Celeborn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverdefender) wrote2018-01-07 07:49 pm
silverdefender) wrote2018-01-07 07:49 pm
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Open RP Post
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All are welcome.
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pagans*Code found in
pagansLingering in Kirkwall is ever the chore.
Skyhold had been a harsher clime, removed from the spheres of men and mortals of all creeds, but there had been something singular about it, something in the way the stars stretched around it like the open ocean. Kirkwall, to its credit, had the open ocean in abundance...but it was in constant motion. There is constant noise and chaos around her; on the best of days it is a cacophony, loud and just violent enough to disrupt thought, like ripples across still water that never cease.
She regards the courtyard in the dim morning light and already it is filled with people. The parties return from their latest excursion and, according to Thranduil, they bring a number of new Rifters with them. Galadriel almost pities the lot of them, just as she nearly pities all those who linger here, but it is not her place to question such designs, only to work to aid this world.
She considers running again, as she has for the last week, and rebuilding her strength. Her limbs ache still from the marathon of constant motion she inflicted upon them and she dismisses the thought. Her presence is known now, though with both Thranduil and Beleth in power, she is not currently under watch.
She wonders at how long that shall last before it is overturned.
The caravan of soldiers and forces agents come up the steps of the Gallows and Galadriel watches them from the shade of the colonnade. In truth, she does not expect to see anyone familiar among their number, nor among the approaching rifters--she begins to leave but, as she turns, a glimmer of white and silver catch her eye. The color is familiar enough that he spares a glance for it and all but freezes in place.
She sees him before he sees her and, for a moment, she is certain she is asleep and that someone has conjured this image to placate her. When his gaze finally lands on hers, her heart jumps painfully in her chest and, before she even realizes it, she is running across the courtyard. He will think her mad, surely--it has been hardly any time at all, they have been parted for longer on simple journeys, and yet it had felt so much longer without the promise of return.
But he is here--
"Celeborn," she says and throws her arms around him, clutching him desperately.
Skyhold had been a harsher clime, removed from the spheres of men and mortals of all creeds, but there had been something singular about it, something in the way the stars stretched around it like the open ocean. Kirkwall, to its credit, had the open ocean in abundance...but it was in constant motion. There is constant noise and chaos around her; on the best of days it is a cacophony, loud and just violent enough to disrupt thought, like ripples across still water that never cease.
She regards the courtyard in the dim morning light and already it is filled with people. The parties return from their latest excursion and, according to Thranduil, they bring a number of new Rifters with them. Galadriel almost pities the lot of them, just as she nearly pities all those who linger here, but it is not her place to question such designs, only to work to aid this world.
She considers running again, as she has for the last week, and rebuilding her strength. Her limbs ache still from the marathon of constant motion she inflicted upon them and she dismisses the thought. Her presence is known now, though with both Thranduil and Beleth in power, she is not currently under watch.
She wonders at how long that shall last before it is overturned.
The caravan of soldiers and forces agents come up the steps of the Gallows and Galadriel watches them from the shade of the colonnade. In truth, she does not expect to see anyone familiar among their number, nor among the approaching rifters--she begins to leave but, as she turns, a glimmer of white and silver catch her eye. The color is familiar enough that he spares a glance for it and all but freezes in place.
She sees him before he sees her and, for a moment, she is certain she is asleep and that someone has conjured this image to placate her. When his gaze finally lands on hers, her heart jumps painfully in her chest and, before she even realizes it, she is running across the courtyard. He will think her mad, surely--it has been hardly any time at all, they have been parted for longer on simple journeys, and yet it had felt so much longer without the promise of return.
But he is here--
"Celeborn," she says and throws her arms around him, clutching him desperately.
There are several places Celeborn would rather be than here, but he's been told he has no choice in the matter. He must make the best of things, however he can. He makes note of how he's regarded by these strangers, the differences and similarities from all he's known.
For now he follows the crowd of 'rescuers', ignoring what minor wounds he'd earned in the initial fight upon his unceremonious arrival. He's traveled with little before, and he'll find his way.
Strength in numbers. And these rescuers seem interested in at least helping a little, providing some answers and ignoring other questions until he falls silent to listen and observe, without seeming to notice much at all. And so as they reach a city and a pillar of light stands still but familiar, he chances a glance only for his heart to leap with joy and worry. She's supposed to be safe!
