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"I’ll tickle you until you’re blue in the face!"
Findekáno grinned, and he braced his hands on the table between them. "Will you? You'll have to catch me first," he challenged, recognising that this was probably a bad game to be playing while they arranged flowers in their mother's crystal vase.
So, This is Love...
Arriving a little early, Elenwë give way to knocking lightly at the large front doors of the house of Nolofinwë. Within the back of her mind she prayed her premature appearance would not disturb the family in any way, for if it did then surely she would feel nothing but embarrassment and shame for disrupting. However, the Minya was only a couple minutes early... Surely she was expected at this point and she was just over thinking it.. yeah.. That was a better thought! Somehow, caught up in thought likely, she had managed to zone out and completely forgot to pay mind to the door, which was now open, and filling the empty space was a tall dark haired gentleman who simply offered her a kind smile.
" I take it you are lady Elenwë.." The servant spoke softly before opening the door a bit wider so that she may enter without difficulty. " Please do come in, I will lead you to the gardens."
Of course, the smaller form was a bit thrown off for a second, but she did manage to return a generous smile and nod her head before entering the large home. A small 'thank you' was whispered to the taller figure as they wandered the halls.The was a short moment of walking before they reached the large glass doors that led to the ever radiant gardens. The doors were pushed open and both passed through the grand archway,venturing into the warmth and light of Laurelin.
She was shown to the courtyard in the centre of the vast labyrinth and instructed that she may wait here while the one who led her there went and retrieved Turukáno..
In minor nervousness,she sat upon the marble bench and began to mess with the ends of golden strands.Curiosity swirled as she pondered why he may have requested her presence. Normally they would only meet when her parents came with his, there was a select few occasions she could recall when they met outside of the regular scenario, but it was not very frequent.Perhaps, though it seemed highly unlikely to happen,despite her wishes,he might have some hidden underlying confession of mutual feelings that he may confess and finally they--..No.She couldn't get ahead of herself..No reason getting her hopes up.
Oh the curiosity...
Elenwë - would your mother prefer flowers, and if so what color? Or should I bring something else? Like a home decoration, or wine?
" Hmm.." For a second she had to ponder, attempting to remember what all her mother fancied and what all she detested. " Well I know she has a large variety of flowers, so I don’t feel it would be impressive if you were to bring flowers.." The Minya zoned out, then focused up at the other. " Perhaps wine would do best.. She does fancy wine.. Maybe something sweet; something with honey or lavendar.." Elenwë gave a gentle smile, then nodded her head. " I could help you if you’d like."
Kiss me, from turno
Send me “KISS ME” and I’ll generate a number from 1-45 to determine where my muse will have to kiss yours:
43. Feet
"Turno!"
Findekáno sighed, and he had to hold on to his baby brother's shoe very firmly to stop himself from launching it at the wall in frustration. "Turno, look at me: you can't go to the palace with bare feet. You have to put your shoes on."
Turukáno's feet dangled off the bed in front of Findekáno's face, and the boy made a sound of protest, just as he'd been doing for the last fifteen minutes. Findekáno set his jaw, but he made up his mind. His hand grabbed a hold of Turukáno's foot, gentle but firm, and he looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor.
"Right; Turno, it's time to kiss the feet bye-bye until we see them again. Do you want to do it, or should I?"
As he'd hoped, that at least received a giggle in response. "Here I go," Findekáno warned, leaning in to plant a sloppy, moist kiss on the child's foot. Anairë had better thank him for this, he thought as he finally managed to get Turukáno to slide his toes into the shoe.
[turgonthewise] Spit it out.
There's plenty of things that might be said about Turgon's sudden and unlikely rise to power as the High King of the Ñoldor, but Celebrimbor knows that it isn't wise to voice any of them. Not while he's knelt before him explaining how a Fëanorian has come to his Hidden City.
Nonetheless, some of the things Turgon has said are un-kingly. That is likely grief speaking--the man has just lost his brother, after all, and hundreds of other good soldiers beyond that. But Celebrimbor can't help himself, and his explanation comes out brief and dry.
"I lost my keys."
Goodbye sky, turgonthewise
Tyelperion and Laurelin both light the streets of the city, though their silver and gold glows do not light it the same way; Laurelin is warmth and colour, while Tyelperion washes them in a clear, cool mist, like the light of the stars brought to them on the earthly plane.
Turukáno notices it first--the mingling light changes, fades, the long shadows growing less distinct, as if one Tree has suddenly gone away like a candle blown out in the wind, and even as he expresses his confusion to Findekáno, darkness creeps up on them, engulfing them.
They've been told stories of Cuivienen since they were old enough to understand the concept of an other place, and though they remain still, words suddenly lost to both of them in the wake of foreboding that comes with the absence of light, that is where both of their thoughts turn--to their ancestors awakening under starlight, except that had seemed like a beautiful memory, and if this is truly reminiscent of anything of that ancient past, then surely it is the dark terror they know overcame the First Children.
ask-argon replied to your post: I’m proofreading my mother’s book and...
um yes please
theyoungtraitor replied to your post: I’m proofreading my mother’s book and...
[brother goes off into different unit, never seen or heard from again. Boom.]
So what I'm reading here is tragic 3-way thread wherein brothers enlist together and then drop off one by one over the next few years? I think I'm reading that.
oz-lion replied to your post: this is a dangerous game you are playing. if you start this AU, this AU will literally consume my life and all that I am. Plz think of the children.
It's the centennial, I can do this okay
“Get over it.”
Turukáno Ñolofinwion, you will regret having said that to me.
Fingon’s hand clenched around the the hilt of his knife—no, not a hilt, cutlery couldn’t abide by the same terminology as swords—but he resisted the urge to drive it into the wood of the table, or the still largely-untouched cut of meat on his plate.
"Four hundred years," he reminded his brother, already imagining Turgon's snide response of how it had in fact been 350, not 400. "I am not going to 'get over' the fact that you disobeyed me and cowered in the mountains without even a word."
Anairë and Fingolfin were already making noises of protest before his sentence completed. Fingon held his younger brother's gaze for another few moments, hoping to impart his point clearly, though he had the sense not to pursue the argument; they'd had enough family dinners fall into uncomfortable topics, and tonight had almost seemed to start on a better note.
Until Fingon's comment--a lighthearted critique, he'd thought, though evidently bitterness still showed through.
"Sorry, mother. What was it you were saying?"
