Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

Originally published at Sythyry. Please leave any comments there.

Casa Belweldie, part 1 [26 Thory 4261]

Hispis:“Ysgwyd! Apologize to Lord Sythyry at

She used a title which I suppose I’m entitled to, as
Hezimikkinen’s half-sib, but one which really suggests that
I’m trying to be a major political force in Vheshrame, which
I am most certainly not. It’s the sort of title that one
might have if one were trying to emphasize that one would
make an excellent lord-minister of something or other.

Ysgwyd:“Mother dear, I do believe you’re
getting the etiquette a bit backwards. Ordinarily
it’s the adulterer who ought to apologize to the
wronged wife.”

Hispis:“Wronged? Wronged? How can you say
‘wronged’, after all you’ve done to him!”

Ysgwyd:“I’ve done him just exactly as much as
he’s wanted me to do him.”

The two of them went at it like Sangaar and Vestrixuu. [An
invulnerable golem and an endlessly-regenerating
three-headed turtle-dragon stuck in a pocket universe at the
end of a somewhat obscure but importantly classic adventure
story based very loosely on something real. -bb] I excused
myself on the basis of a certain personal urgency — I had,
after all, been drinking tea for the last hour and more –
and took rather longer than strictly necessary.

When I finally decided that I couldn’t responsibly stay any
longer without claiming illness … and had pretty much
decided to claim illness … I heard Ilottat’s voice from
outside. So, I coolly and collectedly snarked forth from
the lavatory and leapt upon him and embraced him in arms and
legs and wings and tail and neck.

He fainted from embarrassment.

Hispis and Thaura called the servants over — by the wrong
names — and got brandy for Lord Ilottat. I don’t think
he’s generally called “Lord” either.

He was brandied back to consciousness — which is not
how brandy usually works — and apologized a great deal for
being late. He had, evidently, taken a wrong turn, and
wound up walking a great distance expecting to see the
Slorennly Tower any minute, and, when he realized his error,
went into a wild rush and slipped into a trench and ruined
his clothes and had to zoom back home to change. We all
forgave him.

Ysgwyd:“Hi there, huzzy-bump. Sounds like
you’ve been keeping your bed warm your favorite way!”

Ilottat:“Noswaith da, good evening, my honored

Ysgwyd:“And my mothers tugged me back home to
meet zir. So, hi there, Sythyry. Is Ilottat a good lover?
I wouldn’t know.”

Me:“Hello, Ysgwyd … well … I … “

Ysgwyd:“Oh, don’t fuss yourself about it. I
don’t really care — he’s certainly not my

Ilottat:“I am desolée, sorry, to
displease you, my lady wife.”

Ysgwyd:“No, you’re not, and I’m not day-so-lay
that I displease you either, but that’s OK, I can get night-so-laid by someone I
do like, and besides you’re pretty sweet for an
Orren. Don’t you agree, Sythyry?”

It hardly seemed like the place to disagree. It was even
true. I had, perhaps, been a bit upset before he got there,
but now that he was all there and safe and everything … I
think I said something intelligible.

Ysgwyd:“So, is a real one better than a hooker
with a shifty-spell?”

Ilottat:“My lady wife, I do beg of you
parler, to speak of more polite things.”

Ysgwyd:“In my own home? To my own mother and
stepmother? After what they did to my father, to say
nothing of you and me? If they can’t take the truth about
us by now, then fuck ‘em. Except, well, I guess
that’s Sythyry’s job. Zie’s the only one of us who actually
likes fucking Orren.”

The Belweldies were utterly aghast. For that matter, so
were Ilottat and I.

Then a breathy voice from nowhere said, “I like … an Orren
… too.” The speaker dropped his Veil, and then the
true horror of the evening began.

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