(2025-12-16) Winter Veil Feast With A Silly Goose

Details

Author:	Athena
Summary:	Natalyah hosts a very normal Winter Veil Feast with a completely ordinary cast of characters of her family and friends, and a regular meal. Well. She hosts a Winter Veil Feast. There's a goose. It's silly. Personal Plot RP. 15k~ words.
Rating:	T for Teen

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contains death knight, minor character conflict quickly resolved, brief sexism, alcohol, couple in romantic relationship, discussion of romantic relationships/feelings

The house is ready for Winter Veil celebration — anyone who tries to suggest otherwise is going to get a face full of decorations even more aggressively planted in defiance of that claim. Four wreaths. Lights. Decorations on the front lawn. Holiday cheer!!!

Within the house, there has been some effort made to tidy the place into shape for company. Evidence that it has not been perfectly kept over the past few months, however, lingers in the details. Without Lathrik, Natalyah's balance isn't the same, and she doesn't manage the same way as before.

She's dressed in a lovely minty green dress with a darker green lace up bodice, with pointed tapered and curved sleeves to her wrists, and with four little dots of orange — those who paid attention to their invitation cards might note how similar the color and shapes are to the butterfly on it, the Brimstone Butterfly. Her hair floats around her face, held back by a white handkerchief that says, oddly appropriately, WINTER VEIL. Amazing. How deep did she have to dig into her old works for that one.

The interior has been decorated in anticipation of the arrival of guests. The living room has an enormous, oversized tree that does not fit at all, with the topmost part curved over, the star ornament meant to be on top dangling from it, pinned in place. Beneath it are a great number of presents, all wrapped by someone who definitely had to learn how to wrap her own presents for the first time this year. Each person has at least one gift, of various sizes.

The tables has also been set, the middle decorated with pine boughs, ornaments, paper butterflies, and what are probably old decorations from the former Moore owners, with everyone's plates properly done in a formal way with a little butterfly folded napkin, although they have only just a regular amount of silverware and not an actual nobility nonsense of spoons and forks and knives. At each place is a placard of the name of the person meant to sit there, and a single tapered candle:

Solari has a pretty sparkly white and golden candle in the shape of a sun, with little wavy rays.

Fray has a huge, wide matching white candle, with a broad wooden wick that will crackle exceptionally loudly.

Bren has a steady looking light brown candle, with an interesting dip pattern at the bottom, in the shape of a courier bag.

Peril has a green candle in the shape of a hat, with a wick that will sparkle a bit when lit.

Harvey has a red candle, with a bit of drip effect that could sort of be like blood, in the shape of Lordaeron's mark on a shield.

Natalyah has a black and blue candle in the shape of a butterfly — the Atala, of course.

Fray and Solari arrive early, which puts them in that awkward position of being underfoot for some of the preparations, excusable only because of their personal situations for the last twenty plus years. In a telltale show of general wrapping expertise (or lack thereof,) Fray carries the present for Natalyah wrapped in a blanket, rather than any manner of paper. It’s hidden, at least, and there will be unwrapping involved. Like the man himself, the present is something Large.

Solari wears a simple but pretty deep green velvet dress, with a matching pair of gloves over her hands that she picks at fussily. The only reason they don’t go flying across the room is Fray. Fray himself is wearing… armor. His full set, sword included, as if he’s showing up to some warrior’s feast where there will be battle after the meal. At least he isn’t shirtless. A small braid asserts itself on the left side, tucked into what remains of his hair, one small sign of a loving gesture that proves Solari isn’t completely gone.

Natalyah will take her small victories where she can get them. Neither get a hug, but both get welcomed in, and ushered into the living room onto the comfortable couch. The rug that is usually there is still missing, due to flammable reasons.

The blanket wrapped present is directed imperiously to be put under the tree with the rest. There are traditions after all. And also Natalyah is just habitually accustomed to giving orders.

There are papers and a variety of colored pencils on the coffee table already, anticipating Solari's presence, as well as a cushion already set down on the floor. Natalyah is not here for anyone to criticize what her sort-of mother-in-law does or doesn't do. Come at her, she dares you.

She does, however, poke a warning finger at Fray. "Do not draw that sword in the house. I don't care how dramatic things get. It stays in the scabbard like a decoration," Natalyah warns, floating ominously.

“Expecting more Drama than the Chosen One?” Fray asks rhetorically, not adding that he could crush a man’s skull with his bare hands if he had to. Still, he obligingly sets down his sword on Lathrik’s table before heading into the living room, a familiar, wistful expression passing over his face as he does.

Solari makes a beeline for her place at the coffee table, a bright smile on her face. This spot is for her and she knows it.

Next to arrive is Harvey, accompanied by Bren. They arrive twenty minutes later than Manners Appropriate, because surely this will give enough time for Natalyah to prepare. Harvey is dressed in a red suit, the same he wore to the dance party at the Fallons, not that there is anyone here who could note it, and Bren, too, is dressed in his brown one; it’s probably the only one he owns. Harvey does keep his runesword present, of course, but the sheath he holds it in is red to match his suit, an effort to encourage the other guests to look no further, it is but a decoration.

The two presents between them are on the smaller side, one of them wrapped to an exacting degree of perfection, and the other simple and flawed, but familiar. Given Harvey’s background, it’s likely he spent hours, possibly days wrapping and unwrapping the present, as someone who has never had to wrap a thing in his life and is now striving to hide that fact.

See? All the swords are decorations. Everyone agrees on this. (Or else.)

The presents are placed next to the others. They only make Natalyah's own wrapping deficiencies more obvious.

For some reason, Natalyah immediately pours Harvey some of the eggnog and hands it to him, without asking what he might want to drink. "Here, have some eggnog," she tells him. And then looks to her other guests. "There's wassail, and there will be wine with dinner."

Which will definitely be ready at… when?

Harvey accepts the eggnog with only a glance to note his confusion. Okay. Now he has this.

“N…Nnnat!” Solari says cheerfully, but there doesn’t seem to be any reason behind it, as she is focused on her drawing. Maybe it’s just in response to her voice.

Fray rises up to his full height and steps in close to Harvey, an intense and serious expression on his face. Posturing, no doubt, to see if the death knight will flinch. Harvey doesn’t, but for a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment his eyes glow a little brighter, before he turns away from the taller man with an air of nobility, as if dismissing Fray and his boorish tendencies as beneath him.

“Thank you, Natalyah, for the drink,” he says instead, making no comment on whether or not he will actually be able to taste it.

Bren, however, shrinks back, retreating a few steps to blow on his fingers, red from the winter evening chill. He doesn’t look afraid, however, not with Harvey present.

After noting their reactions, Fray nods once and stalks back to the couch near Solari.

"Don't be rude, and the only person allowed to smell people is me," Natalyah warns, broadly, to the room, watching Fray and Harvey. "And you're welcome, Harvey." There's not an ounce of fear to her, as she tosses her hair, which floats strangely around her face.

"Harvey, this is Fray and Solari, my… Lathrik's parents." She gestures to Brendol for Fray and Solari's benefit. "And this is Brendol, Ralaea's brother. We're not doing the Mr. and Miss formal titles here. This is a family dinner, so everyone's going by first names, and everyone's going to be all right with that."

“That’s more than fine with me,” Bren volunteers. “And, everyone can just call me Bren. Happy to be here.” He rocks forward on his heels, and then back.

Solari looks up from her drawing — it is all gold, no other color involved — and staaaares at Harvey. Then switches to Bren and says, “B-Br…Brren!” Satisfied, she returns to her task.

“Sure she didn’t mean anything by that,” Fray says in her defense.

“I am used to it…” Harvey mutters, drinking some of the eggnog because it’s there.

"She's on one syllables mostly, and Harv is sort of awful anyway," Natalyah says, also in Solari's defense, and in her unceasingly out loud opinion spoken like fact. "She's making progress. Of course, we could always call you something like, H, if you wanted to be mysterious about it. It's very Detective Novel chic." This is offered with an arch tone and an arched brow in equal measure.

“Perhaps Mourn would be easier to say,” Harvey says, but Solari has already returned to her drawing. Introductions over, try again next time.

Last to arrive is Peril, and the reason for that is nuanced. One could say it’s because he knows Natalyah the best, of those gathered. Surely he would have expected the lateness to her preparations, and planned accordingly. One could also note the woman glued to his arm, an unexpected guest the reporter just cannot seem to say no to. Penny’s dress is blue, a contrast to the theme of the holiday, and her heeled shoes bring her just to Peril’s height, not a centimeter more. Her hair is down around her shoulders for once in a wavy cascade, and two pale blue starfish ornaments hold it back on the right.

Peril himself is dressed in his finest suit and hat, green in color, with a white high collared shirt and red tie. He seems more dressed for an interview than a social gathering, and no, the hat is not coming off, ever. (Ideally.)

The present Penny carries with her is tray sized in length, and the wrap job is a bit Extra, with frills and bows affixed to it to give it a lively, energetic appearance, not unlike the woman herself, while Peril’s present looks heavy, and wrapped in a very businesslike manner, not on Harvey’s level of perfection, but close, with a focus on efficiency and performance. It might say something about the reporter or perhaps what the present is that he did not do anything chaotic with it.

