( open ) every girl’s got a moon inside pulling tidal waves to her heart

[elegiaque]

WHO: Gwenaëlle Vauquelin + YOU.
WHAT: A catch-all to get acquainted.
WHEN: During this month.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: Starters (open + closed) in the comments - PM or matriarchal if you'd like an individual starter or feel free to just pop one up of your own!

Comments

[elegiaque]

When she asks, "Do you hear yourself speak?" it's with almost morbid curiosity and before anything in her kicks in to prevent it from coming out of her mouth -

and in for a penny, in for a royal, so she sails past common sense and docks at 'doing an impression of him grandly waving his big dumb hand about like he's so superior to everything silly and mortal'. (There is no good reason why Thranduil has not yet had his obnoxiously large and unnecessarily aristocratic mannerisms lampooned by the smallest and least credible impersonator, it's probably only a matter of time.)

"Oh, those humans. At it again. I can draft the entirety of any interview I might conduct with you off that all by myself, you sound like a twat."

By the time she's got to actually calling him a twat to his face, she sounds much less hostile than when they began speaking.

[extramural]

He laughs again, all low rumbles like distant thunder, but there's no shark-smile with it as there may have been before.

"I tend to assume that, while I may be heard, I am very rarely listened to. Where no one else will, I must." There is a pause and then, as an afterthought: "Besides, I rarely speak to so many people in such a short amount of weeks, let alone days."

Congratulations, you found a weird hermit Rifter twat!

"Still, I suspect that after over four thousand years, you may feel the same."