It has perhaps been a little longer than she believes since he'd seen her last, watching her Sail to Aman with Elrond and the rest. But as she approaches at a run, he dismisses it to catch her in a tight embrace.
She is here, and so they must survive and return to where they belong. There is no other option, their daughter needs her.
"Galadriel," he answers in the soft tone he uses just for her. 'Where might we speak without being heard?' He asks through their bond. He has too many questions and she likely, generally, knows more.
For now he follows the crowd of 'rescuers', ignoring what minor wounds he'd earned in the initial fight upon his unceremonious arrival. He's traveled with little before, and he'll find his way.
Strength in numbers. And these rescuers seem interested in at least helping a little, providing some answers and ignoring other questions until he falls silent to listen and observe, without seeming to notice much at all. And so as they reach a city and a pillar of light stands still but familiar, he chances a glance only for his heart to leap with joy and worry. She's supposed to be safe!
It has perhaps been a little longer than she believes since he'd seen her last, watching her Sail to Aman with Elrond and the rest. But as she approaches at a run, he dismisses it to catch her in a tight embrace.
She is here, and so they must survive and return to where they belong. There is no other option, their daughter needs her.
"Galadriel," he answers in the soft tone he uses just for her. 'Where might we speak without being heard?' He asks through their bond. He has too many questions and she likely, generally, knows more.
She is loathe to release him, not when he is solid and his arms hold her tightly, but they are drawing undue attention. She draws a long breath and gathers together the scraps of her composure. When she answers him it is not a clean answer, it is littered with flitting bits of stray emotion, she cannot even focus for this she is so overjoyed, but it is clear enough.
Come, follow me.
With great force of will she draws back from him and, as she pulls away, she takes his hand in hers. She doesn't speak as she pulls him forward, her pace only slightly less than a jog, and her fingers hold onto his very tightly. She leads them into the Gallows, through the halls of the central tower until she comes upon Thranduil's office. It is strange to take refuge here, but she doubts he will mind overmuch. Once she has drawn him through the door she nearly slams it closed in her haste.
And then, at once, she is uncertain what to say. There is so much and, as she turns to look upon him, she is caught up in that same tangle of joy and shock that had overcome her in the courtyard. She is nearly upon the edge of tears for her gladness and relief.
"You are here," she repeats for both of them. We are safe, her mind whispers in the same breath. Still, she has not released his hand.
Come, follow me.
With great force of will she draws back from him and, as she pulls away, she takes his hand in hers. She doesn't speak as she pulls him forward, her pace only slightly less than a jog, and her fingers hold onto his very tightly. She leads them into the Gallows, through the halls of the central tower until she comes upon Thranduil's office. It is strange to take refuge here, but she doubts he will mind overmuch. Once she has drawn him through the door she nearly slams it closed in her haste.
And then, at once, she is uncertain what to say. There is so much and, as she turns to look upon him, she is caught up in that same tangle of joy and shock that had overcome her in the courtyard. She is nearly upon the edge of tears for her gladness and relief.
"You are here," she repeats for both of them. We are safe, her mind whispers in the same breath. Still, she has not released his hand.
He trusts her completely. So when she pulls back, he doesn't let himself tug her back close again. For a breath of time, let others stare and pay attention. But by her action, perhaps this is not a good time, and so he agrees and accepts.
Always.
Sometimes it took time before he could go to her, others he was right behind her. She is his Light. He holds onto her hand and matches her pace. Celeborn makes note of the route and what signs of life and culture there are.
But at the near slam of the door once she takes them to a certain room, he smiles. Her mind tells him they're safe, so he pulls her close again and leans his forehead against hers.
"Yes," he answers, for both of them. "How long? I have the sense time passes strange here."
Always.
Sometimes it took time before he could go to her, others he was right behind her. She is his Light. He holds onto her hand and matches her pace. Celeborn makes note of the route and what signs of life and culture there are.
But at the near slam of the door once she takes them to a certain room, he smiles. Her mind tells him they're safe, so he pulls her close again and leans his forehead against hers.
"Yes," he answers, for both of them. "How long? I have the sense time passes strange here."
She leans into him and her eyes drift closed, unbidden. Her hands find the rise of his shoulder, press against the fabric of his tunic, and it is at once so familiar that she can pretend she is elsewhere. Her own garment, while made of fine silk, is neither white, nor of the same quality as her own clothing. She feels rough next to him and dislikes the sensation.
