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Re: OOC Sign Up by Manwë
[November 19, 2019, 11:09:01 PM]


Re: OOC Sign Up by AliLea
[November 19, 2019, 07:32:15 PM]


Re: Time Won't Let Me by Tinuvagor
[November 18, 2019, 02:23:17 AM]


Re: Glimpses Through Paint? by Tuuli
[November 17, 2019, 10:58:51 PM]


Re: Another Home Awaiting by Gigra
[November 17, 2019, 12:06:27 AM]

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Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 10
1
Start here... / Re: OOC Sign Up
« Last post by Manwë on November 19, 2019, 11:09:01 PM »
You're sorted :) Welcome!
2
Start here... / Re: OOC Sign Up
« Last post by AliLea on November 19, 2019, 07:32:15 PM »
Signing up!
3
Lothlórien / Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Last post by Tinuvagor on November 18, 2019, 02:23:17 AM »
He nearly asked how one became known as “the wise” when he was so blatantly determined to act the part of a fool.  But no. He bit back that question and buried it under six-thousand years of practiced control. Yet being able to regain his control did little to quiet the heat of his anger, and even more his frustration. A part of him wondered if this was some trick… or some test, for he could not fully comprehend how Celeborn could fail to understand.  Or had the fool’s memory simply gone bad after all these years?

“I suppose,” he began, forcing himself to breath and maintain a level tone.  “I am simply disappointed.” The words would no doubt be seen as an insult, and he would not have blamed Celeborn if they only further stoked his anger.  But in that moment of choking back his own temper, Tinuvagor had decided that he no longer really cared. The words he spoke now were only for himself. “I had hoped you would live up to your reputation, but like so many of us, reputations are often exaggerated.”  

With the wine bottle still in hand, he stepped back, sinking into a chair where he leaned forward to brace his elbows against his knees,his gaze not directed at his host, but at the bottle in his hands.  He feared that should he look up at Celeborn, he might find himself unable to hold his anger at bay, and should he fail to make himself clear, he doubted he would have the chance again.

“As I told you before, My Lord, I am not here to beg forgiveness. That is yours to offer if you so wish, but I learned long ago to be satisfied with far less.  I came,” he added emphasis so that Celeborn might actually understand.  “... to offer service and penance towards a debt that cannot ever fully be paid.  And I came to make such an offer in the hopes that I might find some measure of peace for myself.  Whatever darkness lies in your heart is not any concern of mine.”

Finding his courage, he finally looked up.  The anger was not entirely gone, but it was dull and muted compared to its earlier fire.  Only just the remaining embers, yet easy enough to stoke to life again should Celeborn choose. 

“The Prophecy of the North bore many bitter fruits, not the least of which has festered in my heart throughout the ages.  It is a sore trial to bear to be ever berated for your sins by those who refuse to acknowledge their own. It is why I stayed so long among the folk of Lindon… It was far easier to serve penance for those who had done me no wrongs. The true trial is to do the same to those who have done me wrong, those whom my heart insists still deserve my anger.

“And so, whatever you may think of me…  however just or unjust those thoughts may be…” He hesitated there.  A lengthy pause during which he warred within himself once more, struggling against that one thread of anger that refused to let go.  And so, at last, the words that escaped were slightly different than they might have been had he finally, fully released that pit of bitterness in his gut.

“I will forgive you.  I will… try to forgive you.”
4
Once Upon a Time AU / Re: Glimpses Through Paint?
« Last post by Tuuli on November 17, 2019, 10:58:51 PM »
Terri wouldn't say she was creative, or artistic (part of taking this course and to perhaps pick up some pointers there, as well as in sympathy of Miss Rosental) but she was a "fiddler". Not in the musical sense, more the twitchy sense. She was constantly messing with anything she could get her hands on, even if just pen tapping, though even she could see it was more unformed ideas in her head than just fidgeting.

She was sort of drawn to crafts. Not good ones; and had had fun gluing Popsicle sticks together as a younger kid, even if the simple stars that made were not enough, and she found herself wishing she could bend them up and around into something a bit more dimensional. Just see where it went.

Straws were a better medium but even then she just fiddled with them more than made anything definable before she'd give up...partly because she was hardly, if ever, alone and other students, or foster siblings (Terri almost stubbornly used that last word despite the smart comments back being heard say it got her!) would ask what was she was doing, and she didn't have a good answer because even she didn't know.

