peredhellen - Tumblr blog

[peredhellen]

@ofrhvn / vezely ( cont ).

Elladan would try to nuance her statement regarding their infinite ability to remember, if only the circumstances were different. This is not that type of conversation, he thinks. So he regards her quietly instead, patiently awaiting her answer to that question he hadn’t dared to pose quite so explicitly. When Vezely addresses it ( sooner and more forthrightly than anticipated, at that ), he is surprised to note a measure of amusement in her voice. It is brief, but it is there – and he finds solace in it, perhaps even more than in the content of her reply. He sighs at length, distancing himself from the window. It might be a false sense of security he feels, but he cannot help but sense that, maybe, the worst is passed.  ❛  I admit, I do feel relieved – somewhat.  ❜

Enough of the doom in his mind lingers to leave him uncomfortable all the same. There is much left unsaid, left properly acknowledged. It thickens the tension between them all the more so.  ❛  Even if perhaps our diametrically opposed pasts are nothing to feel at ease with. The unspoken things we know exist between us attest to that,  ❜  he continues, surprised by his own brazenness. His gaze averts for a moment.  ❛  I know not what to say regarding that distant past,  ❜  says he, his severity returning as he gestures towards the tome.  ❛  I cannot apologise for what I did that day. I can only ... acknowledge the discomfort this knowledge must cause you, and say tell you I regret being, in part, responsible for that.  ❜

[peredhellen]

And to think he picked up tea for both of them. That, and a spare coffee — because he suspects she's more into that than tea, after all. It turns out there's much he thought he knew about her, only to be proven utterly wrong. Dan's determined not to be discouraged by it, however. If nothing else, he can at least recognise that the death of a parent – especially one quite this gruesome – is valid enough an excuse for the greeting ( or lack thereof ) he receives. The sliding door to the balcony is open, and he passes through without closing it behind him. The cardboard holding the three beverage is set down on the small table to the right end of the balcony. The ashtray atop it is almost full. That didn't take long.

❛ Thank you for the suggestion, but consider yourself lucky: we needn't talk. ❜ he states as he leans forwards, elbows braced upon the railing. Arguably fortunately, he wasn't sent here to talk. He was sent to 'check in on the asset'. It all boils down to suicide watch. He'd sooner see her get her hands on a gun, somehow, and take matters into her own hands. Either way, he's on high alert — like the rest of the MI6 and MI5 subdivisions working this case. ❛ I brought tea and coffee. Which would you like? ❜

The safehouse is a one-bedroom flat in a complex on the south side of London. Outside, an off-street filled with noise. Lines of parked cars crowd against sidewalks cracked by the roots of overgrown trees. Their foliage hides the light of street lamps, many already broken, from touching the asphalt below. A raven-haired woman leans against the rail of the balcony, overlooking three stories down at the dirty asphalt below. A cigarette smolders in one hand. Soon it will find the balcony floor with the others smoked and stomped on prior. The black lining her eyes is smudged but the tears shed for a shivved father were short-lived and replaced again by anger.

A knock on the front door is heard, but answering it is out of the question. Either it’s the lure of a headhunter making quick work of the MI6’s hideaway or someone who already carries a set of keys. Entry is expected a minute later. Stepping over the threshold they’ll find the flat in a state of distress. A smashed lamp, the shade crushed, a thrown chair, broken dishes; remnants of her reaction to being told the bad news about her imprisoned father's coordinated murder.

“If you’re here to kill me, go ahead.” With chin turned, her coarse voice disinterestedly calls through the open balcony door. “If you want to talk, go fuck yourself.” // @peredhellen p.s.

[peredhellen]

prvtocol​ / vezely landry.

Disinterested is the glance of dull gray optics straying past the researcher’s left shoulder, given to a pair of suits conversing over whatever is on the screen of the datapad in the one’s hand. When sight lulls back, he’s still blabbering on about trust. Too bad. The only person she trusts is a high up exec sitting pretty in a corner office on the upper floors of this tower and who just happens to sport the same surname. 

“Looking to prove yourself, Mister Jīngtiān?” Hm. All of a sudden, something’s telling her that’s not his name. He’s a little too eager and for what? “Listen. I’m not your superior. I’m not in your dept. Hell, I’m not even stationed at this branch. But if you want me to put out tracers to report back on your trustworthiness, that can be arranged.” Smirk is purposefully smug; he doesn’t want to do this. “And it’s just an inventory check. Confiscated shipment whose time and place of confiscation is none of your business. Satisfied?”

