bythewaves | IC Inbox [Eachdraidh]

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IC Inbox [Eachdraidh]

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[Will is silent on that part, because Mags is right, it was fairly horrible when the magic of the curse took over his mind in that moment. Still, if Cyrus could get used to the cures than so could Will]

Oh yeah, that's a brilliant idea. The brother of the elf who is busy attacking, sneaking around, trying not to be noticed. Pardon my saying, but your lot tend to be fairly noticeable, not to mention how much you like to make friends on these lockets.

You need a professional, or at least someone to watch your back.

[ A quiet faint smile ] Celegorm is not the only one who knows how to wield illusion. And I would argue that I am a fair sight better than him at it - he was never one for subtlety. Believe me Will, with all of my kin here at the station, now, there remain precious few who could see me for what I am if I wished it otherwise.

[ it is how they got into the camp of the Valar, after all, ghosting past guards until they got to the very center ]

[ a curious eyebrow ]

Are you offering, Will?

Course.

Just let me get away from Big Brother.

[ A slow dawning smile, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds ]

Thank you Will.

Right.

Then, there's only one thing for you to do.

[So much hesitation. This better not be painful]

Call me back to you.

[ Only the briefest of hesitation this time, a prayer that it will not be too hard on Will ]

Will, come here.

[It starts as an odd feeling in his gut. Was he going to be sick?]

Oh, bloody hell.

[Looking down, Will realized that it was less a feeling of being sick he felt and more a feeling of having his body turn to a rust colored dust. From the bag he had been keeping the bottle hidden came a small cloud of dust; it was the last thing he saw as the rest of him was turned into this magic form and took off like a small cyclone through the forests and roads and right to Maglor.

The dust reformed into Will and the bottle found it's way in Maglor's hand.]

Okay, that, that was not...yeah... [He leaned over, unsure if was about to be sick or not]

[ a startled look down the locket is the last Will will see of Maglor's face until he reforms. The hand not filled with the bottle goes to Will's shoulder, Maglor instinctively twining healing and comfort into his voice, the subtlest thread of power like a soft warmth (he is no healer, but he was not that long ago a father, and before all that he was an elder brother, and some things are instinct by now) ]

I am sorry Will, it seems a cruel way to travel. Will you be well?

[He waved off Mags concern as he stood up and grinned]

That is not a method of travel I'd ever recommend.

Now, what's this 'bout a jewel that needs thieving?

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