TEST DRIVE #6

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

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Action!

[sculptor_of_aman]

[Nerdanel herself has come into the Station to get more supplies for her commission. At first, she almost ignores the figure, not immediately recognizing him in those clothes at first. Almost. She stops short, staring incredulously. Her voice is little more than a choked whisper.]

Fëanáro??

[lightcatcher]

[He pauses at being addressed and turns, for a long moment unable to place the voice (much, much has happened since he last heard it). Yet there is no mistaking when he beholds the one who called out for him, and it is only well that the cleg requires no reins to stay at his side as he would have hardly held on to them now.

There are few people whom he would have expected less to meet here. And none whom to meet makes more emotions war in his breast. In the end, he gives in to longing and rushes over with a cry on his lips,] Nerdanel [and grasps her by the arms just below her shoulders for only a moment before pulling her into a tight embrace.

Much will have to be said between them, and much of it will not be quiet or pleasant, yet for the moment there is nothing that can stop his gladness at being able to hold her again, bodily and warm and there.]

[sculptor_of_aman]

[For a while, she can't think of what to say first. She always figured she would have so much to say if they were ever reunited. But instead, she just wraps her arms around him tightly, trying to hold back the tears.]

It almost doesn't seem real...

[lightcatcher]

It does not. [His arms remain around her, tight and secure, afraid against all reason that she will be gone if he lets go of her, if he does as much as loosen his embrace of her.] And yet here I am, and here you are, and we are united again long before I would have thought to see such wonder again. For a wonder you are to my eyes, always, and shall ever be. [They fought viciously and harshly, and yet he has never ceased loving her; to separate for different wishes and goals does not mean the end of a love or marriage for their people, and that is, in the end, what he considered their separation and his departure to Middle-earth. A few centuries, perhaps, is what he thought; an age at most, and then they would be united again. Once the war upon Morgoth would be won and their realms established, she would follow. Or if not, he would return for her and speak to her until she would come with him, come to be reunited with her children, too. That they would be separated until the end of the world, or close to it, was never something that he thought might happen, and certainly nothing that he wished for or planned on.

And to see that their separation did not last that long...] A wonder beyond measure, and more so still for a reunion that I had not considered possible ere the world should end; a wonder that could not be more joyous, and full of gladness. [He turns his head to place a soft kiss on her ear, chaste and daring at once.] And breathtaking, for the most gorgeous of wonders you are, most stunning among them all. [Another kiss to her ear, and he wants to continue in the same vein, but then his mood shifts abruptly.] Our sons; are they with you?

[sculptor_of_aman]

[She closes her eyes, letting him hold her, to murmur sweet words. Never had she stopped loving him either, which made his absence feel all the more bitter.]

I was certain this day would never come. I felt your light go out of the world. I have missed you so, my Fëanáro. And you are still as beautiful as the day I lost you.

[She sighs softly at the touch of his lips upon her ear, chaste but yet terribly sensual. Yes, she has missed this too. And though their Years of the Children are long behind them, she is reminded of her longing to reunite with her husband, to renew their marriage again, if only once more. But then he asks of their sons, and her eyes open again.]

They follow their own interests, as they always have, Maedhros especially, but neither he not Makalaurë are ever too far that I cannot reach them if I must, and indeed, should it be by moonlight, it is never long before Makalaurë comes, his brother at his side, if I ask them to come to me. The youngest four I've heard no news of at all. I do not believe they have ever come here. But... Tyelkormo... He... He... [She cannot bring herself to say the words right now, and she buries her face against his neck.]

[lightcatcher]

[Maedhros. It takes him a moment to piece together who that is - partly because he didn't expect to hear of anyone but Makalaurë and Tyelkormo, partly because the name doesn't ring a bell at all, partly because... going but what he knows of the two sons whom he met during his first waking in the Drabwurld, he can piece apart that the name is Sindarin. Or supposed to be. Because while he may be no master of this language, he cannot see sense in it, and that requires a few seconds of his brain before he moves on and starts to wonder which of their sons it might be.

In the end, while there are only five options, Nerdanel has ruled out four of them, and that means Maitimo. ...Though he does wonder why his wife uses the other two sons' Quenyan names and not their eldest's. Which lets him move on to worry about the way in which she mentioned their third, and he hugs her firmly for only a split moment before pulling away and looking at her, though he still doesn't let go, his hands still on her arms.] What about Tyelkormo? [He also wants to know more of Maedhros; when he arrived, what he is doing - what Makalaurë is doing, and more importantly, how he is doing - at the least, he is still around, which is more than he dared to hope for when he realized just how long he had been gone. But they have to start somewhere.]

[sculptor_of_aman]

[Answering is difficult, but she has been nothing if not truthful with her husband.]

The day I arrived, there was a torn and bloodied cloak hung in the feasting hall. It belonged to Tyelkormo. I later found out he was slain on the battlefield. Executed, actually, is more the correct term.

And yet... Morla restored him. He told me he loved her like a mother. And during such time I was absent. I did not know. I was told my child was dead. But we were reunited. It wasn't easy, but we were together...

[There's a brief, accusatory flash in her eyes. She doesn't say so out loud, but the thought is still there: Just what did you put our children through in the name of your folly, Fëanáro? But she continues on.]

And then... Recently... His light just... vanished. And I knew he was gone. Not even killed. Just gone. I do not know his fate. His brothers grieve as well, and hope for the best for him.

[lightcatcher]

[And just like that, there is distance between them, and hurt, and Fëanor pulls away completely, going so far as to take back a step, and not only so that he can see her better and read more from her expression.

But also because he has never been one for physical proximity when anger reigned his actions, and there is much anger in his eyes, their grey dark and bright as once like storm clouds that carry lightening, flashing dangerously.]

Morla.

[There is no tone in his voice, but much disdain, contempt that is only bested by the hatred that he feels for Morgoth.]

I know of her, and what she did to my son. [He doesn't quite notice the pronoun, though it isn't there by accident - much of his dislike of Morla is derived from the claim that she has - had - on Celegorm. A claim that attacked his own claim on their son, that compromised loyalties and the power of which he feared. And Fëanor has never taken to notions of fear with anything but anger. Awe, yes, that he knows, but that is not what he has ever felt towards the regents of this world, which sets them apart from the Valar, most of whom he had positive feelings towards in the beginning.] ...Before it that you have been told, and yet I cannot be surprised by it.

How does Makalaurë fare? [Not where he is; how he is doing. Because he did terribly when Fëanor was around, so close to fading.]

[sculptor_of_aman]

Selflessly. Perhaps too much so. He gives so much of himself to others. To me. To his brother. To his friends. His heart has been returned to him, and I believe him stronger now. He will not fade so long as I am here. He knows I cannot allow it.

He is wary of both courts, as I think he should be. He has loved ones on both sides of the conflict.

[lightcatcher]

[...so he lost his heart again. MAGLOR. MAGLOR WHY. He'll have to talk about this with their son.]

I will shed no tears if both courts burn; and trust not their promises of return or staying. Powerful they might be, but cruel and lacking in honor as well, unworthy of trust.

[Which leaves two points on his list - when are you from, when is Maitimo from? and the fate of the silmaril that the Seelie woman held. ...the first question actually is kind of necessary for the second, because what if she's from before their making?]

What time were you and Maitimo taken from?