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Ciragale has always been an early riser. Fast asleep by the time Maltavro arrived home late, she wakes well before him just before the sun casts its fingers over the treetops of the sleepy village. She had already been well underway preparing breakfast when she hears footsteps approaching from behind.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Honey Buns. My you're up unusually early on your own! I usually have to bribe you out of bed with the smell of breakfast first." The slender Fier'Dal woman has thick, wavy black hair that cascades down her back and is dressed in a short white night gown. Her back remains to doorway though as she pours a cup of freshly made tea. She turns around smiling expecting to see her husband behind her. Instead on the other side of the room stood a man, a stranger she had never seen before with no shirt on. She lets out a startled gasp, and her teacup falls from her hand shattering on the floor.

He knows my name, so I must know of him. Her mind races rapidly. Half elf, green eyes--there was only one half elf at that party last night, wasn't there?

"Are you Keats Lovesonnet?" She says hesitantly, hoping desperately that her hunch is proven correct.

She laughs and gets the broom to sweep up the smaller pieces.

"Oh don't say you're sorry. I'm the silly one, reacting like that! You're hardly the first person Tavro's brought home to crash after a party. He normally writes me a note, but you must have had a really good time as he seems to have plumb forgot!"

Ciragale giggles and looks over at the empty table where said note would have been.

"Anyway," She bubbles cheerfully, "Teacups can be replaced. You're our guest so be seated. Breakfast is almost done. Fortunately, I have a bad tendency to cook more than what the two us can eat in one sitting, so there should be enough for all three of us. It is just you and no one else right?"

She gazes down the hallway to spare room.

Oh, Mother Tunare give me the strength to not want to strangle Tavro when I see him next.

"I hope you like omelettes." Ciragale states as she goes back over to the oven to finish her preparations.

Despite her misapprehensions about Keats, Ciragale cannot help but appreciate the half elf's appealing physique.

He certainly has the look of a heart breaker.

She next moves over to the table and begins to set it.

"So how did the party go?" She asks nonchalantly.

She answers chirpily. "Oh no, just make yourself comfortable. I'm going to fetch Tavro to join us. Be right back!"

Leaving the room she enters their bedroom, goes to the side of the bed where Maltavro is still sleeping soundly, and instead of gently waking him like she normally does, she gives him a rough shove against his shoulder.

"Tavro, get up now. Time for breakfast." Her voice is blunt, brimming with irritation.

The bard yawns and rubs at his eyes and turns to his other side facing away from her.

"Just a few more minutes, dearie. I'll be up soon."

"No, you're getting...NOW!" She gives him a harder shove on the shoulder, and her ire finally registers through the man's groggy mind.

"Okay, okay, goodness, what's your deal, Ciragale?"

She grits her teeth. "My deal is that you forgot to leave me a note, so your guest, whom I had never met prior to today, scared the living daylights out of me. Plus my hair was a mess, and I was hardly dressed appropriately!"

The bard looks puzzled for a moment, but then gives his wife an appraising look, realizing she is dressed in a rather short white night gown. Maltavro can't help but laugh. "Oh, I'm sure Keats didn't mind that view!"

Ciragale gasps and snatches up a pillow, whomping him in the head with it. Maltavro continues to laugh and rises to his feet, slipping his arms around his wife.

"Darling, I truly am sorry I forgot to leave you note. I must have had more at the party than I realized. Forgive me? Please?" He smiles adoringly at her, and his baby blue eyes begin to melt away her anger.

She sighs a little, and a smile forms on her lips. "You're forgiven. You bards and your way with words; I can never seem to stay mad at you for too long."

He nods grimly. "Yes, well it's a necessity of survival, or else there would be no bards left in the world--or men for that matter."

Before she can say another word, Maltavro leans in to give her a soft kiss on the lips. A few minutes later Ciragale, now wearing a longer robe over her night gown, and Maltavro enter the kitchen.

"Good morning, Keats!" Maltavro greets him cheerfully. "I hope you slept well?"

"Oh, again don't worry about it. I was the silly one to react in such a way."

