#kiingly

[aniimosum-blog]

|| ---- the nice guy ? ||

         ❛ believe me,         i am used to feeling alone --

                [ fortunately, solitude was a comfort,                 not a fear, for the girl. times of silence                 were her favorite. ]

[killxrking-blog]

kiingly

        ” Do I know you ? ”

  He doesn’t, not that he can recall at any rate. One would certainly recognise the blond, looming menacingly with a tall frame and that dangerous look about him, but Yoshikage can only muster about a vague sense of familiarity. No, there’s no way he knows the man. It feels as if he does— as if he should — and his teeth are set on edge, crystalline hues narrowing in suspicion because it’s all he really can do at this point. So he swallows down the trepidation, smothers that apprehension, and settles to ignore his instinct that there’s more to the blond than what he may think.

[notringwinner]

meme; i find you an exceptional bilbo. you have managed to get the voice of the character down, and i enjoy reading your longer responses upon the dash when i am able. i look forward to perhaps writing with you, someday, if you will have me.

Come Tell ME what you think of how I RP MY muse, I can only publish.

[casecravingarchive-blog]

witless. thank u guys c:

[xgimli]

kiingly replied to your post “ok i’m gonna (finally) go do drafts over on thorin now”

wait you got a thorin--

yep

[viridefoliis]

    You're welcome, by the way.

[daemontonsor]

[voxhiminis]

Why are you crying?

         Why——. 

          A little one who has been sheltered and spared from even a touch of despair, housed beneath the roof of a highly respected elf. The untouched, pure and supple visage of the young lad is painted and streaked with thin streams of tears as he cradled something close to his breast. Within the small chest is a heart larger than any other man’s as it heaved and compressed at the pain. Stifled gasps and sobs suppressed as he sniffled, azure irises glossed with tears as they roamed from their tiny hands to the feet — or rather hem of the robes of the person who spoke to him. Almost expectant to be Lord Elrond, his foster parent or another certain blond elf he has been visited by prior. 

          Yet it is not.

            Graced with an ethereal vision of pale, pale silvery robes, an elegance that is superior to the ones of the elves commonly residing here and a coldness—-. Though it is contrasted heavily by the implied concern that had edged the query, the voice deep, quiet and yet somber as well. Estel, as the boy was named upon his welcomed presence into Imladris a handful of years before, blinked. Captured in his moment of distress that it slipped his mind as to exactly who stands before him, too steep in a child’s grief over loss. 

          ”Mellonamin…” A feeble voice answered with a tearful quiver as he finally parted his hands from his chest, soft fingers unfurled to reveal the lifeless creature. Watery irises fleeted from the surreal visage of the elf back to his palms, silken tresses of auburn brushed along the flushed cheeks as he sniffled once more. Feathers had been smoothed by gentle brushes, though its tiny heart no longer functioned, it’s lithe frame rigid and turning cold atop the warm hands. 

          "Ta nae ho lû a bad." The oddity of all, is when the grief dissipates as a revelation befell upon the youth’s mind as a tearful smile surfaced. So young, and yet accepting in a moment. “To be at peace.” A sincere chime elicited from the lad’s lips as the tears flowed then ceased as such purity radiated from his face. He is oblivious at present, to the blossom of his wise demeanor, but it is showing and flourishing. With a small sound from his throat, he continued to hold the dear ‘friend’ close. It had been one of the melodious birds he has taken a liking to and in return, its nest had been made in one of the marvelous trees. Then it so happened, Estel had entered his favored part of the gardens to find it laying upon the ground, on the base of tree where he often lounges with tomes and books. 

       As if waiting for him for a farewell at least. 

       ”Mmmm, goheno nin. Le hartha le ume n’rashwe lle.”