       Well, he’d be the first to admit he should’ve probably been a little more cautious. He leans back, as if he’s physically disengaging, before ( jokingly? ) throwing his hands up, palms facing forwards. They lower, and he refrains from overthinking his answer to her final – likely rhetorical – question.  ❛  Utterly.  ❜  That might be an exaggeration. There’s more to be found out; more that might be of use to him, but he’s obviously overstepped already. Lest he really want those tracers on his back, he knows he’d best desist.

        At least her suspicion is overt. He’d best be on his best behaviour — and on guard, at that. At length, his hands fold in his lap. The glance he throws her way borders on the blasé, even if he worries just what those optics of her might detect in or on him. He must keep his concern under wraps. So, he tries to move on.  ❛  Are you? Or do you have more questions for me?  ❜  He pauses, blinking twice. The subtlest of grins pulls up the corners of his mouth then.  ❛  If so, I might just ask one of the assistants to get us some tea — or coffee, if that’s more your speed.  ❜

[peredhellen]

ofrhvn / vezely.

Taint. What is tainted runs cold through her weakening veins, blackening her insides, and deadening what her heart to what might stand between them. Tiptoeing around, gauging what the other thinks — it has no name and none shall be given. Departure from this tenuous asylum returns to her mind. The snow is melted, the mountain passes are clear, an unset path north calls her name. Why is she still lingering on these unswept stone paths, in these ancient halls of her sworn enemy?

Arms come to fold loosely over her deflated chest. A thin line finds her bow shaped lips and stays unmoved for a second longer. Of what does he desire her to recall? How two half-elves helped reap the destruction of her people? The mere thought reminds her of the bitterness that never left, but words still flow with well-honed detachment, carefully. “It matters not whether memory serves me. Centuries have passed. Many more battles have been fought since though not between us on the same field. It shall change little of how I have come to see you.”

       Elladan leaves the desk, but not the chamber. Rather, he approaches the nearest window, as if that might help him escape the pressing sensation that something between them has no invariably changed. He must face it if so, yet he cannot bear the thought of it — not now, not when he thought their differences overcome. If he must be so honest with himself, indeed, he wonders if now is not the time to face what he had hoped would come of these overcome differences, and call it by its name ...

        But he cannot, and he fails. In doing so, he disappoints himself, eliciting a sigh and a shake of his head. At length, he looks her way again, not even having looked out of the window after all. The harder he tries to run from reality, it seems, the deeper his doubt sinks its claws into him.  ❛  I would argue differently, though I know not the effects of your ... allegiance on your memory. For myself and most Eldar, however, memory is infallible, and bleeds well into present day.  ❜  A pause. Lecturing, even now.  ❛  Forgive me.  ❜  Again, he pauses, his critical gaze turning towards his shoes for a moment, before softening upon landing on Vezely again.  ❛  Dare I even ask how you have come to see me?  ❜

[peredhellen]

prvtocol​ / vezely landry.

A single dark brow lifts, a brief scrunch then sniff of her freckled nose following as she wonders what he’s on about. Back folds against the stiff chair once more, chin tilted an increment, a habitual disinterest but she still bites. “Almost sounded like you were trying to sell yourself there.” Stated wryly to the confirmation of him having more of the intel she might need. As he continues with the questions, chrome fingers tap the top of the datapad’s blacked-out screen, suspecting it’s her time that’s about to be wasted. Whatever. He’ll learn she’s not a pleasant conversation partner.

“Why? You president of the former corp rejects club and want to put a warning out to your crew?” A corner of her dry lips stretches, head canting. She’s pretty damn sure he’ll find amusement with that. “You must know how it is by now,” she relents, losing some wryness. “Loyalty for you and yours is always going to be suspect. Just the way it is.” One reason for jumping a corp contract is actually not jumping at all, but being sprung intentionally.

         Her initial assumption earns a grin, because it’s correct. He tries to stave off any haughtiness that might’ve otherwise seeped into it — he’s only after due respect. He’s worked hard to get where he is, even if half of it nowadays is dedicated to uphold a charade; a scheme. It’s all part of a greater plan, though. He’s just one cog in the machine, yet who knows what might happen if he, that single cog, were to block or fall away entirely. Indeed, Vez Landry has no idea of the importance of the role he plays. Nobody does; nobody shall. Her second assessment proves it, even if it does tear an airy-yet-audible chuckle from him.