Ciragale smiles and feels flattered as the half elf demonstrates such a chivalrous act. She takes his hand and allows him to guide her to the seat and reconsiders her prior opinions about him. Perhaps Maltavro is right, and I was too judgmental when I heard about Keats abandoning his child. I don't know the exact circumstances; maybe they weren't entirely like my father's. I should try and keep a more open mind.

"My, you certainly are well schooled in manners. Maybe you can give my husband some lessons?"

"Bah!" Maltavro grumbles affably. "Look what you've done and gone Keats. I'll have to start opening doors for her too at this rate!" His grins slightly and feels his stomach rumbling, eying the omelette hungrily. Times like these he wishes that he hadn't married such a pious woman who insists on saying grace before every meal.

Ciragale bows her head, closes her eyes and begins.

"Blessed Mother, we thank you for this food today. Without your love and care when you created us, we would not have the skills needed to prepare it, but even worse, we would not be able to savor the delightful flavors and textures. As your children, we start this new day eager to learn whatever it is you may wish to show us today. When we break our fast today, we will consider the plans we have coming up and strive to do our best to conduct ourselves in a way that will make you proud. We also..."

Maltavro moans quietly. Oh Ciragale, why oh why do you have to go on and on like this? Are you trying to show off for Keats? It's supposed to be grace, not a whole freakin' sermon.

"...finally, Blessed Mother, we wish to ask a special blessing for our guest, Keats Lovesonnet, who is here with us today to share our food. Though he follows the lovely Erollisi Marr, he is of course still your child, and we wish the best for him, and that he receives all the good fortune that he is surely due in life. Amen."

Ciragale finally stops, and Maltavro sighs with relief, digging into his omelette and hoping Keats didn't find overly long grace as tedious an ordeal as he did.

Maltavro almost spits out his current bite as he chokes back some laughter.

"She's pretty hot stuff anywhere, I'd say!" Maltavro grins at her, and her cheeks takes on a crimson hue.

"Oh, goodness! You really are something else, Keats." She shakes her head while smiling and takes another bite. "It's so wonderful that you've decided to become a part of this family now. I can remember speaking with Starlet not long after your return. She was just beside herself with joy that she now had a father, bless her sweet little self. Such a beautiful, delightful child you have there. Maltavro would never admit this himself, but I know she is his favorite out of all his other nieces and nephews."

Maltavro looks slightly embarrassed, but does not deny this and takes a sip of tea.

Ciragale notices how uncomfortable Keats seems to be when talking about Starlet and feels a stab of deep disappointment in her heart. Maybe I wasn't so wrong to have the reservations I did, she considers as she eats. Oh, if he hurts that precious girl the way father hurt me, forgive me Tunare, but I might not be able to restrain myself from hurting him.

Maltavro beams proudly. "Starlet will be the first of her generation in this family to carry on the bardic tradition; I feel so certain of it. She has really excelled under your guidance and support there, Keats. I doubt I could have done nearly as good a job as you. Ciragale, wait until you hear Starlet play tonight! She played the flute wonderfully during the rehearsal. I can't recall ever hearing a child play the flute that well at such a young age."

"Oh, I do hope she doesn't get nervous having to perform in front of a crowd though. This will be her very first big performance, won't it?" Ciragale asks them.

Maltavro laughs boisterously.

"You've got that right, Keats! She is so different from when Starlene was that age. I think I told you that when we talked in Freeport?"

"Oh, I never would have guessed that Starlene was a shy child."

Maltavro nods, "Aye, whenever I would return home to Kelethin after traveling and went to visit my sister, Starlene would hide behind Essa, too shy to even say hello to me--her own uncle! I took to purchasing some chocolate Marr cherries and using them to coax Starlene into interacting with me. I do recall Starlet was shy around Alondar for a little while when she was a toddler and used to cry when he would pick her up. I think maybe his injured arm looking so much more different from his healthy one frightened her a bit, but she got over that soon enough thankfully."

Ciragale finishes off her plate and takes a sip of tea, but notices the bards weren't quite done with theirs yet.

"Did either of you want seconds? Otherwise, I'll start cleaning the dishes."