When Natalyah answers the door, there is an immediate apology in Peril’s voice. “Penny caught me as I was leaving the office and wanted to come,” he says. “And I couldn’t…”

We know, Peril.

Natalyah is only briefly taken aback in surprise. "We know, Peril," she says. "Honestly, I don't have everything set for you, Penny," she says with that defensive tone, as if Penny might have somehow expected her to know ahead of time and accused her of being a poor hostess, "but there's plenty of Silly Goose, and you're welcome to join us because you're part of the family, too with Peril. I just thought you'd be with your parents though since it's all still not a done thing. Did Peril tell you about all our guests already? Because we do have people here who are unusual, and they're not leaving or being made to feel like they should."

“I wouldn’t dare to offend your guests, Natalyah,” Penny assures her. “I’ve heard about the death — sorry, Harvey, from Peril and Hana, and I’ve had the privilege of meeting Mr. and Mrs. Farrens a few times at the Azerothian Interest. My family doesn’t really celebrate Winter Veil. They tried back when Ren and I were small, but once he left the house it got kind of… sad. Anyway, I thought it’d be more fun to visit you, and with Peril here, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Peril’s fingers go to the rim of his hat, tipping it down to hide his blush.

As soon as it's obvious that the Hartrims make a sad Winter Veil, Natalyah's sold with a briefly thunderously sympathetic expression, as she scoops both of them up with an ushering gesture to shove them into the house. "That's because we are more fun," she says imperiously with a wicked smile. "And it's Solari and Fray. And then Bren is the one you don't know and who isn't Harvey. We're doing first names with everyone. None of the Miss/Mr. nonsense today. It's a family dinner."

It at least seems like it's also cooking, so there's some sign that Natalyah maybe is on time? The whole house smells like a feast, between goose and wassail and pine. Even a worgen nose would have a hard time picking out the single note of undeath.

"Presents go under the tree," Natalyah orders, and then calls out to the others, "Peril's here, with Penny!"

Fray rises at the announcement of Penny’s name, a warm smile breaking over his features. “Penny!” he roars in greeting.

They get most of the way into the living room, Penny pulling on Peril’s arm with enthusiasm towards the tree, when the reporter catches sight of Harvey and freezes. The death knight freezes too, his body stilling so completely and eerily that all signs of life in him fade away. He does not look at Peril, but the glow from his eyes increases in intensity, signaling that he is very aware of him.

Bren glances tensely between Harvey and Peril, recognizing the sudden change. “Um, it’s better if —” he begins, starting to reach a hand out to Harvey.

"Drink your eggnog, Harvey," Natalyah orders with that habitual tone of a noblewoman softened only by their familiarity, because she's too far from the blanket at the moment. She does swipe up another glass of it for Peril, and pulls up Peril's hand, to press it into what might be somewhat nerveless reporter fingers. "And you drink yours, Peril. Is this the first time you've actually met Harvey? By the way, you haven't even guessed at the butterfly of the dress. Don't tell me I've actually finally stumped you." She is genuinely pouting at the last, a real note of disappointment. He's never failed the butterfly dress test before.

Harvey starts to comply, but there is a mechanical element to how his arm lifts the drink to his lips, and he is still not breathing.

The sudden tension gives Fray pause, and he slows his approach, glancing towards his purely decorative sword on the other side of the death knight.

“Dog,” comes a commanding voice from the coffee table. Solari is staring directly at Harvey, something between a mother’s protective bristle and a fond note of friendship in her eyes — odd, because the woman has never met Harvey before.

Peril, for his part, whispers something inaudible to most, but to Natalyah it sounds like, “Danger is my first name,” before taking a large fortifying gulp of the eggnog, realizing only belatedly by the way his face scrunches and twists in surprise, that it is alcoholic. He’ll be fine. Probably.

After taking a few seconds to gather himself, he lifts his hat enough to reveal his eyes as they travel over Natalyah’s dress, and he says, in a faintly raspy voice from the drink, “I’d thought it was a given, seeing how it matches the lovely Brimstone on the invitation,” he says. “I apologize for my tardiness on all accounts.”

In response both to the strange command from Solari, and Peril’s distraction, Harvey begins to breathe again, the intensity in his eyes easing.

Crisis averted, and butterfly correctly identified, Natalyah gives a pleased twirl, which causes the dress to sway eerily in the air, levitating without a strict gravitational pull. "Correct, as always," she says smugly, as if she had something to do with his knowledge. "One of these days, I'll get you, but it'll likely be because it'll be a spectacularly new species. There's possibly several in Pandaria. Although maybe you'll have those snapped up quickly if you read my papers on them."

Natalyah floats — not like a butterfly, it should be noted, she's far too steady — into the living room.

Wait, her papers on them. That would imply she's going to actually study them in Pandaria. Since…since when?

“As a fan and avid supporter of Nat K.W., I eagerly await any and all papers you write on the subject matter,” Peril says, allowing Penny to drag him over to the tree so they can deposit their presents. “Does this mean you have plans to enter Pandaria —”

Whatever word — and there was definitely a word — that Peril says after ‘Pandaria’ is cut off by Fray finally giving Penny her proper greeting, loudly, and accompanied by a hug.

“Both daughters-to-be, gathered for a meal,” Fray says, something proud in his eyes as he surveys Natalyah and Penny.

Penny smiles at Natalyah. “That makes us sisters,” she says.

Natalyah's mood shifts like a sudden winter storm, with thunderous dark clouds, and a warning depressive underside for the death knight in the room. "It would. Except that Lathrik hasn't actually asked any sort of questions," Natalyah bites out tartly. "So, it's all speculation of intentions, and with him in Pandaria, if he is down on one knee, it's likely because there's some sort of enormous carrot the size of a horse being thrown over his head. That's assuming he hasn't been hypnotized and lured off by Mothallus, the incredible moth of which I have been compared to most favorably, as apparently the creature is a man-eater, beautifully dangerous, and the likes of which Pandaria has only seen once before." The bravado of self compliments has a brittle sort of edge, as she takes up a seat on the couch where Lathrik always sits, releasing the levitate with a heaviness that underscores the bitterness beneath.

Harvey focuses on his drink. It is going to be a long night.

“I’m absolutely positive he’s going to ask you,” Penny says with confidence, plopping down in a chair. “Maybe he’s just at a loss for how to do it. We could get Peril to give him some advice!”

Peril, who is taking another tentative sip of eggnog, nearly snorts it.

“Or he’s not really sure what the next step is,” Bren offers, the flush in his cheeks less related to the cold now. “I… I hear that happens sometimes, to people.” Given his lack of familiarity with Lathrik, it’s likely he is speaking from his own experience.

"Yes, it's an enormously complicated multiple step process. First, you begin wooing a woman, and then you ask for her hand in marriage when you have decided upon it. However will a man of Lathrik's intellect ever figure it out," Natalyah snaps out archly with an aristocratic sniff. "Perhaps next we will expect him to work out the order of socks and boots."

An awkward silence settles between Harvey, Peril, and Brendol, three men whose love lives are totally normal and not complicated in any way.

“Seems I’ll have to teach him the proper way of things,” Fray rumbles, that wistful expression returning to his face. “That’s part of a father’s duty. I’ve a lot to catch up on.”

Solari looks up from her drawing at Fray’s tone, moving closer to him as if for comfort.

"Lathrik has figured things out well enough, and he did everything right for what mattered for me. If he hasn't decided, then he hasn't decided," Natalyah says, oddly defensive and moody at the same time. But even she must realize she's dipping into places that are providing sips of a different sort of eggnog for Harvey because she tosses her head (her hair behaving normally for once). "Anyway, isn't there an actual wedding that's meant to be planned? That's far more steps and proper things. Are we saving any dates yet, Penny?"

That's right, Natalyah's a fight fire with more worse fire. As always.

“Peril still has to talk to my father,” Penny says. She could have stopped there, given the poor reporter some reprieve, but this is wedding talk now. “But I was thinking March. I’d love it to be on the beach, as well, and wouldn’t it just be perfect if we had a little sun shower? That’s the best time for rainbows, and I don’t mind getting wet.”

Take notes, Peril.

“A woman who knows what she wants,” Fray says, his smile returning.

"Take notes, Peril," Natalyah orders, having flashed away from her own troubles, much to the relief of Harvey no doubt. She looks pointedly at Peril's pockets where he usually keeps his actual, literal notes. She's serious. Notes. "Couldn't there be something done with the weather? With — " Wait, she does a mental headcount. Shoot. Some people in this room don't know about tidesages. Ugh. Secrets. "If we talked to people who seem to guess well about it. I'm sure we could work something out. That's only in a few months though if you're going to do it this year."

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty lucky with weather,” Penny says, her blue-green eyes sparkling. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, and I’ve already started making my dress. Let’s see… everyone here is welcome of course, and that includes you, Mis— I mean Harvey. Peril will be more nervous seeing me than he will be about you.”

Harvey opens his mouth to inject that this may not be necessarily better, but Penny continues animatedly.

“My family will be there of course, and that includes Ren, however I have to make that happen. And Hana! We simply must invite Hana. The challenge will be keeping her from trying to work the event, you know how she is. Do you think Admiral Fallon would come?”

Peril slowly sinks into a chair.

Even Bren might be sweating a little. Is he supposed to be here for this? This seems like girl talk.

