been waiting for me to get home to have a word or two about you, beloved." She says the last word in a way that conveys that she really does mean it and she really, really wants Gaelach to steam over it.

Shateishael rumbles amiably, "Oh, okay. Anythin' I c'n help wi', if'n he wants t'talk 'bout me?" He waits until Gaelach isn't looking at him, to silently hold out an arm in inquiring invitation for a hug if she wants.

Peony steps around Gaelach and snuggles into the offered hug. Gaelach turns around to watch her nestling against the angel's side. He takes a deep breath, smoothing his hands down the front of his immaculate shirt and adjusting his cuffs, "I see. Then I shall leave the two of you alone to your honeymoon." He smiles tightly and turns around, walking stiffly toward the door.

Shateishael watches in silent perplexity, his arm curled protectively around Peony. He wishes a bit wistfully he could have done something a bit more... decisive. Ah, well. Sometimes peace works too, he supposes. Thea raises her head, still chewing, to watch the angry sidhe with interest. She sniffs curiously, catching his scent as he stalks out of the barn. Gaelach gives the big mare a wide berth as he stalks to his car and climbs in, spraying gravel as he tears out onto the road. Peony watches him go and relaxes against Slate's side with a smirk, "He's not going to just leave, you know. He's embarrassed." She snorts, "Again."

Shateishael sighs quietly, looking down at Peony. "'Kay, y'wanna tell me whut that wuz all 'bout, sweetheart?" Thea clops into the barn, her ears perked up, and whickers, "What an unpleasant stallion! You're quite right, Peony -- don't let him in your herd!" Shateishael grins at Thea's comment, then says, "Well, whut's he gonna do then? Go do wheelies inna local 7-11 'n then come back?"

Peony smiles at Thea, padding over barefoot to sling an arm over the big mare's back, "He'll go off to... wherever it is he stays around here... and sulk for a while. Then he'll come back and try to charm his way through his little tantrum."

Thea tilts her head to lightly lip at Peony's hair in a gently affectionate gesture. Slate regards Peony puzzledly, "So... why wuz he yellin' atcha 'bout me?"

The leprechaun smiles at Slate crookedly, "Somehow he knew I was going to be in Arizona for a while and somehow he knew I was back." She frowns a bit, "Which makes me just a little bit twitchy."

Shateishael nods, his arms folded again, "Yeah, that is kinda not good thing t'have him so f'miliar with, 'm thinkin'." He's silent for a bit, then rumbles, "Y'all have magics that 'llow y'all t'track folks like that? Hate t'think that nice lady gave y' 'way."

Peony smiles again and stretches up, inviting Slate to lean down and kiss her, "He was yelling because I would... consort... with an angel, but won't let him within ten feet of my bed." Shateishael gently scoops Peony up into an affectionate hug, lifting her easily off the ground and settling her on Thea's broad, warm back before he tilts his head to slowly, gently kiss her. Peony kisses him back and some of the tension melts out of her body, "Well... he could scry me out, maybe. But I think you're right about me needing to have a talk with Annie." She rubs her forehead with her fingertips, "I just... she doesn't seem like the type."

Thea stands relaxedly hipshot, her tail swishing idly as she snuffs curiously at the contents of the large, airy barn. She seems completely unfazed at being a temporary seat for her herd members. Slate leaves his hands resting on Peony's thighs, steadying her sideways position on the big mare, and rumbles quietly, "'S it possible he charmed her 'r sumpin'? 'R there's sumpin' here that he c'n scry out that 'lerts him t'y'r bein' 'roun'?"

Peony shrugs uncomfortably, "Possibly... but usually... I don't know. She doesn't act bespelled. I can't smell it on her." She swings her legs slightly and scritches through Thea's mane, "Hell, for all I know she thinks she's doing me a favor. She's appointed herself my unofficial matchmaker after all."

Shateishael is a little disturbed at the internal realization that Peony returned early, before Annie expected. For Gaelach to know Peony was home means either there's some sort of notification system in use... or that Annie was indeed letting him know. He rumbles thoughtfully, "Dunno. She din' seem t'like him much, from whut I saw." Thea gives a contented grunt as Peony hits just the right spot on her withers. Slate thinks a bit, then rumbles, "Well, c'd ya tell if'n y'r car wuz carryin' sumpin' magical on it? 'R... maybe even sumpin' practical, like a GPS that sent locations t'Gaelach? 'N how long we lookin' at till he turns up 'gain?"

Peony wrinkles her brow again and nods, making as if to slide off Thea's back into Slate's arms, "No, but Ajax might be able to find it. All the metal -- it sort of interferes." She adds, "A few hours? Tomorrow morning, maybe. It can take him a while to lick his wounds."

Shateishael says, "Well, then lemme look instead." He catches her easily, setting her on his shoulder and pacing out towards the big SUV, "Tell me whut I sh'd be lookin' for, 'kay?"

Peony blinks, "That's the problem. I don't know what would look wrong." She looks sheepish, "I can check the oil, but that's about it. Too much bare metal under the hood."

Shateishael nods relaxedly, making sure Peony's steady before he releases his hold on her where she's riding on his shoulders. He figures she's acrobatic enough to either stay or shift easily, as she prefers. He rumbles, "Well, gonna figger 't ain't 'zactly like m'ol' truck, but I c'n do li'l bitta checkin' leastways." He pops the hood and studies the engine within slowly and thoughtfully, looking for anything peculiar or anomalous to his eyes.

The engine compartment looks as if the vehicle is well-maintained. Nothing looks particularly out of place, but there are some strange parts that help it go from fuel to electric power. Shateishael hmms... then rumbles, "Sweetheart, gonna try slidin' under th'car, take a quick look there too, 'kay? Needja t'hop down f'that?" Peony slides down to the ground -- almost slithers, actually. She steps back as Slate prepares to get under the vehicle. He waits until she's clear, then lays down to roll under the car. He takes his time there too, slowly examining as much of it as he can. At one point he calls out, "Hey, Peony... gotta flashlight 'r sumpin' I c'n borrow?"

Peony ducks inside the house and comes out with an aluminum bodied flashlight, handing it to Slate and crouching down to peer under it. Shateishael accepts it with thanks, then uses it to study as deeply into the car's undercarriage as he can. He really wants to find something on the car, instead of suspecting that nice lady. Peony watches Slate's legs as he checks under the car. Everything there seems to belong.

Shateishael finally sighs and rolls out, clicking off the flashlight and handing it back to Peony. "Um... real sorry, sweetheart... but 'm thinkin' y'might wanna try callin' Annie?" He thinks for a moment, then rumbles, "Y'gotta spare tire inna trunk? That's th'on'y other place I c'n think of, might work." He goes to check there also, just to be complete. Peony nods, sighing tiredly and opening the tailgate on the SUV. She indicates where the carpeting would lift up to expose the spare tire well. Shateishael slides his fingers under the carpeting. He'll pull out the tire and all the changing tools, to examine everything.

There's nothing except the jack and the tire iron with the spare tire. The leprechaun swears under her breath. "I'll go call her."

Shateishael sighs quietly, "'M sorry, sweetheart." He starts tucking things back into place, adding, "Y'got anythin' y'allus take wi'ya when travelin', thatcha don' look at much?" He frowns at the car once he's done, brooding a bit. Then he looks up, "Hey, now... din' y'say y'came from Chicago t' Arizona? How c'd Annie have known 'bout that? 'N whut she din' know, she couldn'ta tole Gaelach, right?"

Peony shakes her head, walking toward the house, "Just my bag, and it's full of stuff... but I'd smell magic on it." She walks into the house and goes for the phone on the kitchen wall, dialing the number from memory and speaking over her shoulder, "I called her from Chicago and told her I was going to Arizona. I was letting her know my trip was going to be extended so she could feed the monsters."

Shateishael mumbles under his breath, "Oh dear..." Thea walks over and companionably rests her chin on Slate's shoulder, murmuring, "Poor Peony." Slate nods absently, bringing his hand up to gently stroke the long line of her nose, still deep in thought. He adds quietly to Thea, "Wish I c'd smell magic. Cain't tell if'n I missed anythin' on th'car cuz a' that."

Peony shifts nervously, going still as she says, "Annie, hey, I have a question to ask you."

Shateishael adds a bit wistfully to Thea, "...mebbe she's gotta relative 'r sumpin' she wuz talkin' to, that Gaelach knows 'bout...?" He falls silent so he can listen too, his Resonance alert.

Peony smiles slightly, "Yes, we're having a lovely time, but we had sort of an unwelcome visitor." Shateishael pats Thea once more, then paces silently into the kitchen, leaning his head so he can hear clearly. His eyes trail thoughtfully down Peony's slight form, and he's suddenly glad there weren't any bruises this time. He would not have wished Gaelach to assume that meant Peony was available for abuse. He wonders internally if he should have clearly agreed with Peony's statements about their being bond-mates. Is Gaelach the type to remember Slate never actually said anything definitive either way, and assume that meant the two were pulling a deception on the sidhe -- much as he seems to enjoy doing to others? Slate doesn't know for sure, but he hopes not.

