faderift | [Open: To the homeless, a haven.]

WHO: Thingol & Open!
WHAT: He is coming to grips with his new situation and planning for the future.
WHEN: Guardian, 9:43 Dragon
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: You can reach me on Plurk @

tiger_eyes or through PM/DM for plotting. I am happy to write starters.

He had thought, initially, that he was dreaming. Death had surely fallen upon him - thus freeing his spirit from his body - but instead of him stepping into the Halls of Mandos, he encountered a vicious demon bent on not only annihilating him but all around him. Thingol wasn't a coward - despite what popular opinion might say of him on Middle Earth - and so he had drawn his blade and fought side by side with a few that showed nothing but bravery in the face of a monstrosity.

The entire experience had felt unreal to him - even as he cut into the beast - however the moment he was wounded, he had begun to realize that he was not dreaming. He was not even dead! His body had traveled with him - thanks to gods or a spell - and, by Eru, he was alive again. The shock had remained with him as he traveled to Skyhold and it lingered as he made himself acquainted with the Inquisition and their actions.

Once he had been a mighty King, proud and ready to face any and all who threatened his kingdom. The Dwarves, the Nauglímir and the Silmaril had broken him of his pride - a positive change some might say - though it left him at a loss as to what to do with his time or where it should be spent best. For now, he walked the full expanse of Skyhold, breathing in the mountain air and letting his spirit and body settle into this new way of life; a life where he was not a king or even a lord. A life where Elves were valued very little.

A small smile touched his lips as he paused, peering out over the lands to the north. The Elves deserved a fine leader; someone or someones who could unite them and give them back their worth. Oh yes, that would be a fine use of his time indeed.

For now, all who approached him would be met with a piercing, calculating stare. If you think this Elf will be dominated or belittled so easily, you have the wrong idea. Aranrúth was loyally sheathed at his hip and Thingol took full advantage of his six foot and eight inches of height.

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"He is the jewel of his father's eye, then." he speaks with remembered warmth. He had wanted a son - what King doesn't? - but he had wanted a daughter even more. Melian had provided! Oh his Lúthien had been the prettiest child and he had not wished to ever let her go. Yet life intervened - love intervened - and he lost his daughter entirely.

He prays Thranduil's relationship with Legolas lasts longer. For an eternity seems a reasonable time period, truly.

"I will find sharp honesty from you. Tell me what about her bothers you so? I have no bias." Thingol sees that hard glint and he challenges her to put her emotions into words. Knowledge is precious - even if it's biased.

"That is improvement! I would like to see Elves holding many titles if they can prove themselves worthy of them."

"To be bluntly honest? She's dangerously arrogant and callous to anyone who doesn't kiss her ass. In the time she's been here, rifters -already side-eyed for popping into our world from a place previously known to just harbor demons and spirits- have been put under even more scrutiny because of her attitude and actions. One of those people was my lady love, who rightfully told Galadriel that she was making trouble for other rifters like herself. Galadriel's response? To frighten her with threats." Korrin's hands double up into fists, and though her gloves don't show it, it's a fair bet that her knuckles grow white.

"She also seems to have no problem casually using her weird mental powers on people, which I shouldn't have to say is a gross invasion all on its own. One reason why blood mages are so feared in Thedas is because their power can influence minds. Hell, normal mages are feared because they might be blood mages. Irresponsible shit like that? Affects us all, so yeah, I'm pissed about it."

Well these were juicy details! Thingol kept his expression unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly at the mention of a lady love. Ah, so there was the spark that caused the inferno.

"Holding anger against an Elf will do you little good. We are stubborn - oftentimes to our detriment." he knew that lesson well and he had learned from it, "You should not fear her powers. They do not originate from the Dark."

Galadriel might indeed use her power too freely, yet Thingol trusted that she was not in the Enemy's clutches. Now if she had been a Fëanorian, he might have been concerned!

"With age comes understanding, but there also comes a point when the affairs of the world matter little to you. All you care for is that those you love are protected most." his eyes were unfocused, distant, "It is dangerous to become so complacent; to shield your eyes against everyone and everything outside of your home. She may have forgotten to keep her eyes and ears open."

Edited 2017-03-08 12:11 (UTC)

"If you think you can remind her of that, be my guest. I doubt she'll listen to anyone who doesn't have the right pointed ears." Korrin briefly gestures to her own, which indeed are pointed but jut outward more than an elf's. Combined with the horns and...no, she's obviously not close enough to matter when it comes to such things. She could tell that by the way Galadriel and the other elves effectively closed ranks during that one mission.

"And I care less about where they originate than what she does with them and how it affects the rest of us. You think ordinary people will understand or give a shit that it's not blood magic or another dark source? Even if they realize there's a difference, it'll still freak them the fuck out, and rightfully so. That kind of fear always creates a backlash for all mages, elven and otherwise. Maybe it's easier not to care about what happens in this world when you can hope to leave it someday, but the rest of us still have to live here."

His gaze was sympathetic, but a hint of amusement remained in his eyes and around his lips. "Your ears are nearly as striking as your horns. They are not what makes you different in her eyes." his eyes never left her face as he murmured, "It is your age that sets you apart."

There was wisdom and experience that only came with living for an exceptionally long time. The Elves of Arda had never had an easy time - mainly due to their own mistakes and limitations - and trust did not come easily, especially in a foreign land. No, a foreign world. Thingol empathized with Lady Galadriel, yet he knew diplomacy was needed.

"Your world is changing. You do not need to accept it for it to be so. We all must cope in our own way and if her abilities disturb you and others, I think all you can do is be frank with her and avoid her company if necessary."

There's a twitch of a smile at the compliment about her ears, though she wasn't fishing for one, just trying to make a point.

"Oh, I plan to. Trust me, I've tried to keep to that since the clusterfuck of last year. But if the Inquisition assigns us together, I'm not ignoring shit that can come back to harm me or other people." The only reason why she's held back is because Korrin's worried about another backlash against rifters, of which her lady love is one. That and she would rather not burn bridges with Ellana if she doesn't have to...but there are only so many chances she can give.

"Age, huh? Well. That's an impossible standard for the rest of us to be measured up against, isn't it? We're not immortal beings who've been around forever. Though I gotta say, there's a perspective that comes of having limited time that immortals just don't have, too. We can't just wait things out for a few decades in hopes that they get better." Korrin's tone isn't bitter, merely pragmatic. She doesn't know what she would do with all the time anyway, but her perspective still counts for something.

"I suggest you make your feelings plain to the Inquisition. Pairing you together would not be a fortuitous turn for either of you - or the cause as a whole." Thingol glanced at his shoulder, smiling at a butterfly that took up residence there. Melian's influence had not completely left him, then, and his gaze was drawn, inextricably, to the forest.

Speaking of a lady love...

"Yes, it is impossible." he blinked at her next words, turning his focus back to her, "There is an in-between: we needn't be complacent or rash. I seek that middle ground so that I may understand mortality better."

How else would he connect with the Elves of this world?

"For those who do not wish to meet you - us -" his words were amended quietly, "let them stay stagnant. You will eventually leave them behind."

[Open: To the homeless, a haven.]

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