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*floats up out of a bright dream (something about silver and wind?), automatically blinking her eyes open wide (still so dark)*

*sighs and stretches, feeling the grass and tangled fabric beneath her, the air moving softly over her bare skin, and a sleepy trickle of (Air) melody from nearby*

*folds her arms over her chest and curls right up to the long, cool body lying beside her* *hides her face against his shoulder* *sigh*

*docks his vessel and journeys to Lórien (which has become nearly a daily habit)* *who needs sleep?*

*as much as it pains him to see Arien suffering and anything less than her usual vibrant self, doesn't really mind all these opportunities to be physically close to her for hours at a time* *will miss it, once the nature of their work conspires to keep them separated again*

*on a whim, brings along a small present*

*upon arriving at Lórien, discovers that Tilion has already gone for the evening, but Uolë is still hanging about* *seriously, the guy is too nice sometimes* *and too quiet* *and needs to get out more!*

*sends his fellow Quendë off for some much-needed rest before plopping down on the fountain ledge beside Arien*

*softly, simply* Hey, Sparkles.

*and that was enough for now*

*feels reasonably sure that he actually believes it*

*leans back in his chair, letting Isil go on her wayward (but carefully supervised) way*

*sits on the edge of his favorite river-stone, dangling his feet over the side and tying loose vines into looser knots with his toes*

*delicately nibbles one finger, then the next, then the next, then the next* *plucks a flower from one of the vines and transfers it to the pile next to him before continuing in his task (important, very important indeed) (one must have Tea)*

*every now and again, hums a soft, lilting melody to himself and to the dreamscape, and to his companion on the opposite side of the stone (dreaming of Air and Shadow and light in the dark)*

*Heads up to the Throne Room and takes a seat.*

Melkor? I think we need to talk. Now.

EDIT: *Has a singed couple of ainur in his throne room.*

Eönwë? Tilion? They're home.

*heads down to the dungeon to check on the prisoners*



And how are we feeling this fine Sun-less afternoon? >:D

*comes to, quite some time after being abducted by Melkor*

*finds that she is [i] not at home and [ii] in chains* *rattles them experimentally before coming to the conclusion that they're like something Grandad Aulë would make*

*tries to remember what her father taught her about these types of situations but find that she's too ... afraid?*

*lipwobble* Daddy?

*has a date! thing! with Tilion!* *on Isil!*

*has no idea what to wear, or what to bring for dessert, or what they'll talk about while she's there, but thinks that whole conversation was a major victory in and of itself?* *there was a spat, but they didn't wind up yelling or cutting each other off* *it's some(T)hing!*

*heads into town after her shift, determined to shop until she finds a) wearables and b) edibles*

*wanders up and down the main shopping avenues, peering into windows as she goes* *wonders if white clothes and/or a white dessert would be tacky or appropriate?* :s

*finally gets frustrated after about fifteen minutes* *SIGH* *looks up at the sky and prods her counterpart* Til, what are you wearing tomorrow night?

*is a little at a loss, now that she has a Thing with Tilion* *no, is not ready to define "Thing," so suck it*

*wonders whether she's supposed to act any differently toward him?*

*also wonders whether it's normal that she really, really wants to snog him some more* *meaning she's been so busy daydreaming along those lines that she's almost run Anar off its course twice now* :S

*thinks this opposite-shift gig might just start to suck even more than she'd thought*

*finally gets tired of running herself in circles and taps her (Thing-)counterpart* Til, whatcha doing?

*quickly heads into Tirion after Tilion casts off for the night*

*has A Lot on her mind*

*really really really needs to spill her guts to someone*

*bursts into the pub in a flare of near-daylight, hoping to hell Telu's still about*

TELU?! Anybody seen Telimektar? Constellation, yea tall, scary motherfucker? TEEEEEELUUUUUU!

