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[Feb. 7th, 2010|10:17 pm] |
*has cracked out the woolly grey coat and scarf for another round of northerly visits (long overdue, even by his standards)*
*finds himself planted at one of the usual kitchen tables on a chilly afternoon, finishing up a (purely hobbitish) lunch of sandwiches, soup, cheese, homemade applesauce, pickles, and iced tea* *does so love how some things never, ever change*
*waggles his spoon at his companion, continuing the conversation most cheerfully* You, my dear Meriadoc, haven't got the faintest clue what to do with this ex-Quendë you've snared. They don't come much more complicated, I'll tell you. *illustrating with a quick twirl of the spoon* That one likes to think round and round in circles. |
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[Dec. 3rd, 2009|08:42 pm] |
*does see a lot of unusual people in his line of work, of course, and has certainly landed himself in many a strange situation as a result (buying a blue pacifier for a serial rapist-murderer, and then watching him carve notches into it as part of the retelling, definitely ranks)*
*which may be why he isn't too terribly surprised to find himself relaxing in a deli down the street from the Hammer, his lunch long since finished, his attention now focused on the strange stranger who's somehow joined him for coffee*
*absently traces the rim of his mug* *curiously* You said you photograph people, most often? What sorts of people do you look for? |
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[Nov. 29th, 2009|07:44 pm] |
*hears that Mithrandir is still in town and finds himself filing away that information for possible future use*
*one morning, makes his way down to his office (with Marigold scampering behind him) and settles in for long hours of work on the Maeglin case, carefully reading Yates's report from the Harp, and making an appointment for Yates to see him later in the week (by 'appointment', read 'direct order')*
*is soon lost in his paperwork, finger-pecking at the keyboard as he compiles his own updated report for Tuor* (*is seriously in need of this holiday*) |
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[Nov. 24th, 2009|07:33 pm] |
*has an appointment to keep!* *an actual on-the-books appointment, even*
*turns up precisely when he means to (that is to say, a good twenty minutes early) and makes a polite inquiry at reception* *considers signing his real name to the check-in log, just for a laugh, but decides he doesn't need to confuse the place's paper trail any more than necessary* |
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[Oct. 11th, 2009|02:45 pm] |
*spends several days wandering up and down the back alleys of Gondolin, ducking into the little businesses, sampling the corner vendors' wares, and thoroughly enjoying the city's renewed vibrancy (such a vast change from the empty, fearful streets he found the last time he was here)*
*eventually decides he's indulged in enough curious dawdling, and so makes his way to the site of the new Golden Flower sometime in the late morning* *inquires after the Lord of the House and is told that Glorfindel is quite busy (but if you would like to make an appointment, sir?)* *is fairly pleased by this, really—it smacks of (healthy) normalcy*
*shakes his head in response to the receptionist's offer* Ah, no, but thank you, I'm rarely around long enough to keep to that sort of appointment. *smiles* Would you be so kind as to let your lord know I popped by to see him, though? Ashley Greyson's the name. *heads toward the front door with a wave* I'll be weeding out front! |
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[Sep. 29th, 2009|09:03 pm] |
*sits atop a streetlamp somewhere in Gondolin, swinging her feet and watching the people moving about below in all of their time-driven hurry (born)(breathing)(dying)*
*has been all over Beleriand in the past day-or-minute on her lord's business, but where her Kirin is, there she will return* *is pleased with all of the progress Kirin is making, even if it is very (C)hildish progress* *he's so very bright for a young one* |
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[Jul. 22nd, 2009|08:11 pm] |
*has found quite a bit to do in Ossiriand, between run-ins with friends (old and new) and his usual interference in the lives of random passers-by*
*is wandering down a side street, following the faint sounds of a crowd and a marching band (some nearby school must be having a rally?), when he picks up on Music of an entirely different sort*
*halts in his tracks and turns his head, eyes widening slightly in surprise (is it really...?)* *scrutinizes the somewhat ramshackle apartment complex to his left, and smiles—yes, he's quite sure of it now*
*moseys over to lean against the building, a few paces down from the entrance, and waits* |
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[Jul. 12th, 2009|09:59 pm] |
*after an unscheduled (well, more unscheduled than usual) stopover in Menegroth, has made it to Ossiriand* *never did find his lighter, but supposes these things happen for a reason* *hopes it finds someone who needs it more*
*wanders about for a good week or three while, taking in the overall quiet of the place, until he happens upon a nice little neighborhood with a nice little park, in which there seems to be a bit of trouble brewing*
*pauses to lean against a nearby-ish tree, understated and unnoticed, and curious as ever about the Children's children (at their best)(at their worst)*
ETA: *is having a full day thus far, with no less than three Firsts: met a curiously Musical little boy, carried out an insect funeral, and then indulged in blue-swirled ice cream*
*sees Domíran on his way before traipsing on out of the park and making his way further into town proper, thinking to see what else he can get into before day's end* *what? is used to being busy* |
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[Apr. 18th, 2009|09:49 pm] |
*Decided to stay in middle earth for a little while to see the sights before going straight back to Ilmarin.*
*Got a train to Delving so she could have a nosey around there.*
*Wanders around the central business district with a distinct spring in her step as she gets a text.*
*Decides this calls for a celebration so chooses a suitably classy looking wine bar for a drink.* |
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[Feb. 27th, 2009|03:53 pm] |
*is slowly coming to the realization that, as uncomfortable and unnerving as her little heart-to-hearts are, they're actually preferable to the endless spates of skulking and goo-bullying in between*
*has, in fact, taken to trailing in the dark/light Valië's wake on a regular basis; quietly and cowering at first, but more boldly of late (said Valië doesn't seem to mind?)* *has seen all sorts of strange, far-flung corners of the Halls while in Nienna's company, and has even been permitted to crouch in the corner of her office while she "processes" mortal souls*
*is still a disembodied collection of disharmony, but at least she's not bored out of her fucking discorporated mind now?* |
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[Feb. 19th, 2009|11:38 pm] |
*Wakes up on the floor of a hotel room...somewhere.*
*Blinks at a chink of sunlight coming through the gap between the curtains as he slowly tries to piece together what's happened to him.*
Argument with the wife, got kicked out, stayed at Ulmo's for a while, decided to sort fucking life out, then...
