rest, my brother, and tell me all about the ocean

[extramural]

FORM: Sending crystal.
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.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

[ they do- and because they cannot feel the rhythm of the world, they do not exist in harmony with it. he could go on- and normally, he would, comforting himself with the familiarity of the similarities of mortals of wherever they are. but he does not.

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.) ]

[extramural]

[ He does not know what to do.

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. ]

[rowancrowned]

[ he withdraws- he doesn't expect much from the outsider, and beyond that, he's also fairly uncomfortable with too much affection. he pets the nug with a cautious fingertip, minding her as she watches him with large, wet eyes before neatly spitting out a sodden lump of lace onto the outsider's wrist.

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. ]