"Oh, of course Siamus will," Natalyah says with all the confidence of a willful woman who makes things happen. Plus, she's calling him Siamus. Obviously, he's a friend. "I'll levitate Hana too high up to work if I have to." (This is a threat.) "One Hana balloon coming up. Or going up, as the case would be."

“Beaches are perfect for kites,” Penny says with a laugh. “Can you imagine if we had it in Pandaria? There are probably beaches there — pretty ones, too — and that way the Admiral, Lathrik, Ren, and Elle would be sure to come.”

Harvey stares at her, his face a polite neutral as he says, “I have thus far been unsuccessful at securing entry to Pandaria through legal means.” Just an observation. There’s nothing to gain by shattering a girl’s wedding plans, except perhaps a stab of disappointment? An ounce of despair?

“We’ll get everyone through,” Penny says with confidence. Good try, Mourn. “Peril has connections.”

“I-I do?” Peril asks, a nervous hitch in his voice.

Bren, meanwhile, lurks around the edge of the living room, taking in the contents of the house at a slow, observational walk.

"A wedding in Pandaria?" Natalyah repeats, and now this is going to be a problem, because she is not known for slowing down wild ideas so much as escalating them. "If it were on a boat, you could even have it be done by Siamus. He's a captain of a ship, that's legal. And you could have the whole reception on the beach right there. They're being all snippity about people wanting to go through to fight, but we'd be talking about bringing in an entire celebration of love. Isn't that exactly the opposite of all the sha things or whatever? They should want us to be coming through for that sort of thing. It's like that festival that Jenzelle put together. The pandaren can't be against parties. Who's against parties?"

Bren's lurking and observations lead him to discover that Natalyah has been practicing the Light with a clumsy person in the house; there is evidence of things that have been knocked over or scorched (??) and either tossed aside or pushed off into a corner rather than fully cleaned up.

“If anything, I’d bet that pandaren are even more for parties, so it has to work,” Penny agrees. She claps her hands in excitement. “Great! That’s settled, then!”

“I-it is?” asks Peril. At least it was easy?

Bren politely does not comment on any tossed aside or scorched items, continue to circulate like an awkward young man who is terrible at social gatherings, hands stuffed in his pockets, while Harvey stares suspiciously at Solari, who is now ignoring him for her art.

“Gettin’ married in the hidden land of Pandaria’s exactly what I’d expect from my firstborn,” Fray says proudly. “We can make a family trip of it.”

See this is why they can't have too many of these family gatherings, or else they'll end up planning on how the king will marry them in a hot air balloon over the — you know what, better not give them any more ideas.

Natalyah gets distracted by Harvey's distraction, peeking over at Solari's drawing. "Has Solari been drawing anything else recently that might look like a golden sort of vale or valley? That's a lot of gold," she notes out loud.

Fray leans over to peer at the drawing. “Aye, gold seems to be her color lately,” he says. “Is it significant? If it’s a valley as you’re wondering?”

"It's about the same thing as before, when I collected one of her drawings to send to Lathrik," Natalyah answers, frowning and leaning forward even closer. "He's still dreaming about weird things. A 'golden vale,' which is apparently something that happens to a lot of people where they are, and everyone's acting like it's completely normal and not at all extremely strange. I don't know how much Solari might still have some sort of connection to him that she could pick up something. Or if maybe she just likes to draw the Light now something or whatever. But it's worth watching for consistency, if you notice anything." She looks up and considers something, obviously curious and seeing no reason whatsoever to keep the question to herself as she directs her attention to Harvey. "Do you dream, Harvey? I do mean physically, not as in emotionally, I know you do that."

Solari shrinks a little, something in her shoulders tightening upon hearing the name Lathrik.

Harvey’s eyes glow brighter for an instant, and it takes him a few extra seconds to realize he’s been addressed. “Ah,” he says upon noticing the focus has been shifted to him. “Do I dream? I prefer not to sleep, so it is difficult to say for certain. There was a time that I experienced what I would describe as a dream, but it was while I was being… over saturated with the Light.”

Penny crouches on the other side of the coffee table from Solari, speaking softly to her and coaxing her to go back to her drawing. And perhaps to use another color, like blue or something. The latter doesn’t seem likely.

"You mean when you were being attacked? I don't think that really qualifies as a dream," Natalyah says, with a growl that is actually genuinely like a growl, real anger suffusing her expression and entire demeanor for a moment. "No, I was talking about while sleeping. I was wondering what that might mean, when you go to Pandaria, if you'd end up picking up anything odd with dreaming, or could."

Yes, she said when. It's Natalyah.

“Because I used to be a paladin, or are you suggesting I may dream some odd deathly version of this vale?” Harvey asks. “I suppose it might be worth a try, assuming I am eventually allowed into Pandaria.”

His expression remains… mostly neutral, but anyone familiar with him — with Mourn — can see a simmering rage beneath the surface.

“The pandaren portalkeepers are pretty stubborn, but I think they’re getting used to seeing us,” Bren says optimistically. “We’re wearing them down. It helps that they don’t have a history with death knights or the Scourge.”

"They need a reason to let you in. It's just like in nature with adaptations to an environment. So we'll prove that they should. And anyway, as a matter of fact, I was thinking the opposite, Harvey. That if you could avoid dreaming, then you could be the most invaluable person we could bring with us: the control group," Natalyah says, pointing a finger with a light in her eyes that has nothing to do with the cosmic force and everything to do with the light of Science! "We could potentially guarantee a sentient person who doesn't dream about the Golden Vale, whose opinions on it could be considered unbiased, and who, if we did have you see it, would be seeing it without having been potentially influenced by it. If there's even one actual Pandaren scientist out there, they would have to see the merit in that sort of research potential."

“…Research potential,” Harvey repeats. This warrants another drink of eggnog.

“But if it can get us a pass out there,” Bren says encouragingly. “It’s worth a shot. Anything is. We can make a whole test group of it, where we have a worgen, a paladin, a Wandering Isle pandaren, a veterinarian and… well, me. I’m not really anything.” He shrugs his shoulders sheepishly.

“Not with that attitude!” roars Fray, a sudden uptick in volume that makes Bren flinch and Harvey wince.

“Yeah!” Penny chimes in, much quieter by comparison. “Bren, wasn’t it? You look so young. You have plenty of time to be whatever you want.”

Natalyah winces at the sudden shout — there's enough pain from the acute hearing to ping a minor threshold, though brief — and she picks up a colored pencil and throws it at Fray in retaliation and irritation. It pings uselessly off the armor, and lands on the floor.

"You're a courier," Natalyah points out to Bren, metaphorically and literally, with a finger. "Messages are always valuable. Plus, you can add in a demon hunter, because Aszera is coming with us, too, as a detective and because she can see energy in an entirely unique way. All it will take is assembling the right proposal for the paperwork, like an expedition."

Fray collects the colored pencil and offers it to his wife, who turns up her nose at it. Not gold enough, Fray.

“I was a messenger,” Bren says, and there’s that shrug again. “I’m not with the Argent Crusade anymore, and even when I was…” He shakes his head and puts on a smile. “Nah, you’re right, we can use it. As long as it gets us in, it’ll be good enough.”

“That’s… the spirit?” Penny guesses.

“Paperwork,” Peril finally says, fingering his hat dramatically, “is my strong suit. I can help with that part. In fact, I was planning to journey to Pandaria myself, for work. It’s been enough time that Cobalt Company and Admiral Fallon have surely done enough legwork that we’re not arriving in an outright hostile environment.”

"Lathrik says the whole land is deeply cursed still but," Natalyah flips her hair over her shoulder. "So am I."

Wait. Is that really proving that it isn't an outright hostile environment?

Well, with an even greater collection of people added to her growing band of people to squeeze into Pandaria decided, Natalyah smiles wickedly, curling her leg up under her on the couch. "Now that's decided, we should have our presents," she orders.

“Ooh, good plan, good plan!” Penny says, immediately on board. “Did you have any particular order in mind, or do we blindfold Peril and make him point at them?”

“Hey, why am I the one who gets blindfolded?” Peril asks, sitting up straighter.

"Because you're the one wearing a hat," Natalyah decrees, for no reason in particular, with an impish light in her eyes. "Who has a blindfold?" And for some reason, she looks right at Harvey.

“I am not Aszera,” Harvey says blandly. “And even if I do possess a blindfold, Ralaea is not present, therefore there is no reason why I would have brought it.”

An obvious question forms on Bren’s face, but he does not give voice to it.

“I could make a blindfold of my shirt,” Fray offers, already beginning to remove his breastplate.

“Oh, there’s no need for that, mis — Fray,” Penny says with an innocent smile. “Peril should have one in his suit pocket!”

“I — what?” Peril reaches into his pocket to check. His hand emerges with a frosted blue ribbon matching Penny’s dress. He shoots her a bewildered look.

Natalyah's laugh peals out with mischievous delight, as she claps her hands like they just performed a comedic duo trick.

"Perfect. Put it on then," Natalyah commands, face aglow with the delight of the ridiculous turn of events. "And then point!"

Peril complies, attempting to tie the ribbon behind his head in an unfortunately clumsy manner. “When did you sneak the ribbon into my pocket?” he asks Penny, meanwhile. “And, wait, did you plan for this all along?”

