driftfleet | Entries tagged with maedhros nelyafinwë maitimo fëanorian

Who: Maedhros
Broadcast: No.
Action: On the S.S. Huntress.
When: During all the fantastic crashing/near misses. Seriously, everything is just fine.

(The explosions have a nasty effect even on ships that are not immediately taken down. Though he is usually sure-footed, Maedhros is thrown by the shocking bombardment. His head hits a wall squarely, giving him a nasty cut over one eye and knocking him out cold.

The effect of the injury and the nasty surprise - the latter more so than the former - is enough to push him to his feet the moment he regains consciousness. He pushes his way into the hall, feeling queasy with fear and...well...a head injury. Not that it matters. He heads straight for his brother's room...and the room of his cousin...

If there isn't an immediate answer, he will start banging on the door(s) and making quite the racket.)

Answer me! Kano! Finno! Is everyone alright?!

valiantfire

Who: Fingon and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Huntress.
When: Now!

{People on the Huntress might start smelling new food from the kitchen throughout the day as the resident cook experiments with the latest new gadgets and supplies. Fingon is rather...energetic and enthusiastic in his job onboard.

At least he has his long hair pulled back in various braids within braids, so there is no danger of hair dangling in food, and his sleeves are all pushed up and tied out of his way.}

I...{a cheerful laugh, if a bit embarrassed as he addresses the fleet with a floured grin} I seem to have gotten ahead of myself - my friends, if you are hungry and wish to have a bite, you are welcome!

bythewaves

Who: Maglor and Daeron and YOU
Broadcast: Yes
Action: anyone on the Huntress who wants to laugh at them
When: Now!

The video opens with a crash, the communicator knocked to the floor. It's someone's private room - a musician, if the flute that tumbled to the floor by the communicator is any judge. There's no cry, no scream - the owner of the flute is far too wary for that - but the harsh breathing sounds of someone beginning to have a panic attack are audible.

Just at that moment, the door opens, and feet step into view, followed by Maglor's worried hiss and then frantic scramble towards the bed and it's occupant.

"Daeron, Daeron, it's me, it's alright, you're safe. Wake up, it's alri... ai!"

And that would be Maglor tripping over the flute, faceplanting in front of the the communicator.

There's a moment stunned silence, and then the flute's owner from earlier begins to laugh, and Daeron, rubbing sleep from his eyes, bends to pick up his flute and give Maglor a hand up. And snag his communicator.

valiantfire

Who: Fingon, Open!
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Huntress.
When: Just as the Fleet moves on.

{Fingers drift over harp strings and Fingon sings a soft, warm farewell to the survivors of the planet - to the planet as well, for he hears its song - as the Fleet ambles away.

This Elf hasn't left Maglor's side for more than a few minutes for necessary acts since he'd discovered his cousin had slipped unconscious. He'd hardly even stopped playing! Though he'd done his best to keep the music quiet enough not to disturb his crewmates.

He doesn't look frightened or that worried, more pensive as he offers a smile to anyone watching or listening.}

I hope everyone is doing well despite the recent chaos. And that those we leave behind will be able to return home soon.

thespaceopera

[ On the night of the 16th, the feeling of tension and horrid anticipation comes to a head. Everything stops when the sun goes down-- even the ever-present music in the hoppingest part of the city center. One by one, everyone turns their eyes to the skies. The young and old alike pour out of their houses, some in bare feet, and they point to the velvety blanket of stars.

It takes a second to find it, especially if one is unaccustomed to the starscape. But even a casual observer can see it.

A brightly-shining star, larger than the others, and growing larger.

An announcement cuts across all communication channels that encourages people to evacuate to the space station, but it’s clear that these are just people and they’ll need some help. Supplies, equipment, organization, there’s something for everyone to do.

Civilization is disrupted by a panicked stampede of people vying for limited seats aboard spacefaring craft. Within hours, there will be crushed glass, looting, and chaos.

The clock is ticking. Will you help? Or would you rather watch the dying gasps of a Singing Planet from a safe distance? ]

[OOC: Please see this post for plot details. Phase two has begun! Feel free to use this post as a reaction post, mingle, etc. or make your own!]

twilightminstrel

Who: Daeron
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Huntress
When: Evening 9/13

[The soft voice of one of the Huntress' resident elves pipes up one evening, mingling with the sound of a harp. Unlike his usual songs, as those who know him would realize, Daeron sings in the Common Tongue, and there's a clear note of wistful memory and almost joy.]

Her limbs were white,
Her hair like night,
Her BZZZZZ!

[A rather horrid noise, now painfully familiar around the Huntress, interrupts and ends his song, and the feed- he might be a bit busy shutting the vuvuzela up to answer immediately!]

castintoflames

Who: Maedhros & Open!
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: On Huntress.
When: Early afternoon.

(Maedhros can do a lot of things. He is a patient leader, a phenomenal warrior, a devoted brother, however there is one arena in which he does not excel. He could blame it on his lack of a right hand - mechanical replacement or not - but he will not sink so low. There is a white powder in his hair - flour? - and smoke. Too much smoke.)

