.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
|
Thranduil
It would have been so easy right? It was just a mechanical step by step. Motions he had done every day. It was just a goodbye, how many of those had he done? The gold who never settled of course had practice in those. He was ever so good at letting memories slip away. So good at boxing them up and hiding them in the attic. It would have been so easy to leave her there. Or so he thought. He would never get the chance to find out. A shout echos like a shot gun behind him, freezing his gold body. Earth eyes swim to hear it. It was a voice not unlike the one he imagined so many dark nights and cold days. Through every storm, like a hallowed memory he wished were true, he heard it on the thunder. It hadn’t come them, but it coming now. The damsel doing what she hadn’t done all those years ago. So was it really the damsel calling or someone else? Who really called him? Calling him back. Now like a ringing of a bell someone was finally calling it but unlike the tender untouched soul he always imagined would turn to the caller, he stood as facing away, like stone, cold and distant. He felt anything but though. Pulse raced, and body felt a sickness and dread. Had he imagined a moment like this? Perhaps with another caller, but like this nonetheless? Much to his regret, he had. Movement rustles behind him, ears lay back to catch it. He didn’t want to turn to her, his body seized up like stone, but he was not allowed to deny it. Like a punishment it commands the gold to turn, to face the cold world. So those twin horns turn, and trembling earth eyes laden heavy with rings of guilt, memory, and the weight of the world. She yells, and even after the labors of battle it sounds up like a hurricane right in his harks. But its sting is not just in the noise. Words cur deeper than she could have ever meant to bear them. Did he think he could just walk away? Yes… Why would you not want to walk away? The world was vast and ever moving. Other places, and other times forgot what passed in one life in one second. The world may fall apart in one soul, in one place, but it could be rebuilt in others. That was the beauty of lies. If you didn’t like reality, you could change it. Wasn’t that the freedom everyone wanted? You don’t like your life, your ill-fated realities, change them, create, for only your imagination and skills were the limits. Actually broke, well now you were a prince. Actually a murder, well now you were a moral compass and saint. Actually a heart broken, shattered, deadbeat? With a well-crafted lie you were an innocent, waiting for true love’s first kiss again, or like the golden, a solid man, without need of another warm body. How pleased he had been to find the work of his trade was also the salvation of his life, the way to put it together again. But this time someone had called him back. Someone had finally shouted out. Someone had stopped him, calling his bluff. The grand narrative told him to face her, but it made the next words sting all the more. Acid indeed, it rained upon him and seemed to turn the golden man to a pale shadowy ghost. Did she mean what she said? Rationale says she’s spitting out falsities in a fit of anger, not meaning the words that fell at his feet. But it didn’t matter if she meant them. They were still said. The golden was never ashamed to admit he had spun another golden thread through the world’s tapestry. He was always proud to admit with a wide smirk he had told a twisted truth, rather than a lie. But this? Was this a lie? Earth eyes turn inward, searching, because for once in a long era, he wasn’t sure. Cold bone fingers reach out in the dark trying to find the object they lost long ago. The damsel hisses at him again and it bites him. Head tucks, and harks turn back. The bone hand was desperately searching. He for once, wasn’t sure. Then a head falls into him. Body jerks, having forgotten the real touch of another creature. Not a seductive kiss, or rage filled wound, but a touch in the basics of emotions. Her hot skin, burned even through the cool of air, but the golden did not move away. How long since he felt the bone of another dig in, and not move away? How long had he felt their hot tears trail down his own flesh? But it brought like a flash of color in a black and white, the light needed. The boney hand reaches out, and finally seizes upon the object, bringing a smooth youthful skin to it again. Its fingers grasped at the shape of a soul, the beat of a heart. Like a strike it brings reactions, not of the gold as this world, Helovia, knew him, but of a long lost place. You would be right he acted not like himself, for to this world, what the hand gripped had not belonged to that golden man, but the one before him. So he does as one would have in the days of dust and memory. Her hot skin presses into his shoulder and golden neck, high and taunt, uncurls, and reaches over. Long vanilla tassels fall over her like a shroud, hiding the world she fears so much from her view. Here next to him, it need not exist. It could be forgotten. Muzzle reaches out to brush her neck if she allowed. To run down her straining muscles, and let warm breath roll