For as long as Telemain could remember his sole focus was magical theory; dissecting and creating spells to view their inner matrices, examining every sort of magic he could access, and learning the true reasons why magic worked the way it did left him time for little else. Each new problem or magical disturbance, no matter the size or effect, was a chance for exploration and the evaluation of the world around them as it pertained to magic, and thus theory had held his full and rapt attention for as long as he had studied it.
Yet now Telemain found himself facing an entirely different sort of conundrum, one that he found he had neither reliable empirical evidence nor a magical framework to turn to for answers. He researched all the same, of course, checking all the books and tomes in his library that covered any range of subjects from curses to illnesses and found nothing, thus confirming his mentally proposed hypothesis; he was in love.
Once he knew the “what” in his predicament, the “why” was simple; over the years in which he and Morwen had known each other (and of course it was Morwen, anyone but Morwen would likely not be able to stand him, nor him them), especially in their current period of heightened vigilance to protect the sword, his feelings for the practical, no-nonsense witch had deepened to an intensity that still surprised him. The feelings and their intensity had grown over the years, and due to their long-standing friendship Telemain encountered difficulty when attempting to decipher the exact point in which his emotions began to revolt against him in favor of Morwen; it was substantially easier to focus instead on what he would do about his predicament.
Their current situation, Telemain willingly admitted, was far from ideal. The peril presented by the Society of Wizards was all too real, and he found that he would rather neither of them die due to a mistake caused by over contemplation of their respective feelings; a partner also posed the risk of a weakness to exploit, however unlikely that line of thought was. That being put forth, however, caused him to contemplate that fact that the mere thought of Morwen coming to harm in any fashion, especially by virtue of himself, was utterly reprehensible; so much so that he refused to continue on that line of thought entirely. He also well understood their obligations to the Enchanted Forest itself; their protection of the sword and those within the forest had to come before all else, no matter how regrettable it may be.
Having analyzed all of the evidence before him, explored all possible outcomes, and weighed the risks of each one, Telemain's decision came easily; he would wait. For Daystar, for his return, the war or battle that it would undoubtedly spark, and for Mendanbar to awaken once more; once that was done, once they could finally breathe easy again, he would broach the subject with Morwen. Should she be amenable, and he fiercely hoped that she would be-as would be her cats, in the best case scenario, though he knew it was statistically unlikely-then maybe they could continue on together, to research and garden and take care of each other and their home. For now he could only hope that, having puzzled out his feelings, he would be able to continue on with his rather delicate research undistracted; the cat that Morwen had sent, likely to fetch him for a cup of cider, was curled up on his current research materials, directly in the middle of his very large desk, and seemed rather inclined to disagree.