“Oh, well, not exactly,” Penny says, getting up to help him tie the ribbon properly. “I snuck it in on the way here because I just knew you would think up a good use for it if you found it there.” Her smile is three parts mischief, one part adoring.

“A good… use for…” Peril mumbles, trailing off. Is this a compliment, or a scandal? His brain is working to find out.

“Okay, now point!” Penny says, releasing him into the sightless wilds.

And point Peril does. At the top of the tree.

“Oh, um…” Penny squints. “Wait, wait, I know this one! It’s a puzzle! He’s pointing at the top right tip of the star, stars produce light, light reflects, reflections are backwards, and the bottom left tip of the star is pointing tooo… This one!”

Penny indicates the large blanket-wrapped present brought in by Fray for Natalyah.

Peril’s mouth is left slightly ajar.

Natalyah claps delightedly again, laughing evilly impishly. "Yes, perfect," she declares, whether from sheer entertainment of this particular method, or because the present goes to her, or both.

She doesn't allow for anyone to get it for her, as she pushes her way off the couch, immediately levitating herself, and snatching the blanket-wrapped present before anyone can think to help her with it, a brief but intense warning glare like a flash of lightning behind the mirth. It's still Natalyah, after all.

Natalyah flops back with her present onto the couch, and dramatically unveils it in one fell swoop, wasting no time because her patience for waiting to find out what it is has already been exceeded by the desire to know.

“Was that a puzzle anyone else was capable of solving?” Harvey murmurs to himself.

Bren looks impressed. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really followed, but it was an interesting interpretation.”

The blanket unfurls to reveal a carved walnut chest, 15 inches tall by 30 inches wide, with a depth of another 15 inches front to back.

“Chests are useful,” Fray says, an unusual awkwardness taking over his features. “It’s built to last, but if it needs any maintenance I can see to it.”

Solari hums along with a cheerful tune.

Natalyah goes from the devilish delight of the antics of Peril and Penny to a sudden emotional wobble within a blink of an eye, as she unveils the chest, and it only gets more intense with Fray's words.

At least Harvey can tell that they're happy tears, at least 95% of them, mixed with some very old pain, a small thing that isn't being caused by Harvey or Fray at least, but a memory perhaps, faint but underneath like a vague petrichor under the rest of the emotional storm.

Natalyah squeezes the chest briefly to herself, then sets it aside, and floats ominously to Fray to throw herself at him for a hug with a bit of a clank on his armor and an ugh of, "Your armor is stupid, but your present very thoughtful. Thank you."

Fray’s eyes also take on a shimmer at the hug, but the tears remain unshed for now. “I can take it off,” he offers for not the first time tonight.

Penny makes an ‘awww’ face at the display and hugs Peril’s arm, while Peril, the blindfold temporarily slid up onto his forehead, examines the chest.

“Did you make this?” Peril asks.

“Aye,” says Fray. “Learned a bit of woodworking in my youth. Came in handy from time to time.”

Bren smiles, but averts his gaze, something sad lingering behind his eyes.

Harvey glances between Natalyah, Bren, and Fray. It’s just a box, guys. Why is everyone being so weird about the box?

Natalyah swipes at her face aggressively, and floats back to her chest and the couch, plopping once more into the cushions, tucking the box up against herself. At Harvey's visible confusion, she grows defensive, but also oddly compassionate. Some greater impulse wins out against the urge to hole up, as she tosses her hair.

"When I came back to the house my parents live in, after they'd disowned me, technically I didn't really own anything anymore, since I wasn't a part of it. Except, possibly, my trousseau, since it was part of my dowry, and it was separate, and so I demanded it. They're two wooden chests, containing everything that was considered mine. They're all I had, and the only things left from before, since I have nothing really from what I took with me to Gilneas. The chest is built to last, and it matters to me," Natalyah says, that strangely belligerent sort of tone, for someone offering up a weak point of hers, to ensure that Harvey isn't left out of not knowing why it might matter a lot more than it could seem.

“Ah, I see,” Harvey says, and whether he does or does not actually see is tucked carefully behind a noble’s curated expression. “A well-selected gift, then.”

“Yes, it’s lovely,” Penny agrees, clasping her hands together.

Fray’s smile is fond, perhaps even fatherly as he gazes at Natalyah, though he offers no further words.

Natalyah narrows her eyes, still wavering between emotions in equal parts of sentimentality and unwillingness to be it, and waves an imperious noblewoman's hand at Peril. "Well. Choose the next one," she orders, although it's not quite as sharp as it could be, given that it's too easy to hear her affection, and she still has a warble around her lips.

Peril lowers the blindfold ribbon again and clears his throat, waving one hand dramatically as he finally settles into his role. “Thenn… that one!” he says, pointing at his eggnog, settled on a red triangle coaster on the coffee table. His finger, however, is a little too close to Solari, and she bumps his hand to get it out of her way.

“And, that’s… Oh! Isn’t that the present you brought, Peril?” Penny asks, following his relocated finger to a large, encyclopedia sized package.

“Is it?” Peril asks, sliding up the blindfold. “I didn’t peek, I promise!”

Natalyah watches the Peril Pinball with unadulterated glee.

"We know, Peril. You pointed at your eggnog," she says. And then, because the present is also hers, she grins. "Excellent!" She slides over towards the tree, pushing other things out of the way to snatch the package up, grunting with effort since it's heavier than she might have expected as she drags it back to her couch lair. She is not a neat or orderly unwrapper. It is getting destroyed. Mauled, maybe, is the even more correct word, but has terrible connotations with this particular worgen, so we'll just say that the wrapping paper is never going to look perfect or businesslike again, and now something chaotic has definitely been done to it.

Small pieces of wrapping paper drift to the floor.

The present appears to be an actual encyclopedia, though not a familiar one. It is titled Nat K.W., A Collection, and, upon inspection, contains every article from every source ever published under the name Nat K.W., and a few extra snippets from conversations shared between Peril and Natalyah regarding moths, butterflies, and her work in general.

“I was a fan before I ever really knew you, so it wasn’t as much legwork as you’d think, collecting it all like that,” Peril says, lowering his hat to cover his eyes. “But I really… the point of it all is to show you how inspiring your work is, and how I missed you during the years you were gone. I never thought I might meet you in person, and through Lathrik of all people, but I’m so glad that I have.”

Oh, no.

As soon as she realizes what it is, Natalyah's face goes slack with a shock that's rare for the lepidopterist, usually so caught up with emotions that it's difficult to catch her in a moment of temporary blankness for a reset — and it doesn't last long. She tilts her head up, and very suddenly, there is a large, black worgen sitting on the couch, sobbing-howling rather loudly, with big tears rolling down into silken fur.

These, too, are not pained tears, at least not wholly. Some painful edge scrapes along a bottom with it, a loss perhaps. It might strike Harvey, and the others who can tell that it's not entirely all joyful, that the pain could be related to the same reason as mentioned before — for someone who had nothing with her from Gilneas, that what was lost might include whatever body of work she might have had with her, or what she left behind was something her parents might not have found worth preserving.

Natalyah clutches the encyclopedia to herself protectively, a slight shimmer of gold around it, as a tiny [Shield] forms, out of pure willpower manifesting itself, as she continues to sob.

Peril looks as though he might have expected the tears, though less so the worgen. He has already dug a handkerchief out, but now just stares at it as if considering how much it will actually help in this situation. Ultimately, he offers it anyway, because it’s his one and only plan when someone starts crying.

“So, uh, what are the magic words to help a fish with their memory?” Bren asks, joining in with his go-to when someone is crying.

Harvey finishes his eggnog and stares at the glass as though expecting it to magically refill.

“Tunat frogget,” Bren answers, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and ducking his head.

Peril and Fray stare at him, causing Bren’s cheeks to turn scarlet.

It's actually effective, the combination, as Natalyah laughs at the ridiculous joke, and it breaks up enough of the sobbing for her to get more of a handle on the other emotions. She almost dodges the offer of the handkerchief, except that it comes from Peril, and not anyone else there, so she takes it after all, and with a hitched sob, sniffle, and shimmer there's a human Natalyah on the couch again. Red eyed and blotting at her face aggressively, but there she is.

Once she's sure of her humanity being stable, she sets her glowing encyclopedia to the other side, and launches herself, half floating, at Peril for a hard pull of a hug like a lightning storm, grabbing him into her, rather than knocking him over (this time). "Thank you," she bawls. "You're the best fan I've ever had." Faint flickers of black fur threaten another change. And she stutters out a shaky breath. "And also you were right with your pointing. I do need eggnog."

Bren looks relieved as the sobbing lessens at least, and he is happy to fade back into obscurity in the background, mission accomplished.

Penny, who had dissolved into giggles at Bren’s terrible joke, pipes up, “Isn’t he an absolute prophet?”

Peril, returning Natalyah’s hug a bit awkwardly, (nobody is falling over?) stammers,“I-I think prophet might be too strong of a word… Anyway, I’m glad you like it, Natalyah.”

Fray may or may not be rubbing tears from his own eyes. Or maybe they just itch.