Annie is expressing dismay about the uninvited guest, and to Slate's Resonance she seems to be truly upset to hear it. Peony sighs and nods, "Uhm... did you tell anyone I was home?" On the other end Annie can be heard, sounding a little perpelexed, "Just Jimmy. Wanted to know why I was home earlier. I was going to change all the litter boxes, but I left stuff when you showed up with your fella." Peony covers the phone mouthpiece, rolling her eyes and whispering, "Her son. The little shit." Shateishael raises an eyebrow at Peony and nods silently. He wonders why Jimmy's aiding Gaelach... and why, curiously enough, Jimmy didn't warn the fae about the presence of another man as well. Peony nods, "Thank you, Annie. I think I need to have a little chat with Jimmy next time I visit." She goes through the obligatory farewells with Annie and hangs ups.

Shateishael straightens, looking down at Peony with some concern, "How ol's this Jimmy, sweetheart? 'N why'd he be helpin' Gaelach, y's'ppose?" He adds amusedly, "Won' Annie be havin' that chat wi'Jimmy already?"

Peony snorts, "Sixteen. Barely. And he's a greedy little punk." She smiles and pats Slate's arm, "You don't know southern mothers. She'll chew him out, then I get to chew him out. Then she'll chew him out again."

Shateishael blinks a bit surprisedly at that, then grins, "Gotcha! Important safety tip -- stay outta th'way a' Suth'rn moms!" He chuckles, then slides his arms around Peony in a gentle hug, "Well, now... y'min' if'n I stick 'roun' a bit till y'r unwanted admirer turns up 'gain? 'N didja see th' note I lef' ya, 'n y' hungry 'r anythin'? Ain't it 'bout time f'r ya t'be eatin' 'gain 'r sumpin'?"

Peony chuckles and nods, sighing, "Probably the wisest course of action." She nestles into Slate's arms, closing her eyes, "You're welcome to stay as long as you. He'll be back within the day if he thinks I'm still here. And I'm not hungry; I had a sandwich while you were gone."

Shateishael nods, "'Kay, good... don' wan' my bein' here t'keep ya from stuff y'need t'do." He thinks a moment, gently stroking her back, then rumbles, "Y'wanna show me more 'bout th' Rose window y'wan' m'help on -- gimme bit more detail on whutcha wan' me t'do?" Thea, satisfied that all is well, wanders off, curious to explore Peony's territory -- and also to be sure she's not a visual warning of Slate's presence, should Gaelach unexpectedly return. The land is heavily forested except for the two cleared acres. Peony seems to be trying to do her best to be a good steward to the land.

Peony smiles, "I think actually I'd like to go for a hike or something. Shake off the slime."

Shateishael grins, "Okay, soun's nice. C'n I come 'long?"

Peony nods, smiling, "Let me go get on some boots. These woods are full of briars."

Shateishael grins cheerfully at Peony, pleased at seeing her perk up a bit. "S'fine... blackberry?" He wishes he could get Peony to tell him more about what Gaelach said... any threats or promises or possible motivations for his truly incredible denseness... then decides it's best to wait until later. For now he wants her to be able to cheer up a bit -- especially should Gaelach turn up again later tonight.

Peony nods and grins, "Good eating. I have a basement full of preserves most years." She's already heading for the house after her boots.

Shateishael chuckles, calling after her, "Next time y'r at th'ranch, ask Rosie 'bout his root cellar!"

It's not long before Peony is back with her boots on and leading Slate on a leisurely ramble through the woods around her home. At first she walks sedately, pointing out the local vegetation and naming the local trees for him. After maybe half an hour though, her normal energy starts to return and she's scampering off and coming back bearing quartz studded rock and talking about the local geology. From there she starts tugging Slate through the brush, chattering about what the land had been before she got here and about paying the local men to build the house on it several human generations ago.

Shateishael grins, his own mood lightening as Peony's rises as well. He's inordinately pleased to see her happiness, and even though he'd love to see her move to Arizona and the ranch, he can see how lovely and comfortable the little home she's created for herself is. His love of community is such that he couldn't bring himself to ask her to leave the warm, cozy place she's put such time, effort, and love into. He'll take a moment while Peony's scampering around to let his senses sink into the earth, checking to see if there are any interesting veins of minerals or metals under her land for Peony to work with, if she might so wish. There is marble deep down, but mostly there's limestone and granite. There are veins of quartz and coal there as well, but mostly very small. Here and there, he finds jasper or agate. Shateishael smiles, sharing that information with Peony next time she comes darting back with a lovely piece of quartz.

Peony grins and tips her head, "I know generally what's around this area. How do you know all that?" She tucks the quartz into Slate's pocket.

Shateishael chuckles, lightly tucking an errant strand of Peony's hair back behind one slightly pointed ear, "'M a Seraph a'Stone, sweetheart. 'S whut we do -- we're 'ttuned t'that." A bit wistfully he adds, "In time, 'm hopin' I c'n earn s'more a' m'Bright Lord's 'ttunements. Jus' gotta do sumpin' worthwhile first, t'make 'im proud a'me."

By the time they're heading back to the house Peony is staying by Slate's side again, but mostly because she wants to hold his hand. She chuckles, "I have a feeling once you're handed something impressive to do, you'll draw your Lord's attention."

Shateishael smiles down at Peony thoughtfully, "Hope so. 'M kinda hopin' we c'n he'p y'all out... that seems t'be th'job I been quietly given s'far, after all."

Peony chuckles and leans her head against Slate's arm for a moment, "True. And that's no small task."

Shateishael watches the tiny woman next to him with silent happiness... then rumbles quietly, "'S easier wi'folks like you t'be inspirin', luachmor."

The leprechaun wrinkles her nose and laughs, "Flatterer."

Shateishael tilts his head thoughtfully at Peony, his small smile a bit quirky, "Cain't, sweetheart, 'less it's true."

Peony laughs and nods, dragging Slate inside, "Now, we're going to sit on the couch and pet the cats and snuggle. And that's an order." She pauses and smiles back lopsidedly, "And I'll tell you how Gaelach stuck his foot in his mouth this time."

Shateishael grins, removing his boots by the back door, so he doesn't track grass stains and bits of briar all over Peony's house, "Yes'm! Wanna make some hot choc'late too, 'r sumpin?"

Peony stops by the fridge and grabs out a pair of rich, dark beers, "Thought we'd have a beer instead."

Shateishael brightens, "Soun's great t'me!" He settles on the couch, making sure there's plenty of room for leprechauns and kitties to sprawl all over him, should they so desire. Peony does indeed sprawl comfortably over Slate, and then the cats sprawl comfortably over her as if this is their god-given and proper place. The diminutive Ethereal sips the beer, which is apparently some of Bacchus' brew, and sighs comfortably. Shateishael sighs contentedly himself as well. A fantastic beer, a beautiful lover in his lap, and one hand free to stroke either her or the kitties... he's quietly blissful. He grins, gently trailing his fingers through Peony's shining hair, removing the occasional bit of leaf, and waits patiently for Peony to be ready to talk about Gaelach. He wonders at the sheer, dogged persistence of the man. He can't imagine pestering someone for generations like this.

After several minutes of relaxing and listening to cats purr, Peony starts speaking, leaning her head into the gentle grooming, "So after I woke up and you were gone, I thought I'd go work out in the barn for a while. I had a bite to eat and then went to start working on some of those lilies and poof, Gaelach's penis-mobile pulls up."

Shateishael snorts amusedly at the car's description, causing both cats to give him slightly startled glances. He grins, "G'wan, lover, sorry." He adds, "Y'did see m'note, yeah? Din' wantcha t'worry...?"

Peony smiles and wiggles her toes, "I did read the note. Thank you for letting me sleep." She stretches to kiss Slate's cheek, "He stormed in and demanded to know what I'd been doing in Arizona."

Shateishael smiles in quiet happiness, tilting his head for the kiss... then looks inquiring, "That any a' his business, sweetheart? From th'way he wuz talkin', sounded like almost treason t'th' court... 'n I know that ain't th'case, 'r Soma hisself wouldn'ta come."

Peony smiles a bit, "No, it's not treason. It's not anything of the like. But Gaelach is a bit... he doesn't exactly trust the angels. And he sort of..." She wriggles uneasily, "He sort of sees the fae as a superior but betrayed race."

Shateishael nods relaxedly, "Yeah, seen that kinda shite in angels too, but t' other way roun'." He has a drink of the fine, rich beer, then curiously asks, "So he don' trus' us sp'cifically, 'r angels in general? How's he deal wi' Eli 'n Novalis?"

Peony shrugs and sighs, "In general, I think... and I... I think he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Shateishael curiously rumbles, "Whut other shoe? 'Nother betrayal 'r sumpin'?"

Peony nods, stretching slightly, "Betrayers never trust anyone, after all."

Shateishael raises a very surprised eyebrow, "Hol' on, whutsat?! He betray someone?"

The Ethereal nods, sighing, "Or tried to... I know he's tried several times to displace Soma. And..." she wriggles, wrinkling her nose, "I want to know how Malphas knew to come to Soma about that negotiation."

Shateishael shakes his head, "Dunno, but why not jus' ask 'im?"

Peony blinks at Slate, "Ask Malphas?"

Shateishael laughs! "Uh, no! No, def'nitely not. I meant ask Gaelach."

Peony ahhs and laughs at herself, "I was wondering why on earth you'd suggest that..."

