Open Accidental/Deliberate Post to EVERYONE 29th

[bythewaves]

The sound that tears from the lockets early in the morning of the twenty-ninth is inhuman. Keening, jagged and sharp-edged as a sword, it turns blood in veins to ice and freezes the very stars in the sky. It is grief and loss and utter despair. And it is hatred too, old and deep and as dangerous as any slumbering volcano when it wakes. It is unforgettable, and it forces you to close your ears to it lest it destroy your heart.

The video that accompanies it is obviously taken by a fairy, and the scene is one of devastation, Maglor crumpled over a golden-haired form. One thing immediately obvious is that this, despite the war banners flying and the armored soldiers, was no death in battle - the area around them is too clear, the placements too precise - this was an execution.

"Turko, Turko, no no no! Not again, no, please, not again!"



(ooc: so... Mags is obviously not replying to this. Link will take you to the battle log and Mags' speech, rather than me write it out twice ahaha. There is also a log going up for after where Mags can be reached... sorta. Will might answer this if you ping it, or you can just react. People Mags knows well might get his fairy, but don't expect much sense out of it either)

Comments

not here.

[orcsurfing]

[ Generation after generation, the tempers in their line have been soothed, they cooled and the fires of them grew more and more difficult to spark. From Oropher whose fire nearly consumed him, what was exactly what brought him to his doom, through Thranduil who has learned with his father's example to contain it, to Legolas himself a soul most gentle by nature yet like the forest itself is his temper, like summer leaves richly green and full of life. Only the most scorching fire these leaves will take to...

And such he feels right now, watching the feed with speechless silence, eyes blown wide.

That fire razes him to cinders and ashes and when Maglor is done speaking, he feels deep void within himself. Rage he had always found to be a terrible emotion. Hatred a foolish thing that destroyed one more so than any other feeling.

This is not what he ever agreed to be a part of, when he joined the Seelie Court.

This is not what he ever wished to take part in.

This is not what he thought his once allies to ever be like.

He breathes at last, snapping shut the locket and turning on his heel to gather his people.

Rage is the most pointless of emotions, rage is the least constructive of them all, unless there is a way to channel it into something. It destroys, otherwise, just like hatred slowly kills and eats you from within, poisons blood and thoughts and right now he needs to breathe else he chokes on that poison. Right now he needs to leave, no more delays, no more stalling, there is something his father has been asked to do and it has been passed on to him now. His father's heir. If there ever was a matter with which to use this anger, it's this. Use it as drive to do something that will offer peace for all those who need a home or wish not to fight.

That was all he wished for, wasn't it? To honour the Oath and to protect a home.

And yet beneath it all is also grief, he - one of the so very few who had all the right to hate Celegorm - feels grief for his death. ]