Fëanor, Curufinwë, Fëanáro (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burnstoohot) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-06-13 01:10 am
burnstoohot) wrote in driftfleet2016-06-13 01:10 am
Entry tags:
Open, Fleetwise, 001
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.]
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.]
no subject
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.
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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.
no subject
For a time, at least, he will sleep without dreams.