Olórin (& Ash Greyson) (0lorin) wrote in opus_two, @ 2008-09-30 15:26:00 |
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Current mood: | sympathetic |
Entry tags: | &elrond&erestor, &erestor&gandalf, @gondolin, @menegroth:mhc, elrond, erestor, gandalf |
*wanders the sidewalks of Ondolindë, having slipped into the City with the morning's first light* (*there hasn't been a mortal decree yet that can keep out a determined Maia, after all*)
*takes in the quiet streets, scores of darkened shopfronts, and the empty eateries on every block* *most of all, contemplates the niggling sense of something Wrong, right down deep in his guts (or the Musical equivalent of guts, anyway)* *has been trying to get a good read on the feeling all morning, without much luck*
*pauses as the road he's on dead-ends into a wide park venue with green lawns split into sections by smooth stone walkways* *sighs quietly to himself at the stark emptiness of it; no lovers on the benches, no children in the trees or running over the grass* *thinks it's as though the entire City is holding its breath, waiting for whatever-is-next*
*unexpectedly spots a lone figure occupying a bench on the far side of the concourse* *shrugs to himself, and after a moment's thought, begins making his way over*