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[Oct. 31st, 2010|06:25 pm] |
*is having a fairly annoying month, even by her standards; for the past three weeks running, Ancalimë's viewership ratings have come within nine percentage points of AOT's (an unprecedented and unacceptable narrowing of the gap)* *suspects the new show's popularity will die down within a season or two, as do most such waves of fervor, but is storming up a few new rewrites anyway to help the process along*
*ponders a different sort of rewrite as she lounges in Tyelcormo's bed, absently brushing the ends of her hair, her body artfully draped with a sheet* *has not a single complaint about today (riding, dinner, after-dinner), which is... rather nice, actually, and might explain why she finds herself in no particular hurry to leave*
*hums an old, old pop tune to herself as she waits for her host to return* |
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[Jul. 13th, 2010|11:37 am] |
*is feeling particularly annoyed today, his house cold and empty, because everyone is gone his brother has spontaneously decided to up and visit Gondolin on some mad, eruforsaken whim*
*shoves a pile of ancient papers to one side of an unusually cluttered desk and picks up the telephone, dialing a number he's learned by heart in order to relay a message himself (Ask the Lady Amarië if she wishes to go riding with Lord Turcafinwë))
*hangs up again, marveling somewhat that his tone should have become so casual* *but this would not be their first such outing, or even the third or fourth, but despite all his sarcastic talk of bipeds and quadrupeds, he—horror of horrors!—has come to enjoy Amarië's company (and if he takes some simple pleasure in the way his manner uncurls during any time spent with his beloved horses, well, Amarië seems not to hold it against him these days)* |
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[Nov. 30th, 2009|11:36 am] |
*after a couple nights spent shacked up in the Savoy, being a fully funded self-sufficient woman (i.e. buying movies and raiding the minibar with abandon), came to the conclusion that living on her own totally sucks*
*considers calling her uncle (but he already checks on her constantly and she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction) or her mother (she misses her, but she needs to think about what—or who—she's done) or even Finduilas (she's a television star, so her life must be exciting, and maybe she has some good advice for the wild and crazy single girl who misses her mommy and her bed and her horses)*
*sighs and shoves her phone in her handbag and just goes out into town to see what there is to see* |
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[Aug. 22nd, 2009|05:33 pm] |
*has absolutely no interest in spending any recreational time with Turcafinwë at all, but has decided that she may as well humor his request for form's sake—and besides, the resultant press could be useful*
*on the appointed afternoon, changes out of her power heels into something more appropriate (comfortable designer jeans and a simple top), has her stylist pull her hair into a practical but fashion-conscious braid, and heads out to Turcafinwë's grounds to meet her personal groom and mare (shipped all the way from Taniquetil just for the occasion, of course)*
*is escorted into a neat, well-kept stable on the edge of a wide grassy field, where the groom has just finished pacing his charge through a few warm-ups after the ride over* *nods to him but hardly spares him a glance, suddenly feeling a million miles removed from the AOT set and the entire life she's built on this side of the ocean* *has only ever seen her own grey mare in her father's stables, on her father's land, and it's been many years since*
*slowly approaches the animal, a hand slipping into her pocket for the treat she somehow remembered to bring* *murmurs in low, elegant Vanyarin* [Beautiful girl. My lovely lady. Do you remember me, I wonder?] *laughs softly off the answering nicker and offers a sugar cube* [Oh, of course I remember you, Jingle-girl. There isn't a horse in the world to compare, you know that. And I've missed you.] *rubs the mare's nose affectionately, smiling a secret, almost girlish smile* [Do try not to take offense to the company we're to keep today, though, hm?] |
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[Jul. 9th, 2009|04:33 pm] |
*dawdles around Gondolin for long enough before running out of excuses finishing up her next manuscript (featuring a fully three-sided triangle because oh why not)*
*no sooner turns it in then gets a request from her agent from As Órë Turns, because readers are turning to soap operas more and more instead of buying books during these hard times*
*flies down to Ossíriand and oh wow it's a real set to meet with the writing staff where the stories come from*
*is just composing a text to Káni ("you'll never guess where I am!!1!") when she's told that she'll be meeting with Amarië before the writers*
*hangs around in a spare director's chair waiting for her current scene to finish* |
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[May. 6th, 2009|06:02 pm] |
*is really less than impressed by the photographs of her daughter being paraded around by that jumped-up Vanya like she's a favoured lapdog or accessory*
*gets dressed (stunning, slimming white dress) and asks for a car to be sent around to the front in about half-an-hour* *having ensured that her daughter is safe in the company of her favourite uncle, goes to find Celegorm* |
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[May. 5th, 2009|10:07 am] |
*looks over the pictures splashed across the pages of three separate magazines with something akin to approval—they really are being choosy about the quality of their photos these days, ever since she slapped the In-Speak with a pricey libel suit for that grainy image of a blonde woman (not her) cavorting with some greasy nightclub owner in Grand Fork East*
*can't even bring herself to be too annoyed with the possibility that there might've been sticky handprints left in her limousine after the outing to the ice cream parlor (it was worth it, and she's having the vehicle detailed inside and out, after all)*
