ginger_firebird (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ginger_firebird) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-10-05 09:31 pm
ginger_firebird) wrote in driftfleet2017-10-05 09:31 pm
Entry tags:
in the shadow of the valley
Who: Mantis and thee~
"This is undoubtedly morbid, but I currently lack in a real answer. Has anyone ever..." His voice falters. "Come back from the dead? Not here, but where they come from. I need some perspective on something.
Broadcast: YEP
Action: Bishop
When: Now
A: Bishop (accidental broadcast)
He's in his office. A man with brown hair and a scowl is glaring at him. The man is proving difficult to deal with.
He's in his office. The man is in trouble. Much as he fights, some illusions are hard to break.
He's in his office. There's a burning pain in his chest. His leg. The man takes off his mask. Blue eyes meet grey with mutual hate. His mask is back on and all goes black.
He's in his office. Chairs provided by Atroma are floating around in lazy circles. Mantis is likewise suspended in mid-air. His shoulders are tense, his hands in fists, and he's breathing in a slow and deliberate manner. The feed is slightly askew from where he had tossed his transmitter to the floor.
A pair of scissors comes up behind his shoulder. The chairs all slam against one side of the room. There's a dull think as the scissors lodge themselves in one of them. Mantis' feet touch the floor and he sits on the desk. Truly the worst thing about remembering is a lack of proximity to that which one wishes to destroy. He waves his hand and the feed goes dark.
B: Broadcast
The feed now shows Mantis slumped over the desk in his office. The scissors are upright where they have been stabbed into it. He waves vaguely at the camera before picking up his head.A: Bishop (accidental broadcast)
He's in his office. A man with brown hair and a scowl is glaring at him. The man is proving difficult to deal with.
He's in his office. The man is in trouble. Much as he fights, some illusions are hard to break.
He's in his office. There's a burning pain in his chest. His leg. The man takes off his mask. Blue eyes meet grey with mutual hate. His mask is back on and all goes black.
He's in his office. Chairs provided by Atroma are floating around in lazy circles. Mantis is likewise suspended in mid-air. His shoulders are tense, his hands in fists, and he's breathing in a slow and deliberate manner. The feed is slightly askew from where he had tossed his transmitter to the floor.
A pair of scissors comes up behind his shoulder. The chairs all slam against one side of the room. There's a dull think as the scissors lodge themselves in one of them. Mantis' feet touch the floor and he sits on the desk. Truly the worst thing about remembering is a lack of proximity to that which one wishes to destroy. He waves his hand and the feed goes dark.
B: Broadcast
"This is undoubtedly morbid, but I currently lack in a real answer. Has anyone ever..." His voice falters. "Come back from the dead? Not here, but where they come from. I need some perspective on something.
no subject
"Aye - we are not like Men, whose spirits go winging free - we Elves are bound to Arda, to live as it lives, and die when it dies. So even slain we live on, and we go houseless to the Halls of Waiting, and there once healed we return again to Life."
no subject
"The kind that feeds others. We might get along well. But you said you're an elf? You look like a human to me. At least...from what I can see where I'm sitting."
no subject
"I've been told this is our most prominent mark of otherness. Also we tend to... er. Glow. A little."
no subject
"You are telling the truth..." His gaze focuses on Maglor's face. "I suppose the glow would show up better in person."
no subject
no subject
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Sorry about the late reply!
No worries I am travelling and thus slow anyway lol
At least I'm not alone in this regard ;u;
/pats
/noise
/pettings