A quiet voice in the back of her mind, the echoes of her own fears, remind her that she is changed. That she has lost her ring and become a desperate person in this place. She ignores it in favor of the warmth of his forehead against her own.
It takes some time to answer him.
"Perhaps two years; I have lost time in this place and it is hard to count days when sleep reaches out and claims me at the end of each of them."
He is truly here. He is the only stable mooring, the only true bastion in her life, and oh but she has missed him. He is the only person who knows her and the only person who loves her still. Her hand slides until it reaches his neck and then gently settles against the side of his face.
She opens her eyes to look upon him and a terrible thought occurs to her.
"When did you leave when you came here?"
A quiet voice in the back of her mind, the echoes of her own fears, remind her that she is changed. That she has lost her ring and become a desperate person in this place. She ignores it in favor of the warmth of his forehead against her own.
It takes some time to answer him.
"Perhaps two years; I have lost time in this place and it is hard to count days when sleep reaches out and claims me at the end of each of them."
He is truly here. He is the only stable mooring, the only true bastion in her life, and oh but she has missed him. He is the only person who knows her and the only person who loves her still. Her hand slides until it reaches his neck and then gently settles against the side of his face.
She opens her eyes to look upon him and a terrible thought occurs to her.
"When did you leave when you came here?"
Despite how she feels compared to him, he only feels the other half of his being. He nudges their noses together, silently reminding her-needlessly- of his love for her. And to affirm he's with her again.
She could have nothing and he would still love her and trust her at his side. He patiently waits for her to answer, no longer minding any wait because they are reunited.
His eyes narrow as the answer comes. Enforced sleep? "What else has been forced upon you?" Who and what must he fight? She isn't alone now, however much she might say otherwise, being a ring bearer.
But her hand soothes him and his breath eases out.
Confusion touches Celeborn's gaze. "It is the twentieth year of the Fourth Age." Twenty years have passed for him since he's seen his beloved. Nothing, compared to how much longer he'd been expecting before their reunion.
She could have nothing and he would still love her and trust her at his side. He patiently waits for her to answer, no longer minding any wait because they are reunited.
His eyes narrow as the answer comes. Enforced sleep? "What else has been forced upon you?" Who and what must he fight? She isn't alone now, however much she might say otherwise, being a ring bearer.
But her hand soothes him and his breath eases out.
Confusion touches Celeborn's gaze. "It is the twentieth year of the Fourth Age." Twenty years have passed for him since he's seen his beloved. Nothing, compared to how much longer he'd been expecting before their reunion.
She had known his heart even without having looked into it. She had known for thousands of years and it hadn't mattered, not until the news of the One. Hearing it aloud, from him, was a terrible confirmation but there is something peaceful in knowing, truly knowing, that they will be parted.
He has already been parted from her.
"You have waited longer, melda nin," she says and leans forward to press a very soft kiss against his lips. It is a fleeting touch and it ends quickly, a precious moment, before she speaks again.
"The ring had merely passed into Imladris when last I saw your face," she explains into the space between them. What she cannot explain was the terror she felt in coming here, in waking to a world so far from Lorien, and fearing that the whole of it had burned down and that he was among the ash.
She runs her thumb across his cheek and reminds herself he is real. Her smile is earnest and comes unbidden to her face.
"Did you fall hard when you came here? It can be unforgiving."
He has already been parted from her.
"You have waited longer, melda nin," she says and leans forward to press a very soft kiss against his lips. It is a fleeting touch and it ends quickly, a precious moment, before she speaks again.
"The ring had merely passed into Imladris when last I saw your face," she explains into the space between them. What she cannot explain was the terror she felt in coming here, in waking to a world so far from Lorien, and fearing that the whole of it had burned down and that he was among the ash.
She runs her thumb across his cheek and reminds herself he is real. Her smile is earnest and comes unbidden to her face.
"Did you fall hard when you came here? It can be unforgiving."
He had suspected, not having her Foresight. But they know each other too well for doubt to be between them.
"And I will wait still longer," he affirms, leaning just a little to return and answer the sweet kiss.
"Our home survives," he offers assurance here, too. "Battle rages for a time, but ends in our favor."
He doesn't fight his answering smile and he tightens his hold, lifting a little to spin her around once, twice, before letting her feet touch the ground.