over him, as gathers her closer. For a moment it was alright. For a moment this felt right. He had been called back, and he came with what was needed. The broken had found a piece of the lost. For a moment he holds her closer, his gentle gestures trying to draw her closer, to hold her against the storm of the world. None would touch her here. What was he doing here? “This.” Hand reaches out, its fingers, flesh and skin while their tips brush the old soul. It can feel it, and almost grasp it. Tips brush against its old familiar surface. He need only reach a little further. Arm reaches. It stretches. And for the first time since those days, struggles with all its might to grip it. But it is not enough. Touches, brushes, and glimpses are all it can find, and like the setting sun, the flesh gives way to bone again, left again to move about the dark, if it even cared to at all now. All is dead once more. It can not reach far enough. Though sparks had crackled in his soul, and he felt the old machines turning there was not enough power, not enough connections left to pull him all the way. He was in the end, still the hallow shell. That’s all that had been left after that evening in the storm. The story she had wanted to know is what had torn those connections and left them unrepaired. Pieces were sewn, by his and other hands. Together they pieced together again the golden coat of pride and assurance he wore. It covered the scars, till he almost forgot they were there. But they were. The damage done inside had not been undone. Why repair when you can ignore? Why face the horrible nightmares of reality that caused those scars when this coat looked just as wonderful? So while forces had moved him, and a brush of her skin had brought a surge he hadn’t felt since then, it could not yet overcome, and his world grew dark and senseless again. No one could live in a dark and senseless life though. So the pillar of lies, and blinders rebuild. The golden this world of Helovia knew began to return. The world he had built of a heartless creature, painted on the walls once more, and brought the dim glow of a replica of life. But if that dim glow was all you ever saw, was it so far from the true light of life? For a moment he had stood embracing her. It seemed like the moment ticked by as much as she allowed. But then he finally pulls back. It wasn’t there after all, and so nothing was left to keep him. Would it ever be there? Only fate and time could answer. For now, the gentle creature who held her close moved back, stepping back in place. His earth eyes still scanned her, troubled. There might not have been enough spark, but there was spark. Unlike their history, he felt a guilt to prove to her, this was no lie. His reframe was no sign of a troubled conscience, even if it was. So he lies. What more could you expect? Crowned head as it pulls back turns and reaches to the satchel at his side. There it slips in pouch for a moment. Would this be enough to hide the trembling of his flesh at the last traces of her touches? Lips find what they seek and pull them from the depths. Two necklaces slip from the grip of his teeth and fall to the earth. Harks fall back at the slip from grace. His lie of ease was slipping. Earth eyes glance to her, hoping she hadn’t noticed, then dip to the trampled grasses. In the grass rests the two necklaces from the fish. One a songbird. The other a hawk. Considering them for a moment he grabs the songbird. Muffled in the drain of his mind was the notion of the knowing purpose of these gifts from the fish. The songbird truly fit the damsel. Ever innocent, and delicate, singing in the freedom of the sweet earth. So the gold holds this necklace up and extends it to the damsel, and even if she allowed, helped her slip it over her neck. Was this all their meetings would be? Gift giving and stinging words? If only you knew what it was for the gold to give. It, like the embrace of before, were signs of a bygone era, a lost version of the golden. And for it to feel to necessary, and so right to prove his intent with such things was more telling than all the words he could speak. He says nothing of the gift though. He could not. What was he to say? A fish gave this to me and it reminds me of you? What a pathetic thing to say. What a quick death to this lie that his draw back had had purpose. Earth eyes rolls closed for a second as he lets the mess of this all wash over him. Hoping it would wash away the reality of this moment. They open to the world again, and find it hadn’t. Still before him was the damsel. What question he could never answer was if the sigh that followed was heavy with sadness or relief. Still there, in the grasses lay the small hawk charm, its metal changing, and gaining properties. It waited. Impatiently it shivered in the grass, ready to complete the bond to its mate. "talk talk talk" OOC:: Look I didn't tag you! lol Also, if you don't mind, for reality's sake Thran needs help getting this necklace over his horns, so if you want you can do that or I will have him ungracefully figure it out in the next thread. =D Her necklace shouldn't feel anything until his is on. |
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