It's a basket of course..."

Terri shoved aside the image of a pleased four-year old her grinning, proud to have a definition of her just aimlessly crafting, even if she'd been working with Popsicle sticks again and the "basket" was far more freestyle interpretation.

Mrs. Hathaway She and her husband had been nice; and the car wreck had been a week later...

This wasn't why Terri seemed to fixate on baskets even now. No that was even less able to be defined. It was the reason that comment had pleased her so. Something, an idea she couldn't quite grasp...

But it seemed to fuel her hand, and she worked off an image in her mind she could all but see. A...wicker basket? No wrought iron perhaps. Terri liked wrought iron kind of art. The last purchase she'd made with allowance had been to use what she had from the last family before her transfer to get a horse-shoe star from a booth at a local craft's like fair they'd been at while her then current foster-mom bought some local honey.

As Terri had seen it, and picked it up, she felt she could almost smell the leather and hay associated with horses and stables. Had another of those undefinable thoughts, testing the weight of the shoe in her hand one last time before she put it with the pair and handed both off, then slightly squirming amidst the smells and snorts of ponies as she awaited...something. Feedback of some kind?

At the feeling of being watched, the young teen turned, next starting a bit to find an adult, possibly the teacher, watching her. She quickly replaced the chalk, not because she was afraid she'd done anything wrong, more...self-conscious, about her drawing, and...a lot of it. She then stared at her hand, now coated pink from the chalk, and debated what to do with it.

"Oh, um, hi...you must be Miss Rosental, I, uh, well I was just...", Terri's hand touched her jeans, then recalled that was probably not the place to wipe chalk dust, and she removed it, still debating even as she spoke.
5
The Grey Mountains / Re: Another Home Awaiting
« Last post by Gigra on November 17, 2019, 12:06:27 AM »
"I see…” Gigra started, her face remaining unmoved by the girl’s words, but not because she was, in fact, unmoved. In times of unshaken confidence, sometimes empathy wasn’t the correct strategy, especially for someone of her age to admit what had happened. "Kvasir and Astir have a good trust of people – and I trust their judgement.” As words of payment and work came around, Gigra could feel her soul shudder, but gave herself no time to dwell on it too much. She let the girl speak - and then, tears. She placed her cup back down on its neat plate and rose from her seat. "One moment…” She whispered and wandered closer to the door, opening it.

"Eir!” Gigra hollered at a tone which was not usual for her. It carried ghosts of concern and urgency. It was never long before someone arrived at her door – if Gigra shouted, immediacy was expected. In the doorway, a woman with a kind face and blonde locks braided beautifully into her beard stood, arms folded before her. She didn’t look like the others – more like a nurse maid if anything. "You’re getting quicker Eir… I will need clothes, bedclothes, bedding, and another bed moving into Tagri’s room. She shan’t mind. Get Filla and Helin to move it.” Eir smiled and nodded before looking at Anitra and offering her the same. Gigra sauntered up to Eir and placed two coins firmly in her hand before kissing her forehead. ”You’re made of Gold. I swear it. Send for Tagri as soon as is convenient.”

Nodding she moved almost silently back around to her dresser, searching for something that could be used as a towel for a bath and dipping through a door that was attached to her room and into another. She spoke almost silently to another one of her maidens, asking for heated water and the usual cleansing tub to be filled. Gigra knew how… dirty one could feel after incidents such as attacks – just because one usually asked for payment, did not mean that those who were refused could take. Eir returned with clean bedclothes and informed Gigra that the bedroom was being made up as they were speaking. "Do not think me rude, child.” She began as she came back into the room. "I know all too well the pain you speak of.” Gigs placed the clothes on Anitra’s lap and knelt beside her. "And do not think me a monster. I would not dream of selling you to the vermin that wander these halls. You are not ready for that commitment.” She offered her a gentle hand on the shoulder – not wanting to overstep the boundaries of her new guest.

