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07-05-2016, 12:55 PM
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Rikyn
Thranduil had never had a broken heart, or, if he had, it had resulted in him becoming the laughing jester of a man he is now. As I stare him down with a look that could melt flesh if flesh was wax (and my eyes were lasers like I wish they were at this time), I wonder if I’ll become this sort of man, too, if that’s the case. I wonder if, I can’t ever close up the dark holes in my heart that I’ll be forced to hide behind the rippling illusion of nonchalance that drifts around the golden one like his cloaks, if I’ll smile at some frustrated
Or perhaps knowing, after all, the lash of each gesture and word carefully crafted and cast to break down another from within, as I had been by others who were less obvious in their attempts to cause me turmoil than Thranduil. Maybe they hadn’t even meant to. Maybe they were just chaos, the dark strokes of paint in the world, and they had tempered me. Maybe the Golden Lord is just an asshole, and nothing made him this way, but having been born with the impish and small soul he was given during creation. He apologizes in a way that means he thinks I’m being a nitwit, that signature smile of his that made mother’s need to manipulate others go all wild with anticipation, and which makes my frown deepen. I decide that it is better than nothing at all, or the continued annoyance of his defending himself in the deplorable behavior of mocking a Prince, and chose to ignore the sarcasm in his next question. When he starts laughing at me, though, I find that I can’t help but find the same glower of frustration and loathing fitted on my face. When starts talking the look of lasers lingers, finding only insults in his first sentence (and proving that perspective is everything), but it falls away the longer he goes on. Hidden in his arrogant jabs are complements and a confusion seeds itself at the base of my brain, mostly because, well, I have never been very nice to Thranduil. It’s weird hearing him say something that uplifts me the way those words do, and the struggle between aggression towards and the sudden approval of the man makes my backward ears pull to the side. My glower eases, my mouth parts ever so slightly in disbelief, and my blood pressure reels from the sudden loss of hostility in my bloodstream. Of course, having been thrown off guard is infuriating to an arrogant unicorn such as myself. Whatever good his words do to better my opinion of him, I allow no such weakness to last long in myself, and chase out the bewilderment with annoyance at having been made to feel that way in the first place. "Thanks I guess," I tersely growl at him, an unusual arrangement of words and sounds, but I can be quite the conundrum myself. Snorting, I try to let go of the desire to bite him for gentler things, genuinely trying to not let the wicked Laurelin get the best of my temper with his annoying frivolity for once. "You’re possibly the most insulting being alive, you know, if you were wondering why I was really here arguing with you." Hah, have some of my bad taste in humor. A smile tilts across my lips as the hostile sway of my tail stills behind me. "Surely I’m not the first person to tell you that about yourself?" [ OOC: feeds him to Walter the dragon ]  |
@Thranduil