*embarks on his usual pre-twilight wanderabout* *pre-twilight meaning high noon, of course* *does a lot of wandering about, after all*

*spends some time checking over the gardens and quietly directing various Maiar and other spirits in their tasks* *weeds an entire (purple) strawberry patch in the meantime (with his feet)*

*afterward, manifests right into a gaggle of singing flytraps* *crouches down in their midst, completely unconcerned about the carnivorous plants all around, and has a spot of (cotton candy) tea (with just a smidge of Ocher for spice)* *shares the tea with the flytraps' roots, of course*

*does laundry* *scrub scrub scrub scrub scrub* *considers all of the shades of White*

*is an owl for a while, and Dreams some dreams far and wide*

*finally drops back to the earth, just as the Sun begins to sink beneath the horizon, and makes his way to a certain Air spirit's bower*

*as another day draws to a close, meanders her way down to one of the fountains in Lórien with the express intention of relaxing*

*knows she'll never be as practised at this as Silmo is but is quite looking forward to some alone time* *on her own* *no patients, no Valar, no interruptions, just a glass of wine and a book*

*is awakened by the noontime sunbeams dancing across his face as they filter through the leafy branches of his bower*

*stares up at the rustling leaves, trying to process everything that's happened in the last few days and wishing his brain didn't feel so sluggish*

the last few days

. . .

*sits up abruptly, worrying about exactly how many days (and nights!) have passed and immediately regrets it as a white-hot jolt of pain stabs into his head from the sudden movement* >_<

*spends a restless, uneasy day in the sky*

*hasn't tried to contact Tilion since being asked to bugger off, and hasn't heard a peep out of anyone on his condition* *is worried, Erudammit, why isn't anyone fucking getting that?* *could just scream* >.<

*brings Anar into berth for the night and practically flies to Lórien*

*intimidates the nearest handmaiden into giving up which bower Tilion's in*

*has been crouching on a moss-covered rock since moonrise, watching Isil sail through the sky* *has not moved, or spoken, or even so much as blinked during the entire conflict* *is capable of a frightening level of concentration, when necessary*

*finally stirs from his perch and shifts to his most comfortable Other form, taking to the air in a fluttering of wings*

Urwendë, my lady is trying to sleep, and the Music on Isil is all twisted around. How do you feel about visiting Telperion's Rose?

*has had an okay day, on the whole* *met Sauron's youngest daughter, who is quite intriguing, to say the least* *thinks He may just have to keep closer tabs on that one* >:)

*returns to Angband just in time to get out of the fucking storm* >:/

*hustles down to the depths of the place, already nursing a headache at all of the noise* For fuck's sake, can't just whip up a regular storm, oh no, they had to make it as LOUD and OBNOXIOUS as possible...

*gets a little suspicious as the storm drags on with no appreciable letup in the tumult* *pops a few Vala-strength aspirin and casts His senses out wide, gritting His teeth at the harmonic clamor*

*picks out an odd set of anomalies in the Music* *narrows His eyes and focuses*

. . . SONOFABITCH. >:|

*immediately summons a flock of corrupted spirits of Air to Himself* Right, you lot. Isil. Get there. Make screaming nuisances of yourselves. I've a smaller fish to fry. Go.

*Manifests up to Isil with Amillo, Nornore, Eonwe and various other heavies.*

*Looks around for a quiet spot to start working when she sees Uolë...with a sword?*

*Approaches*

Are you all right?

*prior to the next stage in the re-Nienorification of Niënor, summons the interested parties to Ilmarin, whether they are physically present or not*

*addresses the gathered assembly and the more distant celestial bodies* The plan is as follows. Sir, Lord Ulmo, I require cloud cover and plenty of it. Arien, I need you to pile on the heat during the day so that a thunderstorm will not be unexpected. When night falls, my Lady Mother and my sister, together with Ardamírë and Ingil are going to provide the brightest starlight they can. I want glare and I want sound and I want a wall of Music between the ground and Isil. I want the brightest and loudest thunderstorm these skies have seen. I want the enemy to have to shield his eyes and cover his ears.

*has not heard from Arien since their last conversation which ended on such a defiant note*

*can't help worrying that she might be Up To Something* :/ :(

*finally prods her*

Arien?