           His expression soon mellows out all the same, his face settling back into its usual thoughtfulness — slightly furrowed brow and all. He crosses one leg over the other and reclines further into his seat, leaning his right forearm right along the backrest.  ❛  Fine. Fair enough. Do give me a chance to prove myself, though. No one stands to gain from endless mistrust — even if extending trust has probably come back to bite you in the past. The same can be said for any corporation that’s ever externally sourced hires,  ❜  he adjusts.  ❛  To that end, I’d like to ask you something notwithstanding the chance you’ll refuse to answer: how does the tech you asked me about tie into your op?  ❜

[peredhellen]

ofrhvn / vezely.

Strained of unwanted sight, the worn edge of the wooden table loses focus. The scribed text of that tome desires forgetting — an impossible task. It is not a denial of truth, nay, but the bitter remembrance of the adverse change of the wind on those green fields that stifle her. Corners of the kohl-blocked outlines of dull greys grow depth in recalled anger of that moment. Rage of defeat upon turning her charge around. That rich soil that was to be their quarry, found littered with the bloodied bodies of her tribesmen. The last day of the Pultai Confederation, broken by the alliance of ancient enemies. By the host whose company she finds desirable. It’s wrong.

Jaw locks before she can will herself to spare the half-elf her attention. HIs expressed incredulity, she does not buy it. He knows what she implies, even if it sounds farcical. “Fate would have it that we did not cross swords that day. The flanks broke, retreat was sounded once more. That time I obeyed. I know not what to make of it, but for a cruel twist of history.” // @peredhellen​

      The visceral urge to force himself into denial hits him like a hammer would an anvil. Its reverberations shake him inwardly, whilst outwardly he remains perfectly still. His gaze fixes itself on the floor, tracing the lines between the immaculately carved tiles. The tension in his jaw increases as the silence on his end extends itself. He remembers that day well, ever taking such pride in his and Elrohir’s role in the establishment of Rohan as all know it these days. At present, however, little but unease remains. It remains still somewhat shy of shame, but the sentiment comes dangerously close to it.

       At length, he drags his heavy gaze to Vezely. The imagery of an ocean of people dissolves before his eyes, and only she remains.  ❛  Did you see me? Or us, I should say.  ❜  His brother and he — the tallest of the army entire, shattering the Pultai’s flank and forcing their retreat. One misstep could have turned the tables on them, for even with Gondor’s aid, they were few. The seedling his pride has been reduced to remains as such: innocuous.  ❛  I find myself hoping you did not, so as not to ... taint whatever image you have constructed of me.  ❜

[peredhellen]

@peredhellen & @vezely

[peredhellen]

TOLKIEN WEEK 2022 | Favorite Location | IMLADRIS (RIVENDELL)

Such was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.

[peredhellen]

prvtocol​ / vez landry.

“Adaptive panels. BAE System…” With chin lifted, gray optics stare down her freckled nose as coarse voice parrots in cool disinterest, notating all of it in her logs. Datafiles kept on one project that’s part of a larger HQ-led dark campaign to disrupt competitor corps through covert means. Vez doesn’t mind trudging through prep work in office; it’s a breather from being sent on quick convoys overseas. Plus location-wise, her sister’s here to keep her company.

“Not bad, former business developer.” Smirk flashes once more before confiscating the datapad right from under his nose as if to say, that’s enough peeking office boy. “Your old gig might be useful still.” Assurance is given as a black chrome digit lifts to point at his head like a loaded gun. “I’m going to put you on my contact list for this op. If there’s any other questions maybe I’ll even message you first before interrupting your break.” 

// @peredhellen​

     The title bestowed on him pulls his lips into a wry, lopsided smirk. It somehow almost stings — former business developer, because it’s true despite the rest of his circumstances here being part of a greater ruse. At least having somehow interwoven truth into it, he’s allowed a greater deal of sincerity. That’s all he needs for everything to come across as plausible. Similarly, his expression’s rapid shift to surprise is just as genuine as the datapad’s swiped from underneath his nose. No shortage on mistrust, though that was to be expected.

❛  I was hired in part due to my knowledge of that old gig,  ❜  he ripostes. Bloody well-timed, too: he’d spent enough time feigning his ambitions on as an outsourced force pre-hire. Dan moves on with a nod:  ❛ Sounds good.  ❜  He supposes he might use his break to socialise a little in between. Who knows what insights it’ll grant him? ( Or, at worst, he’ll have passed his time doing something other than poring over files. )  ❛  And you? Are you not on break now — or off to the next new hire that once had their toes dipped in another corp’s business?  ❜

[peredhellen]

elerondo​ / elrond peredhel.