"I landed on my feet, though the creatures who fell with me did their best to alter that fact."
"And I will wait still longer," he affirms, leaning just a little to return and answer the sweet kiss.
"Our home survives," he offers assurance here, too. "Battle rages for a time, but ends in our favor."
He doesn't fight his answering smile and he tightens his hold, lifting a little to spin her around once, twice, before letting her feet touch the ground.
"I landed on my feet, though the creatures who fell with me did their best to alter that fact."
She laughs as he lifts her and draws her close, spinning her twice round before her feet so much as graze the floor. She rests her head against the side of his, cheek to cheek, and the edge of her smile presses against his. She has not been so enthralled, so utterly delighted by simple touch, since they were first wed. His words hold infinitely more weight than Thranduil's or Legolas's.
To hear him declare the end of the war was to know it ended thus.
"They can be vicious, can they not? They nearly slew me when last I arrived here. It was a near thing but, fortunately, Haldir was by my side."
It was an admission of some great weight. It had been a very long time since anything had come close to taking her life, or at least as close as those demons had, and to keep it from him would be a terrible thing.
"I do not wear a scar and even I am startled by that."
To hear him declare the end of the war was to know it ended thus.
"They can be vicious, can they not? They nearly slew me when last I arrived here. It was a near thing but, fortunately, Haldir was by my side."
It was an admission of some great weight. It had been a very long time since anything had come close to taking her life, or at least as close as those demons had, and to keep it from him would be a terrible thing.
"I do not wear a scar and even I am startled by that."
Her laugh is music that never fails to lift his spirits. He's missed simply holding her more than he'd been letting himself think on, and he'll continue to hold on for as long as she feels they can get away with.
She knows this world while he does not. Yet.
Knowing the Marchwarden is here and has been protecting Galadriel helps, a little. But Celeborn still pulls back with a frown, searching for any lingering sign of injury despite her saying there is none.
"I should have done more to them." Even though the demons he's fought aren't the same who attacked his wife. "Who else is here?" A quick glance around, taking in a few more details, has him turn back to her. Certain details had been noticed but dismissed, but now are obvious.
"Thranduil?" Another ally, but is he still here?
She knows this world while he does not. Yet.
Knowing the Marchwarden is here and has been protecting Galadriel helps, a little. But Celeborn still pulls back with a frown, searching for any lingering sign of injury despite her saying there is none.
"I should have done more to them." Even though the demons he's fought aren't the same who attacked his wife. "Who else is here?" A quick glance around, taking in a few more details, has him turn back to her. Certain details had been noticed but dismissed, but now are obvious.
"Thranduil?" Another ally, but is he still here?
"Yes, he has inserted himself into a position of power, to no one's surprise," she says and moves back. Her hand lingers on his arm, though, because still she cannot abide fully breaking contact with him.
"For a time, his son was with us, and of late several of my cousins have appeared in this land, as well as Elros. Death, it seems, plays no part in deciding those who arrive."
She takes the time to look him over, at last, and finds him in good order. She would expect little else, but given that she had nearly been cleft in twain, she felt compelled to make certain.
"We came to a conclusion, Thranduil and I...that we were meant to be in this place. We are needed, melda, or I was, and you shall be as well. The state of our kin here is...all I have ever feared."
"For a time, his son was with us, and of late several of my cousins have appeared in this land, as well as Elros. Death, it seems, plays no part in deciding those who arrive."
She takes the time to look him over, at last, and finds him in good order. She would expect little else, but given that she had nearly been cleft in twain, she felt compelled to make certain.
"We came to a conclusion, Thranduil and I...that we were meant to be in this place. We are needed, melda, or I was, and you shall be as well. The state of our kin here is...all I have ever feared."
"No," he agrees, letting a hand rest at the small of her back for the same reason. "It will be good to see him. I can speak of what news I have of Legolas."
Knowing her family as he does...And if Mandos's Halls can be snatched from... "Which cousins?"
His attention is fixed on her every word and nuance. Only she holds him still despite the sinking of spirits with the state of things here. "Then it is good that we are here."
Knowing her family as he does...And if Mandos's Halls can be snatched from... "Which cousins?"
His attention is fixed on her every word and nuance. Only she holds him still despite the sinking of spirits with the state of things here. "Then it is good that we are here."