"As a matter of fact, I don't like it, I love it," Natalyah corrects shamelessly and affectionately both, poking a sharp finger at Peril's shoulder, and then impulsively adding a quick kiss to his cheek. She pushes back to her couch, wiping at her face again, moping both tears and sweat up with one hand, while the chest is opened, and inspected to see if it will fit the encyclopedia, and when it seems like it will, she sets it very carefully inside.

As soon as this task is done, she finally looks back at everyone, and rises back up into a levitating human again, and drifts towards the kitchen, snatching up Harvey's empty eggnog glass as she passes by. "Well I think it was rather prophetic, and I'm getting some eggnog. Anyone else, while Peril picks another?"

Peril has already retreated back under his blindfold and hat both, an obvious blush touching what can be seen of his cheeks.

“Yes, absolutely!” Penny says, popping up to join Natalyah in the kitchen.

“Aye, I’ll take a drink too, if you’re offering,” Fray says, raising a hand.

“I, uh, can’t,” Bren says. “Or, technically I can but I shouldn’t. I’m the designated…” He glances at Harvey. Where was he going from here? Designated… death knight handler?

Harvey gazes back at him, waiting.

"The designated Harvey Handler?" Natalyah hazards, out loud, because she's like that and Lathrik isn't here. She levels a finger at Brendol with a high arched brow. "Just for that, I'm serving you some. It will be fine, Bren. You can relax! And besides, Harvey's among friends, and we'll all look after everyone. No one's getting into any trouble, and no one will bother him, or attack him again." It probably says something about Natalyah that she considers it a greater duty to make sure no one bothers Harvey, to protect her friend from being provoked.

"If you end up all drunken by the end of things, you can just stay here for the night, and go back into the deep dark broody forest tomorrow." As Natalyah speaks, she sets out a tray, putting a miscellaneous collection of various glasses on it, filling them with the eggnog, which rapidly depletes. Someone is going to have to accept the spiced alcoholic wassail soon. But not this round. This round everyone gets comforting eggnog. Natalyah lifts up the tray, floating eerily back through the kitchen towards the others.

Penny claims her glass almost immediately and with the same enthusiasm she’s shown all evening, then follows Natalyah back into the living room. “Peril, have you picked the next one yet?” she asks.

Peril hastily points, and for once, he actually points at a present, a misshapen wrapped item around the size of a softball, with three ribbons holding it closed.

"See, even Peril knows," Natalyah crows triumphantly, as she holds out the tray to Brendol with a terrifying light of cheer and mischief in her red-rimmed eyes. "Take your drink and your present, Bren. THE PROPHET HAS SPOKEN!"

“The Chosen One!” Fray bellows, once again causing Bren to flinch.

Bren takes the drink with some reluctance, and claims his present from under the tree, then settles down near Solari to unwrap it, leaving the drink on the coffee table.

Solari, distracted from her doodling, leans closer to Bren, her attention stolen by the present.

Natalyah winces again at the bellow. She turns her pointer finger on Fray with a Warning. "Under 80 decibels or no eggnog," she threatens menacingly. "Deal?" She floats closer, offering the eggnog out to Fray with a suspicious eye, and keeping half a look on Brendol for his reaction to his present.

Brendol's unwrapping eventually reveals that it's for Wrap. As in, bandages. It's a neatly made travel first aid kit, newly stocked with gauze, needles, and suturing thread, and with an instructional set on how to make the once latest technique of Emberweave bandages and a roll of the expensive fabric to practice on.

“Yes ma’am!” says Fray, in what qualifies as a Fray indoor voice, which is still kind of loud. An effort was made. At least the eggnog will keep him quiet while he’s drinking it.

Bren, meanwhile, smiles as though he has been struck by sudden inspiration as he unveils the present, his cheeks turning rosy with whatever thought came to mind. “Thank you,” he tells Natalyah earnestly. “There’s… this woman I like, and I haven’t really been sure how to approach her lately, but with this…”

With… bandages? A first aid kit?

Fray’s brow creases in concern.

Peril drinks his eggnog.

Harvey, presumably, knows exactly what Bren means, but does not offer any information. Or maybe he’s busy thinking about approaching someone with that kit in a wild death knight fantasy way.

Solari tries to unroll the Emberweave.

Natalyah smirks. And then frowns. "Wait, this is a woman woman, right, Bren? Not an ogre?" She sets Harvey's eggnog back in his hand. Drink your eggnog, Harvey.

“I uh… I don’t think I’ve seen a lady ogre,” Bren admits. “But they must exist, right? Because…”

“Whoa, so you are looking for a female ogre?” Penny asks, eyes wide. She is so ready to accept this weird ship.

“What? No! No, her name’s Jenzelle, and she used to be a medic, and I was thinking she could teach me some of the more advanced first aid things, besides just wrapping wounds,” Bren says hastily, rescuing his Emberweave from Solari with a gentle hand.

Fray’s expression straightens. “Attaboy,” he says encouragingly.

Harvey obediently takes a drink.

"Oh! Jenzelle," Natalyah says, taking up her eggnog, with a devious grin, and flopping back into her place on Lathrik's brooding couch. "Well that's going to be marvelous. You should bring her one of those little pumpkin spiced flavored pastries from that one bakery down the street by that one place. Whatever it's called." She waves a hand vaguely in the direction of somewhere in Old Town. You know. That place by that other one. Ask Peril maybe. "They're horribly overpriced and gimmicky, but she'd love it."

Natalyah's advice dispensed, she wiggles her fingers at Peril. "Choose, Chosen One. We have more destinies to make happen, apparently."

Peril sets his eggnog back down — a wise move considering his tendency towards unfortunate accidents — and replaces the blindfold over his eyes. With a sweeping gesture, he points to… the fireplace.

“That is not even —” Harvey begins to say, but Peril abruptly moves his hand, and suddenly he is pointing at a rectangular present the size of a large breadbox, poorly covered in wrapping paper and taped somewhat excessively.

“Psyche!” Penny says, clapping with delight. “He had us all fooled for a moment there!”

"It's like watching one of those Darkmoon Faire acts," Natalyah says with a cackle, and body wiggle. "That's yours, Harvey."

Harvey reluctantly sets down his eggnog and claims the present, attempting to open it with refined elegance. Refined elegance, however, is no match for the tape, and eventually he sets to tearing it apart much like Natalyah and her earlier paper mauling, a visible frustration burning in his eyes.

Natalyah makes no apologies. She did her best. In fact, if anything, she digs her emotional heels in the more frustrated he seems to get, as if she's daring him to comment on her terrible wrapping.

Eventually, the mauling reveals a box, and inside the box: a set of a fashionable, proper gentleman's black top hat with matching black leather gloves, with red lining on the inside of both, the sort that would be appropriate to wear out to parties or visiting people, as a genteel man would have. It's the kind of thing that builds a wardrobe, and can be costly to add to, especially with so many shifting fads. This one reflects the latest from the influence of Gilneas and its return to the Alliance, making it very modern.

“Gilnean influence,” Harvey picks out promptly. The glow of his eyes brightens, and the twist of a smile appears for a moment, something harsh and eager, a dare of his own directed at something far away, before his hands clench and he closes his eyes, his features smoothing back out into a calm neutrality. “I thank you, Natalyah, for the considerate gift. You have even chosen a… favorable color for the lining.”

A favorable color to Mourn, perhaps.

Bren takes a tentative drink of his eggnog, sparing a glance at his first aid kit as if he might end up needing it before the night is through.

"The outside's for Harvey, because it's what everyone's wearing, so you get to, too, because you're not any different from anyone else to not get to have the same things. The inside color's for Mourn, because he'll be there, too," Natalyah says, just acknowledging the death knight elephant in the room, because that's what she's like. "I do know what it's like having to go places with both parts of the self, and not having all the nice things you used to have from before. But that doesn't mean you don't get to have nice things again now. And no one can tell you that you can't have them, Harvey."

She sniffs aristocratically, and lifts her glass to Peril.

“If they have time to comment on my possessions, they should all be kneeling,” Mourn growls. A blink. Whoops. “Before the rightful King of Stormwind, of course. Surely my meager possessions are worth less consideration than the current war effort.”

Harvey reaches for the eggnog. See? All better. No food shortage here.

Peril side-eyes Harvey and takes a drink of his own eggnog.

“There’s something we can agree on,” Fray says, giving Harvey an approving nod.

Natalyah snorts, forgetting to prompt Peril again to pick another present as she's distracted by this turn of events. "If every noble who had time to comment on your possessions and would actually did that, they'd be spending all day and night on their knees, and then we'd all be reading the most fantastical article in Peril's newspaper about the 'Great Kneeling Phenomenon Sweeping The Nobility,'" she says tartly. "Or, oooh, the 'Great Blue Bloods Brought To Their Knees.' Or 'King Varian Caught Flat Footed As Entire Nobility Kneedlessly Proposes Simultaneously.'" She makes an annoyed sound as these don't garner the perfection she's looking for, and she snaps her fingers at Peril like she's trying to strike ideas manually. "Oh, I'm sure you have something better, Peril."

“Kneeling Nobility: A New Roost for Seagulls?” Peril offers, taking another drink. “New Natural Wonder Poses Tripping Hazard for King Wrynn. Kneeling Nobles Elicit Pity and Scorn from Local Cat Community. Kneeling Nobles: A New Look for Stormwind Keep. Seeing Eye to Eye: Gnomes Rejoice as Kneeling Phenomenon Solves Certain Cases of Neck Strain.”

