[Maglor's locket chimes in the dead of the night; or in other words, after enough hours have passed for Fëanor to acquaint himself with the castle and fail to find any of those whome he was looking for ...and to realize that not only could people be pulled over form many places, but also that their arrival might not be voluntary, no matter their strength.
Which is the cause of him now systematically going through the names of those of whose presence in this world he would like to know, and whom he would not mind to know of his own presence at this point. Nerdanel, Finwë, Miriel, and then his sons in order of their age.
This is the first time that the locket picks up. So Makalaurë is here. Involuntarily, Fëanor will presume, for why would any of them leave Middle Earth where they are needed? There is no hesitation in choosing a visual connection, and Maglor will be treated to the sight of his father in the finest Unseelie colours, even his hairdo speaking of a lack of materials from back home to dress himself. The locket rests on his hand and allows a view of the background large enough to betray that he is in his rooms - he would have preferred the forges, but here there is more privacy to be had.
For a moment there is silence, but then he does speak. His words are almost tentative - forward, commanding, but still the faint hesitance of one trying something for the first time remaining behind it. ] Makalaurë. [A lot carries with the simple utterance of his name, the syllables filled to the brim, everything interwoven too intricately to extract clear notions.]
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zvi
Some ungodly hour before the crack of dawn on the 2nd of June
Date: 2014-05-29 02:08 pm (UTC)Which is the cause of him now systematically going through the names of those of whose presence in this world he would like to know, and whom he would not mind to know of his own presence at this point. Nerdanel, Finwë, Miriel, and then his sons in order of their age.
This is the first time that the locket picks up. So Makalaurë is here. Involuntarily, Fëanor will presume, for why would any of them leave Middle Earth where they are needed? There is no hesitation in choosing a visual connection, and Maglor will be treated to the sight of his father in the finest Unseelie colours, even his hairdo speaking of a lack of materials from back home to dress himself. The locket rests on his hand and allows a view of the background large enough to betray that he is in his rooms - he would have preferred the forges, but here there is more privacy to be had.
For a moment there is silence, but then he does speak. His words are almost tentative - forward, commanding, but still the faint hesitance of one trying something for the first time remaining behind it. ] Makalaurë. [A lot carries with the simple utterance of his name, the syllables filled to the brim, everything interwoven too intricately to extract clear notions.]