#taedryn

Taedryn straightens slowly, flame swirling over his knuckles and up his arm as his shoulders angle threateningly to face his father.

"Tae, calm the fuck down," Desolae says bluntly, heat replaced by exhaustion as she keeps the little redheaded girl half-hidden behind her. "And Xynrael, please, we've ended up with a new source of smartassery in our lives and don't need a surplus supply from anyone else for the time being."

"Hey!" the girl pipes up indignantly.

"Are we not bothering with a no-cursing rule?" Taedryn says wearily, because it's not really a question.

Desolae pats him on the cheek. "You can try if you like."

Xorel'yn brushes a microscopic fleck of blood off her shimmery robe. "We blatantly violated my sister's need to settle her own scores in the interest of keeping her safe - an entirely selfish interest. In short, we committed torture and then murder. I suggest you let the city buzz settle today and then head home tomorrow." For all her professionalism, the warlock looks drained both magically and emotionally. The interrogation and what it yielded has its price.

Desolae looks at him incredulously. "Oh yeah? You want me to believe that Smudge did this?"

"No! Smudge is nice, no, it was the little red demon!" Taedryn points at where the hatchling had been a second previously, but of course when Desolae turns to look, the magi is pointing at nothing more but an empty spot on the hardwood flooring.

Desolae turns back to glare at Taedryn menacingly. "Shale spiders do not eat our food, Duskryder," and when she closes her hands into fists, all her knuckles crack very alarmingly.

"I told you not to eat the soup. And what did you do? You ate the soup. You had two bowls."

"It was good at the time," Taedryn groans, curling up into a pathetic ball on the bathroom floor. "I'm -dying-. Put me out of my misery. Your sister hates me so much she poisoned me!"

"Naw," Desolae drawls, and holds out the makeshift firebomb out to Taedryn for a light that he very casually provides. "Ain't nobody got time for that shit." 

There are reasons that Desolae and Taedryn don't spend an undue amount of time at the estate or boathouse, and unfortunately, this is one of hers.

"How long're you two gon-- fuck." Mel freezes with his hand still on the doorknob and his shoulder pushing the door open.

"We aren't!" Is Taedryn's instant response as he lunges for the corner of the bedsheet to cover himself, gaze flicking to Desolae to check if she's managed to get more dressed than he has, and tossing her the blanket off the foot of the bed when she obviously hasn't.

She has to drop a roll of binding bandages to grab the folded fleece, and it doesn't really hit Taedryn what that means at first. Desolae wraps the blanket around her mark and bolts forward suddenly, hurdling over the bed to grab her knives from the pile on the bedside table, and he still doesn't get it until Mel breaks from stillness to charge the rest of the way through the door and draws both axes.

"No, I'mmmhmmph!" Desolae finds herself unable to finish her protest when Taedryn gently cups the back of her head and pulls her into a kiss. She gives him a moderate glare but subsides in favor of kissing back.

"...yes, you are," he pulls back just enough to murmur against her lips.

"That's YOUR opinioommmph," she attempts a second time, only to be foiled the same way. This time she socks him in the gut as punishment.

Taedryn breaks away with an oomph of his own, smirking faintly as he determinedly recovers his breath, watching the woman in his lap cross her arms with a scowl. "Even when you make that face."

"There's something wrong with your head!" Desolae barks at him, refusing to stop for the kiss this time and in fact biting the magi's tongue when he tries it.

Taedryn reels back with an indignant sound. "Admittedly, you're right, but that doesn't interfere with my ability to realize you're beautimmmph..."