Natalyah bursts into a rising peal of laughter that escalates with each proposed headline. "Oh, that's the one, the last one," she declares breathlessly, in tears once more, but for a third reason now.

Bren and Fray join in the laughter, and even Harvey makes a mild sound of amusement.

Peril smiles and reaches into his breast pocket for his notebook, to jot a few things down.

Penny, who has been laughing since Natalyah began with the headlines, wipes at her eyes. “Thank goodness for waterproof make-up,” she says. “Gosh, I’m already so glad I came."

"So are we," Natalyah says, deciding for the group in one fell swoop of words, as she wipes at her eyes with her handkerchief because she has it and some long ingrained habit asserts itself. "Obviously you belong here with us." There's no room for argument in her declaration. Penny is one of them. Fight her about it if you think otherwise, her tone says. She waves her handkerchief at Peril. "More presents, Peril. You're the gift that keeps giving, as the saying goes."

Peril returns the blindfold to his eyes after tucking the notebook away again and points to… a present! On his first try! This one has the shape and appearance of a book, and is the present Harvey came in with.

Penny sits and eagerly awaits the reveal. Is it a book? Or something else? She takes a gulp of eggnog to prepare.

She doesn't have long to wait, because Natalyah has no intention of preserving an iota of the careful wrapping, snatching up the present and ripping through the exterior paper with a violence that might satisfy some worgen hunting urge, or it might have already been there in the woman herself. We will never know.

We probably have some guesses though.

It is, in fact, a book, and fortunately a hardback. It is a newer release titled The Blue Child Over Elwynn, and is known by critics to be a romantic tearjerker about love and loss, but ultimately a happy ending.

“I have found that such novels provide a decent distraction in the absence of one’s other half,” Harvey says. The choice of this particular romance novel, however, shows evidence of Mourn’s involvement.

Natalyah's mood immediately shifts with the emotional weather, a sudden morose wind as she thinks about Lathrik, in the exact opposite of being told to have a distraction of that absence, or even the mere suggestion of being distracted of the absence. Her expression crumples, and her shoulders shift, as she scoots into herself on the couch, looking down at the cover of the romantic couple on the cover unhappily with an obvious, visible envy, and a keen pain of missing someone.

Still, a sense of manners does rise up, as does an unwillingness to be seen as so vulnerable by so many people, and she puts on a false braver face. "Well, I'll simply have to get them to start delivering by the cartload, and send them onwards to Lathrik when I'm done with them," she says tartly. And then a wave of the hurt subsides as she shifts in a genuine curiosity, looking over at Harvey as a new thought strikes her. "Wait, does that mean you read this? Have you been reading a lot of them? Are you in a book club or something?"

There is something in Harvey’s posture that shifts, a leaning closer, the gaze of a predator watching intently to see what move his prey might make next, and his response to her questions is delayed.

With a worried glance between Harvey and Natalyah, Bren gets to his feet and grabs the death knight by the shoulders. “Harvey,” he says, a warning in his voice. “Come on. You don’t want this.”

Harvey’s expression fades into a look of disgust, and his eyes glow with an anger directed inward. “You have my apologies, Natalyah, for assuming you would process the absence in a similar manner as myself,” he says. “To answer your question, yes, I have been reading books of this genre as of late, after finding I have quite a bit of time on my hands. My attempts at other hobbies have not… turned out favorably. I have considered joining a book club, in fact, and have found one that meets purely through post, maintaining the anonymity of its members.”

Peril is now regarding Harvey with a look of guarded suspicion, and Fray is once again glancing towards his sword.

“It’s actually a really good book,” Penny enthuses. “I’ve read it, too. But wow, I wouldn’t have expected a… Harvey to read romances! Hey, can I write you sometime so we can talk about our reading?”

Harvey frowns a little. “I… see no harm in that,” he says.

"Well, add another to the list," Natalyah impulsively adds. She glances between Peril and Fray with a frown, and leans forward, addressing them seriously in defense of Harvey, as she puts her new book into her gift chest. "Don't. Don't do that. Don't treat Harvey like that, like he's done something or going to do something horrible. It's not voluntary. It'd be like punishing you for breathing in the smell of the goose cooking right now and being hungry. It's my fault. I was thinking of Lathrik, and I know I shouldn't be like that right now. It's painful, and he can't help it. He won't hurt me. He's my friend. And I want him here, even if that means sometimes he's going to smell the goose cooking, is that clear?"

“Clear enough,” Fray says, though his voice is gruff, and the way he looks at Harvey still has a stern edge to it.

Peril focuses on his hands in his lap. “You’re not a goose, Natalyah,” he says softly enough that she’s likely the only one to hear him.

“You need not defend me,” Harvey says, settling a hand on Bren’s shoulder in reassurance. “I am myself disappointed in my actions and will admit that for a moment the temptation overwhelmed me. But rest assured it would take far more than temptation to lead me to harming a friend. It would take nothing short of a complete loss to the Hunger, and at that point, I am no longer myself, nor will I be again.”

“All settled, then! Should we… do the next?” Penny offers into the awkwardness.

"And for the record," Natalyah says as she looks directly at Harvey, with those velvet brown eyes that hide nothing of her feelings. "I forgive you. And I'm still not scared of you, and I won't ever be." She reaches for her eggnog and drinks a good portion with an unladylike gulp and smack of her lips. "Now. Next present!"

It takes a moment, and another drink of eggnog for Peril to work up his enthusiasm again, but when he points, it is to a brown paper bag roughly the size of a loaf of bread, stuffed with cheap but pretty gold tissue paper.

“It’s like a bag of sunshine!” Penny says.

"Solari's, of course," Natalyah directs.

“Ooh, that makes sense,” Penny says, beaming at Solari.

Hearing her name has prompted Solari to look up from her doodles, gazing around in confusion. Solari what, please?

Fray collects the bag and sets it in front of her on the table. “Solari’s,” he repeats gently.

Solari staaaaares at the tissue paper, a big smile on her face. Then she hugs the bag. Apparently she loves her new brown paper bag with gold tissue paper. It does not seem to have occurred to her to check what’s inside.

Natalyah waits for a few moments.

"Oh, she's really — I thought the bag would be easy enough," Natalyah says defensively, as if she's expecting that someone is about to accuse her of making this too difficult for Solari. She doesn't seem to know if she should try to make any move to force Solari to open the gift, and she hugs her arms to herself, a storm of chagrin and uncertainty on her face.

“Isn’t she so cute, though?” Penny says, giggling. “I’d say she loves it already!”

Fray, too, is struggling to keep a straight face. “Let’s try this,” he says, lightly pulling at the tissue paper in the bag. It comes free, and he lets it float away, onto the table.

Solari watches it, entranced. Then she takes hold of the next one, mimicking Fray and pulling it free of the bag so that it floats away like the first. New Function Unlocked, says her expression. And then she reaches in again and… Oh, there is something inside that is not tissue paper.

It's a lightweight, simple, soft woolen dress of long sleeves and no fussy buttons that might be difficult to work with, light gold in color, with wide pockets at the hips. There's a pair of matching gloves with it, suitable for the fall and winter.

But what makes it perhaps far more interesting, and much more personal than anything that could be made in a tailor's shop alone, is that Natalyah has embroidered Solari's song on both. Along the collar of the dress, and on the back of the hands on the gloves, in dark gold thread for the notes, with purple for the bars of the musical notations, is the music of the song that Solari passed along to Lathrik. And over bodice of the dress, worked to wrap around and around in dark gold thread with bright stars and suns, are the lyrics:

Hush now, my little ones,
'til morning comes and brings the sun.
The night is long, the sky is dark,
But hear my voice and know you're safe.
If danger comes I'm by your side,
My song will shield you through the night.
Be at peace my little ones,
'til morning comes and brings the sun.

It’s a dress! Solari knows what to do with dresses now. On it goes over her current dress, and when she’s finally woven her way through it, she stands up and brushes a hand across it to smooth it, only to pause when she finds the embroidery. For a moment she simply stands there, tracing over the words, and then, all of a sudden, her gloves come off and she reaches for Natalyah.

Fray stops her before she can make contact, drawing a sulking glare from the woman. “It’s your choice,” he tells Natalyah. “Whether you take her hand or not.”

Natalyah gives Fray a sharp frown that nearly matches Solari's own sulking glare and an indignant scoff. "Really? Of course I know that," she says tart as a sour lemon, and a bristle. And then, like perhaps pointing it out, and everyone watching it happen, had been a dare of some sort, she reaches back out with just a small flinch of a hesitation, and a bold jut of her stubborn chin to grab Solari's hand. Her other hand has a slight glow of the Light, a preparation of a [Fear Ward].

The feelings Solari pushes forth aren’t dark or scary, but a flood of light, and joy and love. The warmth of a mother’s embrace, the memory of a baby held close, and the sound of a gentle lullaby that Solari still hums from time to time while drawing. Then it shifts, Natalyah’s face through Lathrik’s eyes, a hand reaching towards her face, and a feeling of overwhelming gratitude.

Thank you, it seems to say, and with a bright, satisfied smile, Solari pulls away.

Natalyah freezes up during the memory and feeling flood, and doesn't seem to take a breath through it all, but when its over, she releases it and gulps in air.