*Frowns and scratches his head before noticing the significantly cleared-out minibar.*
Oh.
*Fumbles for the phone on the bedside table and takes a good couple of minutes to work out that he needs to dial '0' for an outside line.* |
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[Dec. 29th, 2008|04:38 pm] |
*after bumming around Delving for a while, taking care of odds and ends here and there, decides it's high time he dropped in for that visit he promised (and it may or may not be the day before Erumas, he's quite lost track)*
*fairly quickly realizes, however, that he failed to ask for Elrond's home address while he was in Gondolin* *ah, blast, knew there was something he was forgetting*
*looks up the private clinics and finds one L. Ron Haphelven listed (clever lad!)* *makes his way there in the early afternoon, enjoying all of the holiday decorations along the way even if the fake snow is perhaps a bit much? this is a cave, dear sir* |
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[Nov. 30th, 2008|07:32 pm] |
*having returned to Delving after making sure tending to Gondolin doesn't fall apart and seeing Estë off unfortunately for the close of her term at OU* (*his wife very optimistic (as ever) about the new Sharing Circle initiative*)
*takes a proper stroll in the early evening, casting about for loose thoughts* |
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[Oct. 21st, 2008|07:34 pm] |
*pads around the kitchen in his T-shirt and plaid PJ pants, wondering what he should cobble up for breakfast* *is warm enough for the most part, thanks to the giant mug of coffee steaming on the counter, but (as usual) forgot to put on socks and is therefore slowly losing feeling in his toes* *yep, it's definitely autumn!*
*will only be cooking for one this morning, so is at something of a loss* *just eggs and bacon and toast and jam, maybe?* *ooh, and pickle chips on the side*
*looks round at a rapid knock on the front door* *blinks, a little confused, but hopeful!* (*maybe this means he'll have company for breakfast, after all?*)
*makes a vague attempt to finger-comb his hair into some kind of order as he heads to the entryway* *opens the door* 'lo? |
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[Oct. 16th, 2008|06:45 pm] |
*leaves the hospital after visiting Ecthelion* *does wish he could be of more help, but thinks that may be best left to those who know the man personally*
*decides he has one more somewhat-overdue stop to make before he gives any thought to picking up and leaving entirely*
*heads back to the (former) site of the House of the Golden Flower, figuring that's the best place to start looking* |
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[Oct. 15th, 2008|09:15 am] |
*opens his eyes sometime around noon the following day*
*is instantly struck by the almost overpowering perfumed scent in the air and, when he looks around, has the crazy first impression that he wandered into the Botanical Gardens and fell asleep there* *sneezes*
*feels his heart skip a beat or two when the memories of the previous day's events hit him in a flood* *hastily pushes them out of his head before the panic can overwhelm him, focusing his thoughts on the tasks at hand*
*tries to shake off his grogginess as he sits up and, shoving the covers off using the arm (and the useless bandaged lump on the end of it) not immobilized by a sling, swings his legs out of bed and sets his feet on the cold floor* |
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[Oct. 13th, 2008|09:37 am] |
*turns up at the House of the Golden Flower just as the fire reaches its crescendo* *spots a familiar face in the chaos (so very recognizable, even without the hair), but has no time now for reunions or pleasantries*
*pushes up his sleeves and jumps right in, aiding smoke-addled staffers through the haze to safety and keeping his eyes/senses peeled for anyone who might still be trapped inside the building* *isn't so much concerned with extinguishing the blaze, at this point; the beauty of buildings is that they can be rebuilt, and the firefighters seem to be handling it on their own in any case*
*all the while, has the niggling impression that this is part of something much larger and far more harmful than simple arson, but can't seem to lock it down* *and so he stays, doing what he can, where he can* |
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[Sep. 30th, 2008|03:26 pm] |
*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* |
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[Jul. 31st, 2008|06:05 pm] |
*wanders through the Halls, weary and numbed to the core after a long day of consigning souls to their fates* *hasn't had a true Redeemable ever in days and days* *has allowed some few rehousings, though--couldn't bring herself to keep the youngest children from the light*
*idly watches the various bits of goo, shade, and gooey shade as they scatter before her, instinctively driven to flee before anything too Light (piercing and painful, as the Sun's glare in the wasteland) or too Dark (chill and empty, pitiless to the lost)* *sometimes wonders whether they can tell the difference between herself and her Lord, whom they seem to fear above all else* *does so love that dark, dark Doomsman of hers*
*reaches one of the outer fringes and pauses in her step, glancing down a seemingly endless corridor (none of them ever really end so much as they turn back in on themselves)*
*hears a new, and yet old Song--one she once knew very well, indeed* *listens for a moment longer to be sure* *he always was low-key, if not outright shy*
*fades into the shadows and reincorporates two floors above, speaking even before her form has become visible* When were you planning to announce yourself to the Lady of these Halls, pupil mine? |
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pleased
drunk
curious
hungry
productive
scared
sympathetic