Maedhros Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorian ✧ Russandol (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
castintoflames) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-06-14 08:35 pm
castintoflames) wrote in driftfleet2017-06-14 08:35 pm
Entry tags:
(Open)
Who: Maedhros & Open
Broadcast: Marsiva
Action: On the Marsiva.
When: Evening
(A voice, beginning softly and then rising in volume, can be heard aboard the Marsiva this eve. Technology brings it to others - the ship is large - not that the singer entirely notices. A bright tumble of fiery hair obscures the picture momentarily before a certain tall Elf steps back. Yet the singing continues and Maedhros's eyes are distant, lost in memory.
The notes reach pitches that are almost keening, but the melody always softens, always returns to a pleasant level. Until the end, that is. The keening returns, then, and the Elf shows his prowess with song - something he will deny until death and beyond - by singing notes that are quick and passionate like flames. His eyes reflect despair and grief before assuming a look of grim determination.
But every song must end and his cannot carry on. He absently brushes back his hair - which is loose from all braids - and finishes securing his prosthetic arm in place.)
Broadcast: Marsiva
Action: On the Marsiva.
When: Evening
(A voice, beginning softly and then rising in volume, can be heard aboard the Marsiva this eve. Technology brings it to others - the ship is large - not that the singer entirely notices. A bright tumble of fiery hair obscures the picture momentarily before a certain tall Elf steps back. Yet the singing continues and Maedhros's eyes are distant, lost in memory.
The notes reach pitches that are almost keening, but the melody always softens, always returns to a pleasant level. Until the end, that is. The keening returns, then, and the Elf shows his prowess with song - something he will deny until death and beyond - by singing notes that are quick and passionate like flames. His eyes reflect despair and grief before assuming a look of grim determination.
But every song must end and his cannot carry on. He absently brushes back his hair - which is loose from all braids - and finishes securing his prosthetic arm in place.)
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That ... that was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.
[The clock wipes tears from his eyes.]
Gorgeous just - just gorgeous.
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If you like song, seek my brother.
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[It was beautiful. Like an angel singing.]
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But, no, I suppose I wrote that for myself.
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It was ... luminescent.
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Like fire?
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No ... like sunlight.
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...sunlight? (That means a great deal to him.) Warm sunlight? Not hot?
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No, more like the sunlight that comes through a stained glass window. Soft, warm, filled with all kinds of multi-colored brilliance.
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(Maedhros's voice softens, touched at the assessment.)
It might seem a silly thing to thank you for your words, but I do thank you.
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[He beams at the softened tone.]
You are most welcome. And thanking someone is never silly.
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(And Maedhros is not much older than them.)
You see, I perished by fire. I worry it is still with me.
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[Whatever that situation was.]
...I see. No, no I do not hear that at all.
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(Elves are not put off by things like spells. Especially not Fëanorians.)
Good.
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[Cogsworth stared at Maedhros's ear for a moment, and then smiled.] Your ears are quite charming!
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[Cogsworth brought his brass hands to his mouth, before his expression became Quite Angry.]
Why, if I ever find who did that to your ear, I shall give them a solid tongue-lashing, and a good boot to the arse!