No sooner than Velentham arrived on the porch to the cottage than his father swung the door wide. "What did you do?" the elder Celestial asked.
"I made him an offer," Velentham said simply, pushing past his father.
"Do you think blocking me from you mind prevents me from hearing? Do you think I couldn't feel the rage coursing through you? I am the creator of this place, Velentham - not a visitor."
Velentham sat in the chair, avoiding his father's gaze. It was delicate, and the blush of anger still had yet to leave his face. "I know, father."
"You have crossed the line, Velentham. I cannot abide your recklessness. No mortal woman is worth this."
Velentham stood up, looking his father in the eye. "Don't you understand? If he agrees to this, then I not only get what I want, but we get his cooperation. We get his silence, father. Is that not worth it?" It angered him to see his father shaking his head sadly.
"I know not what is wrong with you, my son."
"Wrong with me?"
"You have always been quick to anger, rash, foolish, abrasive, and brash. This... there are other ways."
Velentham glared at his father, feeling hurt and wounded. Never had he felt this emotion - the weight of disappointment. "Father - surely you intend to stand by my side in this."
"If we manage to keep this from anyone it will be a miracle." Telfenham looked at his son with sorrow-filled eyes. "I will stand by your side, Velentham. But I hope that when this falls around your ears you will finally learn some sort of lesson." In a flash of light, Telfenham left his son standing in perfect silence. He could not reach his father, and Velentham stared at the flames of the fireplace feeling as though he were cut off from creation.
