MOD EVENT ↠ IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: Some dreams
WHEN: Harvestmere 9:45–Wintersend 9:46
WHERE: The Fade
NOTES: OOC post!

Comments

[rowancrowned]

“It suits her,” Thranduil concedes, and he turns into her hold; kisses her wrist and inhales the scent of her skin. Even here, this calms him. She has a hand on each of them, and Thranduil cannot imagine how it makes Solas feel—he only knows how he himself feels grounded by her; defines himself in relation to his distance from Gwenaëlle.

(Somewhere else, he is laying next to her, his hand over her waist, her leg thrown over his hip.)

He turns his head to look at Solas, and rises out of the crouch he’d bowed into to get a better look at her face.

“And what will you give me?” Petty, now, and demanding, not jealous of Gwenaëlle’s ‘present’—but he is a selfish thing, all wrapped up in his lover—lovers—by nature. “Besides a drink.”

[elegiaque]

Her eyes alight above the new tattoos and she breathes in, pleased, rising on her bare toes as Solas leans down—then laughs again, turning her face and brushing her cheekbone against his, feline and affectionate and turning her amusement up to Thranduil, eyebrows raised.

“You are a child,” she informs him, reproof without heat. “A great, willful child. What do you think,” more archly, winding her arm around Solas's waist and leaning into him, small and warm and comfortable insinuating herself into his space as if she can't imagine any reason wh she shouldn't, the lift of her chin play-hauteur. “Does he need gifts? It seems to me that what this member of this household longs for is attention.”

And she a little sun for him to warm himself in the light of.

[dirth]

"It seems to me that he forgets who is to be worshipped here." There is a whisper of longing in his voice, something gentle and tender, something that echoes throughout the temple around them. Solas is more than what he was and at the same time he is less - more proud, less certain. More powerful, less aware. More coy, less sultry. It comes to settle over him like a cloak about his shoulders, teasing and quiet at the same time.

His fingers slip away from Gwen as he glances to Thranduil instead, gaze sharp and certain before he speaks.

"What boon would you request?" His lips curl, smirking. "What gift might I offer you?"