for Drizzt

Feb. 19th, 2017 10:31 pm
goldenplaits: (Default)
[personal profile] goldenplaits
It has been a while since he realized the truth: That Maedhros would not return. He had waited centuries upon centuries after he heard tidings of his death, believing that he would simply take time to mend, that a soul as broken and jarred as his would take much longer than that of any other to heal.

But none of the Fëanorians had returned, bound by their oath even in the halls, too proud and strong-willed to repent in full - in Maehdros's case, Fingon assumed, the forgiving himself part might be what was holding him back, and if that was the case, he would truly not see him again until world's end. Even before his, Fingon's death, when so much hadn't befallen yet, there had been much that Maedhros had refused to even allow others to forgive him for (but then, of course, Fingon's own will was strong enough to easily rival his friend's, and when one literally walks into hell to bring you back home, it is hard to not accept that maybe, refusing their forgiveness is not in accordance with the situation anymore at that point).

No, Maedhros would not return until world's end. He should have been glad, still, to be reunited with his siblings and parents, with friends and cousins and so many others, but he found himself breaking in the perfect bliss of the Undying Lands that should have healed all hurt, and in the end it had been Aegnor who took his best friend aside and told him to set sail.

It had taken time to be granted passage, but Nienna's counsel had finally brought the Valar to the decision that just this once, passage should be granted to the East.

He's not sure if it is really better, now, travelling lands that he has never seen, where sorrow and death, fear and hurt, but also vibrant life itself are at everyone's side day and night. But it is; perhaps only so because he is kept on his toes and because nobody expects for all to be healed around him. His pain isn't an outlier, here, nothing that should vanish with time and yet doesn't.

And, he thinks as he considers the path before him, trying to decide if he should turn left or right on it, this place is so young, as old as it technically is. So vibrant, and new - well, now especially, that he has crossed an icy plain that uncomfortably reminded him of the Grinding Ice for almost two years. It's nice to be in lands that are actually green again. It's nice to not wear thick furs any more, but only light armour and simple, sturdy travelling gear, to wear his hair in a more open style that doesn't need to fit under a hood, the thick dark plaits intertwined with golden-yellow ribbons resting against his back again.

He chuckles softly and makes a decision, turning to the left. "A road is a dangerous thing, for we never know where it leads. Wasn't that it, Mr Baggins?"
narva: (Default)
[personal profile] narva
Please tell me in your subject line which character and which prompt you're replying to! And thanks a lot for helping me testdrive!

Please follow the [#number] links to get to the prompt in question.



Ragnar (oWoD / ghoul) [personal profile] reunite
Prompt #42 (Sarmatia)

To Ragnar, the strange part about this isn't the presence of vampires and werewolves. Both have been a part of his life almost since birth, in one way or the other. No, the really strange part is the kind of music, the way in which the music is presented, the state of dress of the attendees and what they call dancing in the crowd.

He's an old man from the 1900s turn of the centuries, okay, he's allowed to stand out like a sore thumb have a hard time blending in at first. Luckily it is dark and nobody really cares too much about everyone else around, so he has time enough to watch everyone and finally find a calm spot where he doesn't have to worry about someone stepping on Emil. Carrying the dog around isn't technically an issue for someone as supernaturally strong as him, but it does get him looks and he'd rather not get those. So he finally finds a spot from which the stage can't really be viewed. He's not strictly alone here, but the crowd is thinned enough to put Emil down. And ...well, if the people around him are mostly busy making out, getting high or ...refreshing themselves (seriously, he should get a sign that says 'sorry, I'm taken'), he doesn't mind too much.

That's normal. That's a lot less strange than what the young ones call music these days.

He sits down with a long sigh and pats his thigh to get Emil to come over and stop sniffing a passed out young woman nearby, addressing the dog when he speaks up, in a tone that is half complaint and half amusement: "You have to wonder why it needs to be so loud." Even for people with normal hearing, that should be twice the necessary amount of sound.


