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eachdraidh2014-07-25 05:30 pm
orcsurfing) wrote in eachdraidh2014-07-25 05:30 pm
video. open to both courts.
[ Legolas has waited several hours to make this announcement. Grieving, weeping with quiet tears for the half of it, gathering composure and thoughts for the other. He still hardly feels the strength needed to say what he has to say, hardly feels himself having the competence, yet it must be said and he makes a good show for it.
His shoulders squared, head held high no matter the shame he still carries with his hair cut short as it is, his face seems carved out of stone into an expression of firm neutrality, yet not without the soft edges of gentleness. What suffering there is is hidden deeply and out of view. The light in his eyes has dimmed, and with the usual cheer and laughter missing from the picture he makes, his presence seems hollow.
A shadow of his usual self, yet he holds himself together all the same. The Prince he should be, his father's son though not once in his life has he been truly prepared to take over his father's role.
He never wanted to either and especially not like this. ]
Elvenking Thranduil has vanished from this world, leaving behind his shard.
[ His lip doesn't tremble, there is no pause, his voice is even. ]
What he has set out to do, I will carry out in time. 'tis a promise to the shard-holders and the natives of the Drabwurld alike. What begs to be repeat now, with my own voice, with my own words, is that I have forsworn all allegiance with either Court and I will build a home for all who wish not to be drawn into the madness of this foolish war.
[ Time for play is over, time for growing up at last has just begun. He takes no title, names himself no Prince nor King nor anything much really. ]
Those who had unfinished business with him are welcome to bring it to me, his son Legolas Thranduilion.
[ A beat of a pause then in a tone far gentler, yet at the same time tired, he adds. ]
And to those who are to partake in the upcoming battle, I wish you luck.
[ Be safe, he wishes he could say, but the words get stuck in his throat. Then mimicking his father's attitude, he shuts the locket without another word.
In what little time he was speaking the sharp edges of the shard in his hand cut through skin with the force of his hold on it, blood trickles down, painting red flowers on the floor, but he barely feels it. Body numbed to pain with the agony of the soul, he feels himself cracking and crumbling and shattering all over again. What strength that returned over the weeks spent at the Station, seems to be now fizzling out with every quiet breath.
He feels more alone than he has felt in all his life, not knowing if he'll ever see his father ever again. Not even knowing what has happened, in truth, just that today he was simply gone and on bed there lay a shard.
This isn't Arda, this is Drabwurld, will they ever see each other at Aman again? Or has he lost his father for all the rest of his life? ]
( ooc: there'll be a delay before he begins responding and all responses to this post will be in voice only. Thrandaddy is gone, babyleaf's gotta grow up asap and pull his act together. :c )
His shoulders squared, head held high no matter the shame he still carries with his hair cut short as it is, his face seems carved out of stone into an expression of firm neutrality, yet not without the soft edges of gentleness. What suffering there is is hidden deeply and out of view. The light in his eyes has dimmed, and with the usual cheer and laughter missing from the picture he makes, his presence seems hollow.
A shadow of his usual self, yet he holds himself together all the same. The Prince he should be, his father's son though not once in his life has he been truly prepared to take over his father's role.
He never wanted to either and especially not like this. ]
Elvenking Thranduil has vanished from this world, leaving behind his shard.
[ His lip doesn't tremble, there is no pause, his voice is even. ]
What he has set out to do, I will carry out in time. 'tis a promise to the shard-holders and the natives of the Drabwurld alike. What begs to be repeat now, with my own voice, with my own words, is that I have forsworn all allegiance with either Court and I will build a home for all who wish not to be drawn into the madness of this foolish war.
[ Time for play is over, time for growing up at last has just begun. He takes no title, names himself no Prince nor King nor anything much really. ]
Those who had unfinished business with him are welcome to bring it to me, his son Legolas Thranduilion.
[ A beat of a pause then in a tone far gentler, yet at the same time tired, he adds. ]
And to those who are to partake in the upcoming battle, I wish you luck.
[ Be safe, he wishes he could say, but the words get stuck in his throat. Then mimicking his father's attitude, he shuts the locket without another word.
In what little time he was speaking the sharp edges of the shard in his hand cut through skin with the force of his hold on it, blood trickles down, painting red flowers on the floor, but he barely feels it. Body numbed to pain with the agony of the soul, he feels himself cracking and crumbling and shattering all over again. What strength that returned over the weeks spent at the Station, seems to be now fizzling out with every quiet breath.
He feels more alone than he has felt in all his life, not knowing if he'll ever see his father ever again. Not even knowing what has happened, in truth, just that today he was simply gone and on bed there lay a shard.
This isn't Arda, this is Drabwurld, will they ever see each other at Aman again? Or has he lost his father for all the rest of his life? ]
( ooc: there'll be a delay before he begins responding and all responses to this post will be in voice only. Thrandaddy is gone, babyleaf's gotta grow up asap and pull his act together. :c )
action.
It's not her place, is it? Sometimes, oftentimes, she can't help wanting to soften blows.
Not before much longer, twenty-minutes or so, he'll hear her descending the steps to the lower section of the Station to come seeking him. Or, she assumes he'll be down here. Weren't father and son resting below before? If she does find him here, without any sort of projection, she'll merely approach to place her weight against his side, or drop her heavy head onto his shoulder.
If she can't, then back up the stairs she'll go, quickly, and she'll be trotting with keen determination all over the Station until she's finally found him. ]
no subject
If it's something he'd be able to accept at all. The locket as it chimes and chimes time and again he ignores, but the white wolf that comes and presses into him with great familiarity now, he cannot and would not ever ignore.
Without a word he buries his face in Amaterasu's coat, though no more tears fall, his face is scrunched up, mouth crimping, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. There are others here, of course there are, and friends good and dear to him by now, yet this is different. When he came he never expected matters to be quite this complex, this uncertain, this random. Legolas doesn't know when he will return, or if he ever will, in truth. He can be strong and hold on to the hope, because dying is the last thing on his mind now, not after the promise he's made.
He has been touched by war and cruelty in many ways, yet in this, with this, his father has ever treated him with great gentleness and care, spoiled him nearly with his constant presence much like a safe haven for Legolas at all times. ]
Thank you.
[ For coming, for being here. ]
no subject
His words mean much, yet even so she does not feel he needs to thank her for anything. She conveys it through a partially scolding groan, and bumps her nose carefully against his forehead. Although, she doesn't speak her hushing words directly, since he's familiar with her ancient beasts language, it'll surely come across without too much trouble. ]