pilininge-blog

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⊰   It was truth; her will and whim he often found himself          a slave to-- the smile that graced her pleased features,          and the knowledge that her desires were fulfilled. She          was his dearest friend, and the happiest memories of          his childhood were those retained of her by his side.          Her arrow did not fall short of its mark-- but she need          not know how true her aim had been.

               “A bold assumption you                      dare to make, my lady.”           ⊱

       “You could deny me just like anyone else,” replied             Tauriel in a slightly teasing tone, glancing at Legolas          from the corner of her eye. It was amazing to know     that he found her important enough to consider it   difficult to say no, even though in this situation it would seem to be something as easy as breathing. “I truly feel   flattered, my prince, that you find me so i r r e s i s t i b l e,”      she added, chuckling.

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Hiatus

[ well since the queue is empty I guess now's   a good a time as any. Real life's just caught   up with me and I can't find muse for this blog   currently so; long story short, taking a hiatus   here. Not forever probably; just awhile. Stay   beautiful all yinz ]

[pilininge-blog]

⊰   Sufficiently not; the Elves of Mirkwood were known           for being many things, but being a welcoming sort was           not among them. Any foreign blood that found itself           unfortunate enough to have wandered beyond their           borders would almost undoubtedly find themselves           b a r r e d  beneath the King's dwelling in the menagerie           of his cellar jail. But not their own blood; an amusement           rimmed his smile at the irony of such.

                        “…not all, but surely our own.”    ⊱

His comforting statement seemed to bring a smile to her face as she glanced up at him and chuckled. “A personal escort from the prince? I consider myself terribly fortunate—is this how to treat every salty scallywag that pays your kingdom a visit?” she teased, though her eyes held great gratitude despite her humor. Gwin, strangely enough, had a hard time conveying certain sentiments even to her own kin. But what her words couldn’t display, her manners and gaze always could, thankfully.

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⊰   “The way is not far--             but you will find it long if you do             not follow my steps carefully.”

             The wood beneath which they tread was thick with                   a magic that she was likely all too aware of already--                   a sleepiness and inherent confusion that flowed forth                   from the river and washed the forest in a heavy blanket                   of disorientation. Those who dared to venture into the                   copse of Mirkwood ran the risk of becoming hopelessly                   l o s t  in its mangled limbs.    ⊱

❧☾ƛƦƳƛ☽჻

   HER TIME among the villages of humans and the    dwarves in the great mountain city of Tronjheim    has unbent her tongue from the old twisted speech    of her own people, though the art has no completely    forsaken her, and for that she is now grateful.

   NO…FÍRNEN has not yet passed on to the black    void that awaits all —even elves when their grace    finally fades— but still there is a void where his    presence ought to be. a void that makes him as    good as dead, even as her soul knows deep down    his is just lost.

                          so it is no surprise the grief that taints                           mournful, lilting tones, and the downcast                           set of her eyes.

      ❝ such are the fluctuations of life, but you           have my thanks. ❞

   HIS SPEECH is foreign, yet it holds some echo of    familiarity that spikes an emotion within her as clear    as any understandable language can.

      ❝ how far must we journey before we enter           your father’s halls? ❞

[pilininge-blog]

⊰   “Do you not find my company as suitable?”

              He volleyed her tease right back-- at least, he had assessed                  it to be a taunt in nature. However, he found his good humor                  to be short lived when she voiced the intention of her mischief.                  It no longer sounded of mere mischief-- but of sheer foolery.                  Troubled brewed in his belly, filling him with undue dread. His                  step fell short behind her characteristic stealth; Elves were                  well known for their evasive talents. It was hardly any shock                  that they were able to so swiftly avoid the guards. But despite                  her speed, his fell step had eventually caught that of her own                  as they drew nigh to the lip of the forest in a hushed admonition.

               “…Tauriel... You cannot possibly                             mean to seek such danger.”          ⊱

( for pilininge )

Still backwards, Tauriel dodged a guard posted outside the throne room, her steps lithe as she made the lengthy walk to front gates. Scarce elves could pass through the hefty ornate doors. She twisted round to face front, meandering along the edge of the exposed path. Her kin were accustomed to her fortuity and did not take notice. 

The crimson haired silvan paused in her steps and snapped her fingers in rememberance, “I forgot to fetch Meludir,” she reflected loud enough for him to hear.

"Well since you’ve asked…" Tauriel pivoted to look at him, her heels hanging off the edge of the path. She maintained an effortless balance, flicking her hair over her shoulder. 