Shateishael grins and shrugs ruefully, "Well, I know th' insect-wing'd fae all seem t'be a' th' speakin'-truth-but-not-clearly type... but d'lib'rate intent t'deceive, like Gaelach keeps tryin' t'pull, is kind painfully clear in th'Symphony."

Peony wrinkles her brows and squirms, "Damn him." Shateishael hms inquiringly at Peony, gently stroking one large hand down her back, trying to calm her down. The stroking seems to have its desired intent and she relaxes, the cats resettling and starting to purr again, "I have a strong desire to get the hell out of here before he comes back."

Shateishael says, "Why don'tcha then, sweetheart? I c'n talk t'him 'lone."

Peony smirks, "Because I'm not going to run away form my own house. I'm just going to think fondly about it."

Shateishael smiles quietly, "Wouldn't be runnin' 'way t'let someone else deal wi'him that c'n speak 'is language better, 'least in my book... but 's up t'you, sweetheart." He strokes her back again, enjoying the smooth curves, then rumbles, "So, whut else he say?"

Peony snorts, "He wanted to know how I could..." she pauses again, "...be with an angel and continue to shun a noble who could give me anything I ever wanted." She grins, puffing her chest out, proud of herself, "I told him if he wanted to give me all I ever wanted, he would leave me the hell alone."

Shateishael laughs delightedly, "Love it!" He grins, lightly running his fingers through her hair as he amusedly adds, "An' bet he din' 'tall, yeah?" He grins again, his blue eyes mischievous, "'M bettin' he din' use th' term 'be wi'an angel' neither, mmm?"

Peony snorts, "That's about when you came in. He was telling me that in the old court, any leprechaun would have been honored to have a sidhe court them. And... that's when I told him it wasn't the old court any more." She laughs at that last question, "No, not exactly. At one point he asked how I could fuck an angel and treat him like dirt. I think the other time he called it defiling myself with you."

Shateishael looks impressed, "Man! Guess he really hates us then." He frowns thoughtfully, "Mm... that'd summat 'xplain why he hates Soma so too -- th'guy trusts th'enemy."

Peony smiles quietly, "If Soma weren't bound not to, he'd probably be bound to Rosenstern, Slate. It's a lot more than just trusting the three of you."

Shateishael nods, "True." He's silent a moment... then rumbles curiously, "Um, Peony... this may be dumb question, but how c'n Soma know he needs t'bind himself 'gainst lovin' Rosie... 'less he's half in love a'ready?"

Peony, stretches her legs out, smiling lopsidedly, "He is half in love with Rosie. He already cares more about him personally than I've ever seen him care for anyone. But they haven't bonded."

Shateishael nods slowly, "'Kay." He's silent a moment, still a bit vaguely troubled although not sure why... then he rumbles, "Soma not have many frien's, then, 'r whut?"

Peony smiles, "You've seen him in the court, Slate. He's got many friends. I'll bet you do too, but I bet you care a lot more for Rosie or Bella than ninety percent of them."

Shateishael thinks about that... then nods, reassured, "'Kay, I unnerstan' that. So..." he tilts his head thoughtfully, regarding Peony, "How long's Gaelach been pesterin' ya? 'N 's there anyone he don' pester n'more, that he useta?"

Peony sighs, "Off and on for most of my existence, actually. He gets tired of it sometimes and I'll have a peaceful decade or two."

Shateishael looks a bit shocked, "That long?! Bright Stone, girl! Ain't nobody cared 'nuff t'tell him t'piss off?!"

Peony smirks and nods, "Yes. I have. Ajax offered to break his jaw once, but I didn't want Ajax to end up just being his new target. He's a sweet boy."

Shateishael looks faintly relieved -- he'd have been quite disappointed in Ajax otherwise! -- then rumbles, "Whut does 'new target' mean, sweetheart?"

Peony shrugs and strokes the side of Slate's leg, getting distracted with the lay of the muscles for a moment before answering, "I didn't want him to turn his attention to harassing Ajax instead. It wouldn't be sexual, but it would be a pain for him anyway."

Shateishael nods quietly, "Ajax is th' 'pprentice a' Karl's that got badly hurt at th'Winter Court, ain't he?"

Peony smiles tiredly, "I wouldn't mention that to him, though."

Shateishael sounds puzzled, "Howcum?" He smiles at Peony's distraction, shifting his leg slightly to make it easier for her to touch him if she wants.

Peony goes back to the exploring touch, asking absently, "Take off your jeans?" She shifts out of the way to make it easier, "Because he doesn't like thinking about it. And he doesn't like to think people might be pitying him."

Shateishael looks a bit surprised, then grins at Peony's request and sets the beer aside to oblige her. He rumbles calmly, "Isn' pity t'rec'gnize someone got hurt unjus'ly... unless..." He falls silent, musing, then glances at Peony as he sets his jeans aside, "He got lingerin' damage 'r scarrin' 'r sumpin'?"

Peony watches Slate get the jeans off and smiles softly, "Not physically. He healed nicely. But he's got... it's like he's shell-shocked a little."

Shateishael nods slowly, thinking about that as he settles so Peony can relax comfortably on him again. Finally he rumbles, "Well... not 'tirely sure whut shell-shocked means f' a centaur... but he's welcome t'come hang out wi' Thea 'n th'rest a' us. She's real fine at helpin' folks heal inside, I know." He grins lazily at Peony, adding, "So, y're askin' me t'take m'jeans off... guess y' not 'xpectin' Gaelach soon?" His eyes get a hint of mischief in them as he adds, "Or... are ya?"

Peony laughs and snuggles her way back into Slate's lap, stroking along the lines of his thighs and tracing his calves, "Not that I would object to watching him splutter if he found us in flagrante delicto, but I mostly just wanted to be able to touch your skin."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, letting his fingers trail lightly over her pale skin as she touches him... then he rumbles thoughtfully, "C'n we take y'shirt off too, sweetheart? 'D like t'touch ya too?" No sooner is the request made than Peony has squirmed her way out of her own clothes, nestling in comfortably again and letting her eyes close contentedly. Shateishael sits and quietly strokes Peony's fair skin, or trails his fingers through her hair, letting time slip away. He enjoys being touched as much as the touching, but it's still a delicious new pleasure to 'learn' his pretty little lover's body... and he savors it with all the slow, contented deliberation of his Stone nature.

The sun is almost completely down before the sound of the overly-powered car can be heard growling its way into the gravel driveway, making Peony sigh in resignation. She starts to reach for her clothes, then pauses and looks at Slate, "Can I have your shirt?"

Shateishael chuckles and obligingly strips it off, handing it to Peony before he pulls his jeans back on. Curiously he rumbles, "Sweetheart... when two 'thereals bond, y'cain't jus' turn it off, right? So... why's he still buggin' ya?" He pauses, then smacks his head lightly, "Well, duh... keep f'gettin' all he wants is sex, right?"

Peony tips her head to the side, then grins as Slate puts it together, "Maybe not just sex, but you already know you can be bound to more than one person. He wants to win, mostly."

Shateishael shakes his head amusedly, fastening his jeans. "Poor sap. Y'wan' me t'answer th'door, lovely?"

The leprechaun slides into the shirt, buttoning it so that it's covering her quite well but revealing a lot of the flat of her chest, "I could probably get him to go away if I'd fuck him, but I refuse to have sex with someone I despise." She pads to the door, saying perhaps louder than needed, "No, you finish getting dressed; I'll get it."

Shateishael chuckles lazily, settling back relaxedly onto the couch and scritching a kitty as he watches. He murmurs dryly, "Cain't blame ya f'that... wouldn't do it m'self neither." He's reminded for just a moment of Lilith... and that thought makes him smile ruefully also.

Peony answers the door and says, "Sure. Come in. This time. Don't go thinking you have an open invitation." Shateishael reaches for the beer and watches quietly. He's utterly unaware of just how very physical he appears, and how 'belonging here' his behavior is. Gaelach is in his human seeming when he steps through the door. Peony ushers him into the parlor and offers him a seat before climbing into Slate's lap and tucking the tail of his shirt around her knees. She gives every appearance that Slate does indeed belong here and that she belongs with him. The cozy behavior makes Gaelach's eyes and mouth tighten into something that's not quite a frown. Shateishael shifts so Peony is comfortable, then looks up and nods with slow courtesy to Gaelach, rumbling quietly, "Evenin'." He wonders a bit sadly what the poor guy expects to gain by doing this to himself.

The sidhe inclines his head in return, "Greetings, Warrior." There's a very slight sneer to the term most everyone else has used with respect. He attempts to look just as casually comfortable as the half-sprawled Slate, but there's far too much tension for him to pull it off. "I wished to come by and offer my apologies. It was rude of me to confront Lui Greine in her own home."

Shateishael looks quite startled -- how does Gaelach know her Name?! He glances uncertainly at Peony, not sure how to take this. Peony glowers at Gaelach, crossing her arms over her chest. In the oversized shirt, the gesture is perhaps not quite as imposing as she might wish, "I go by Peony, Gaelach. My Name is not yours to use even if you do know it."

Shateishael rumbles worriedly, watching Gaelach, "How's he know it, sweetheart?"

