Maedhros Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorian ✧ Russandol (
castintoflames) wrote in
therookery2018-01-17 10:11 pm
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(But the dawn is brief and the day full often belies its promise.)
FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Maedhros
RECIPIENT: Anyone with a crystal.
WHAT: Manic? Did anyone say manic? This can't be good.
WHEN: Spanning a week? (7-10 days?)
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Someone is afflicted with a strange Flu.
SENDER: Maedhros
RECIPIENT: Anyone with a crystal.
WHAT: Manic? Did anyone say manic? This can't be good.
WHEN: Spanning a week? (7-10 days?)
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Someone is afflicted with a strange Flu.
(The fires are high in the Forge and someone is working at all hours. Have they come out for food? Water? Air? Well if you wondered, he does make a quick message.)
Whoever thinks knocking on the door is a good idea, will not leave unscathed next time!
(There is a strange light in his eyes - and if anyone knows of his father, they will recognize it immediately. Abort mission!)
I am on the cusp of making something spectacular and I do not need any interference. Do I make myself clear?
(What happened to the gentler Maedhros? Some might claim he has been swallowed by the flames of ambition.)
no subject
He had expected the elf to have some semblance of actual sense in his head but, apparently, asking for that was a bridge too far. He stepped clear out of his shop, into the open street with Loki, and hefted that sword up like it was made of feathers and spun dreams. Loki had just stabbed himself in the foot--he couldn't use any flashy magic now to try and escape, not with a crowd watching, and he couldn't very well flee--his reputation would never recover.
He shifted his wrists and, abruptly, where his hands were empty they suddenly both held black bladed, serpentine daggers. It was not a wise choice of weaponry to contest a large sword, but it was the best he had.
"I shall not run from the likes of you," he snapped, with more bravado than he felt, in a last attempt to win the crowd to his side. They, unsurprisingly, seemed unwilling to fight a very tall, very muscled, sword wielding smith on his behalf. Double damn.
no subject
Everything is very, very simple in this moment.
"Brother!" He shouts, forcibly shoving his way through the crowd and pulling his heavy hammer off his belt. The staff is for out in the open. This? This is what you use in the city. It crackles with lightning as he steps between the man, no. Between the giant elf and Loki. The shirtless, impressively built, giant elf.
"A moment," Thor says as he takes the time to undo his own shirt and pull it off. There. Now they can be impressively built and impressively armed together, because that's quite the sword in the elf's hands. "Now. I believe you were threatening my little brother?"
no subject
The shout aggravated him further and he swung his sword, cutting it through the air with deadly accuracy.
"This is not your fight! If he can spew such barbs, he can accept the repercussions." he glowered as the man readied himself, "Why defend the indefensible?"
The hammer was an intriguing weapon and it brought him to a pause. But Maedhros was a Fëanorian and that fire could not be quenched by the unknown. He brought his sword down, connecting it with the hammer.
"Move."
no subject
"He is sometimes stupid, but he is my blood." He'd never seen such strength from an elf before, nor form. This had to be one of the rifter elves he'd heard about and he didn't entirely know what he thought about them yet. "I will not move. You will stop, or you will fight me."
And later he would have to find out what 'barbs' Loki had spewed. They were probably something about this elf being an elf, and thus probably something entirely defensible, but many here didn't understand the limits of elves.
no subject
Manners, Thor. Loki needs them. Maedhros would like to show them his "limitations" as an Elf. This pair had never visited Arda; they had never stood in the light of the Two Trees. They had never seen the radiant beauty of Maedhros's kin or enjoyed their talents.
Limitations, huh? What limitations?
"Since my fist had no effect, I wield a sword instead." because that made sense. It didn't matter if Loki was not properly armed.
no subject
"Will you be attacking or will we be standing here posing all day? I am certain many of the audience would not object to the latter, but I will not swing first." He is a guest in the city. So far his movement has been defensive and it will remain that way until and unless he personally is attacked... but he really hopes he gets attacked. He's bored.
no subject
"I have no desire to linger here, waiting for him to surge forward and stab me. That is not generally how I prefer that to go."
no subject
"We are guests because you could not see fit to exert yourself! I would like to not be removed from the city before we have accomplished anything."
In Marnas Pell he could get away with public murder depending on his target. Here, he's fairly certain it won't be so easy.
"Fight me or walk away," Thor says to the elf. "You will not get to stab him today."
no subject
"It is all you deserve." his gaze shifted between the brothers and his lips were set in a hard, angry line, "There will be other days...and other encounters for him. I don't envy your job."
Giving Thor's hammer a furious shove with his sword, he turned away to re-enter the Forge. Who knew what he could make in his fury. Something deadly and beautiful too.
no subject
"That is two rifter elves I have met now. The woman wasn't as I expected, and this one is not worth taunting." Thor isn't even looking at where it looks like Loki would be, though he's turned to have his back to the forge. "Let us go to the estate."
At the very least he can make sure his brother gets home alive.
no subject
"Well wasn't he unpleasant," Loki proclaims and folds his arms across his chest. His hands are empty save for the various gold jewelry he wears. Where his knives have vanished, it is hard to say.
"Yes, lets, I have several more cooperative craftsmen who should be arriving today."