A smaller figure appeared behind Gigra. Small with bright red curly hair and beaming green eyes – though no beard was fully apparent yet. "This is my daughter. Tagri. She will need someone to keep an eye on her during business hours. Eir may be my maid but looking after others is not her job. Just keep her company and consider your debt paid. You will be given coin, a bed, and clothes. Take Tagri to town – she will help you find the best material in the market and Eir will measure and make you clothes.” She waved at her daughter to sit with them, whose eyes were saddened by the sight of another crying. Tagri scrunched up her face and looked to Gigra who nodded in approval. The young dwarf threw her arms around Anitra and held on tight. "We’re your family now, girl. You’ll never be turned from these doors, but for now, I say you put on some bedclothes. You shan’t be out again today, and Tagri will bring you downstairs for dinner.”

6
The Blue Mountains / Re: Open Communication
« Last post by Líknví on November 15, 2019, 04:08:17 PM »
Dagmar gave a very honest answer to her question. Líknví grinned co-conspiratorially and also still just overjoyed at having such a sister-in-law. So she almost eagerly allowed the sunny maiden to scoot her book over closer to both read and add to! It was such a great idea, and similar to how Kvasir's own book had some of her scribbled tales in it (for good and bad) Dagmar's fittingly bright additions, in all hues, graced many of her pages shared between the two.

That, and also the personal nature of the story on Anlaf her sister-in-law had shared, spoke so much acceptance it warmed Líknví's heart to an unfathomable amount.

Dagmar also both gave promptly and patiently held on to her answers to give them in an order that Lí could take in best; a much appreciated action, though she'd become used to taking in all manner of communication. She and Kvas understood how much it stifled, conversing by way of writing.

For Kvasir more so, for even she could see, before, how much of his wit was lost in tarried delivery. Even when she still couldn't hear his no doubt bright tones, much had been regained when her brother decided to speak again and she could feel the vibrations of such at least.

It was still a mostly exclusive thing between her and her brother (old days with her mother and childish boldness with Rian aside) and except that she was familiar with Fritz's vibrations too, and in this first blissful week of a no doubt blissful life had even dozed off to such when snuggled up close and just letting him chatter. He'd catch himself sometimes and laughingly ask if he was allowing her to follow, something she always assured she was, and since she was, in enough ways.

Líknví giggled  to what Dagmar both wrote and said, not doubting one bit that she spoke the truth on how long Fritz would tarry. It was one of a lot that was "cute" about him! Though she spared her sister-in-law this exact sentiment.

Fritz's Antics seemed a good topic of the moment, and Lí sipped her own tea as she waited out Dagmar perhaps shamelessly sharing more, but this was a perk she'd won with marriage and getting to be informed of all the endearing tales, wasn't it?

Imagining Fritz's mortified reaction if he knew the gossip she and Dagmar were getting up to, Líknví smiled wider and read the story almost sneakily pushed over to her. It was so easy to see having happened, Lí giggled. Of course mentions of Fritz's childhood could be a double-edged sword, and if she pondered her life during the same time and near the same age, but there had still been good there too. Such as they both understood, and supportive older siblings.

She smiled up to Dagmar again. Did your father let him get away with it? She signed, continuing the conversation and happy to take whichever way Dagmar chose to respond.
7
Start here... / Re: OOC Sign Up
« Last post by Estë on November 15, 2019, 03:06:46 PM »
All set Mocking Japes! Welcome ^^
8
Start here... / Re: OOC Sign Up
« Last post by MockingJapes on November 15, 2019, 06:35:07 AM »
I am signing up!
9
The Blue Mountains / Re: deep in the meadow
« Last post by Fritz on November 15, 2019, 03:49:41 AM »
Whatever the Lady Dis found in the mention of Dagmar in the same breath as Fíli, while to be proven true, was not in anyway in Fritz’s thoughts as he mentioned his sister and the oldest prince, who was such a presence in their home.

This could be due to his own young age, and lack of thinking of females and love at all, as he’d mentioned, or Dis’ motherly almost looking out for such thoughts. Just because she, and even Liv, would be proven right when years later the hints became more such.

”You're never too old to find wonder in things, Fritz, even if it's simply what brings you Luck."

These words would mean more when Fritz was older still, out of Dwarfling-hood, and could recognize that even now, at Twenty, he had silly, childish ideas; like the one that made still young children judge themselves too old for things like Lucky Shields, while Shadows were still terrors.

”But I think I'm done here for the day. You must promise not to tell my boys that I am making things for them, and if you keep that promise, I'll be sure to let you know first when I've turned these berries into some sweet or other. Biscuits, perhaps?"