Gaelach smirks slightly and inclines his head, "Your pardon, Peony, even if the name is somewhat ill-fitting. I wished only to say I was out of place this afternoon. My temper, and I fear my jealousy, got the best of my common sense."

Shateishael ignores Gaelach for the moment -- he's really worried that the moth-winged fae knows Peony's True Name, and he really wants to know how this happened! Peony continues to glower, even as she answers, "He was there when most of us took our oaths. As Soma's heir apparent, it was thought best at the time that he know us."

Shateishael nods slowly, "'Kay... whut's his, then?"

Peony shakes her head, smiling tightly, "I don't know. I wasn't there for his oath, and I wouldn't want to know it."

Shateishael makes a noncommittal noise... then rumbles blandly, "'Kay. I'll ask Soma 'nstead, nex' time he's onna ranch. Seems on'y fair if'n Gaelach's gonna spill y'r True Name 'roun' me 'thout checkin' wi'you first, that I get his True Name too..." his icy gaze isn't nearly as bland as his voice as he studies Gaelach, "f' jus' in case, a' course..."

The leprechaun reaches up, laying her hand on Slate's chest, addressing Gaelach, "You've said your apologies. Was there something else you wanted?"

The luna moth fae smiles blandly at Slate, "You won't get it from my cousin, Warrior. He holds confidences in high regard." Shaking his head, he starts to stand, "I simply wished to say I was sorry. And to ask the two of you out to dinner as a peace offering."

Shateishael watches Gaelach silently, anger stirring inside him. In a way, this makes it easier... if he cannot learn Gaelach's True Name from Somhairle, there's nothing to prevent him from simply attempting to beat it out of the irritating fae. He knows it will not bother him unduly if the fae successfully resists telling him. He raises an eyebrow at the offer, then glances at Peony. He's not really interested... but he'll go with her if she wants. He also amusedly wonders if Gaelach has even the slightest idea what a true peace offering is like.

Peony snorts, "No, thank you, Gaelach. We shan't be here long. I simply wanted my bond-mate to see my home." She starts to slide her way out of Slate's lap, "You'll have to make your amends some other time." She walks to the front door, opening it, "Good night." Shateishael smiles quietly, relieved at that.

Gaelach smirks slightly, "Ahh, and I'm certain you'll be very busy while he's here -- or at least from the looks of it you've not had a lot of free time." He lets his eyes wander in a leer that goes beyond appreciative into insulting. One last inclination of his head and he saunters toward the door.

Shateishael is up off the couch and across the room in a flash, one hand twisting Gaelach's shirt up into a knot and slamming the fae backwards into the wall next to the door so hard it rattles. He snarls very, very clearly directly into Gaelach's face, "You. Will. Not... insult Peony again. Do you hear me?"

Peony's eyes widen in surprise as Slate moves across the room, jumping back to stay out of the way as Gaelach is slammed into the wall. Once past the initial shock she finds she has to cover her mouth and bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Gaelach's breath explodes outward in a rush as he's slammed into the wall, hands going up as if he expects a fist to be heading for his face, sneering even through the defensive posture, "I thought your sort were constrained from initiating violence... Warrior?" He does sneer the last word, his tone dripping with contempt.

Shateishael leans back enough so he can bring his free hand up to sharply slap Gaelach across the face. He snaps, "Asshole, y'got any idea how long I been watchin' ya 'ttackin' Peony? I c'd rip y'stupid wings off right now f' th' 'mounta violence ya done a'ready t' both her an' th' Court y'r s'pposta be d'fendin'!"

Gaelach's glamour melts partially away as the sidhe truly loses his temper, head rocking with the blow his cheek was struck, "How I choose to defend my Court is none of your concern, angel. They're my people. My court. You're simply hired muscle because my cousin can't accept who he is."

Peony's been watching the exchange with that same wide-eyed trying-not-to-snicker expression, both hands over her mouth, but at Gaelach's glamour melting she drops her hands and snaps, "If you work glamour in my home, Gaelach, I will take it to the Court and you will stand trial for it."

Shateishael snarls, "They're Somhairle's people, dickweed, 'n I don' care if'n y'think they're y'rs -- y' don' go playin' wi' demon princes 'n not 'xpect t'get burned!" He draws a slow breath, pulling his anger back under control, then growls quietly, "But tha's not th'point jus' now. Y'don' seem t'hear real well, so I'm gonna put it real simple f'ya. 'F I fin' out y' been roun' Peony 'gain 'tall -- reason don' matter... then next time I see ya, gonna break both y'r arms. Y'got that?"

Gaelach lowers his arms, smiling slightly, "Oh, I hear you, angel. And I want you to remember that you aren't always going to be under the leprechaun's roof."

Shateishael straightens, not releasing Gaelach, and practically drags the fae out the open door, tossing him onto the ground outside and stepping down onto the grass. He reaches back to close the door, not checking to see if Peony's inside or out, then snaps, "'Kay. We're out. Now whut."

Gaelach stands and smirks, shaking his head, "We are still in her home." He starts backing toward his car, straightening his clothes, "I won't risk being bound for the satisfaction of teaching you your place."

Shateishael sighs exasperatedly, then turns, "Peony, d'I hafta drag this asshole t'th'road outside a' y'r place, 'r is outside y'r house good 'nuff?" He keeps half an eye on the arrogant fae -- he doesn't trust Gaelach as far as he can toss him.

Peony comes carefully down the stairs and lays a hand on Slate's arm, smirking slightly, "For magical reasons, my home counts as my property, carraig. Let him go. If he's fool enough to come back I give you leave to turn him into a little puddle of goo."

Shateishael studies Peony a touch grimly, then shakes his head, "Sweetheart, if'n I cain't handle him, wanna know it now... cuz m'job is pr'tector, not thug." He leans down to kiss her forehead lightly, then rumbles, "Back inna bit. Gotta step offa y'r property." Peony doesn't even try to look disapproving. Gaelach doesn't turn the whole time he's making his way to his car, more concerned with keeping Slate in his sights than not tripping over something on the way to the car.

Shateishael turns and whistles, and Thea comes cantering over -- almost as if she'd been waiting for the call... which, all things considered, she probably was. Slate swings easily up onto her back as she canters by him, heading for the road off the property. She speeds up once he's astride. He calls back over his shoulder, "Meetcha outside th' property gate, Gaelach!" He wonders thoughtfully if he should push down a dead tree across the road or something, to keep Gaelach from simply escaping. It depends, he supposes, on whether Gaelach is in earnest, or simply a braggart. Nevertheless, it can't hurt to be prepared... he starts watching for a suitable tree to drop across the road, even as he murmurs, "Keep an ear on 'em, wouldja, pretty lady?"

Gaelach's eyes flash an angry light and he gets into the car, slamming the door and turning it around jerkily to follow Slate down the long driveway to the winding, isolated road. Thea bobs her head and keeps her ears pricked as she canters with Slate, "I hear his car, my stallion." Once the men have headed down the drive, Peony ducks back into the house, pulling her own jeans on beneath Slate's shirt and tying the tails of it up so that it's more around her hips than her knees.

Shateishael nods, "Thanks, sweetheart. Jus' din' wan' him t'try sumpin' wi'Peony whiles m'back wuz turned." He leans easily into the swift gallop, running a hand smoothly down her neck and adding, "Peony's likely t'turn up, beautiful. Do me favor, make sure she's safe? Put 'er up on y'r back if'n y'c'n talk 'er inta it?" He adds quietly, "'N if'n I get hurt, get her back on her lan' quick as y'can?" Thea bobs her assent stiffly, but there's something of eagerness in her gait. She's been with Slate, after all, since what he did on the regular was be a warrior. Shateishael smiles, leaning to hug her neck gently, "Thanks, beautiful. Knew I c'd count on ya."

Shateishael waits until they're to the gate that marks the boundary of Peony's territory, then calls a halt. He slides off, slaps Thea's shoulder companionably, then trots through the gate and studies the trees. That one, he thinks... he steps back, putting his hands flat against the tree, and Sings himself to Stone... then... pushes. The tree groans and there's an alarming snapping sound from the trunk before the dead section gives and the tree topples across the road, blocking escape for Gaelach in his car -- which is obviously not the sort to take off-roading. Shateishael chuckles -- a curiously creaking, groaning noise in his Stone form -- and sits on the trunk, one knee up and one arm around his knee, as he waits for Gaelach to arrive. He pats the tree companionably, his voice an even lower growl than usual, "I'll be sure y'get ta be firewood f'someone who'll 'ppreciate ya, promise." Thea drifts quietly back out of sight into the trees in the growing twilight.

The angry fae pulls the car into the road off Peony's property and climbs out, slamming the door. His glamour drops away as he does, revealing him in his true form as he strides toward Slate, one lip lifted in a snarl, "Get that out of my way, Seraph. Now."

Shateishael rumbles relaxedly, "Thoughtcha wan'ed t'show me m'place." He isn't even particularly baiting the angry fae... he just wants to get it over with, out in the open, once and for all. As Gaelach strides forward, his body shifts again until he's standing on four legs, wearing the body of something that looks like the spawn of a mastiff and a bear, hackles raised and jaws open in a snarl. Shateishael raises an interested eyebrow, "That a fightin' form?"

