Thranduil
There was a reason, you must understand, why he sought out the Night Court. True he was a shady individual, and his actions lended themselves more palatable in the low lights. Yet that wasn’t why it pulled him. That wasn’t why he so often found, as he did tonight, the need to rise from his bed after only a few hours and slip into the moon light. The night called the gold on the deeper level, it spoke to something further down. It was a cluttered scary mess down there, but there was something akin to spirituality. Not devotion, nor religion, for he wasn’t about to be up at the church every Sunday any time soon, but it was as close as the gold could come to it.
For, to him, the dead of night felt at peace, the quiet and stillness of this world left him with time to think. Not the whirlwind in which he usually thought either, for his was a slow and deep, the kind of thoughts which engage you completely. And the cooler air, and gentle breeze on a more calm night, was like a lover’s gentle touch on the cheek, brushing, fleeting, but sending a chill down your spine as you meld further into their embrace.
It was this connection, this need to be about in the night’s cool moonlight which had caused the gold to rise in the first place. Coming from the tree’s he’d slipped down among the rocks and sands, keeping close to the shore and first dune. The ocean beyond hushed and cooed, but the gold did not answer, his feet, meandered on through the upper shore, as he let himself be lost to world. In the day, in the blazing light he was a show to watch. Every move calculated, all his energy pressed against his skin till it arched across his body. His coat of golden lies would gleam and shine and he’d happily spin and show the world. Yet here, in the dark of early dawn, its glittering threads were dull, and it did not seem to float and animate. He let it hang from his shoulder, wrap tight around his waist, as he stole into its depths of comfort. This is why he had chosen the court of the moon, not one of the sun.
Had the moonlight not been a silver carpet to her dark body as it sunk low, or the horizon not been lightning with each passing moment, he might not have even seen her. She stood so much like a statue, down in the water’s reach, seeming to be in her own world. Thranduil had stopped, watching, head tilted. There was no lustful devilry gleaming in his eyes, no malicious thoughts of a wicked black soul staining his mind, there was nothing but a curiosity and the last of his sleepiness.
A swinging walk carries him in a careless way down to the shore. He could not turn away, nor simply move on. Why was she out in the ocean? Why not asleep in crook of a hollow? Why tempt that fate of the tides by remaining in the cold waters? Who was she….and why had she been woken? She wasn’t, he had to admit, terrible to look at either… though it was a little early in the morning (even for him) for those thoughts. It was muffled into a desire to know her, and to spin a small harmless game. He loved those games, and thought himself fairly good at them.
Coming just beyond the reach of the waves he calls to her, soft and hushed, “You know it’s not safe to swim alone…” It tilts up, casting out a line and hoping to catch…something, but it is also light and harbors no threat. With slower steps, and keeping a distance, he wades into the water, though not as far. “…but perhaps that’s why you’ve done it.” It’s a tease, but lures an idea as well. Dark waters wash across his knees and it sends a wave of cold through him, waking him further. The gold stops, going no further, but letting the mare have her space for now while tilting his head to try and see what sort of fish he’d caught.
OOC :: I hope you like and thank you for letting me reply to this even though its old. I'm excited to thread with you <3
"Speech"
The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.
Down came the rain
and washed the spider out.
Down came the rain
and washed the spider out.
@Isra