She pauses, for she knows his temper, but she also knows she cannot keep it from him. His agreement, tacit though it is, to assist gives her joy but not enough that it eases the information she must give him.
"Maedhros, Maglor, and Fingon," she says without flourish or fanfare. "Though Maglor did not suffer Mandos ere he came here. The other two are...so very young, it is almost jarring."
It is jarring, in some cases, but she cannot fault them their youth.
"Maedhros, Maglor, and Fingon," she says without flourish or fanfare. "Though Maglor did not suffer Mandos ere he came here. The other two are...so very young, it is almost jarring."
It is jarring, in some cases, but she cannot fault them their youth.
His temper immediately flares with a low hiss of breath. He takes no comfort knowing Maglor hadn't died, has lived in secret through the Ages.
"Have they been locked away?" Will he have to rescue those he holds anger toward for his wife's sake? He thinks not, for they would likely already be working toward such a thing.
But he knows her affection for them. As well as the affection Elrond and Elros hold for the two Feanorians.
"Have they been locked away?" Will he have to rescue those he holds anger toward for his wife's sake? He thinks not, for they would likely already be working toward such a thing.
But he knows her affection for them. As well as the affection Elrond and Elros hold for the two Feanorians.
His temper shows across his face, his frustration in the question that he already knows the answer to. They have not been locked away because, truly, what prison could equate what they had done and the suffering they had generated. What prison but Mandos?
"I do not ask that you forgive them, for even I am uncertain if I can, but do them no harm," she says and steps closer, settling her free hand on his shoulder. "Please."
It is much to request, given all that they have done, to Celeborn and his kin above all others, but she asks it all the same.
"Come, let us not speak of such things now; you have traveled farther than we know and while this place is not full of luxury, what little there is I can guide you to. Eat, bathe, and rest, and we shall think on darker things a little later."
"I do not ask that you forgive them, for even I am uncertain if I can, but do them no harm," she says and steps closer, settling her free hand on his shoulder. "Please."
It is much to request, given all that they have done, to Celeborn and his kin above all others, but she asks it all the same.
"Come, let us not speak of such things now; you have traveled farther than we know and while this place is not full of luxury, what little there is I can guide you to. Eat, bathe, and rest, and we shall think on darker things a little later."
Even Mandos is too good for them, he feels. But her hand on his shoulder and her request to not harm them stay his anger. She knows better than to ask him to forgive them, because he cannot. Not even for her.
Still, even not attacking them is much to ask. Celeborn takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes, then lets it back out in a sigh. "For so long as they do not harm you, I will not raise blade against them."
He slips both arms around her again at the suggestion, then he unbends enough to softly kiss her before moving to sweep her off her feet. "Tell me where we might do these lighter things?" He trusts her to guide him when he knows not where to go.
Still, even not attacking them is much to ask. Celeborn takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes, then lets it back out in a sigh. "For so long as they do not harm you, I will not raise blade against them."
He slips both arms around her again at the suggestion, then he unbends enough to softly kiss her before moving to sweep her off her feet. "Tell me where we might do these lighter things?" He trusts her to guide him when he knows not where to go.
The sound she lets out as he sweeps her up is one that only he has ever heard, it is a delighted sound, laced with surprise and a note of weak admonishment all at once. It is a wordless exaltation and it is always chased with a blush and a beaming grin. She drapes her arms round his neck and ducks her head to hide her smile before she gestures with one hand toward the door.
"That depends upon which you would do first," Galadriel answers him fondly. "All of them lie beyond, but in very different directions."
In all of which someone is certain to see them and, despite her fear of notice and her worry over templars, she cannot bring herself to be even slightly concerned. It is perhaps unwise to be so complicit when in the presence of her husband but, as long as he is by her side, she finds it so much harder to hold on to fear.
"There are heated baths to the left, as well as the kitchens, and a comfortable bed is to the right. I shall direct you gladly to whatever you seek, melda."
"That depends upon which you would do first," Galadriel answers him fondly. "All of them lie beyond, but in very different directions."
In all of which someone is certain to see them and, despite her fear of notice and her worry over templars, she cannot bring herself to be even slightly concerned. It is perhaps unwise to be so complicit when in the presence of her husband but, as long as he is by her side, she finds it so much harder to hold on to fear.
"There are heated baths to the left, as well as the kitchens, and a comfortable bed is to the right. I shall direct you gladly to whatever you seek, melda."