Peony comes skidding down the driveway, running just a little faster than she meant to, panting a little. She's the one that answers, "It's one of them... glamour... not just for hiding..."

Gaelach feints toward Slate, snapping heavily muscled jaws in a clear threat, but not closing enough to actually get his teeth on the casually waiting Seraph. Shateishael is quietly centered where he sits, able to roll in any direction necessary with whatever attack Gaelach launches -- but for a feint he doesn't bother moving at all. He finds even now, even when the chips are down... he doesn't really want to start the fight. He feels oddly sorry for Gaelach.

The leprechaun stays carefully on her own property, an expression that's half worried and half eager playing across her face. Thea clops up next to Peony, dipping her head to murmur to the leprechaun. Peony reaches one hand up blindly to find Thea's mane and then turns to look at the mare, using both hands to pull herself astride the big horse. Thea snorts quiet approval, and once Peony's astride she shifts slightly so the two of them can see clearly, and still be on Peony's land.

Slate's calm actually just seems to make the glamour-draped Ethereal more angry and his muscles bunch as he gathers himself for a leap at Slate's stony form. Shateishael waits patiently, his gaze emptying of random thought and focusing on the furious fae. Gaelach springs at Slate, jaws snapping furiously, trying to close over the angel's shoulder. In his rage he either hasn't noticed or doesn't care that Slate's body is no longer simply flesh. Shateishael lets the big creature's leap reach him, rolling with the blow to draw the creature with him as he fall backwards off the tree -- and hopefully to reverse the situation, landing on the bear-dog himself with his now-not-inconsiderable weight. He reaches to pull Gaelach into a grappling hug, if he can.

Gaelach completely fails his attempt to bite Slate, mostly due to the fact that the Seraph is wearing a Stone body. The unexpected pain of all those teeth crashing against the stone leaves the fae stunned and howling for a moment. Shateishael rolls and easily grapples the distracted creature, his powerful arms wrapping around its neck and starting to slowly pull. He rumbles next to Gaelach's ear, "Promise y'won' ever bother m'lovers 'gain, Gaelach, 'n I'll leggo."

Thea snorts amusedly, dancing in place a bit with excitement, "That's my stallion!" A moment later she tilts her head to glance back at Peony, "Is he the type to keep his promises?"

Peony smiles crookedly, "If he thinks there will be repercussions for breaking them, yes."

The Gaelach-creature struggles in Slate's arms, snapping at the air and snarling even as its head is pulled back, claws scrabbling at the air. He thrashes angrily and a barely understandable voice snarls, "I will leave your little harem alone, angel."

Shateishael rumbles quietly, as he carefully releases, "Thank you." Once he's sure the fae is able to stand, he turns and considers the tree, hands on his hips. Where best to grab, to drag it aside? He appears completely absorbed in this issue, his back mostly turned to the angry fae. Thea chuckles quietly, watching alertly from the shadows behind the car's headlights.

Gaelach's form melts through his true form and back into the arrogant human body. He walks stiffly past Slate and climbs over the tree. When he gets to his car he shoves himself into the driver's seat and makes an angrily screeching turn, heading the way opposite the tree. Peony snorts as she watches that, shaking her head, "He'll have to drive for two hours that way before he gets out of the mountains. I hope he goes off the side."

Thea shifts swiftly over, getting herself and Peony away from the road. She shakes her head, watching the car screech off, and whickers quietly, "Poor little stallion." Slate grunts with effort, shoving the tree aside, then straightening and rumbling to the two women, "I'll cut that up t'morra f'firewood for ya, 'kay, Peony?"

Once the car is safely tearing recklessly away in the wrong direction, Peony slides off Thea's back and trots over to the still-stone Seraph, throwing her arms around him and ignoring the fact that there's not much give to his body, "Tomorrow. Right now, you're coming back to the house and I'm giving Thea apples and you... well, whatever sounds best."

Shateishael chuckles, then Sings for a moment, and the Stone form ripples, his corporeal form emerging. He picks Peony up and hugs her exuberantly, "Whutever y'wan', beautiful!" Thea whickers almost primly, "Organic carrots as well wouldn't be remiss...?" Shateishael grins at Thea, "Greedy mare!" as he heads for the house, Peony still in his arms if she doesn't seem to mind. Thea chuckles, "Oh, just... an opportunist, surely, Bear?"

Peony beams at Slate and kisses him shamelessly for a moment, wriggling around enough to grin at Thea. As always, she seems to enjoy being carried by Slate, "I don't know if I have any in the fridge, but I promise you some tomorrow if I don't."

Shateishael kisses Peony with every evidence of enjoyment, the adrenaline still surging somewhat through him. Thea clops alongside them, grinning with quiet happiness as she watches them... and giving Slate a gentle nudge when he seems likely to stray off the road due to being absorbed in the kiss! He sighs contentedly a moment later, then grins ruefully at Thea, "'Fraid wuzn' much of a fight, though. Not sure he's had any trainin' 'tall, y'know?" Thea snorts amusedly, shaking her head so her mane flips back and forth, "Terrible technique! He smelled enraged to me, though."

Peony plays with Slate's hair and chuckles, "He's not a fighter. He's used to intimidating people into backing down."

Shateishael huhs thoughtfully, "Weird. Y'd think he'd wanna make sure he's got sumpin' t'back 'is threats up with, y'know?"

Peony sighs and snuggles as close as she can, "Normally he does, but I think Thea was right. He was just over-the-edge angry. Not thinking right."

Once back at the house Peony hunts through the kitchen and gives Thea some apples and the last couple of her organic carrots. She also apologizes for not having more equine-friendly accommodations. Slate calls Rosie and Bella to let them know he'll be here overnight and to fairly bubble at them that he got to slap the arrogant Gaelach. Despite Slate's offer to let her Sing herself back home, Thea says she will stay around for the night and assures Peony that it isn't the first night she's spent in the open -- she actually prefers that, in fact.

Once Thea seems settled and Slate has assured his lovers he's OK, Peony drags him upstairs by the belt loops of his jeans. The lovers spend quite a long time working off the adrenaline rush, and Slate ends up with a perfect imprint of Peony's teeth on his shoulder from the little Ethereal trying to muffle a particularly loud squeal. As the moon is passing zenith, the Seraph and the leprechaun finally nestle down under Peony's well-loved quilt to sleep.

Shateishael awakens slightly before dawn, and carefully slides out from under the quilt so as to not bother Peony. He pads downstairs and outside, standing tall and silent in the pre-dawn darkness as he faces the direction of sunrise. Somewhere close by he can half-hear, half-sense Thea's presence... then he sighs in quiet thanksgiving as he feels the little Singing tingle inside himself which denotes the sun has once again risen. He raises his arms to her, and in honor of whose home he's at, he Sings cheerfully, "Hail to thee, Sunna, Bright-Faced Lady, oh Glory-of-Elves!" He chuckles then at Thea's joyous, bugling neigh of greeting to the new-risen sun, and waves to her as she thunders swiftly by in an abbreviated morning gallop, tossing her tail excitedly. He watches her, still smiling until she disappears from his sight, then turns and walks back into the house, wiping the dawn dew off his feet.

Shateishael wanders thoughtfully into the living room, where his clothes have been carelessly tossed in last night's passion. He stands, staring down at his jeans as he thinks for a moment... then he stoops and pulls them on, then pulls his cell phone and dials in a number. As he's waiting for it to ring through, he wanders into the kitchen, looking around to see if there's anything simple enough he can make that he won't cause a disaster. He doesn't expect Soma to answer any time soon, after all. In the refrigerator there are fresh brown eggs and what looks to be about half a package of bacon. If he pokes around the freezer he may also find a ziploc bag full of pre-formed biscuits.

The phone rings upward of ten times before it's answered with a drowsy, "Yes?" Like many of the Ethereals Slate has communicated with via phone, the idea of caller ID still hasn't quite sunk into Soma's consciousness. Shateishael sounds a bit surprised, "Soma? Hey! Slate. Din' 'xpect ya t'answer; sorry. Um... gotta moment?"

Shateishael grins ruefully at the contents of the refrigerator as he's talking. While he'd be happy to experiment and see if he could come up with something vaguely edible, he's keenly aware of the strict instructions he has from Rosie -- and Bella now too, now she's seen him try things in the kitchen -- to not touch anything that requires preparation or cooking! With that in mind, Slate's not sure he wants to greet Peony in the morning with a kitchen that looks like it's been hit by a food hurricane... or whatever it was that Rosie exclaimed last time Slate tried cooking... Slate hastily shuts the refrigerator door. No, definitely don't want Peony that peeved at him! Then he pauses, carefully opening the door to peek into the fridge again. Orange juice is usually safe...?

There's also some fruit around the kitchen and a carton of not orange but grape juice in the fridge. A little more examination yields a carton of soy milk, and there are little canisters full of granola type cereals. Shateishael hms... milk and cereal, and some juice. That should surely be safe to bring to Peony? He considers a moment, trying to remember what he's seen Rosie do... that's right, collect all the tools together first. He starts absently looking around for a tray or something, as he rumbles, "Soma? Still there, dude?"

Soma's voice is a little muzzy and there's rustling as he says something completely incomprehensible before yawning and saying, "Yes, yes, Slate, my friend, I apologize. It was quite late before I sought my bed last night... is something wrong?"

