And We Danced (Masquerade Overflow!)

[thespaceopera]

The Captcha is upon us, but the party isn't over! Feel free to continue your threads here, start new ones, and continue the dance party!

- Original Mingle
- OOC Post

[[OOC: Wait for Sections! Sections are up! Feel free to use the section prompts or make your own! We'd also advise against just linking back to your original mingle post for the sake of players with slower computers.]]

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[dancingmd]

"The Song of the world? Are you..." She pauses and reconsiders how to ask this. If his abilities are similar to Finrod's, perhaps it's not something he wants known to everyone. She's not even sure who besides her knows about Finrod. So she asks the question silently, directing her thoughts at him, fully aware that if he can't read her, she probably looks a little silly right now, staring so intensely at him.

Are you telepathic?

[bythewaves]

Of all his far-flung kin, Maglor is the weakest at skills of the mind, but no one has Galadriel for a cousin and does not, at the least, develop sensitivity, if nothing else, so he only shakes his head at her with a wry smile.

"Not the way Finrod is, or his sister. I can only hear what folk want me to, and not with any skill or at any great distance. But the Song is... the Great Music of the world is something else, entirely."

[dancingmd]

"Oh? What then is it?"

She's genuinely curious. Empathy and telepathy are familiar senses to her, even if she doesn't have them herself. This is something new.

[bythewaves]

Maglor only shrugs back at her helplessly.

"I do not know - I was the only one who could hear it, growing up. The only one of the Eldar, that is - the Ainur - the Powers of the World, - of course they could hear it, but they are its singers, after all. I think Daeron of Doriath could hear it too, but we never really had a chance to get to know each other. But the Music is... it is the world. What made it, what sustains it, what both writes and chronicles it's story. All other music is echoes of it - and so to know the Song is to know the world, and to sing it is to sing the world. You can learn how to hear it, but I never had to learn - it was just something that was."

[dancingmd]

"And this world's Song? Can you hear it too?" This all sounds very strange to her, too mystical, but she's been in the fleet long enough by now not to completely dismiss it.

[bythewaves]

Maglor pauses, poking tentatively at his sense of the world and then nods.

"Yes - it isn't... quite as clear, here. As if... I am not used to how it sounds, which makes sense."

[dancingmd]

"Does it feel... sick? Or does the Song not tell you such things?"

[bythewaves]

"It... hurts." He says softly. "It mourns, it weeps. It is a lament... but not yet without hope."

[dancingmd]

She gives his hand a small reassuring squeeze as they continue their movements across the dance floor. "That's good because I don't think it's entirely hopeless. Admittedly... I've not seen too many planets in as bad of shape as this but nature is amazingly resilient, if given the chance."

[bythewaves]

"It wants to heal." Maglor agrees with a thankful smile. "It's people do, as well, which is good."

[dancingmd]

"I just hope they can do something soon," she murmurs. "For their sake as well as the planet's."

[bythewaves]

"Aye." Maglor agrees. "There is only so long before it becomes too late."

[dancingmd]

She sighs. "If only there was something we could do to help... but even if we could, Atroma probably will not let us stay here long enough."

[bythewaves]

"Aye." He agrees. "But sometimes all we can do is watch. But there now - we have strayed into dark waters, I am sorry."

[dancingmd]

"It's all right. I seem to be doing that more than I should tonight." She offers a small smile. "Not that I'm not having a good time, mind you."

[bythewaves]

"Good - for my mother would be most upset if I caused the lady to not have a pleasant time!" He smiles back and twirls her.

[dancingmd]

Beverly laughs, following his twirl with grace and ease, not missing a single step. "Well as a mother myself, I can assure you you are being quite the gentleman."

[bythewaves]

He twinkles at her teasingly. "A mother, at your young age? But thank you for saying so."

[dancingmd]

Her mouth quirks in amusement. "Don't make me revise my statement on account of your shameless flattery."

[bythewaves]

He grins back, for a moment young and boyish, not old and tired.

"Yes amil, whatever you say amil"

[dancingmd]

It's nice to see that youthful smile. She'd like it to stay.

"Amil? Does that mean mother?"

[bythewaves]

"It does, yes - specifically, in Quenya, the language of my own people." He shrugs at her wryly. "We like words, we Noldor. You can also use amille, or amme, depending on formality and situation."

[dancingmd]

"So perhaps similar to how we use mom and mommy? With the former being an informal version of mother and the latter being something almost exclusively used by small children?"

[bythewaves]

"Exactly so!" He nods. "Amille is the formal, and amme the child's one."

So yes, he basically called her mom. (It's the red hair)

[dancingmd]

She's okay with being called mom. He's family by extension, after all.

"Amme. Brings back memories of when my son used to call me Mommy, when he was little. Now it's simply Mom."