LAUGHTER SPRINGS FORTH , Lord Elrond unable to hold back the mirth of which was carved out of Elladan’s plight. ❝ I COULD NOT HELP IT— ❞ Indeed, seeing as the Elvenlord’s chest shakes with laughter continually while a hand holds his abdomen ! And it was such a multi - faceted prank as well. Elrond had succeeded in luring his son to the grove on the vague promise of sweetness, however the apples could not be picked at all. ❝ You looked so distracted ! Poor you. ❞

Elrond dove a hand into the inner pocket of his robes to retrieve what he had initially prepared; Two packs of salted tangerines, one he pushes into son’s arm while giggling, ❝ You really need to work on your reflexes, Elladan. ❞ Well, one can’t really defend themselves from family, could they ? Hah !

@peredhellen   /   continued.

    He dusts himself off with one hand, the other mindlessly accepting the extended fruit. The stained fabric across his knees shan’t be saved by his efforts no matter how hard he tries, so he rather quickly relinquishes the attempt to walk away from this looking spotless.  ❛  So it seems. I was simply unaware I need be on my guard around those I trust most,  ❜  jabs he, before biting into the citrus.

      The clash of the saline profile against the sweet-yet-tart fruit wrinkles his nose.  ❛  Ah — fine, I consider my lesson learnt. Whose tactics do your hands-on teaching methods trace back to, I wonder? Or are they all of your own invention?  ❜

[peredhellen]

❛   nay, see ! the wind has turned, beware your aim !   ❜ the young elf's laugh trickles as the flow of a mountain creek, and he nods toward the bushes now caressed by a west wind. ❛   we shall then see whose fletchings are better.   ❜ youthful competitiveness brings but a flush to the tips of their ears, and it is all in good humour. so rarely does legolas leave the mirkwood, one ought to make the most of it. [ delivering the legolas you ordered hehe younglings on a hunt ? younglings on a hunt ! ALSO HI IT'S BEEN AGES 🥺 ]

@luredeep

     Elladan is well acquainted with both Legolas and their competitiveness. The latter he feels all too often himself when embroiled in friendly contest. It is perhaps a trait innate — to be so zealous, that is — in all twins. That would not surprise him, but this is not Elrohir he is facing off against. Him, Elladan knows he can defeat if it is his bow arm pinned against his. Legolas is another story, however. The fingers deciding starting course of the arrow are as precise as their eyes are keen.

       Elladan thrives under this type of pressure, however. A challenging glint touches upon his eyes as he adjusts his aim to accommodate for the changing wind. It proves particularly capricious today.  ❛  Ah, but I would not strive for superiority over the legendary archers of your homeland!  ❜  The arrow is loosed, its whistle a pitch bespeaking its speed and ( hopefully lasting! ) resistance to the gales.  ❛  Perhaps I shall be content with fletchings that match yours in greatness. It will suffice in my present company.  ❜

[peredhellen]

They were in the grove, … but the apples were not ripe. Far from it. ❝ Oh … ? ❞ Elrond snickered after his prank to trip Elladan. ❝ How the mighty hath fallen ! ❞ hi :D

@elerondo

     Elladan feels the impact before realising what happened. It takes a second’s worth of glancing around for any stray branches or wet leaves to recognise that his fall was no accident. A glare – albeit one of feigned anger – he shoots up at his father, soon after which he scrambles to get on his feet again.  ❛  I suppose I deserved that for the decades of pranks pulled without real repercussions, hm?  ❜

[peredhellen]

@peredhellen

[peredhellen]

a christmas commission of @vezely​ & @peredhellen ‘s characters done for the wonderful @dunadaneth!

[peredhellen]

pinned post – welcome!

––– this is a selective, queue-based rp blog for elladan peredhel from tolkien’s legendarium. a lot of his story is based on headcanons, given the lack of tangible material concerning elladan.

i go by luca ( he/him ), i’m a trans guy, born in april ‘95. my first language is dutch, but i’ve been rping on tumblr in english since 2011. i tend to lightly format my replies with small text, and use icons unless my partner doesn’t. nsfw isn’t likely to occur here, but it’ll be tagged appropriately if so.

this is a sideblog to @mindsmade, so i’ll follow back from there! an archive with all previous threads / developments can be found on @peredhellen-a.

more elaborate guidelines and all muses can be found in this carrd.