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)
driftfleet2017-07-14 07:57 pm
castintoflames) wrote in driftfleet2017-07-14 07:57 pm
Entry tags:
(Open)
Who: Maedhros & Open
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Huntress
When: Backdated slightly for gifts.
(Joy and grief are mingled in what he receives. Maedhros has set his focus on others either enjoying what they received or despairing over them. It's easier, isn't it?
A breath before the plunge.
He sets a portrait on a table, shakily touching each face with exceptional tenderness. There is a dark father, a fiery mother and seven sons. Maedhros himself is frozen there embracing two little brothers who share his hair color. They are undeniably twins.
Six births and he remembers all of them. The young bright faces are both beloved and shunned. He rests his chin on his arm, peering at them - making himself do so before he speaks, voice rough.)
These are my brothers...my father...and my mother.
(The clanking of a chain comes next and Maedhros lifts a pair of manacles. Heavy manacles. The sort to hold a strong Elf fast. He says nothing about them, but the fingers of his only remaining hand slide over the metal, remembering.
His last gift is nicer and he drops the manacles in favor of it. It is a crimson tunic with fine golden threading and black accents. It may or may not be the tunic he wears in the portrait.
Nicer, yes, but it causes a pang still.)
My mother made this for me. She wished for me to be a fine prince.
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Huntress
When: Backdated slightly for gifts.
(Joy and grief are mingled in what he receives. Maedhros has set his focus on others either enjoying what they received or despairing over them. It's easier, isn't it?
A breath before the plunge.
He sets a portrait on a table, shakily touching each face with exceptional tenderness. There is a dark father, a fiery mother and seven sons. Maedhros himself is frozen there embracing two little brothers who share his hair color. They are undeniably twins.
Six births and he remembers all of them. The young bright faces are both beloved and shunned. He rests his chin on his arm, peering at them - making himself do so before he speaks, voice rough.)
These are my brothers...my father...and my mother.
(The clanking of a chain comes next and Maedhros lifts a pair of manacles. Heavy manacles. The sort to hold a strong Elf fast. He says nothing about them, but the fingers of his only remaining hand slide over the metal, remembering.
His last gift is nicer and he drops the manacles in favor of it. It is a crimson tunic with fine golden threading and black accents. It may or may not be the tunic he wears in the portrait.
Nicer, yes, but it causes a pang still.)
My mother made this for me. She wished for me to be a fine prince.
action
Nelyo?
action
Come in, Kano.
action
[ Maglor won't touch him, not when his memories must be so close to the surface ]
action
Re: action
action
action
[ He smiles a little ]
I did. I had forgotten... how happy we all looked.
action
(He has a better relationship with the stars than he.)
The Ambarussa are glowing.
action
[ He smiles at the picture ]
We all were. How little we knew of what would await us!
action
(He raises the manacles, clutching them tightly.)
I wonder if the tunic still fits.
action
I think it probably would still - it might need a few adjustments, only.
action
(He has to fight himself to lift the manacles and it disgusts him.)
Re: action
[ He waits patiently for his brother to do so - this fight he cannot help him with ]
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
Re: action
action
action
action
Re: action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
Re: action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
: action
action
action
{Action}
Your mother was right, Maitimo. You are a fine prince. I have one request though.
{He remembers those manacles far too well.}
{Action}
...what is it?
{Action}
Give me the manacles? They have no place on this ship so I wish to get rid of them.
{Action}
Where would you put them? (He hangs onto the manacles, unsure why he must; they feel like a part of him.)
{Action}
Off this ship. I would make it difficult for them to ever be retrieved. Please?
{Action}
...alright. (Maedhros flinches at the idea of Fingon touching them, however, paling.) Will they hurt you?
{Action}
I won't let them harm anyone. But if you do not wish me to touch them, would you bring them with me to the airlock?
{Action}
...yes, I will. (He glances at the portrait and nods to himself, stepping to the door.) Don't they look happy?
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
The stars will keep them from others for us.
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}
{Action}