Does anyone know where we keep the fire extinguisher?

(Ah, no, wait. He finds it and lifts it into his hands, puzzling over how to use it.)

The instructions are less than clear... (The kitchen might burn down at this point. Send help!)

bythewaves

Who: Maglor and you
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Huntress
When: Now

[ The video flips on to Maglor carefully setting his communicator down. He waves at the camera. ]

This is for Vash.

[ He tells everyone cheerfully and then backs away, gesturing behind him, to where a vuvuzela sits calmly on a table. Nothing special to see here. He walks away, from the communicator, picks up the vuvuzela, and then the shappy mop of pink on the table, that turns out to be a wig. He straps that to the vuvuzela, comes back and picks up the communicator, and starts to walk ]

As requested, we are conducting an experiment, to see if the wig stays on.

[ He stops by the airlock, where there is a bit of fumbling around, and then the vuvuzela, complete with wig, is shown drifting off into space. The communicator stays on it until it's vanished into the distance. And then Maglor turns around, and you can hear him sigh.

The same vuvuzela, complete with wig, is lying on the floor behind him ]

And now we know.

[ CLICK. Yes. That's literally the entire reason for this post. Blame Vash. ]

maledictus_semper

Who: Ardyn Izunia and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Red Fish + Eyuzi System
When: Today

Network:

Does anyone feel a little...off? It's as though something or someone is calling out to us with powers. I can feel it through my veins like a magnet drawing me closer, aiming to catch me in it's net. A pulsing energy like I've never experienced before. Then, there's the melody like singing. We must be approaching something....a planet maybe? I must say this feeling is rather new to me, although I've felt effects like this before, this one is on a new level altogether. Perhaps, I am quite mad, but I do feel this. If anyone else can relate to me on this it would be appreciated, just so I can feel a little more comfortable.

[Ardyn doesn't know that his broadcast might take a little longer to reach fellow crew members, due to the static within the air. It's all to do with the arrival to the new planet...]

Eyuzi system:

Fortune Telling:

[Ardyn had decided to give it a go. Why not? It was just a fantasy after all, right? He had never really believed in gypsy witchcraft, so why should he now, just because he was on an alien planet? Smirking softly, he picked up a palm scanner and wondered if it would indeed tell his fortune.]

Does anyone believe in all of this? I find it hard to believe that any of this could actually work.

[He spotted other trinkets, cards, herbs and other items, which were supposed to help tell your fortune. A waste of money? Perhaps. Was anyone else falling for it?]

Cruise Ship:

[Now, this was more Ardyn's style. Sitting comfortably with a glass of red wine in his hand, the Chancellor stared out of the window at the rolling waves being swept up by the boat. Ah, it was almost like being at home. Galdin Quay came to mind and also Altissia. Such beauty. He sipped his wine and wondered who else would venture aboard the boat in search of some sanctuary away from the metal prison in space.]

Ah, this is the life. It's nice to actually smell the salty air once more. Too long have we been cooped up like animals in a cage aboard the ships.

[He got up to walk along the deck to take in more of the view. He might even have a hot bath soon to ease his aches. Oh, such luxury!]

Shopping:

[Well now, Ardyn might be holding a rainbow snake within his fingers, as he offered the trader a wry smile. He wasn't afraid of the reptiles, oh no. He loved them. Yet, he wasn't sure the Red Fish would be a suitable habitat for the snake, so he allowed the animal to slither back to his master. A shame.]

You know, he would have kept me company, yet I believe space may be too cold for this little fellow. Alas, I could have had a friend for life.

[Ardyn sighed and then moved to another stall, checking out the merchandise and wondering what, or if, he should spend his currency on.]

Wildcard!

Have at thee.

valiantfire

Who: Fingon, open.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Huntress.
When: Early morning on the 25th.

{The obnoxious sound of a vuvuzela whistles through the air, followed by a thud of a body falling to the ground and rustling sheets. The image that is presented might be rather amusing, as the elegant Elf known as Fingon is on his back, legs sticking up and hair in rare disarray. There's even a look of complete surprise!

Then he breathes out a laugh and struggles to rearrange himself as the sound continues, just out of sight.}

Kano, my dear cousin, I fear you have lost your toy again!

castintoflames

Who: Maedhros
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Not right off the bat, but that can change in the threads.
When: Early Evening.

(Trimming hair is easier said than done, but the tall Elf has done an...admirable...job? ~~Shhh don't tell him it's uneven in parts.~~ He sets down a pair of scissors and cocks his head, peering at himself in a mirror.)

I must have been...angled...incorrectly. (His left hand doesn't quite smack his face, but it does try to cover it as his ears go red.)

It was getting too long, you see. I became tangled in it every morn and the brushing of it was a painful business.

(Clearly annoyed, he grabs a brush, sets about smoothing it and puts it all in a ponytail. Some of the strands are rebellious, however, and fall out of the ribbon to frame his face. The tickling sensation annoys him more and he tries to tuck them, instead, behind his ears. His mangled ear doesn't make a proper perch for the copper strands and some of them fall right back where they started.)