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Well, I don' think so, but figger'd 't be p'lite t'warn ya 'head a' time I smacked Gaelach las' night, 'n he may be bit peeved 'bout it?" There are bowls and glasses aplenty, though most of them are mismatched in the way of someone that has been acquiring dishes for a long time. There is also a sturdy wooden tray with legs stashed atop the refrigerator.

There is a moment's silence and then another round of rustling. The next time Soma speaks it is perfectly clear, "Could... could you repeat that, please?" He doesn't sound displeased, just curious.

Shateishael looks pleased at finding the tray. He sets it on the table, then puts a few bowls on it. What next... spoon? He starts opening drawers and cupboards randomly, figuring he'll find things eventually, and replies cheerfully, "Sure! Las' night Gaelach got fresh wi'Peony once too of'n, 'n I tole him t'cut it out, 'n he claimed I wouldn' allus be under th'leprechaun's roof, so I threw him outside, 'n went out after 'im." He brightens -- is that a cup? That should do -- then continues, "So tha's when I foun' out y'gotta be 'ntirely offa a fae's territory if'n y'gonna do glamour stuff, so I tole him I'd meet him onna road outside Peony's place."

Shateishael says, "'N then I pushed down a tree so's he couldn't jus' race on by, cuz I wuz bit peeved m'self by then, sorry... 'n wuz in Stone form when he got there, 'n he wuz bit peeved too, so he turned inta this kinda, um..." Slate finds a handful of spoons in a drawer, and picks a nice big one for Peony, then goes back to talking, "uh... kinda dog 'r bear thingie, y'know? 'N then he tried bitin' me, but don' think he realized I wuz Stone, so I started chokin' 'im 'n tole him I'd quit if'n he'd leave alla m'lovers 'lone."

There's another long moment of silence and Soma says slowly, "My cousin came to Peony's house, which is where you're at? And then you... slapped... him..." There's a pause as the fae king thinks this over, but there's some amusement in his voice as he speaks again, "He took some sort of animal form to attack you, but you were in a rock form and..." Again a pause, and then he asks -- because at least part of this is completely new context for him, "You are lovers with Peony?"

Shateishael glances around the kitchen... will she need a knife or fork for the fruit? Hm... can't hurt to be prepared -- he lays down one each of those two, then goes back to the fridge and takes out the soy milk. He wanders a bit distractedly around the kitchen, trying to remember all the pieces he wanted for Peony as he talks to Soma, "Yeah, am now. Oh, yeah, 'n I tole him 'nitially I'd break his arms if'n I heard he'd been botherin' Peony 'gain, but that wuz b'fore... anyways, so he said yeah he'd leave m'harem 'lone-" he chuckles at that, "-silly man... 'n whut else... think that wuz 'bout it, really... oh!" Slate stops, his voice getting hard, "Whut started alla this, Soma, is he used Peony's True Name in fronta me... wi'out askin' her first. He's bein' a dumb shit 'bout stuff like that, 'n I wanna know 'way t'be sure he knows there's consequences both f'doin' that, an' f'breakin' his promise t'me."

There's another moment of quiet. The fae lord is apparently not a morning person, or at least is not good at taking in a lot of information just after waking up, "Slate, my Friend, if Gaelach forswears himself on this, I give you my word that there will be consequences."

Shateishael pauses, studying the mismatched collection of things he has on the kitchen table, trying to remember why he put some of them there... then he shakes his head amusedly at himself -- he'll have to concentrate on the hearth stuff in a minute, after he's finished talking! Where was he with Soma... "Oh! Tha's th' word: bond-mate. We're bond-mates. That right?"

Eventually Soma speaks again. There's a lot of information thrown at him and the expression on his face is one of almost impressed amusement, stunned silence reigning for a moment. The sidhe's voice is careful, "Peony said something about bond-mates to you?"

Shateishael says, "Yep." He adds a bit cautiously, "Um... if'n I'm r'memb'rin' c'rrectly, she said we wuz bond-mates... did I use th' phrase wrong 'r sumpin'?" He adds a touch apologetically, "Still learnin' th' ins 'n outs a' 'thereal protocols, sorry."

The sound of Soma shifting around comes through again and the phone is a little muffled as if he's holding it between his chin and shoulder as he speaks, "You and Peony are lovers and bond-mates?" There's something that's almost envy in his voice for a moment, "And Gaelach insulted her, so you challenged him and the two of you had what sounds like a fairly one-sided duel and he promised that he would leave your... harem... alone." He says the word harem with a heavy dose of amusement. He is speaking very slowly, in the way that Slate has seen when the fae lord is having to be careful to speak strict truth.

Shateishael nods, relieved Soma's not upset, "Yeah, tha's it, Summer Lord." He adds, just to be sure, "Bond-mates is when y'r in love 'n that sharin' thin' happens, right?"

There's the sound of a pen or pencil scratching on paper, "As I said before, Slate, if Gaelach makes himself forsworn, he will pay for it." There's a moment, "Yes, that's exactly what it is." Soma's voice is soft and serious, "Though often we just say lovers."

Shateishael nods, "'Kay. I think she wuz tryin' t'underscore th' r'lationship t'him, ac'shly." He pauses, then adds a bit diffidently, "He seems... t'feel angels're bad news... if'n y'don' min' me 'xaggeratin' f'effect there."

Soma sighs and shifts, apparently holding the phone in his hand again, "Yes, he can be somewhat distrustful. But one's inner reality shapes ones opinions."

Shateishael adds a bit irritatedly, "But t'other thin' worryin' me is if'n he's usin' folks' True Names t'intimidate 'em." He pauses, then blurts out what he's thinking, "Soma, dude! Why'd y'pick such a -- such a-" he shifts into another language, lacking the ability to express his absolute contempt in English, then returns to that language, "-as y'r heir?!"

Soma sighs explosively, "I didn't choose him, Slate. He happens to be related to me and he happens to be the next most magically powerful of the fae. It's how things have traditionally passed on."

Shateishael growls a touch frustratedly, then mutters, "Well, y'been breakin' wi' tradition b'fore, right? Why cain'tcha do it 'gain, f'th' sake a' y'people? Y'do know he c'nsiders th'Court his, 'n you a wanna-be?" He adds again, "'N how'd Malphas know t'contact you, dude?" Then he sighs, rubbing his forehead, and rumbles, "'M sorry, guy... jus'... he really rubs me th'wrong way, y'know? Don' know anyone 'sides demons 'r him, c'n offer 'pology wi'one hand, 'n stab ya inna back wi'th'other, at th' same time like that!"

Soma sighs again, "It's been a slow process, Slate, the breaking of traditions. The oaths were given before I began my campaign to set things right in earnest. I wished... I wished to ensure their co-operation with something that I knew many would be resistant to. Gaelach was there because tradition demanded it. If something happens to me, the oaths break. They are to me alone. Gaelach might find that he would have a harder time than he imagines bringing such a diverse body of beings under his thumb after they've tasted freedom." His voice continues to be very serious, "He has used such tactics before, but his blatancy has been increasing. This is the second time in as many years that I know he has revealed someone's Name without their leave. As for Malphas... I wish I had an answer, Friend."

Shateishael is silent a moment... then he rumbles quietly, "Soma, he knows folks True Names... 'n if'n he's as ruthless as I'm thinkin', that 'n so-called help from demons is 'nuff t'make sure th' 'thereals die out, if'n sumpin' happens t'ya." He's silent another long moment, thinking... then slowly says, "'M bettin' there're others y'jus' don' know 'bout, far's him abusin' folks' True Names. So... soun's like whutcha need is an outside lever 'gainst him, yeah? So... why not bind him so's he cain't use a True Name 'less it's 'n 'mergency?"

There's silence for long moments again and there's real pain in Soma's voice as he says, "What you suggest may be the best course of action. It is difficult to stop holding out hope that one's family will grow out of youthful rebellion."

Shateishael snorts in spite of himself, then rumbles, "Soma, how ol' 'r you? 'N he ain't much younger, right? This ain't youthful r'bellion. This's someone workin' t'wards a coup d'etat. Frankly, 'm s'prised y'don' have th' 'quivalent a' a poison pill in place 'gainst him." He's silent a moment, then asks curiously, "Do ya?"

Soma's voice is very soft, "Yes, though it's not a pill but a person." He sighs again and his voice sounds as if he's yawning, "Just because I wish fervently for him to learn to be a good person, doesn't mean I am completely blind to his ambitions of place."

Shateishael nods, then remembers Soma can't see him, and rumbles, "Glad t'hear it. Wuz thinkin' a' askin' y'f'r his True Name if not. Figger'd I'd be willin' t'give ya mine, if'n my knowin' his'd keep 'im from splashin' other folks' True Names 'roun' wi'out care." He sighs, shaking his head, "He's so... human, th'way he b'haves!"

Soma actually laughs quietly, "There is nothing so distasteful to us as the things we hate within ourselves." He chuckles for a moment and then says, "If I could give it to you without forswearing myself, I gladly would. But I cannot treat him as lightly as he treats others without lowering myself to his level. Were I to slip that far, I would deserve to lose my place."

