Fingon, Findekáno, the Valiant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
valiantfire) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-08-08 12:43 pm
valiantfire) wrote in driftfleet2016-08-08 12:43 pm
OPEN
Who: Fingon
Broadcast: Fleetwide, accidental.
Action: SS Paisley
When: Morning on August 8th.
Fingon was still tired and moved somewhat slower, with more care, than his usual enthusiasm. He'd found a few scars for the trouble of dying, but otherwise had nothing to complain about. A day was all he was given to rest before he found himself on a new ship and a cake pushed into his hands in celebration.
Congratulations, you're a cook!
The assignment cheered the Elf. No leadership duties. He wouldn't be the one people looked to for orders here, outside the kitchen if at all. All he had to worry about was feeding everyone else on the ship. The first thing he'd done after being shown to his new room was to change out of his armor and into ship's clothing, though he kept the blue cloak and had it wrapped around him. He gave himself one more day to rest, holing himself up in his room.
Then it was off to acquaint himself with the kitchen! He hoped to bake for his crewmates. Barring that, he would do his absolute best to improve the taste of what food was offered. When he found his way to the kitchen, however, he stopped still, eyes growing wide in dismay.
"This cannot be all there is!"
Whether it was or not, Fingon took a deep breath before diving in, familiarizing himself with what the ship offered. It was slow going, and he burned himself more than once, but he stubbornly kept at it until he had a stew going on the stove and a tray of chocolate cookies baking in the oven.
Broadcast: Fleetwide, accidental.
Action: SS Paisley
When: Morning on August 8th.
Fingon was still tired and moved somewhat slower, with more care, than his usual enthusiasm. He'd found a few scars for the trouble of dying, but otherwise had nothing to complain about. A day was all he was given to rest before he found himself on a new ship and a cake pushed into his hands in celebration.
The assignment cheered the Elf. No leadership duties. He wouldn't be the one people looked to for orders here, outside the kitchen if at all. All he had to worry about was feeding everyone else on the ship. The first thing he'd done after being shown to his new room was to change out of his armor and into ship's clothing, though he kept the blue cloak and had it wrapped around him. He gave himself one more day to rest, holing himself up in his room.
Then it was off to acquaint himself with the kitchen! He hoped to bake for his crewmates. Barring that, he would do his absolute best to improve the taste of what food was offered. When he found his way to the kitchen, however, he stopped still, eyes growing wide in dismay.
"This cannot be all there is!"
Whether it was or not, Fingon took a deep breath before diving in, familiarizing himself with what the ship offered. It was slow going, and he burned himself more than once, but he stubbornly kept at it until he had a stew going on the stove and a tray of chocolate cookies baking in the oven.
no subject
"My people are Immortal, though we may be slain. In time our...spirits are expected to heal, and when that happens we are Reborn."
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"Like a reincarnation?"
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"A bit. We are supposed to remember our past lives and be returned much as we were before death. I have not yet met any Reborn."
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He knows he's prying, but he has his reasons, and the almost-desperate tone in his voice indicates it.
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"Got it." He pauses, before adding with complete sincerity, "Thank you. I know it's a weird question, but this whole uh, Reborn thing. It was important for my work back home."
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Is there anything you want to ask me?"
no subject
The Elf turned briefly to give the stew pot a good stir. Hopefully the bottom wouldn't burn too much. "Anything you would be willing to tell me about your homeworld. I do not know many Men, and less of their culture even on Arda."
no subject
The name isn't unfamiliar on his tongue - in fact, Stefan might be more familiar with it than he wishes to let on.
"I feel like I could talk to you for hours about Earth. It's hard to condense a whole planet into a few sentences, especially one with as many cultures and countries as mine..." He hums for a second. "But I was born and raised in a place called Locke City. It was a large city right on the coast, with skyscrapers and tons of people, and it was a super bustling place. Always something to see or do."