It's a sound that he treasures and earns a soft chuckle and warm smile. He kisses her temple before considering where to go first on the way to the door.
He doesn't know yet who to worry about, but for this moment he just concentrates on having his wife in his arms and a peaceful night just for them. He'll fight to make it happen, if necessary.
"The order in which you mention them suits me well." So he turns left past the door, looking forward to washing the grime of battle off, though it isn't all that much. He was one of the luckier Rifters.
He doesn't know yet who to worry about, but for this moment he just concentrates on having his wife in his arms and a peaceful night just for them. He'll fight to make it happen, if necessary.
"The order in which you mention them suits me well." So he turns left past the door, looking forward to washing the grime of battle off, though it isn't all that much. He was one of the luckier Rifters.
She directs him with a series of gestures and a few soft words while he walks the halls of the Gallows. The halls themselves are not overly welcoming, bare stone and the remnants of the previous owners linger, but they are not so unwelcoming that they could impose. The baths are at the base of the tower and they reach them in reasonable time. It is she who pushes the door open when they arrive and, thankfully (a thought that occurs to her only after she has opened the door in), they are empty of other people.
The water in the center of the room steams invitingly and Galadriel indulges herself, for a moment, running her fingers through his hair. He will have to put her down to indulge in the water and, honestly, she cannot fault him. It looks comfortable beyond reason and she is still terribly sore from her manic exercising.
"I can restore your clothing for you, melda, but it will have to wait until morning. I have spent more of myself today than I should."
The water in the center of the room steams invitingly and Galadriel indulges herself, for a moment, running her fingers through his hair. He will have to put her down to indulge in the water and, honestly, she cannot fault him. It looks comfortable beyond reason and she is still terribly sore from her manic exercising.
"I can restore your clothing for you, melda, but it will have to wait until morning. I have spent more of myself today than I should."
He won't claim to like their location, but he can see strength in the simplicity of the design. Each direction is followed without question or hesitation beyond ensuring they won't be interrupted or run into along the way.
Celeborn leans his forehead against Galadriel's as she plays with his hair, content to just stand still while she does so despite the promise of the baths. Eventually he gently sets her back on her feet and closes the door.
"The morning will come soon enough for such." He's not all that worried about what he wears right now so long as they are serviceable. Later, yes, clean clothing that is well made and undamaged- not that just a few tears matter much- would be appreciated. "How likely are we to be disturbed in this room?"
Celeborn leans his forehead against Galadriel's as she plays with his hair, content to just stand still while she does so despite the promise of the baths. Eventually he gently sets her back on her feet and closes the door.
"The morning will come soon enough for such." He's not all that worried about what he wears right now so long as they are serviceable. Later, yes, clean clothing that is well made and undamaged- not that just a few tears matter much- would be appreciated. "How likely are we to be disturbed in this room?"
"At this hour? Not very," Galadriel answers and regards the pool before her. "It is heated at all times and people come as they will, but few have used it today."
Because reasons.
"Do you wish for privacy, my dear? I can leave you if you suddenly feel shy?" Galadriel teases but lightly and she makes no move to leave the room. Twenty years would have felt terribly long, or so she imagines, given how long two has felt, but it is hardly any time at all to the two of them. He could no more be shy in her presence than she could be cryptic in his.
"Else I had planned on joining you?" This question has a bit more actual question to it. If he does not intend to soak or, for some unfathomable reason decides he would prefer to bathe alone, she will allow him time and space. She doubts he will, but her certainty and confidence have been shaken by Thedas and they are ever recovering.
"Do you wish for privacy, my dear? I can leave you if you suddenly feel shy?" Galadriel teases but lightly and she makes no move to leave the room. Twenty years would have felt terribly long, or so she imagines, given how long two has felt, but it is hardly any time at all to the two of them. He could no more be shy in her presence than she could be cryptic in his.
"Else I had planned on joining you?" This question has a bit more actual question to it. If he does not intend to soak or, for some unfathomable reason decides he would prefer to bathe alone, she will allow him time and space. She doubts he will, but her certainty and confidence have been shaken by Thedas and they are ever recovering.
"I hear a story behind your words, my love," he teases in return, but doesn't actually ask for the story. But he hears her uncertainty and it wrings his heart. He reaches to gently cradle her face in his hands, thumbs rubbing fond circles as he gazes into her eyes.