"Oh, well, that wasn't anything awful at all," Natalyah says to the room, releasing both Solari's hand and the [Fear Ward]. "I mean, of course it wasn't. It was very nice. She said 'thank you,' and also something with the lullaby, and — and Lathrik as a — " Uh oh. A wobble of Natalyah's lips threatens a different emotion, and she tosses her hair back, and doesn't finish the thought, instead reaching forward and finishing her eggnog. Chug chug chug, no other emotions here. Nopety nope.

Solari, small moment of coherency done, claims a spot on Fray’s lap while he puts the new gloves on her, humming along to her song.

“Aww, she looks happy,” Penny says, taking a sympathetic drink of her own eggnog.

“It… it looks like your needlework was on point,” Bren offers, his hands seeking deeper refuge in his pockets.

Peril is distracted from his doom spiral finishing of the sentence — Lathrik as a corpse? Lathrik as a zombie? Lathrik as a wealthy aristocratic gentleman who has no more need of his older brother? — by Bren’s terrible joke that manages to surprise a smile from him.

"Oh, that was awful," Natalyah says with a cackle that somewhat undermines the words, or perhaps suggests that awful puns are good. Maybe both. "And of course it is. I may have taken full advantage of the fact that the woman supervising me couldn't actually see what I was writing, but I did have to endure a truly horrific amount of hours working on countless embroidered handkerchiefs. I am capable of doing the work." There's a note of warning to anyone who might suggest otherwise, along with a glare just waiting to manifest fully at Brendol, held back mostly by the power of eggnog good cheer.

"And don't look so doom and gloom, Peril. Pick another," Natalyah says, flapping a hand at him.

Peril lowers the ribbon again and readies his pointing finger… “But what if he comes back rich?” he blurts, lifting the ribbon again.

“Um… good?” Penny says, patting his shoulder. “Here, have some of my eggnog, Peril, yours is almost gone.” She offers him the glass.

Rather than take a drink as instructed, Peril pulls the ribbon back over his eyes, a blush consuming his cheeks. “That… that’s very kind of you, Penny, but I’m okay for now.” He readies his finger again. “Teeny hunter, name of Mo, caught a murloc by the toe, when it bit him, let it go, bleeding hunter, name of Mo. Teeny murloc caught by Mo, called his village with his throat, when the hunter ran away, murlocs ate him anyway.”

His finger stops halfway between two presents. One is the gift Penny brought, while the other was brought by Bren. Both are long and flat looking, and probably contain boxes.

Natalyah takes all of two, maybe three seconds, to consider the halfway point, and then snatches up both presents. "I'm calling that both," she says, probably needlessly. She sets both presents in her lap. She's also still musing over the earlier statement. "And what do you mean, 'what if he comes back rich?'" Her unhappy tone and thundering frown is matched by the way she absolutely destroys the wrapping paper of the presents.

Penny giggles at her enthusiasm.

“I mean, what if he comes back in some… some suit, and speaks like a gentleman, and was adopted by the leader of some ancient pandaren dynasty —” Peril begins.

Fray frowns at the idea of adoption.

“No,” Harvey interrupts. “That will not happen. Not to him. Even if it did, he would find a way to pass it on to someone else.”

The box containing Bren’s present is simple and white, and within rests a pair of winter-themed pot holders and a woven trivet depicting a snowy landscape.

The box holding Penny’s present contains a set of six ornaments for the tree, and on each is painted — very accurately — a butterfly of the following: Blue Morpho, Red Admiral, Red Lacewing, Atala, White Peacock, and Pipevine Swallowtail.

Natalyah makes a happy gasp at the sight of the ornaments. "Oh, my beauties!" she cries, holding up the Atala with obvious pleasure, swaying slightly on the couch. "These are wonderful, Penny! Where did you get them? I love them!"

Before Penny can possibly answer this question, however, Natalyah continues on, pointing a finger at Peril. "And also Harvey's entirely correct about Lathrik passing on the leadership of some sort of ancient dynasty. At least with the title of it or any sort of wealth or benefit. No, he'd just come home and let me know that he's now responsible for several hundred pandaren now, and we're moving to Pandaria because they're all under his protection forever and ever, and if anything bad ever happens to them from here on out, somehow it's all his fault." Despite the exasperation of the words themselves, there's a strange amount of yearning affection in the actual tone, complete with a soft pout as she strokes the Blue Morpho ornament in its box. "Also, he would look absurdly handsome in a suit, and he could speak like a gentleman if he wanted to, and it wouldn't change anything about him regardless. He'd still be Lathrik."

Peril pauses to consider her words, then pales slightly as he realizes the truth of it. “S-several hundred pandaren…” he says.

“I got the plain ornaments at a market in the Trade District,” Penny says, unfazed by the abrupt departure from the question. “But I’ve been working on my painting thanks to your encouragement, and decided to make ornaments for Winter Veil. I made Hana a set, too. Not butterflies, but flowers, because she likes those. Anyway, Peril helped me make sure the butterflies were accurate, and helped me pick a few that you’d like. My personal pick was the Red Lacewing, because it really does look like it has lace wings, and Ren suggested the Pipevine Swallowtail.”

Natalyah laughs like a villain who has won an argument somehow, and pings a fingernail against the Pipevine Swallowtail. "They're absolutely exquisite," she declares. "Thank you."

She puts the ornament back into place temporarily to open up the other box, revealing the pot holders and the trivet and she makes a pleased sound, pulling out the pot holders to inspect them. "Oh, good. This solves it! These are going to be absolutely perfect for training with Isla!" she says with relish. "I really didn't want to have to use the blanket wrap idea."

Bren blinks. “Blanket… wrap?”

“That girl would benefit from being contained within a roll of blankets,” Harvey says, context unnecessary.

"She is a dear and she's almost an adult. She doesn't need any blankets like a child," Natalyah hisses at Harvey in defense of Isla. To Brendol she does explain that, "She gets occasionally distracted by how bright her hands glow with the Light when we're practicing how to use it in offensive techniques, and has been mistargeting because of it. Because she also casts with her hands, whatever she touches sort of burns with the Light as well, so trying to just cover them up with something burnable hasn't worked. But these are fire resistant, obviously, so." Natalyah flaps them demonstrably. "And now that I have back ups, I can test out the idea."

“I’m… glad they’ll be useful,” Bren says with a timid smile.

“Offensive magic?” Harvey frowns. “For what purpose?”

"The usual reasons, Harvey," Natalyah counters archly. "Uncouth men, uncouth murlocs, uncouth dragon aspects threatening to destroy the world on a Tuesday afternoon."

“So she has plans to smite murlocs, men, and dragon aspects?” Harvey asks. “Alone?”

“I think it’s more of a defense thing,” Bren offers.

“Smiting a dragon aspect is how you get killed by the dragon aspect,” Harvey says, shaking his head. “And she should not be anywhere near murlocs by herself.”

“Now, what’s wrong with a lass having some spice in her blood?” Fray asks sternly.

"First off, who said anything about her being alone. I'm literally teaching her, so I'm right there. Second off, why is it any of your business what her plans are? Are you her guardian simply because you're a man? And as a matter of fact, the dragon aspect happened to kill her brother, and it was Isla who brought him back, untrained, through sheer force of will with the Light, alone, so consider that," Natalyah says hotly, speaking of spicy blooded women.

Harvey is saved from further Natalyah-ing not by the Light, but by a cheery, chirpy tweeting timer from the kitchen, altering the assembled that Natalyah is supposed to do something with the goose.

"The goose!" Natalyah yells, a little unnecessarily, as she launches upright, levitating and zooming across the room towards the oven.

Harvey considers leaving the argument alone. He should leave the argument alone. It would be very diplomatic of him to — “I was referring to when she has finished her training. My gender has nothing to do with my concern for her well-being, the reality is simply that no one should be anywhere near murlocs by themselves because a murloc will not be anywhere near people by itself. Even trained members of the guard can fall victim to them — and have, might I add. The sheer numbers are something to be concerned about when their population spikes. And as to your final point, healing magic and offensive magic are entirely different skill sets, neither of which should be aimed at a dragon aspect attacking the city unless said dragon aspect is thoroughly distracted, though I am glad to hear that she was able to use the Light to restore a life.”

Penny glances towards the kitchen. Did Natalyah catch all that?

“Everyone here has good intentions towards Isla, in their own ways,” Bren says, louder, just in case.

Natalyah catches everything, Penny. Including the goose.

The goose is taken out of the oven, where Natalyah begins working on it aggressively with several things that were probably not meant to be so aggressively applied, but the bird handles it well enough. It's tenderizing the meat, maybe.

"It's not about your concern that's your gender bias, but your presumption that obviously I wouldn't know how to train her or manage her and you, a man, must know better," Natalyah snaps back. "You have no information whatsoever about her plans or her intentions, or anything we've spoken about on how her training is going or will end up, only your assumptions, and you're just assuming you know anything at all about what's going to happen or what she's going to do with it afterwards, or if she'll be alone or with others or how she'll use it. As for a dragon aspect, sometimes whether you like it or not, Harvey, or whether you want to be using a skillset against something in ideal situations, you don't have a choice. She's already learned that lesson the very hard way.