Prompt #38 (Created Telepathic Network Landscape)

He had almost forgotten about this. No, not forgotten, but pushed it aside, into a corner of his mind that he didn't visit anymore. Tucked it away neatly so he didn't have to look at it anymore, with many other memories that he would rather have erased from existence. Things that still gnawed away at his heart if he looked at them, even after all those time, even after all the things that he had done.

At the moment, the glass cube looks almost harmless - a group of people in a longhouse, the light shining on the scene apparently a fire somewhere to the side. The picture centres on four people in the middle, one of them a tall, bearded, somewhat older looking man with one eye hidden under an elaborate eyepatch. He looks off, inhuman, though with how tiny the figures are it is hard to tell why. Opposite of him stand a woman of perhaps forty, Ragnar and between them a man of about thirty who resembles the two people to his sides enough to likely be their son - or at least related to both, for those who pay attention to apparent age. Unlike the man and woman to his sides who seem to be grieving more than anything else, the man in the middle looks scared out of his mind.




Tuuli Virtanen (oWoD / werewolf) [personal profile] northernspirits
Prompt #41 (Bando)

For a while, Tuuli watches the dancing in fascination, but eventually, she drifts away from it. Food is one thing to look out for, but there is another kind of nourishment that she is much more interested in, and eventually, she comes across it.

Storytellers.

At a festival like this, she figured, there would have to be some, and she hadn't been mistaken. Over the course of the evening, she will drift from one to the next, sometimes getting a bit of food or drink on the way, listening and gathering. Not all the stories are new, or only new iterations of stories that she's heard before, but sometimes even those add a twist or are narrated especially beautifully. After an especially beautifully told tragedy, she stays where she listened for a while, sitting with a half eaten box of octopus balls in her lap in an almost meditative state as she lets what she just heard sink in properly. If someone remains next to her until she is done, she will look over at them and offer up the box with a rueful smile. "Do you want one? I fear they got cold, though."


Prompt #43 (Liminal Farmland)

There is one thing to be said about patchwork farmland, and that is that it is a lot softer than regular farmland. One local human or wolf, depending if you encounter her after or before a good nap, certainly seems to think so, having found a field of rapeseed that seems to be especially soft and comfy to lay down on and just relax for a while, lazily watching the going ons around her.

Tuuli raises her head just enough to signal attention and see the source of the sound when she hears someone approach, to check if they will come over to her or pass by.




Marja Virtanen (oWoD / mage) [personal profile] onecatmore
Prompt #37 (Junkworld)

"Just go down there and press the red button twice, then the green, and then both and the yellow one at the same time." She glares at the panel in front of her, which is, surprise, full of red buttons. And then to the other side of the small, but not small enough for one person to reach both walls at once, room, where the one big yellow button is located. "I should just smash you all and see what happens."

Okay, no. Self control. She breathes deeply and despite having enhanced the way her body deals with the air around almost gets a coughing fit. Whatever is in the air, working on making it go away will be really worth it, but... "For heaven's sake, why don't they even know how their own ship works!" The only tech that she can deal with is medical tech, and she's never had any interest in furthering her horizon there. But she doesn't normally work on a spaceship, either. This is like a Virtual Adept telling her to just ...okay, that's probably the problem. Thinking that the situation will be as obvious to her as it is to the person who gave her the instruction. Heavens. She knows why she prefers to work alone.


Prompt #3 (Moebius)

She can't remember anything, and that doesn't make her scared, it makes her furious. Not that that fury has any aim or outlet, so she just sits up on this deathbed she was placed on, quietly seething, and glares at those just waking up around her before relenting a bit and rubbing her head.

She needs to pull herself together. First steps first. Pull herself together and keep the fury alive, because if it goes away she knows that fear will replace it, and she can't be scared. Not if - not if what? There's a memory, almost at her fingertips, that she cannot access.

"What happened?"

The question is directed at nobody in particular, more at the world in general, and she doesn't really expect it to be answered either as she looks around.



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