Aica umbar!

twilightminstrel

Who: Daeron
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Heron
When: Evening 8/8

Would anyone be interested in learning to play an instrument? Or, perhaps, to sing, if not increase your existing skill. I am most familiar with harps and flutes. An exchange of learning would be just as welcome.

[Anything at all to help keep busy! He's in desperate need of distraction. Something to focus on besides certain Feanorians and their strange concern and care over his well-being.

At least the elf seems somewhat calm at the moment, which isn't exactly the norm since his arrival. Though that might have something to do with the lap harp whose strings he's softly plucking an old tune away on.]

valiantfire

Who: Fingon, open.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Huntress.
When: Backdated a few days for gifts.

{Fingon chokes back a laugh when he finally opens his basket of gifts. A portrait of a family of Elves is shown, as the Fleet may have come to expect from this family. Loving fingers trace over features and his voice is steady as he speaks, if quiet.}

I remember when this was painted. My father and mother, my younger brothers and sister. Are there many families who have been reunited here? I have been blessed to be reunited with cousins who are dear to me, and for a time my grandfather. But thus far that is all.

{He's ignoring one of the other little gifts. A fearsome - if small - figurine of a horned beast painted garishly in red, with a whip that looks like it could wrap around and choke or hurt if given the chance.}

airily

Who: Zaveid and the fleet!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: On the Iskaulit
When: Right now!

So.

Who wants a drink?

[ Someone is not very happy about the things he's remembering, no sir. As always, resonance permissions are here! ]

castintoflames

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.

twilightminstrel

Who: Daeron
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Heron if people decide to barge into his room XD
When: A day after they all return from the Marsiva

[A shuddering breath is the first indication anything is wrong as pale hands pull out a picture of a rather lovely elven maiden. Daeron's hands shake and he places it carefully beside his bed, on the small table there.

There are no words, and the feed eventually times out, but not before viewers are treated to the lovely sight of a ukulele and harmonica just waiting to be played along with the rest of the by-now expected gifts. Not even the leaf-wrapped travel-bread (lembas) are touched.]

bythewaves

Who: Maglor and all of you
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Huntress
When: Right Now

[ The gift basket got a curious look, and Maglor fished idly through it before uncovering some odd instruments.

Which he tries.

So sorry, everyone on the Huntress, you just got disturbed by the most annoying sound in the world

Later on, he'll also try some of the other instruments, which will lead to the whole Fleet being "treated" to ... well something rather unexpected from an elf ]

unbridles

Who: John Laurens
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Somewhere on the Marsiva
When: Today!

Yo, I gotta question for y'all that I've been thinkin' about. [He started off sounding sure of himself, but falls silent for a moment. How does he even bring this up? It's not as though it was talked about, ever, at home; definitely not in polite or public company. He's a little quieter when he speaks again:]

So I saw that --uh, clock guy was talkin' about-- [God, it's a good thing this is voice, he really wouldn't like the entirety of the fleet to see him blushing like a young lady with a crush.] --Um, gentlemen that are more inclined t' court other gentlemen. An' I saw it, too, during those memories.

I'm just wonderin': that's accepted, here? Is it accepted for the rest of y'all, too? 'Cause I sure as hell didn't see anyone posing any objections to it. Which is amazing, really, 'cause back home we couldn't do nothin' like that at all, and I was just ...curious, I guess.

[[OOC: Warning for uh. 18th century views on gay people? Since John's, you know, from 1782, but I figured I'd toss a warning out just to be safe.]

timelysteward

[Does this look like a harassed clock with a human face? Does it? Good, because it's Cogsworth, sitting in front of a window on the Marvisa and he looks like he just swallowed about a half a dozen lemons. In his tiny brass hands he is holding a piece of paper, and he keeps fiddling with it, shifting it between his two hands.

He puts one brass hand up to his mouth, clears his throat, and then fumbles with the paper for a moment. Could he be ... nervous? It's possible.

Lips pressed together, the time hands on his face twitching, he states flatly.]

Hello. My name is Cogsworth and I am a ... [now he has to look at the word.] Ho-mo-sexual. I realize that I am a ... clock, but I assure you that I am not a ho-mo-sex-ual clock, but a ho-mo-sex-ual man. I have been ... told. Rigorously.

[Here he is glowering.]

That I need to ... 'embrace' this. So. If there are any ... individual males who would not mind ... being complimented by a ... human clock, then, ah. Please! Come forward.

[Okay he'll try a smile but it's more of a sheepish grimace at this point. God help him.]

castintoflames

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.)

THE DRIFT FLEET

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Entries tagged with maedhros nelyafinwë maitimo fëanorian

(Action)

{Video} Kitchen-y explosion!

Some mornings are not as good as others

{Video}

the veil is thin . . .

(Voice)

(Open)

A promise made is a promise kept. Even... weird ones.

007 [video/action] To boldly go..

{Video} Haunted Vuvuzela Strikes!

(Open)

Video

{Video}

pub crawl o'clock

(Open)

Video

Why you should never give an elf a Vuvuzela, a treatise

voice; public

[Video] [Public feed]

(Open)

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