"And sometimes it doesn't matter if you don't intend to be by yourself or not. Having a guard with me all the time didn't stop me from getting him killed and myself mauled to near death and cursed, Harvey," Natalyah says with a dangerous spike of pain that makes even her stop what she's doing and pause.

Harvey’s fingers flex at his side, as though he might continue the argument, but the spike of pain that forces an awareness he would not otherwise have had causes him, too, to fall silent for a moment.

Fray keeps one eye on the death knight, even while his brow furrows into a frown of compassion for Natalyah.

Bren keeps glancing between Harvey and Natalyah, waiting to see if he needs to try to drag someone outside. For once even Penny seems to be at a loss for words. Peril appears to have melted into the chair, as if practicing to win a role in Count Amerith’s next play as a cushion.

“That… is why I was asking,” Harvey eventually says, his voice strained. “About her plans. My apologies for any… assumptions.”

Natalyah breathes carefully, and there is a visible war of emotions over her face, as she floats ominously in the kitchen. It takes her several moments for her to calm herself down, and she doesn't look at anyone at all, her shoulders hunched in an odd shameful curl while she glares at what appears to be… a moth in an amber setting? The moth either has some sort of calming power or some sort of other meaning, because eventually, into the silence and Harvey's words, Natalyah's body language relaxes enough.

She exhales harshly. "I'm sorry, too," she says hoarsely. "I know that you know the same harsh lesson, from the other side of things. You can trust that I'm not going to send a young girl off into the world without both training and caution that it isn't a pure magic barrier that will keep her perfectly safe, even if she was that naive, and the world's already been that hard to her that she isn't." She looks up from the moth and gives him a pointed smile, like a flash of the sun behind a stormy sky.

"And besides, you should know that I also trust you that if I were sending her out somewhere, you'd be one of the first people I'd think of to keep her safe, because I know that you do care, and you would stop anything from hurting someone like her, no matter what that would mean for you. That's what you paladins are like. That's my assumption."

Harvey’s entire demeanor softens, his pride washing away under a rain of self-depreciation, an echo from his former life. “That is how I died,” he says. “Both saving someone else, and being arrogant enough to think I could protect everyone on my own. If my concern seems biased, restrictive, or forceful, only know that it comes from a place of passion, and a fervent hope that no one else will make my mistakes.”

At this, Fray settles into a contemplative silence, possibly recalibrating his opinion of Harvey.

Penny smiles at Harvey and Natalyah.

Natalyah adds several things to the goose. "I know," she says with feeling. "And mine was thinking that I didn't need to learn any of those offensive or defensive Light spells from the Church because I wasn't going out chasing murlocs or dragons. I was chasing butterflies. But we don't always get to choose what chases us. So, we're both just doing what we can to make sure she doesn't make our mistakes."

Natalyah sniffs aristocratically, and tosses her hair, leaving it floating strangely around her face, a slight brittleness to her bravado. "She'll just have to make new ones. It's gauche to repeat after us, anyway. Been there, done that, set new trends, gosh." Before that brittleness can break, she waves a hand at the others. "Hurry up and open the rest. The Silly Goose is almost ready."

The…the what.

“Oh, is it a silly goose?” Penny immediately gets up to investigate.

Fray retrieves the two remaining presents, a squashy squarish present, roughly the size of a large book, but definitely not one for him, and a small brown paper bag with a bit of festively cut out butterflies glued on with some cheap green tissue paper for Peril. He tosses Peril the paper bag, a nice, easy toss that any normal person should be able to catch, and yet, somehow, Peril fumbles the bag. It lands on the coffee table, narrowly missing a drink set there.

Peril freezes, staring up at Fray as if he’s failed some sort of aptitude test. Bren tries to hide a cringe, and Harvey looks ready to death grip the drink. Solari glances at the bag that has suddenly invaded her space, then up at Peril. Solari present?

“Alright,” Fray says with a thoughtful nod. “We’ll work on that.”

Natalyah puts a protective hand over her goose. "He's not ready yet! He's only half dressed," she protests, with a shoo-ing hand. There's… there's actual clothing happening around her. That's a bonnet on the counter. And a pinecone. A Big Pinecone with Orange Paint.

The worgen peeks around at the bag tossing drama. "Oh, good, yes. That's Peril's, and that's yours, Fray. Don't spill anything on Peril's!" The warning comes out ominously with a finger point.

Penny turns away quickly. “I’m sorry Mister Goose, I didn’t mean to catch you in a state of undress,” she says with a giggle.

Harvey stares towards the kitchen.

Peril very carefully retrieves the bag from the table — he might be sweating a little as he navigates the drinks — and, upon safe retrieval, sits back to open it. Solari watches with curiosity.

Fray, too, settles down when all looks well, keeping one eye on Peril as he opens his present.

Fray's present isn't as straightforward and loud as the man himself, but only because it's physically impossible for a sweater to achieve these levels of noise, but this sweater tries, as it emerges from its wrapper cocoon. It's an absolutely enormous, thick woolen sweater of a baseline navy blue with patterns of cheerful red, yellow, and orange, and it is truly large enough to not be too tight even on the oversized Fray. (Some people — not naming names — might wonder if it was repurposed from a woolen gnome circus tent originally perhaps, if such things exist.)

Natalyah has personalized it by embroidering a picture on the front, one that takes a second for the mind to sort out amid the busy colors, until it does resolve into concrete shapes — it's a roof. Not just any roof, though — it's the Solari and Fray roof, so now Fray can always be somewhat perched on it, if he wants. It's like a take-along roof brooding sweater. Or something.

Peril's is an entirely different matter, and perhaps it becomes more clear why Natalyah was more concerned about drinks spilling on it because inside the paper bag is what initially appears to be a miniaturized hat box, like she'd had someone shrink it down? Except! Upon opening it — haha! Revealed to be an arcane hat box, allowing for the storage of at least two hats. It currently has no hats, but it does have two custom embersilk hat linings — the kind most absolutely gentle on hair fibers, already embroidered in teeny tiny stitching around what will eventually be the band for the forehead: DANGER IS MY FIRST NAME.

It takes Fray a moment to spot the roof, but when he does, he lets out a loud boom of laughter, stripping off his armor and pulling on the sweater immediately. “Thank you, Natalyah,” he says, his eyes alight with cheer.

Harvey struggles to maintain a neutral face as he takes in all the color. He manages, though there is a slight squint to his eyes. Bren, completely lacking in context, stares at the sweater in confusion, unable to make out the roof, as if his mind is rejecting entirely the idea that there might be a roof on this sweater.

Penny has returned to Peril’s shoulder to peer at his present, and as the hat liners and embroidery is revealed, she squeals in delight. Peril’s lips curl up in a grin, and he fingers the rim of his hat as if he is almost considering installing one of the liners right now. Almost.

“This will be good to have for travel,” he says.

“Won’t it? It’s as if she knew we’d get married in Pandaria,” Penny says. “You could keep a wedding hat in here, and have two travel hats! Natalyah, did you know he has a hat specifically for baths? He keeps it in his bathroom, and —”

“Th-this is a very thoughtful gift,” Peril interrupts. “Thank you.”

Natalyah lets out an unfettered laugh. "Oh, it's like a bathhouse but it's a bathhat. A bathhouse-bathhat?" she teases. But Peril is spared greater Bath Hat scrutiny because Natalyah lifts up her son Silly Goose on its great silver platter, and it definitely takes up an entire spotlight all on its own.

The Goose is dressed. Half cooking project, half craft project, all Silliness. It has a bonnet. It has little doll-like clothes that are propped up with toothpicks around crisp, well-seasoned and roasted skin. It has been given a new head made of a pinecone, with a painted orange beak, resting out among flavorful potatoes and carrots like a tired silly goose, its new closed eyes made out with crescent beads and long fake lashes.

It's a monstrosity.

It's magnificent.

"BEHOLD, THE SILLY GOOSE," Natalyah chants, as she floats ominously into the dining room.

This is a very normal Winter's Veil Feast.

Fray takes up the chant, because why not, adding his boisterous energy to the occasion. “SILLY GOOSE, SILLY GOOSE!”

Harvey looks to be determining if this unholy creature is better or worse than pigs.

Bren moves to whisper to Penny, “We are eating it, right?” Maybe he feels guilty because of the clothes.

Penny gives Bren an adoring smile. Aww, look at the cute kid asking silly questions. “Of course we are,” she says. “Natalyah wouldn’t have cooked it for us otherwise.”

Solari claps. For some reason.

Natalyah gives a little twirl in the air at the clapping, because that's right, she deserves it. "Of course we're eating him," Natalyah affirms. "This is his purpose."

Okay, but it does sound weird when put that way. A little bit.

She puts the Silly Goose in the center proudly. "Now, sit," she commands the others.

Meanwhile, the lepidopterist makes another trip to the kitchen, to collect Penny's table setting, and a spectacularly half-blasted emergency candle that looks like someone's scorched it with the actual Light repeatedly (she's working with what's she got, sorry, Penny), and set it at a scooched in place.

"We're all going to light a candle, for what always holds back the darkness of the winter in all of us, no matter what we are or what's been behind us," Natalyah says as she takes her seat at the head of the table. "The light of a life and a soul of a person in what we love and what we do, and what we choose to become with each year."

(This is a threat.)