driftfleet | video/action

Who: Pavel Chekov and anyone!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Tourist and/or Iskaulit
When: From the Great Shuffle through July

[video]

It was kind of our hosts to give us gifts after keeping us on the Marsiva and making us share far, far too much with each other, but...

[The Russian pulls his lovely gift basket into view. In addition to the candies and fudge and pickled herring (he is grateful for all of these things, thank you space hosts), there are a few additional items that he is less amused by.]

Did anyone else find their choice in gifts, er... slightly insulting?

Although it was thoughtful of them, I admit, to provide a shirt [it says "I <3 bad boys," for the Russian speakers out there] for my girlfriend to wear once I grow her.

[Sarcasm. That was definitely sarcasm.]

[action]

[If Pavel isn't poking around his quarters on the Tourist, then he's going for a run on the Iskaulit. In either case, he is making no real effort to be sociable. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to people, it's just that there are a lot of things that he doesn't want to talk about. Everyone knows that the only sure way to avoid certain topics of conversation is to avoid talking entirely.

Any attempts on his part to keep quiet will fail miserably if he's approached. Being a person who likes other people is so hard sometimes.]

[ooc: If you, like me, wanted to do ALL of the Calibration things but grossly overestimated your ability to do so, you're welcome to browse Chekov's memories and handwave your character seeing any of the unmarked ones.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Men consider us immortal, although we are not, truly - but our lives are tied to the world, and so we will exist as long as it does, and end with it when it's time comes.

[ Maglor smiles and shakes his head a little ] Do not be! Tis true that too many of my tales end in weeping, but not all. And my folk are going home - that we have to leave the one that we made in Middle-earth is a grief, but there is joy in it too, for they go to find again those who went before, by death or by ship.

[A tentative smile.] This is similar to the way that some Humans--and some others, likely--think of death: sad because it means leaving everything and everyone familiar, but not so sad because there is a chance to be with those who have already left... and with a god as well, for those that believe in such a thing.

I have heard something of that from our mortal friends, but no one knows where Men go, after death, for they go beyond the world and our fates are sundured.

I very much doubt that mortals go to a place like the one that your people are traveling to. There is no evidence to suggest that we do anything more than cease to be... but that isn't so bad.

[ Maglor shrugs ]

No one knows, except those who have gone before! My folk enter the Halls of Waiting if we are slain, but the Reborn do not speak of their time there, and if they see our Mortal friends before they go on, they have not spoken of it.

Edited 2017-08-13 12:40 (UTC)

Your people come back after dying?

[Just asking for science.]

Mm - we are a part of the world, as I said. [ Maglor explains ]

So although you may slay our bodies, our spirits remain, and once healed we walk again in Life, although only Glorfindel ever returned to Middle-earth. Of course, what happens when the world ends, we know not.

Sorry for not following well. This--the idea of coming back as long as the world exists--is very different from the things that I know and have learned about.

[The unusual way Maglor phrases things isn't that easy to follow either. He's trying!]

You will find out. Not soon, I hope. Not so soon as I will find out what happens to mortals.

Tis fine. [ Maglor assures him ]

I am told that it is very different, of course, for Men, and who knows how it is, in other worlds! And since the Reborn do not return to Middle-earth, we have had only Hope, until Glorfindel. But the Balrog-Slayer of Gondolin returned to us to serve his king's line, they say, and he will return to Aman, presumably, when his duty is fulfilled.

[ He smiles ] I, too, hope it will not be soon! When it is time, it will be time, and about time, no doubt! But I love Arda and although I know Middle-earth very well I have yet to venture out beyond those lands, and hope to have that time.

[Glorfindel, Balrog, Gondolin, Aman... they are clearly working with very different vocabularies. Chekov gets the gist of it, though, so he'll pretend that he knows exactly what Maglor is saying.]

You have ventured beyond those lands now--far, far beyond them, and probably into a different universe. Much farther than any of the rest of your people.

Aye, that much is true. [ Maglor smiles ]

Further than I thought any of us would ever go, although one never knows what the future might hold, of course! I never thought I would get a chance to hear the stars so close.

[ All Chekov needs to do is ask, and Mags will natter at him forever ]

[Don't let him know that! He would never stop asking questions!]

Is it like what you would have imagined? Space, I mean?

[ Well Maglor likes telling stories, Chekov likes hearing things... ]

I don't know that I ever truly imagined it! But... it is beautiful, and the Stars sing so clearly, up here! Cold and high and pure.

[This is a truly fortuitous meeting.]

The stars... sing? [That. Is not science.] Is this a metaphor?

Not for me. [ Maglor smiles a little ]

My folk... we can hear the song of the world - and the stars are especially clear, for those of us who have the skill.

Ah. This is a skill that I have never imagined existed... but sometimes, I admit, my imagination is very limited to the views in my universe. The humans in my time know a star to be a self-illuminating sphere of plasma that makes no noise--or, if it does make noise, none of it can be heard in space.

[He absolutely believes Maglor even if what he's saying sounds completely insane, really!]

[ Maglor smiles ] Ah, but as the saying go, that is what a star is made of, not what it is.

The whole world sings - although I suppose 'music' is only an approximation, as it is not quite something you hear with your ears, or at least, not entirely.

[Chekov takes a long moment to consider this.]

I may need to give up on trying to understand this. I am a scientist, not a musician or a poet.

[ Maglor laughs ]

I could try and sing them for you, if you like - they're too big to hold but I can do a little.

I would not be opposed to that. Maybe it would help me to understand.

Let me see then...

[ His eyes grow distant, as he turns inward, listening with more than just ears, and then he opens his mouth and Sings.

There are no words to this melody, and nothing human about it either, something spine thrillingly high and clear and pure, full of a joy so great that it almost burns, a song that is more than a song, that seems to be light and fire and the dance of atoms, echoing off thousands of others in chorus.

Chekov might remember a phrase that the poets like to use - 'the music of the spheres'

It lasts moments, seconds, an eternity, and then Maglor breaks off, panting, voice hoarse ]

There!

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