so many replies BUT MY MUSE JUST WANTS MELKOR
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@ofthefires-blog
so many replies BUT MY MUSE JUST WANTS MELKOR
ofthefires started following you
"Who… who are you?”
Is this the power he sought? Why this girl is little more than a child. "I am Mairon, of the Ainur-- And you?"
” F a n t a s t i c o …” how would you like me? what a prick. da vinci was fond of him already. eyes roved over the form of his model for a moment, taking bit of it in as the breeze tossed his fire hair. christ he was beautiful. the pencil began to move, quickly sketching the outline of the entire scene. portrait, not landscape. this way he could focus solely on his model and what little of the park could be seen on either side of him. occasionally da vinci would glance up, brush his finger against his nose, leaving a smudge of graphite in its wake before returning to the sketch as he slowly filled it in, shading here and there. if only he’d had his paints. mairon’s hair was absolutely beautiful. he’d love to capture it fully. ”Judging by the ease to remain so effortless in your modeling technique, is it safe to assume that I am not the first artisan to be ensnared by you?”
And as soon as the pencil ceases, Mairon saunters right up to the artist and places both hands over his cheeks. Elegant. His hands are elegant, soft and long fingered. Mairon sweeps at the smudge of black over his nose. "I would dare to say that you are the first so ADAMANTLY inspired. I model for a living, but not so typically for artists." And so he smiles, teeth tugging on his bottom lip (Nervous habits-- his make up artists hate him.). "LEONARDO, was it? I'm honored, quite truly. Anything else I can do for you?" Mairon thoroughly plans to give this man his number when he leaves because in all honesty if he doesn't ask to see him again, simply for the pleasure of being his muse, Mairon is definitely going to be asking to see him for other reasons-- (It can't be helped. Mairon has a distinctive type. This one is definitely his.)
his compliments are well received. that was good, at least. leonardo’s tongue passed over his lips again as he looked over his new muse with extreme interest. the hair. it always came back to the hair, the eyes. and now he had a name for the face. mairon. he liked the way it tasted on his lips. it suited him quiet well. he liked that. a name to suit the face. ”I am, yes… Would you mind terribly if I sketched you, signor Mairon?” his fingers itched to capture his likeness upon a page. this was precisely the reason he carried his sketchbook with him at all times. who knew what opportunities might present themselves. he grabbed for his sketchbook, hidden away in his bag and da vinci had to wonder what luck, what god, had decided to be so merciful? any trace of his previous art blockage had disappeared. m a i r o n.
and another bright eyed grin he is awarded, curling hair raised with a passing breeze. "I would not mind at all. How would you like me?" (A rather double edged phrase; but it is intended as such. It has to be with the glint in his gaze.) The park is a beautiful area-- The railing overlooking the lake is Mairon's first choice, and he situates with practiced skill and a grace which comes only natural to the best of his trade. He leans against the rail, one foot propped with a toe against the ground, turned toward Leo yet looking past him. (And in the breeze that catches his hair it seems to truly turn to living fire, eyes catch the glint of sun what bounces from the lake water.) "Will this do?"
He’d come to see the old fortress himself, to see the ruins of his father’s beloved Amon Lanc pure again. A part of him wants to rebuilt it, yet he knows it will never again be a home, just as Greenwood would never again be Greenwood, not even as the stain of darkness was washing away. It was changed, just as he was. Wood of the Greenleaves it is now, just as he and his cousin declared it as the darkness slipped away into nothingness.
No longer does he wear black nor dull silver, but dark green, like the leaves on one of the evergreen trees and brilliant silver like moonlight. And as tired as he is, the battle is over and he feels as if new life has been breathed into him. He can rest long and easy now. His people can roam the woodland freely once more, as could he.
He looks to the figure with narrowed eyes, regarding him harshly.
”What, pray tell, are you doing here?”
"Seeking sanctuary, my Elvenking. From what mortal realms have wrought upon Arda." The words are dressed in simple smile, feline eyes burning with internal, never dying fire. Even from the space between them, it stands yet brilliant and bright. The former Lieutenant turns fully to face the lord of this realm. There is no apparent threat to be had, and yet his shadow stretches beyond the reach of the sun. He makes no illusion. He does not attempt to conceal any identity the king might assume. "And you, my King? What draws you so very deep into the forest? Memories to behold?"
ofcorruptedgold
"I have been long without your company-- Pray tell, have you enjoyed your journey?" For Sauron does not raise his gaze from the campfire before him, where his hands rest before the embers, warmed beneath their heat.
there is blood on my hands.
staining my skin.
tell me, how do i wash it off?
Okay, so I owe a shit ton of starters and like four replies BUT I AM LEAVING THE HOUSE NOW and I'm almost finished with Shadow of Mordor so-- When I get home you will find me here, on Smaug, and Bard Also gonna end up with a Talion blog I feel it coming. Help.
that time mel didn’t check if his pets would get along
(there is absolutely no timeline accuracy here I’m sorry I just needed to get bubble eye goldfish!osse out of my system)
-- Tagfix
vaasilias
And no wall or mountain, for all its fortitudes could keep him out. But with polite intrigue all the same, The Dark Lord sweeps to the gate, now a wall of what ought be impenetrable stone, and calls for an audience. And if he could not be heard first-- there is a tremble within the mountain with his voice, the fires quake before his might. And there is simply no way that could be missed.
Give my character unwanted advice
How does it feel to know you’re becoming the villain of your own story?
(via ephr)
tuxedomxsk replied to your post “pfft nevermind— gonna play shadow of mordor till i pass out. I don’t...”
//someone should post their helios too. COUGHS.
TROLOLOL ONE DAY I WILL I SWEAR
Send me 'ship!' and I'll rate our characters as a ship!
ship: ew / nonono / maybe / ship it / aww / otp / MY HEART
pfft nevermind-- gonna play shadow of mordor till i pass out. I don't work tomorrow so i should be here