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She was such a smooth fit. Her ways so like his own and she didn’t mind letting it show. It made that golden son feel most at ease. He knew his place, and he new hers (in his mind of course they were not equal). It was perhaps why he was so quick to throw the labels upon her. He wasn’t exactly holding up the banner for gender equality over here, nor did he want to. It was indeed and unfair judgement he made upon her, and any creature with the least bit of compassion wouldn’t have mentioned it. But this is the golden, and he was not kind when using what he knew. He enjoyed a laugh, a trick, and if it was at another’s expense so be it. Watching her return his smirk to him was a most pleasurable sight. Smiles or even cries were nice, but a well trimmed smirk couldn’t be beat to someone who understands its meaning. Of course that didn’t mean he needed her judgements. Even if he had known her commentary on his wits and phrases it wouldn’t have matter to him. That’s not what kings sit on the throne for. Its not a stage, for you to throw your boos at. If you give the slightest frown that stage can turn into your execution block. That was half the fun of course. Kings got power. Power to manipulate your minds and fates. Of course, the golden wasn’t a real King. He was a King of another kind. He was a King of shadows and the dark. He could twist his little finger and the world would wrap around it only to knot itself and strangle. Or at least that’s what his ego was telling him as he stands there smirking back at the pretty thing. So up on his throne he stands, waiting for a joke or a story. Some wild adventure with a twist. It seems he expected too much. He expected her to play along, but in the end she became coy, and a tease. The golden didn’t prefer teases. They were fun to be sure, especially when you could let them think they’ve won. Oh that was a pleasure. He let’s his low smirk rise and snorts a ha of a laugh. It might not be what he wanted, and it might have been a tease, but it wasn’t a bad tease. Oh but then she wants to know where he has been. What has brought him here. Would he tell her of the soul twisting, and heartbreaking season it had been? Of the tragedies and agonies he had faced that threatened the core of who he was? Or that he had come here in a hope? In a little tiny hope that he might repaint his surroundings to be as it had before? Nothing in his head rolling through but this scene? That he was trying to forget he possessed a little hawk necklace and a grey feather? That he was not the king but the jester? Of course he wouldn’t. He was Thranduil. No such marks would mar his coat. The reason he didn’t worry about mud? – Because nothing ever stuck. So then how shall he respond? Well of course the chess pieces were moving. She winks at him. And he in a humor smiles and tucks his head, letting her walk past without following her step. Instead his stays still, with only his harks flicking back to listen, and he responds in the same tones. “Unfortunately it appears my heart is frozen. So I’m desperately trying to thaw it.” He smiles, and then turns to look at her, his hooves making not a sound. Oh the pleasure of it though to say those words and have them not mean a damn thing. To say it hurts, makes the real hurt wash away. It felt so good he didn’t want to stop. “Besides, its been ages since I’ve seen you. I was scared you were only a passing mirage, and a lost fantasy.” He tilts his head, loving the feeling of letting this play out on him. “I was ready to rescue from the worst of dragons. But now I have found you, and all is mended.” Such a tease. Of course he wasn’t exactly all lies and pretty flowers. The golden still had some sting in him. He knew only one place to hit, but in reality hadn’t a clue what it would do. But that is the modern way yes? To experient? Well then, the golden was all for modernity (and its corruption and lies). So he raises his head, and careful not to let the true wicked grin slip past the almost concerned face, he asks seriously. “Where is the little one? Playing with papa?” Oh but you can see it in his eyes. That he never did keep a good grip on. Just there they spark with a flash of gold. Yes she hit it right before. He was most pleased with himself. "Speech" Tag;;@[Sialia] Excuse him being a know it all asshat. XD OOC;; Wardrobe;; Golden cloak, circlet, armband, hawk charm, satchel (polearm, dagger Identities;; Ampere, Cashmere |
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
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