Open, Fleetwise, 001

[burnstoohot]

Who: Fëanor and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: HS Marsiva
When: Morning

[A hand reaches out to grasp a mechanical limb before grey eyes even blink open to stare suspiciously. Fëanor feels rested, energized even, despite the most recent long hours spent over the forge's fires working on his masterpiece.]

Who dares...?

[Awareness flickers through him and the elf pauses. He sits up from the bed, though doesn't immediately move to get off, nor release the robot's 'arm'. An impatient hand reaches up and shoves a lock of black hair that had gotten free of the loose braid back behind a pointed ear and he studies the robot a bit more closely.]

Do you have a name? Are you a thinking creature? [A pause and he absently hums, head tilting a little in thought.] I think not in the ways of Arda.

['Bot, be glad he has no tools on him.]

Comments

[bythewaves]

"I'm fine!" He does not quite whine, but he does obey, clinging tightly to his communicator the whole way. Settling on the edge of his bed eventually.

[burnstoohot]

He couldn't quite help the fond chuckle. Not that he really tried.

"You always said that, little one." So very fond. And to reassure Maglor he hadn't ended their contact. "I am now just a...call away." Finally he tugged the strange phrase out of the new knowledge and put it to some use.

When he saw Maglor sit, he started to sing. A song of old. A song of love and childhood and joy that wouldn't end or fade.

[bythewaves]

Maglor growls at him, irritatedly, but he curls around the communicator to listen, eyes glazing slowly in peace as he listens.

[burnstoohot]

... No. Fëanor didn't particularly try not to laugh. His son growled at him! So cute!

There was pure love in his voice as he sang. Even if Maglor didn't sleep, as long as he rested and knew his father was near and loved him without question, Fëanor would be content.

[bythewaves]

The laugh gets another cross hiss, but Maglor is visibly relaxing, responding to one of the first Songs he knew.

[burnstoohot]

He just loved his son, okay? So very much.

Affection lit his voice, Fëanor settled comfortably back against the wall, holding the communicator close. He wouldn't stop singing until his dear son was as relaxed as he could get him.

And perhaps even after that. Just to sing for Maglor, for no reason other than to show he loved him. And that was plenty reason for him.

[bythewaves]

Maglor curls around the communicator and lets himself sleep, following his father's voice as he did when he was too young to know any voices other than his parents and his brother.

For a time, at least, he will sleep without dreams.