тнє outsider (
extramural) wrote in
therookery2016-06-20 05:44 pm
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rest, my brother, and tell me all about the ocean
FORM: Sending crystal.
SENDER: The Outsider
RECIPIENT: everyone
WHAT: Poking the hornets nest.
WHEN: Nowish?
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: He creepy.
SENDER: The Outsider
RECIPIENT: everyone
WHAT: Poking the hornets nest.
WHEN: Nowish?
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: He creepy.
What a tumultuous time it is in this world. An empire at war, ancient protectors showing what many feel to be their true colors, strangers falling from the sky -- the more things change, the more they stay the same.
I am not of this world, though it bares similarities to my own -- namely a prominent disdain for the other and ridiculous class differences -- as much it it shows its differences. Empires rise and fall; I admittedly have little interest in wars that have played out hundreds of times in similar ways across hundreds of worlds.
However, I do want to know what you find interesting about this world, if you will share.
no subject
You were alone.
[ even iluvatar is not alone. but to be the only of your kind, to only have men to spend your time with, and they are like ants. perhaps there are beasts in the deep that live for a fraction more time. the outsider is restricted to watching, to being an observer only, forever apart.
he does not ask 'were you lonely?' because even said without malice it could hurt. instead, he drops his hand and pats the nug instead. she closes her eyes and grinds her teeth happily. ]
no subject
He feels almost as though he is being parented, which is a truly foreign sensation.
Still, he answers, as Thranduil drops his hand. ]
Yes.
[ Alone, with only his favorites for company -- human each, with a short lifespan, shorter still in many cases because of his interference. Those who lived longer, like Granny Rags, grew steadily more insane and steadily less interesting because of it. ]
Even if I were to walk freely in the world of mortals, humans have always feared what they do not understand.
no subject
instead- minding the nug, of course, because she has teeth well-suited for for tearing a hole in his clothes- he leans forward, and brushes the outsider's bangs out of the way, tucking the longer ones behind his ear. he'd embrace him, but- nug. instead, he settles the intimate touch to the outsider's hair, and a hand clenched into his fist over his heart, an inclined head.
(he is not alone. though it does come with a hint of that parenting.) ]
no subject
It's an utterly foreign feeling. He can vaguely recall the gentle touch of a parent from long, long ago; a parent who cared enough to name him, to raise him for a time before death took her instead of him. But that was a long time ago, and it was not like this. He was not like this.
And so he is still, save for a slight incline of his own head -- enough that it touches Thranduil's. One hand holds the nug, the other still over her for her to bump her head up, if she so chooses to demand more petting -- and he is quietly grateful, because otherwise he imagines they would just hang at his sides, ultimately useless. ]
no subject
softly: ] You ought to return her to the Spymaster eventually.
[ he won't press for more, and he inclines his head before turning to slip back to the library for the rest of the afternoon. ]