Shateishael sighs, "'Kay. Figger'd as much, but hadta ask..." his voice gets rueful, "'n 'm doubtin' anyone'll slip wi' his Name, 'roun' me, more's th'pity." He's silent a moment... then grins relaxedly, "Well... jus' wan'ed t'letcha know whut wuz up 'head a' time. Oh, yeah... also, talked t'Bacchus t'other day 'bout y'all's folk 'n th' C'lestials, 'n asked 'im sumpin' he said he'd hafta ask you 'bout. He mentioned yet m' question 'bout whether it's 'kay f'us t' work on strengthenin' th' 'thereal community regardless? 'N he said he had buncha questions f'us, but needed t' sort 'em out first. Y'got any y'self too?"

Soma is quiet as Slate speaks, then says carefully again, "Bacchus let me know about the conversation. He and I have been discussing a few things. Next time I see you we will talk about this."

Shateishael says, "'Kay." He pauses a moment, then rumbles, "Um... y'soundin' bit wary. We do sumpin' we weren't s'pposta, 'r cause trouble 'r sumpin'? "

Soma shakes his head and then realizes it's not visible, "No, Slate. This is just new to us."

Shateishael says, "Ah, gotcha. Well, if'n we're trompin' where we should'n', let us know, please? Don' wanna be 'bother t'y'all, y'know?" He grins, "An' on that note I'll get offa y'r phone 'n letcha sleep 'gain, 'kay? Sorry 'bout callin' s'early."

Soma's voice sounds as if he's smiling, "You've been no bother, Slate... when next you see Rosenstern, give him my... regards, please."

Shateishael smiles, "Be happy to, man. Stay strong." He hangs up, then rests his fists on his hips, studying the table. He knows he wanted to bring breakfast to Peony... but he can't recall why precisely he's laid out all the things he's got set out. The soy milk he remembers -- that would go with cereal, if he'd put that out... but the bacon? Why's that out? And the utensils don't quite seem right to him... now he's thinking about it, he's not sure why Peony would have a spoon that big -- would it even fit in her mouth? He sighs gustily, wishing vaguely Rosie was here to help, then looks towards the stairs. Is it cheating on bringing breakfast to someone, if you get them to help make it?

As Slate looks toward the stairs, a bare of bare feet appear at the top of them, accompanied by the cats. Peony's voice is sleepy and not quite clear, but she's apparently talking to the kitties as she makes her way down the stairs. Each step reveals a little more bare leg and then it's bare hip. She's apparently not bothered with clothes yet. Shateishael's brooding glare at the table lightens as he's distracted by watching Peony come downstairs. He's smiling as she emerges, his eyes bright with happiness, "Hey, beautiful. Hope I din' wake ya?"

Peony raises her voice enough to be heard, "No, the monsters woke me." She ambles into the kitchen and straight over to Slate, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his body. She looks like she's not even fully awake. Shateishael's face is almost alight with happiness as he looks down at his tiny, precious little lover hugging him. His arms come around her slowly, almost reverently -- he'd wrap her up in warmth and love and beauty, if he knew how. He stands for as long as Peony wants, holding her close and gently stroking her hair, marveling at the way the sunlight glows on her pale skin and her shining hair.

She snuggles there for several long moments before the head-butting and insistent mewing make her pull away with a drowsy chuckle, "Damn. Calm down. You're not going to starve while I say good morning." Despite her playful chiding, she does move over to a pair of food bowls. She changes out water in the water dishes and pours kibble into each food bowl. Athena and Atlas nearly knock one another over trying to get to the food, leaving Peony to pad back over and wrap herself around Slate again.

Shateishael grins, watching. By the time she returns he's settled into a chair by the kitchen table, but he's quite happy to open his arms and offer her a hug in his lap. He murmurs quietly to her, "Y'get 'nuff sleep, lover?"

Peony rubs her nose against Slate's neck and snuggles into his lap with a comfortable little sigh, "Mmmm... almost. Those two seem to know right when I'm mid-dream."

Shateishael chuckles, "Well, hope it wuz nice dream then." He continues to hold her warmly close, resting his cheek lightly against the top of her head, and letting the fingers of his free hand trail almost dreamily through her hair. After a pleasantly distracting time he murmurs contentedly, "Soma says if'n Gaelach forswears hisself, he'll make sure there're repercussions, sweetheart. So hopefully this means no more unwanted visits f'ya. 'S good?"

Peony goes very still as Slate talks about speaking with Soma, but once she hears him all the way through, she goes almost limp in his arms. That lasts only a moment before she wraps her arms almost chokingly tight around his neck, hugging him wordlessly. Shateishael blinks a bit startledly, then chuckles and hugs Peony close again. His voice is a quiet, calm, reassuring murmur, like he might croon to a frightened wild thing, "'S okay, b'loved... tol' ya y'd be safe... s'okay now..."

Peony just nods and continues hugging Slate, though her death-grip does loosen slightly. When she finally speaks, there's some wry amusement there, "It's likely not very enlightened of me to be glad that you did that for me. But he apparently didn't understand properly when I told him no."

Shateishael smiles quietly and rumbles, "Sweetheart, where I come from, warriors're there t'pr'tect their hearthfolk, 'n th'hearthfolk take care a' th'warriors they wanna hang 'roun' with. So if'n I butted in on y'r p'rogatives, I 'pologize f'that... but if'n y'wan' me t' not do stuff like this f'ya, y'gotta tell me, please? Cuz otherwise, I see jerks like 'im pesterin' ya, 'n it's clear y'don' want 'em 'roun', gonna wanna c'mon over 'n shoo 'em off, y'know?"

Peony raises her head and smiles slightly at Slate, "I'll make you a deal. I'll try to take care of it myself, and if that doesn't work, you can come growl at them." She kisses each of his cheeks and then his lips, "Will that work?"

Shateishael chuckles at the comment about growling, then falls silent, his eyes going half closed with pleasure at the brush of her lips against his face. He returns her kiss with languid enjoyment, then sighs softly, still smiling as he replies, "Works f'me, luachmhor... wanna do whut makes y' happy."

Peony smiles and leans her head against Slate's shoulder. "You make me happy just being you," she murmurs quite sincerely. Her eyes move around the kitchen and she blinks slowly, trying to piece together just what Slate has been trying to do down here. Shateishael rumbles contentedly at her words, quite happy to just sit and hold her close for as long as she'd like. He doesn't catch that she's looking around -- he's distracted by the way the early morning sunlight is sparkling across the kitchen and her lithe form. After a moment she giggles and asks carefully, "Slate, were you trying to make breakfast?"

Shateishael blinks lazily, distracted from his meditation on shining dust motes and bars of sunlight -- then flushes suddenly, "Uh..." A bit sheepishly he amends, "...kinda? Got... bit distracted, talkin' t'Soma." Hastily he adds, "Din' burst nuthin', though!"

Giggling again, Peony wriggles out of Slate's lap and starts moving things around, tucking the soy milk back into the refrigerator and putting away the cereal. The fruit and bacon she leaves out, and she grabs several eggs from the fridge, "No, you didn't break anything, but I think maybe I ought to do this."

Shateishael rubs the back of his head and mumbles embarrassedly, "Um... sorry, sweetheart. I c'd mebbe... set th'table 'r sumpin' if'n y'wan'ed?"

Peony gives Slate a look. "You are a guest in my house. You're going to sit right there and I'm going to make you breakfast." She shuffles through some canisters until she finds one that seems to contain what she wants, "Coffee or tea?" She asks as if those are the only two possible answers to what someone would want first thing in the morning to drink.

Shateishael raises an eyebrow and grins at Peony's fierceness, murmuring, "Yes'm!" He settles back in the chair again, happy to just watch her move comfortably and surely around her kitchen. At the request he cheerfully replies, "Coffee -- black, please!" Then he muses aloud, "So, wuz figg'rin' on choppin' up th'tree f'ya t'day. Y'got th'right kinda tools f'that, 'r sh'd I bring 'em from th'ranch?" He's silent a moment, then adds slowly, "Peony, sweetheart... were y'okay wi'whut I did las' night?"

Peony starts coffee brewing and then puts what looks to be a well-loved cast iron skillet on the stove to start heating. She smiles lopsidedly, "I keep saying this, but I try to be a good modern girl and I like taking care of myself, but the look on that little asshole's face when you slapped him... it may be the funniest thing I've seen in the last two centuries." Belatedly she says, "One of the sheds has an axe and such in it. I don't use it myself, but if I'm going to hire people to chop my wood for me in the winter, it's nice to have the tools. I think there might even be a chainsaw out there that Ajax left."

Shateishael smiles, although it's still a bit tight at the edges. He wonders if he should ask again, or if this is her trying to carefully tell him no... then decides to simply be silent and let her answer in her own time. A bit confusedly he wonders what a 'good modern girl' is... from what he's been able to piece together, it means having no sex until you're married, after you've had your career... but he's pretty sure that can't be what Peony means in this case. Not for the first time he sighs quietly, internally, and wishes people made more sense! He nods slowly, "'Kay, I'll go take a look inna bit."

While the skillet heats, Peony resumes her seat in Slate's lap. One day she may get tired of sitting on him, but it doesn't seem like that's going to be any time soon, "No, I didn't mind. Thank you."

