action

[chaosse]

Who: Eris & anyone!
Broadcast: N/A
Action: e v e r y w h e r e
When: after that glorious shuffle

[ It's another glorious day in the mortal realm, or as close to it as one can get when they're adrift in space. And you know what? Eris isn't even bothered that she's been summoned there despite the impossibility of it all. The fleet is just teeming with all sort of calamitous potential. So many people at odds with themselves, riddled with guilt or greed or doubt.

Pawns ripe for her to manipulate and lead to their untimely destruction.

Now that she's no longer confined to the Marsiva Eris can move about freely as she pleases, drifting from ship to ship with a mere thought. The Huntress, Tourist, Red Fish, Blue Fish...any ship is fair game to her and so is anyone. So the big question is...what exactly is your character doing? ]



[ ooc; if you haven't seen or filled it out, here is her permissions! Eris will be creeping and/or flirting on your character like hella if you tag in, be warned. ]

Comments

[chaosse]

Oh, I don't know. Something different than all that dull and dreary happy stuff you silly things always insist on making. How about some screaming?

[ She'd love to hear some of that. ]

[bythewaves]

[ .......Maybe think of it more like humoring Sauron.... ]

There is a time for everything, they say. But if the lady wishes...

[ He doesn't even know if his Song will reach her, and he dislikes revisiting his sins. But...

He reaches for his harp and sets scarred fingers to the strings, lifting his voice in song. He chooses for her the tale of Alqualonde, where he killed for the first time, where confusion and fear mingled, and hasty words led to swords in the night. He sings for her the white ships and the desperate mariners, and the equally desperate members of his own people, no one knowing why they were fighting, except to try to defend each other. ]

Then the gloom gathered: darkness growing
in Valinor, the red blood flowing
beside the sea, where the Noldor slew
the Foamriders, and stealing drew
their white ships with their white sails
from lamplit havens. The wind wails.
The wolf howls. The ravens flee.
The ice mutters in the mouths of the sea.

[ He does not hide from his shame, and paints the strokes boldly for her - the fear, the terror, the guilt, the rising red tide of battle song. And the bone shaking grief, when the tide retreats, and his wife lies dying in his arms, his sword through her heart ]

[chaosse]

[ It's absolutely wonderful in the most heart-wrenching, sorrow-filled and heartbroken of ways. There's violence and loss, fear and incomprehension, and best of all loss, and the mourning that comes with it.

Just her style♥

She would be preferred a little more senseless violence and screams of terror, but this? This was just fine. ]

[bythewaves]

[ His eyes are dry but his hands tremble as he pulls them away from the strings, the scars on his hands bright and raw. But his voice stays perfectly level, the actors mask firmly in place ]

Did that suit the lady?

[chaosse]

[ And oh, how she'd like to shatter it. ]

Hmm...I suppose it'll do. [ Eris downplays it, just because she's enjoying watching him try to remain composed. ]

[bythewaves]

[ She'll have to try harder than that~ ]

Then I am glad to provide some amusement.

[chaosse]

Do you have any others? With screaming, preferably.

[bythewaves]

I have many songs - but I do not delight in the agony of battle. The tears are enough.

[chaosse]

Aww, but the agony is the best part of a battle.

[bythewaves]

For some, perhaps so. [ <... Is this how his nephew felt, Maglor wonders, When Sauron tortured him in the guise of his dearest friend and teacher?

Oh Celebrimbor... ]

But not for me, lady.

[chaosse]

No? Too bad. I always almost beginning to enjoy your company.

[bythewaves]

[ His voice stays perfectly level but there is a part of him that cringes when she says that ]

I fear, lady, you will have to find others more suited.

[chaosse]

Hmmm.... I have a better idea. [ Her eyes flash as she speaks, one hand reaching out to grab him by his chin in a deceptively idle-looking hold. Because in truth her grip is impossibly strong despite the effortless force she exerts, drawing her other up to catch a lock of his hair to begin twirling it. ]

Sing me the song of all those poor people you killed.

[bythewaves]

[ He flinches, startled, when she goes for his chin (he reaches for a sword that is not there) - but he does not fight, knowing full well he will be released when she pleases, and not before.

For a moment, pain flashes bright in his eyes and then he nods and opens his mouth again to sing.

He gives her the whole of the Noldolante, this time, the Fall of the Noldor, still considered by most to be his best work. From the beginning to the end, he sings of blood and tears, of a father driven mad by the murder of his beloved father and the theft of his most precious of jewels, and an Oath taken in rage and grief.

(Three jewels, three stars, brilliant and pure and holy. Even in the song, their light burns with a fire before moon and sun, a light that sees evil and scorches it to the bone)

He sings seven brothers, driven by grief and loyalty following after their father, and the blood that flows from their blades and the madness that haunts their steps.

(Alqualonde. Doriath. Sirion. Three times they go to war for no reason other than to reclaim the stars, three times they kill their own kin)

He sings the capture of the eldest, and his rescue beyond all hope. He sings their glory and their loss, the battles won and evil held, and the battles lost and hope failing. He sings dragonfire and allies made. He sings great kingdoms and the hardwon Watchful Peace, he sings betrayal and pain.

(But still, but still, as history spills from his lips, Hope endures. Here, a cousin rescues another, mends the fence of hatred between family, and the rescued kneels and presses a liegeman's kiss to his rescuer. There, Evil in its greatest form, is wounded by a desperate father, a wound that will never heal, long after it's maker is dead. Here, a king defies everyone to go to the aid of a friend, and there, his result, is a maiden who defeats Death Himself to win the hand of her beloved. Here, twin boys are rescued from ruin, twin boys whose fate will shape nations, and bring reconciliation. There, a star rises, one of the three jewels rises into the heavens, a brilliant beacon of hope.)

And at last, at the last, two brothers stage a desperate theft, and the jewels they have drenched themselves in blood from burn them, for they will not suffer evil's touch. The eldest flings himself in to fire, and the other... ]

"And it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves."