[ There are stories, in some parts of the world, about the Outsider swooping in to use children in magic rituals. Ridiculous, of course; followers of his have done it, but it was for their own purposes, not his own. Nothing truly to do with him at all, as the choice was theirs and the magic worked the way it worked, with or without him. But this nug does not fear the fact that he is strange, Other -- only, perhaps, that she might fall.
As for Thranduil- the words mean nothing, for a moment. The touch, the visual, those mean little either. But he can feel it, hear it; like the core of the earth, the center of a tree. It is what makes Thranduil himself. In his world, he could play with the souls of those who were gone, embed them in objects or listen to their whispers. Here, he can do none of that -- but it is familiar to him now, all the same. ]
It is how you cover your face, then, [ he murmurs, gaze still on Thranduil's hand -- now so like his own. It doesn't occur to him, in the moment, that Thranduil doesn't realize he can see through it -- nor does it occur to him that he might take offense at it. ] Few can manipulate such a thing, in my own world; can all elves do as much, in yours?
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As for Thranduil- the words mean nothing, for a moment. The touch, the visual, those mean little either. But he can feel it, hear it; like the core of the earth, the center of a tree. It is what makes Thranduil himself. In his world, he could play with the souls of those who were gone, embed them in objects or listen to their whispers. Here, he can do none of that -- but it is familiar to him now, all the same. ]
It is how you cover your face, then, [ he murmurs, gaze still on Thranduil's hand -- now so like his own. It doesn't occur to him, in the moment, that Thranduil doesn't realize he can see through it -- nor does it occur to him that he might take offense at it. ] Few can manipulate such a thing, in my own world; can all elves do as much, in yours?