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*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.

*finishes his shift and immediately crashes (into bed, that is), with the intention of getting up early and going to the market to shop for his dinner-date*

*reaches out to silence the alarm when it goes off (all too soon) and rolls over onto his back, vaguely registering that there's something Not Quite Right about the room after a minute or so as his eyes focus* (so dark)

*puzzles a few more moments before throwing off the blankets and crossing to the porthole to draw the curtain back to reveal a Sun-less sky*

. . .

What the--? Oversleep? *checks his alarm--apparently not...?*

. . .

ARIEN?

*and lo, Isil returned to traverse the night skies*

*albeit with a decidedly healthy but fairly off-balance steersman*

*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*

*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?

*has been ever so slightly out of sorts since his discussion with Tilion* *for example, has found himself heading out to dust the Rose on two separate occasions--on days that were not Tuesday* :s

*spends most of his time tidying and organizing and re-organizing and dusting and generally buttoning-up the minaret in preparation*

*really doesn't know what else to do with himself*

...

*eventually digs out the long, bright sword he keeps stashed in the closet for sentimental reasons* *sits on the observation deck and looks at it for a while, rubbing at imaginary smudges with his sleeves*

*siiiigh* :/

*sends a telepathic message to his Quendë Uolë, politely requesting his presence to discuss a matter of mutual concern*

*hasn't seen Tilion since the Festival*

*has been curious to know, in his typical unobtrusively nosy fashion, how their date-that-wasn't-truly-a-date yeah right went*

*finishes hanging his sweaters and socks up to dry, then collects tea and fixings and heads out to visit his host Maia* :)

*feels a little twitchy after the main competition*

*once the various awards for solo singing, choral singing, under-eight singing and poetry have been distributed, bounds out onto the stage*

*clears her throat* I know that music is serious business and, like, so is Music but, whaddaya say to a little fun?

*launches into song*

*is a little bit nervous* *actually, is really very nervous indeed*

*makes his slow way to the beer tent after the competition (which got off to an interesting start) and looks for a nice quiet corner in which to hide rest*

*Escapes from the madness that is La Famille Ilmarin's after-dinner party.*

*Tries not to think about the outcome of the meeting, because the more she thinks about it, the more she realises that she's in hotter water than a japanese teabag.*

*Decides to rummage through some of her old compositions to take her mind off things.*

*Starts pulling out possibilities for performance at the festival.*

*Comes across one that might do.*

*Fetches her flute, tucks it under her arm and demanifests up to the moon.*

*Knocks on the front door of Uolë's tower.*

*is making himself useful about the minaret, watering the little potted flowers and suchlike*

*decides to prune the roses while he's at it, and so heads down to the greenhouse*

*pushes his sweater sleeves up and gets to work* :)

ETA: *returns to Isil and waits until Anar is fully risen*

*heads out to see Tilion with Arien's gift in hand, as promised*

*knocks quietly at the door*

*spends his night off in town, catching up on news and doing a bit of shopping*

*returns to the Moonship well before dawn, intending to re-stock his cupboards first thing*

*wonders whether Tilion might be up for a game of chess after that* :)

*is a bit concerned*

*spotted a strange burst of fire just off the port bow before the evening liftoff*

*and hasn't heard a whisper from Tilion about it* :?

...

*decides his host Maia might enjoy a warm cordial*

*it's Sunday on the Moon!*

*decides it is a day for tea and company* :)

*rustles up a thermos of hot water, tea leaves, lemon slices, and a pair of cups*

*thus armed, dons his coat and scarf and takes himself out to visit Tilion*