"I’m going to see if the bardman has returned our barrels at the river." She flexed her arches, allowing her heels to dip further off the edge as she spoke, "Then if there’s time I might           possibly          seek the Gloom of Nurn.” The young captain sprang on her toes down the path quickly before he could disavow her schemes, passing the guards and slipping into the afternoon light.

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⊰   “Who sayeth I have not?”

                      Her amusement had betrayed her, feet finding                          purchase in the soft cover of leaves that had                          begun to blanket their beloved hearth with the                          first signs of Autumn's approach. But the brush                          from behind which her laughter had resonated                          had since been strategically abandoned, and                          he was left scanning the camouflage of foliage                          for a shock of iridescent red once more.

                                  “…perhaps I am simply allowing you                                         to believe you move unseen-- toying,                                         as a spider of a fly in its  w e b . . .”         ⊱

              laughter escapes soft pair of lips even                    in her attempt to keep quiet, dainty fingers                    muffling the sound with ease. 

                                    ‘then why have you not                                      found me yet, my lord?’ 

            with the arch of her eyebrow she moves,             swift and quick like the wind amongst the             leaves, for she is aware that if she keeps              her position, he would find her within moments. 

                         ’should i report to your father, our                          king the length of time this chase                          takes? children manage better!’

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⊰   It was evident that she held little intention of being           forthright with him-- though he knew it to be their way.           Things such as truths and affections were passed subtly           between his people; an ancient and more proper way of           carry than that of blunt Men and callous Dwarves. 

              In the wake of a wound that clearly still seared in its                  freshness and depth, he withdrew any further press of                  the matters his curiosities bayed; no soul, stranger or                  otherwise, should ever be subjected to the sudden and                  inconsolable absence of a long time  f r i e n d .

                                           But such was the way of time. 

                           “…αмιη нιяαєтнα.                                  My heart grieves for your loss.”                      ⊱

❧☾ƛƦƳƛ☽჻

   SHE FOLLOWS in the prince’s wake with nary a sound,    eyes darting from the softly swaying mass of pale hair    before her, to the shadows that seems to shift and stalk    them along their journey. his question goes unanswered    for several heartbeats, bottom perfect lip worrying slightly    between white teeth. when she speaks again her voice falls    hushed and faint, quiet as the wind slipping between pines.

       —she wishes fírnen were here to lend a wise word,          though perhaps if he were, there would be no          question of what she rode—

      ❝ fírnen…my companion lost to me a great many days          ago. ❞

   TELL NO lies but speak half truths that skew the truth, such    is the elven way.

[pilininge-blog]

⊰   “For a time.”

            But there is little reassurance to be found in the response,                 crown kissed by sunlight and starkly apparent heritage                 lifting in a proper address of his worries.

                        “…but more continue to pour forth over the mountains.                                   The enemy grows strong far beyond our borders.”     ⊱

          Head  of  { silver }  tilted downward at his approach,           slender hand returning kind gesture & austere tone              {   b e l l o w i n g   }  through  the  Great  Hall.

     ”Have the borders been secured       from those  [ f o u l ]  creatures?”

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⊰   It was hardly a suggestion that he could object to--          rather, he found his heart warmed to its very cockles          by the notion she proffered. Aware that his Father          would be displeased should any break curfew, least          of all they... for the briefest of times, he found he cared          very little for the consequence. He cared for naught in          that moment, save the otherworldly glow that her          presence emitted and the soft, tranquil respite that he          had found by her side.

                  “...Aye. How am I to deny you?”                          ⊱

          The awareness that she was able to bring               a smile onto her friend’s face was probably            the most wonderful thing in the world. Tauriel      could not remember any happier memories     but the ones in which she saw Legolas smiling,      especially at her. That made her sure that         she could be a good friend, that she was not              a person who could only kill.

             “Why would you want to come back so soon?���         she asked all of sudden, hearing the suggestion     coming from the prince’s lips. “Now, as the sun  is gone, we can watch the stars, and I am pretty sure it is a perfect place for doing that.” Smiling,   she glanced at the other. “Here, you were      spending your time with your mother during the          day. Let us create a new tradition: you will spend      your nights here with me, watching the stars.”

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⊰   “ R i d e r . . . ”

            Syllabic spoken with a palpable edge of perplex,                 as the single reference he had chosen to repeat                 in contemplation had inherently captured his                 curiosities. Light feet moved deftly between the                 roots and withered limbs of the forest, hardly                 leaving any trace of their step in his wake.