The Dwarfling’s eyes widened expectedly and appreciatively. He did not let the fact that it went both ways, and he and his had a comfort within the Line of Durin’s Halls some already commented was an unfair advantage, go unnoticed or unused! It was really not too hard to gain access to the treats Dis herself would bake up, though he was also glad of the offer that all out promised such.

”Ok! I won’t say a word!”, he promised, putting a finger to his lips in classic shushing motion, but of himself this time, and even if the gesture might have been hindered by his grin behind it. He still meant his promise, though!

No sooner was this contract struck, than Fritz heard his father’s call. ”Where’d you get to, lad?”.

Anlaf didn’t sound truly worried just yet, it only having been a few moments, and Fritz a growing Dwarfling, no longer a toddler; but he was still young, and Anlaf wouldn’t tell Liv exactly how long her youngest boy had been potentially lost. Thankfully that wasn’t the case, and he was supervised, though Anlaf wondered how deep in trouble he would still be when he saw who knew he’d lost track of his son.

”Milady Dis...”, his smile was decidedly nervous as the councilor gave a nod of a bow. Two women sharing facts could be the bane of many a fine warrior.

”I’ve been helping Miss Dis”, Fritz told his father as he came over, and maybe before being asked about his sneaking off, though he had tried to tell Anlaf also. ”After I found her; before that I was following a noise. It turned out to be a bird. I told you I was leaving...did...you hear?”, another check for his own sake.

While the boy also hadn’t checked too hard as to that fact, Anlaf just chuckled, foregoing a lecture, and with him found and all. Or he would just still gently remind his son about guardians being sure of his whereabouts on the walk home.

”I’m afraid I missed that information”, he said, still meaningly around his smile and as he gave Fritz’s unruly locks a small tousle.

His son’s smile was shamelessly impish, but no bad meant by it.

Anlaf glanced back to Dis, ”I Thank-you Milady for watching out for him...", almost because of his position as one of Thorin's top councilors, only a bit below Balin perhaps, Anlaf wouldn't allow the familiarity his family enjoyed with their royals to rob him of still giving due cordiality, "...and despite my son's words, hope he wasn't too much trouble...", he side glanced knowingly to his son.
10
Sea & Port Towns / Re: Did You Need That?
« Last post by Alaric on November 14, 2019, 11:23:38 PM »
“Kittens aren’t meant to be in the rain, Momo.” He looked around for a spare blanket, but the only one he had readily available was the one on his bed. Biting his bottom lip, he took it without a second thought, throwing it round her shoulders and rubbing her arms gently to try and regain heat in her arms. ”Well, the Captain can wait. You are, as of five minutes ago, my patient and she’ll understand… I hope.” The last two words were muttered as he moved a little more to see the out straightened hand that hovered before him, eyeing it carefully and noting a slight swell on her hand. Typical of a broken bone or two, but he couldn’t determine that by simply looking.

Alaric tilted his head slightly to the side, eyeing up the wounded hand, noting the blood dripping from her hand and on to the floor are a reasonable pace. Quirking his eyebrow, he took a moment to think, clicking his tongue. “Interesting shade of red. I’m more of a blue man myself but if you fancy repainting my floors, more fool you.” He commented, sucking on his teeth as he turned to move his chair away from his desk, placing it firmly in the middle of the room. “Looks like we’ve got a case of ‘stupid arse’ disease. It’s curable but it may be a few years before that’ll occur.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he led her as swiftly as he could to the chair and seated her – the chair wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was fit for purpose. There had been odd occasion where he would spend ten minutes removing splinters, but the décor of his cabin hadn’t been updated in a while and he hadn’t found any water washed wood he liked to change anything.

“It’s going to have to go down in my log of ‘Things Alaric does when people forget he does anything’.” He chuckled, moving back to his desk and grabbing the nearest bottle of alcohol and his small, self-made kit of medicines and bandages. “We’ll start with the bleeding and work from there.” Alaric held the bottle of alcohol to Momo, a sympathetic smile growing on his lips. “Drink? You’ll need it…” He knelt down before her, tenderly lifting the hand to press a gauze to her injuries, holding it with light pressure. His other hand pressed against the back of her hand, trying to find the source of the break before finding it where it ought to be. ”Shit…” he muttered to himself, his eyes now etched with concern. ”The good news is you won’t be able to insult anyone with gestures for a while.”
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