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07-13-2016, 11:51 AM
A gold brow raises as the dark head tosses back in a glittering of gold to grin at him. Crowned head tilts as she laughs her reply. He hadn’t expected that. One hark slides back, then forward again. Had it been spoken with at least some inkling of cutting sarcasm perhaps he might label it normal, but this seemed fully light and unbothered. Something entirely unexpected, especially given how his conversations went yesterday.
The girl moves to stand and the gold gives her room, but instantly it’s vanished in her stare. Still the gold says nothing, his mind so unprepared to find a creature like this. Some whispers question her sanity, but others are lured out by the possibility of playing with someone who understood how to take a hit and throw right back. Someone who understood how to play. Such a promise began to wash away all his foul moods. He did so love to play.
She speaks up again, her voice ever playful, though this time leaning more in. His earth eyes flash slightly as she mentions those things which adorn him, particularly the circlet upon his head. They were more than mere ‘pretties’. His nerves twitch as he thinks at what the circlet alone can unleash, not to mention the polearm attached too, or the other ‘pretties’ he bore in a satchel left elsewhere. Yet, her humor had a twist of admiration, a desire to know more, and as always the gold’s ego was ever stroked into playing along. “Pilfered!?” He feigned shock, but the growing smile told more. “More like, borrowed permanently without permission.” And a grin broke on his face. So he hadn’t stolen the circlet or even the amulets, all found free of crime. That didn’t mean he couldn’t lead on the rumors. Only one item had a tale even better. “But arrest me not for the crown; it was a gift from a God.” Now the grin curled into a smirk. Proof that though they may not heal completely, thieves and liars just heal quicker.
She speaks up with introduction, and humored and tamed by her playfulness he answers in kind without resentment. “Thranduil the Laurelin, at your service.” The familiar phrase rolls out and given the enormity of growth she was causing, even his title slips with it. Her head dips and his does ever slightly, never full nor deep, the gold on her horns glint and shine, making the gold in his eyes flash in reflection. Her apology though is still met with a strangely improving mood. “I know the problem well.” He was after all the golden son.
OOC ::
"speech"
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@Ovidius
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Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
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