                                  “…of what?”                                ⊱

❧☾ƛƦƳƛ☽჻

      ❝ aye. its name is tamerlein, the sword of a past rider           forged by rhuron and reforged for myself at much           expense, do take care with it. ❞

   SHE SHALL reveal no more, and perhaps she has already given    too much to a stranger who obviously has no knowledge of what    he looks upon, of the weight he holds when he holds a rider’s sword.

      ❝ i say no more. ❞

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⊰   It appeared that he had been mistaken in assuming that             her destination was the desire which headed the helm             of her course-- rather, it seemed that the journey was             what she truly yearned for. He could sympathize,             despite the stark differences between the two; his heart             was only so happy under tree, lost in the great copse of             leaf between rushing river. The forest was his soul, and             his soul was the wood.

                “...then come morning, we see to it that you                          feel the breath of the ocean once more.”    ⊱

Gwin fell quiet for a moment at his question, turning her eyes downward and lingering over the thought for a few moment. It was apparent that the idea of sailing to the West was not something that pleased her. Her lips pursed and she very slowly inclined her head.

"I know I must someday. It is inevitable, as are all endings to eras."

Her shoulders sank a little bit and she crossed her arms with a saddened expression. “But I do not like entertaining that thought,” she said softly. “I was practically born on these high seas. My family were refugees on the Isle of Balar before they relocated to Mirkwood. I have been a child of the waves since before I can remember.”

[pilininge-blog]

[part 3 of 3] I have been visiting random fandoms, handing out Missions for a while now. And I've never done it with ill intentions. It makes me smile knowing that maybe I can help people make new RP friends, and give them inspiration for a starter that maybe they never considered before.

(3/3)

// I think this is the sweetest thing ever tbh.   I wasn’t offended by any means, just genuinely   confused? But hearing it explained this way    sheds a lot of light, and I think it’s a super neat    thing. Signal boost this.

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[part 2 of 3] Or, because RPers talk of wanting to interact with each other, but they are scared to initiate it on their own. And maybe an open starter will give them that chance. No one has to respond to my Mission prompts at all. But if they do, and it helps them to gain a new RP partner and may be a new friend, then that is a wonderful thing.

(2/3)

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[part 1 of 3] I am the anon who sent you the RP Mission earlier. I am sorry to hear you didn't like it. I did not send you the message just to get you to write a starter that I could reply to. I do have a character blog, but I have never replied to any RP Mission Starters that I've sent out. I send them out because there are a lot of RPers who talk of wanting to RP, but don't how to start, or don't have the inspiration for it.

(1/3)

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⊰   “Why do you desire to do so?”

                       The inquiry was  a b s e n t  of any frustration or malice,                           but a simple and morbid fascination goaded the query--                           what was out there that she so desired to see? How was                           it that she so wished to venture out beyond, to leave all                           she had ever known behind for the sureness of nothing?                           He craved comprehension, honest in his curiosity,                           elbows easing forward to find balance upon his bent knees.

                                   “…what do you believe to be out there, мєℓ∂ιтн-ηιη?”    ⊱

                                  ❛  PERHAPS not, but that does not lessen                                             my desire to  c h a l l e n g e  it.  ❜

                   &&  she does not understand his passive view, how he can sound                    uncaring, when protection of this realm — and beyond —- is what                    she so  passionately strives for. Is it not natural to seek adventure,                      solutions; none in this realm heed to her opinions, suggestions.

                   The CAPTAIN  would  have  thought  the  prince to be different,                            but in years of friendship she has been mistaken, naïve.

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⊰   “Fabled blade...”

                       Breath came low and not without the slightest                           edge of intrigue about it as he turned the weapon                           over in his calloused palms. It was certainly not                           of Elvish make, but neither was it of any craft that                           he had ever laid eye on before.

                                   “…then perhaps you may regale me                                            with its tale on the way there.”                 ⊱

❧☾ƛƦƳƛ☽჻

   SUCH DEMANDS do not bend to her liking, yet she holds no    grudge when she herself would do the same within the boarders    of du weldenvarden. it takes but a moment to un-sling her quiver,    graceful yew bow still strung yet fit snugly within. tamerlein she    is far less willing to hand over, undoing it’s leather belt and    extending the green blade towards the stranger.

      ❝ take care, for that is a storied blade and i’d hate to see           it missing. ❞

   A BLINK obscures absinthe gaze at the slip ( ? ) of his tongue. so    he is a prince, not so much unlike herself; or rather herself before    her mother’s passing. still, she is grateful for exchanging her    diadem for a plain leather band, therefore obscuring her rank as    queen.