"I have no desire to send you away." Join me. His mind asks hers, filled with love and fierce loyalty. He will build her confidence and certainty back up.
"Shall we?"
"I have no desire to send you away." Join me. His mind asks hers, filled with love and fierce loyalty. He will build her confidence and certainty back up.
"Shall we?"
The sense of love and loyalty over their bond is more than enough to settle her heart and she is so thankful for him that she is certain he must feel it as well. If nothing else it shows clearly upon her face.
"Of course," she says and just stands for a moment, looking back at him, before she moves to undo the strange Orlesian stays that hold this dress in place. She steps back as she steps out of the silk and folds the garment as it is placed aside. It is hers only until she has no need of it, and she shall not return it sullied.
It does not occur to her, as she undresses, that she is also removing the Elessar that had been pinned to her breast. In Arda it had been a toy, something symbolic that stayed winter for her before she was able to do it herself. In Thedas it is what keeps her restored to her fullest grace. Once it is removed the light she exudes dims considerably, almost alarmingly, until it is a dull halo.
Unfortunately, the ease of her limbs goes with the Elessar. Without it granting her reprieve the full brunt of her soreness takes hold. She wears no mark from when the demon clawed her, but without the Elessar to restore her, her pallor gives way to a wide array of bruises in many shades of healing.
"Of course," she says and just stands for a moment, looking back at him, before she moves to undo the strange Orlesian stays that hold this dress in place. She steps back as she steps out of the silk and folds the garment as it is placed aside. It is hers only until she has no need of it, and she shall not return it sullied.
It does not occur to her, as she undresses, that she is also removing the Elessar that had been pinned to her breast. In Arda it had been a toy, something symbolic that stayed winter for her before she was able to do it herself. In Thedas it is what keeps her restored to her fullest grace. Once it is removed the light she exudes dims considerably, almost alarmingly, until it is a dull halo.
Unfortunately, the ease of her limbs goes with the Elessar. Without it granting her reprieve the full brunt of her soreness takes hold. She wears no mark from when the demon clawed her, but without the Elessar to restore her, her pallor gives way to a wide array of bruises in many shades of healing.
He sees and feels it and is glad to be able to settle her, just as she soothes and tempers him.
Celeborn undresses as she does, folding his robes to set them neatly aside. The glow that he has known for as long as he's known her fades, and he watches with alarm and deep concern.
He steps close when the bruises appear, heedless of his own minor bruises and the handful of small gashes from the day. A quick glance tells him what the likely aide to restore her is, but he doesn't comment. Only reaches for her hand to tug her to the baths, to help her into the steaming water.
"Is there anything resembling athelas here?"
Celeborn undresses as she does, folding his robes to set them neatly aside. The glow that he has known for as long as he's known her fades, and he watches with alarm and deep concern.
He steps close when the bruises appear, heedless of his own minor bruises and the handful of small gashes from the day. A quick glance tells him what the likely aide to restore her is, but he doesn't comment. Only reaches for her hand to tug her to the baths, to help her into the steaming water.
"Is there anything resembling athelas here?"
She takes his hand gladly and lets out a long, satisfied sigh as they wade into the hot water. The pool deepens considerably past the bench that rings the exterior and soaks up to her hip as she steps down into it.
He is so terribly handsome, lovely in ways that she cannot forget and is always somehow surprised to see every time. His hair falls past his shoulders, arrow straight and silver as the stars. His face is regal and his eyes bright and deep. He is broader than she and wears his strength so very well...but he is not entirely unscathed.
He is injured in the same way that she is, bruised and a bit battered, though he wears cuts while she does not. She thinks upon his question as she urges him to sit and then takes a seat alongside him, close enough that she still holds his hand and braces her bare shoulder against his.
"I do not know. I think perhaps elfroot is similar. It sooths as athelas does."
He is so terribly handsome, lovely in ways that she cannot forget and is always somehow surprised to see every time. His hair falls past his shoulders, arrow straight and silver as the stars. His face is regal and his eyes bright and deep. He is broader than she and wears his strength so very well...but he is not entirely unscathed.
He is injured in the same way that she is, bruised and a bit battered, though he wears cuts while she does not. She thinks upon his question as she urges him to sit and then takes a seat alongside him, close enough that she still holds his hand and braces her bare shoulder against his.
"I do not know. I think perhaps elfroot is similar. It sooths as athelas does."
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