*tucks the zines into one of her desk drawers, glances at the clock (two sharp) and pages her assistant du jour* *with utter confidence that her next appointment is already here and waiting* Send him in. |
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[Apr. 24th, 2009|09:24 am] |
*ventures out into town with her nanny to visit the set of As Órë Turns*
*would almost certainly never make it past Amarië's guard dogs, except Nanny Petra comes armed with just the right name to throw around*
*watches her surroundings with interest while Nanny Petra explains that they're here to see Amarië* |
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[Mar. 4th, 2009|03:17 pm] |
*with the "personal" (un)pleasantries out of the way for the moment, can turn her attention back to annoyances on the business end (though really, it's all business in the end)*
*first thing in the morning, instructs her PA to dig up a particular phone number, and sits back in her imported office chair while the little person dials* *sips her imported bottled water as she waits* *honestly, is there anything on this side of the Sea worth buying as-is?* |
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[Feb. 25th, 2009|08:01 pm] |
*has been thoroughly absorbed in her work lately ever since the last of those disturbing dreams* *between takes, pre- and post-production, has also fully settled in her new palace home (with its marble flooring and exotic courtyard and hordes of faceless staff)*
*as the days pass, however, begins to think that perhaps she has let certain facets of Life go by the wayside for too long* *especially when she considers her father and her position*
*after long thought, instructs her nameless minion PA to contact one Turcafinwë Fëanárion's staff and arrange a meeting* *perhaps a private champagne brunch on the roof of the five-star hotel she briefly stayed in while waiting for her residence to be readied?* *little ears are listening everywhere, after all* |
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[Oct. 25th, 2008|01:18 am] |
*has managed to avoid another run-in, mostly by leaving the hotel early and returning late and sending her entourage on ahead of her for reconiassance* (*wouldn't ever dream of changing her routine to suit others, of course—has had a full schedule anyway*)
*goes to bed after yet another productive day, satisfied that her new home will be ready for permanent residence come morning* *will be pleased to leave the hotel behind, for more than one reason*
*despite her excitement over the progress, has no problem drifting off to sleep*
[Anar has just begun to brighten the eastern sky when her hand slips into his, small and delicate and practically made to fit in the hollow of his palm. Perhaps yesterday she might have worried over her gown, or the pavilion, or the guest arrangements. Perhaps she might find the will to be concerned for such things, in a moment's time. For the duration of this single heartbeat, however, she knows nothing but the warmth of his fingers, the smile on his lips, and the sweet glimmer of promise in his eyes...
"Findaráto," she whispers, her voice pitched low and for his ears only. "I do believe I have forgotten the traditional vows. Will you be terribly offended if I am forced to contrive something entirely new by the time we reach the pavilion?"] |
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[Oct. 18th, 2008|12:40 pm] |
*despite her misgivings about leaving the city after the recent happenings (especially since she's a half-lobster cultist?), takes Turgon's advice and goes ahead with her planned trip to Ossiriand* *wants to see her Eruson before he's grown too big and she's grown too fat*
*arrives in the late afternoon, checks into the hotel, and confirms the next day's plans with Lúthien*
*decides she should go see a little bit of the town while she's here, so freshens up and heads out of her hotel room* |
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[Oct. 4th, 2008|04:16 pm] |
*having spent many (many, many) days in Ossiriand, with occasional journeys back to Taniquetil for business (and those trips home have become longer and longer), supposes that the time has come to return home on a more permanent basis* *cannot see that his presence in the nieghbourhood is doing anything to help Ingil's state of mind at all*
*arranges to meet his daughter for lunch in the rather upmarket hotel he's been staying in, so that they can discuss Ingil's situation and so that he can be absolutely sure that Amarië doesn't mind him going back to Taniquetil (there is only so much ruling-of-a-nation that can be done by email)* |
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[Sep. 22nd, 2008|11:15 am] |
*decides to sit in on the callbacks while she re-writes the last Alasdair/Colby scene* *has no idea what she's going to do with Colby's plotline, since the actor portraying Alasdair has decided not to move with the rest of the production, but is determined to come up with something before the end of the day*
*lends half an ear to the ongoing dialogue between her casting director and the auditioning hopefuls, only offering commentary when one particularly snags her attention (for better or worse)(mostly worse)*
*is in the middle of coming up with a halfway workable excuse for Alasdair's departure when the name "Finduilas" catches her ear* *doesn't look up from the script in her lap, but tunes in to the proceedings in time to learn that the young man about to read seems to know Finduilas-- at least, she gave his headshot to the director in the first place (a somewhat odd turn for her)*
*can't help but be curious (knows absolutely nothing about her actors' personal lives, and doesn't much care to know, but where there's one bit of relative competence, perhaps there might be more?)* *casually lifts her bottled water from its ice bucket and sips, watching the pretty face on the mini-screen* |
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[Sep. 8th, 2008|08:59 am] |
*has made it her daily routine to walk down to the set and hang out for a while, chatting with any other cast and crew members who may show up, seeing as everybody she knows and cares about is either out of town or maybe-evil or Fëanorian (or some combination thereof)*