Shateishael sighs a bit gustily in relief, "'Kay. Thanks, sweetheart! Wuz startin' t'worry 'bit, cuz really din' wanna upsetcha." He's silent a moment, just hugging her, then bemusedly rumbles, "'Kay, s'what 'zactly is a good modern girl, please? Surely y'don' mean someone 'at's not havin' sex till they finished their career 'n 're married, right?"

Peony blinks and then bursts into laughter, hiding her face against Slate's shoulder, "Oh... oh dear. No! I meant I try to be independent and take care of myself instead of leaving it all up to my lover!"

Shateishael looks puzzled, "Butcha don', sweetheart. Din' y'jus' say y'hired folks t' chop wood f'th'winter f'ya? 'N y'got folks 'at he'p ya wi'th'stained glass too, 'n I sure's hell don' try cookin' n'more! -'spe'shly after Rosie tole me in no uncertain terms not t'mess wi'his kitchen 'gain." He pauses, his expression rueful, then adds bemusedly, "Looks t'me like y'have specialists f'th'stuff y'don' know how t'do, 'r thatcha don' wanna do. That not modern 'nuff n'more?"

Peony snorts, "That's different. That's hiring people to take care of... it's not the same as letting someone stand up for me."

Shateishael ponders for a moment, idly stroking Peony's back, then rumbles, "So... cuz Rosie cooks f'me, ain't modern 'nuff?"

Peony eyes Slate, "OK, maybe the word I'm looking for is feminist. You know, girls can do anything boys can do?"

Shateishael nods amiably, "Sure, never had problem wi'that. Um... whut'sat gotta do wi'what we're talkin' 'bout, though, please?"

The leprechaun laughs and wriggles out of Slate's lap, taking the bacon with her and putting several slices into the pre-heated skillet, "It has to do with me letting my big, male lover slap the hell out of the annoying jackass instead of smacking him myself."

Shateishael looks a bit bemused, "Um... wait. So... this mean Rosie's a feminist 'n I ain't?"

Peony looks completely perplexed for a moment, "What?"

Shateishael says, "Well, if'n y'r a fem'nist cuz y'do stuff y'self, 'n I ain't f'slappin' Gaelach... then that mean Rosie's a fem'nist f'cookin', 'n I ain't cuz I don' cook f'm'self?"

The leprechaun stands there nude, with a spatula in her hand, and blinks at Slate, "That's... not quite how it works. Feminism has more to do with the idea that women are strong and capable in their own right. That they can do anything men can do. They can defend themselves and live as people in their own right."

Shateishael looks at Peony as if she's announced that women breath too, "Um... yeah? So... whut'sa problem?" He adds curiously, "If'n y'wan'ed t'slap Gaelach s'bad, why din' ya jus' do it?"

Peony looks abashed and drops her head, seeming embarrassed to admit, "Because I was a little afraid that if I escalated it to violence, he'd follow along and I'd either end up beaten badly or... I don't know... just I didn't want to open that door."

Shateishael looks even more confusedly at Peony, "So... y'did sumpin' smart, 'n then y'got someone t'do th'part y'couldn' do y'self. Um... 'm real sorry, lover, 'n I don' wanna be stupid, but... um..." he's clearly struggling mentally as he rumbles, "I... don' get it?"

Peony chuckles and shakes her head, "I just... I feel like I should be able to fend off assholes on my own. I feel sort of like I used you. Like I fell back into the old days when what a woman had to offer was sex and cooking and that was it."

Shateishael blinks in astonishment at Peony -- then tosses his head back and bursts out laughing! It takes him a moment to pull himself together, and he has to wipe his eyes, still chuckling, as he rumbles, "Oh, lordy, sorry 'bout that... wuz jus' thinkin' how much pain I'd be in if'n I tried that crack on some a'th' women I've known!" He grins, "'Kay, now I wanna know... whut 'ole days' y'talkin' 'bout? This a white man's thin' 'r sumpin'?"

Peony manages to get the bacon out of the pan and onto some paper towels. She doesn't crack the eggs in yet, though, leaving the pan on the stove as she walks over and wraps her arms around Slate. "Yes, my Viking, it's a white man thing," she says with a note of amusement in her voice, "I lived through Victoria and Edward."

Shateishael hugs Peony, rumbling cheerfully, "Ew. Poncey sorts, from whut I heard." He grins, nuzzling her gently, "Wanna just 'ssume I get it, then, sweetheart, 'n not worry 'bout usin' me?" Then he adds a bit bemusedly, "'N whut's wrong wi' sex 'n cookin'?" He sounds rather happy as he adds, "Rosie's real good at both 'a them!"

Peony perches on Slate's knee and smiles lopsidedly, "Did I mention that I spent the seventies in college?" She says as if this is significant to her line of argument, "And yes, they were extremely... strait-laced."

Shateishael is still grinning mischievously as he rests a supporting hand on the small of her back... but he suddenly picks up on the fact that Peony's not happy, and falls quiet, watching her carefully. He replies, "Um... no, don' think y'said that b'fore?"

Peony smiles widely to let Slate know she's not mad or anything, "I think I'm still processing through some social ideas from that time. So forgive me for being self-conscious about letting you slap Gaelach for me." She snuggles in for just a moment because she doesn't want the pan to burn, "And there's nothing wrong with cooking and sex, as long as it's what you choose to do and not what you're expected to do because of what wedding tackle you possess."

Shateishael blinks, then rumbles slowly, "Um... you... tellin' me y'wanna get married?!"

Peony is surprised into a laugh, "Oh, Jesus! Hon, you and I are about as married as I ever plan to be to anyone already. No, wedding tackle, it's... it's a euphemism."

"Oh!" Shateishael sounds relived, then adds a bit apologetically, "I, uh... in th' 70's I wuz either in 'Nam, 'r gettin' th'ranch set up. Din' spend lotta time 'roun' normal mortals, 'm 'fraid."

Peony smiles again and slides out of Slate's lap to start making eggs, "You want these scrambled or scrambled?" she asks, as she cracks some eggs into the skillet and stirs them around vigorously with her spatula. "If you were in Viet Nam you probably missed a lot of the militant feminist movement because you were busy trying not to get blown up." She grins brightly, "I already agreed with a lot of it, but some of it still confuses me. Like, please tell me what's wrong with enjoying sex with a male? Just because I want to have my own house and my own business doesn't mean I think men are inherently evil or nasty or something."

Shateishael thinks a bit, trying hard to keep up with Peony, then rumbles carefully, "Um... dunno? I like sex wi'th' li'l Rosebud 'n awful lot, m'self?" He adds with a slightly tentative grin, "Scrambled, please?"

Peony snorts again, giggling, "I am making a mess of this, aren't I?" She thinks for a moment while she's making sure the eggs don't burn, then says, "Does it make sense if I say that I'm sort of tripping over my pride here?"

Shateishael falls silent, thinking hard... then finally he rumbles, "Sweetheart, if'n y'wan', I... I'll go tell Gaelach he c'n come 'roun' 'gain... if that's whutcha want?"

Peony laughs and dishes the eggs up onto a pair of mismatched plates. She looks around for bread and finds none, so just adds the bacon and a sliced apple to each plate. After pouring Slate his cup of coffee, she sets things down on the table and actually sits in another chair so Slate doesn't have to navigate around her body to eat, "Don't you dare! No, I'm glad he's gone. I'm relieved you did what you did. About ninety-five percent of me is, anyway. Part of me is squirming a little that someone else had to do it for me."

Shateishael happily eats, enjoying the food his lover's prepared for him... he pauses, chewing thoughtfully, then swallows and rumbles, "...sorry? Y'min' my not bein' squirmy 'bout needin' someone else t'cook f'me?"

Peony laughs, "No, I don't mind. See, this is why I keep saying that I'm not very good at this modern woman thing. Because sure, women are people in their own right, but not even all women can cook. So why howl about men not cooking being chauvinist pigs?"

Shateishael blinks, looking a bit surprised, "Wait, I'm a whut?!"

Peony points her fork at Slate, giving him a look, "You're a big sweetheart. I don't care that you can't cook. Gloria Steinem forgive me, but I think it's kind of cute. I keep telling you, I'm not a very good feminist."

Shateishael looks a bit concerned, "Um... it count f'anythin' that I worked real hard at bein' a good warrior 'n smith? 'N still do?"

Peony smiles quietly, "It does to me. You are exactly what you were meant to be, or that's what it seems like from here. You're a Warrior, carraig, and you do that wonderfully. Leave the cooking to people who enjoy it."

Shateishael looks relieved, and smiles, "'Kay. So... this mean y'not gonna worry n'more 'bout me bein' y'r warrior, when y'needed one?"

Peony smiles lovingly at Slate, "It means that I will sincerely try not to beat myself up over it."

Shateishael grins, reaching out to lay one large hand palm up on the table in invitation to her, "'Kay... 'n I'll do m'best not t'beat m'self up 'bout not bein' any good at cookin', yeah?"

Peony laughs and lays her hand in Slate's, grinning, "It's a deal." She motions at his plate with her fork, "Finish your breakfast."

Shateishael grins, his eyes dancing with mischief as he lifts her hand enough to kiss her fingertips lightly, then rumbles, "Yes'm!"

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Last modified: 2006-Aug-27 20:09:50

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