Irmo advanced a few steps forward to bow before the King, graceful in the distinctively ethereal manner of the Fëanturi, yet silent and unusually solemn, almost grievously so. His lips parted, but nothing was said and only a long pause ensued. A sudden smile, then the Vala's pale figure vanished like it had never existed. "Did I manage to trick you?" The voice came from behind, slender arms wrapping around Manwë's waste while a rather playful kiss was pressed to his cheek.
Within quiet step was a small, albeit sharp bounce which marked bothstartle and realisation. Manwë knew the very moment Irmo smiled upat them that they'd been played and tried to turn to look for thetrickster but slender arms wound around their form before it was managed. Theyclutched their own chest to calm themself down. "Irmo, youtease!" Manwë complained, mildly upset.
It was the kiss that stole that tone from their voice, though theyflinched a little, and twisted finally in the smaller Vala's grasp to take hold of him. How mean, that was mean! "You did; Ithought something was wrong!" They checked his face with a hand; fingers pushing white hair away from such pale skin then brushing thebacks of them over a cheek. "Are you all right?"