*when she arrives, finds that more people than usual are milling around and gossiping (about Amarië and her brother) and talking about how they heard from so-and-so who heard from what's-her-face that Amarië might actually be back in town*
*spots one of her co-stars and is soon getting the entire inside scoop* |
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[Aug. 30th, 2008|09:44 pm] |
*stops by Ingil's dorm room with lunch, as has become her daily habit*
*isn't exactly sure how much he remembers, at this point (and doesn't particularly care, so long as he's safe and recovering--except that he has to, has to remember her)*
*pauses outside his door, double-checking her appearance in a handheld mirror* *hair in place, eyes dry, smile fixed and bright* *nothing at all to give away how terribly she needs him and worries for him and suffers without him and*
*stows the mirror and knocks twice, calling softly through the door* Ingil? It's me. |
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[Jul. 30th, 2008|11:35 am] |
*sits up on the window ledge in his hospital room, looking out over the street below, much recovered (physically) from his recent ordeal*
*is so busy talking to himself that he doesn't even notice when a nurse comes in to tell him that his sister is here to pay him a visit*
Open the window; let in some fresh air. Why wouldn't a window open? It's unnatural. It's a wall. They say daytime is kinder but nighttime nightshine nightlights are fine if you let the air in. Or out. Better, even. Usually it's out. Yes, I'm the King's son. This is my home but it wasn't always. I'm a Prince but my mother's not a Queen. Must I go to training exercises today, Father? I painted a painting and it isn't very good but sometimes people bring their problems to the King and that's all right. I can listen and be patient but I'd rather not fight if it's all the same to you. |
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[Jul. 22nd, 2008|02:27 am] |
*has been even more irascible demanding irascible and demanding than usual since that horrid dream of several nights past*
*stations herself in her chair on-set and sips her chilled bottled water, her sunglasses perched on the tip of her nose as she looks over the revisions to the last on-location scene they have to shoot*
*lets everyone think she's thoroughly absorbed in the creative process and is therefore taking her time over the script, but really, is monumentally distracted* *damn her, and damn him, as well*
*idly wonders if perhaps she ought to call Ingil and check in, as he hasn't replied to yesterday's text yet?* *could use the (pleasant) distraction, in any event*
*glances across to see--* Excuse me, why are we all just standing around over there? Go double-check your posts, we cannot afford to have to re-do this scene because of technical difficulties. Thank you. |
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[Jul. 6th, 2008|10:35 pm] |
*after a tiring evening, falls into an ultimately uncomfortable sleep*
*stirs slightly at some point, but very quickly falls away again*
[There is darkness everywhere, a darkness unlike anything he has ever known before. He is ashamed to admit it, and would not admit it if asked, but he is terrified. This night has gone on forever -- without Treelight to tell the hours, for all he knows it has been forever. Now it is done. The harsh words have been spoken, the speeches made, and the decisions decided upon. There is just one thing left.
He rushes, as quickly as he can go, trying to find her. He does not relish what must come next, but he knows he will feel no peace until it is done. He will know no peace until she is at his side and he can see that she is safe and whole.] |
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[Jun. 8th, 2008|07:18 pm] |
*gets into her hotel room very late/early after a night shoot*
*takes a hot shower and slips into her nightclothes, padding over to the bed with her hair in a towel* *settles into the mound of pillows stacked against the headboard, cell phone in hand*
*dials Ingil, knowing he tends to keep odd hours* *receives no answer, and so leaves a message* Hi, dollface, it's me! Just calling to check in, see how you're doing, how school's going, how Telu's treating you (very well, I'm sure, you know I'm just kidding)... I miss you, you know. I'll try to get down there to see you again soon, okay? Love you, talk to you soon. Bye. *smiles and hangs up*
*is soon absorbed in an infomercial for some kind of cleaning product* *absently wonders how in the world such programs manage to be so terribly engaging, especially when one is exhausted?* *thinks she may have to research this*
*dozes off just as the Kwik-Brite 9000 jingle starts rolling for the sixth time*
[It certainly isn't her first festival, nor even her first on his arm, but never before has he felt so right at her side, as though he has always been there (and always will be). She glances up at him, glimpses the mingled Treeslight reflecting in his eyes, and the ever-present friendly little twist at the corner of his mouth. Beautiful, she thinks to herself wonderingly. And for the first time in a long time, Amarië of the Vanyar is content to simply bask in the beauty of another...
"Will you be performing, Findaráto?" She curls her hands around his arm and leans into him, smiling brightly in anticipation of the answer. Out of the corner of her eye, she notes no less than four separate courtiers watching her--no doubt wondering what their Princess is doing, fawning all over a prince of the youngest line. Once upon a time, she might have cared for their opinion (or at least pretended to, for decorum's sake). Now, however, she cannot bring herself to even acknowledge their existence beyond subtly reaching up to touch the delicate diadem nestled in her hair. "After all," she continues smoothly, "you have been working so hard on that lovely piece you played for me the other day. It would be a shame if mine were the only ears to be so blessed."] |
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bored
excited
calm
curious
busy
blank