towerofanimus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: Legolas (

bow_of_the_galadhrim), OPEN
Setting: Floor 32, any time in December
Format: Starting in prose, will switch it up
Summary: Legolas is hunting and gathering for the month and saving pelts to keep himself and others warm
Warnings: Hunting, possible shenanigans

As an elf, Legolas was quite resilient to the dropping temperatures in the tower. He knew there was a chill, knew that people were suffering, and he was careful that each time he killed anything now, while he was hunting, was killed as cleanly as possibly to save any pelts to make into blankets or anything else people might need. Already he had felled a deer and a couple pheasants. The meat would feed a few people for a few days at least. Maybe more if it was all properly managed.

The elf also had a leather bag nearby, he'd crafted it a couple months before, filled with berries and other edible plants. Some things wouldn't be tasty (a lot of things really) but they were edible and would prevent starvation. Especially since most people in the tower abhorred the nutribars. He didn't blame them.

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Legolas, unsurprisingly, is completely horrified as she allowed the flames to to burst to life and stepped into it willingly. For a moment, the elf is completely frozen in place but he returns to life completely as she speaks once more. As though they cause her no harm.

"No, I daresay I'm quite alright with taking care of this but..."

How does one say this without seeming rude? A prince of the Woodland Realm should behave as best as possible in situations like this but considering the overall situation of the tower, he simply wasn't as clearheaded as he usually would be.

"By the Valar, how is it you aren't being burnt to death?"

"If you're sure..."

It takes Chidori a moment to realize why he'd gone so still, but when she does, she's glad that the flames are disguising the color that rises on her face. She smooths her hands nervously over her skirts, coughing lightly into her hand.

"Oh- apologies. I shouldn't have been so abrupt..." She forgets, sometimes, that Medea's particular ability is a little odd to most. "It is an ability I have. I can convert fire to energy for myself, and to help myself recuperate a bit as well- although technically it is more Medea's ability than mine..."

"I-I see."

No, he didn't. He couldn't entirely understand how it was possible to stand among fire and not be burned, killed. Even Gandalf's fingers burned whenever she conjured fire for his pipe. If she was impervious however, he had no place in questioning how it worked. He'd have to only accept that it did.

"Who is Medea?"

Chidor has to stop herself from letting her mouth quirk a little at his confusion. She likes Legolas- more or less- so she hardly wants to insult him by making it obvious that she realizes that no, he doesn't really understand. But he's asked the right question, so she at least is able to make it a bit simpler for him.

"Medea is my Persona- an entity born of my subconscious that I can summon to do my bidding. I utilize her as a weapon, mostly- though sometimes she can be a bit... difficult to control." And that is the understatement of the century right there. "But Medea's abilities allow me to do things like this, as well as things like healing others or using fire as a weapon."

"I've heard of similar concepts but never seen anything of the like." A pause and he shakes his head. "No, that is a lie. I've seen an army of the dead fight for the king but it is nothing alike what you're saying Medea is."

He was more curious now, of course. And he had a few questions that now almost demanded an answer to though he had no wish to be too nosy.

"Is she meant to be controlled?

"She is- or rather, she would be, had she occurred to me naturally."

But she presses her lips together at that, and shakes her head a little, crossing her arms slightly.

"But I do my best to manage."

She cants her head at him curiously, raising her eyebrows slightly in her own curiosity.

"Though I must admit, I am curious- an army of the dead, you said?"

"Can you not coexist with her then? Medea is still with you so there must be a way to make it easier."

He wished, desperately, that he could help but he was one elf with only the gifts of his race. This was beyond his ken, unfortunately.

"Indeed. Men who were cursed for betraying their king and could find no rest until their oath upheld. They had to assist to be freed."

"I am... trying. There is someone I mean to question about it soon enough, but until then... I'm afraid I will have to continue dealing with her as I normally do."

She'd be touched by his concern if she realized the depth of it- Chidori's still not used to people outside of her small 'family' caring about what happens to- or is wrong with- her. It's a pleasant surprise, sometimes. She quirked her mouth a little at his answer- ah yes, she'd been remembering correctly then.

"What was that like?"

A book is all well and good, but a firsthand account is even better.

"I hope that they can help you. It seems a terrible thing to live with."

Well, that question was unexpected. While he recalled the Paths of the Dead with great clarity, he could imagine few who would truly find interest in hearing of such a tale. He did not fear the dead but he knew that he was but one

"It was not pleasant, entering the Paths of the Dead where the souls of oathbreakers were bound, where even a dwarf almost dared not tread. The Dead followed us and it seemed only elven eyes could see for the darkness and unnatural chill that enveloped us. It seemed as days that we traveled when but one had passed. I do not fear the Dead but I did fear for what might become of my companions as we traveled that road."

"It is not as bad as it seems."

Both true and untrue- honestly, without Medea, Chidori is relatively sure she wouldn't have lived as long as she already has- but if it weren't for the persona's forced existence, she might have lived longer to begin with.

She listens raptly to his story, however, eyes brighter than usual within the flickering flames.

"Was it frightening, where you had to go to find them?"

He'll worry a bit, all the same. Legolas can't seem to help himself, he worries over quite a few people in the tower. And would worry for everyone if he knew them all or if they weren't as dark as Sauron. ~~Like Ganon.~~

He does find it curious though, how interested she is in this particular tale out of all the things they'd gone through to end the War of the Ring.

"Oh yes, I'll admit to that."

"A wise thing to be able to do."

Considering she's never willing to admit when she's afraid, it says a lot about her estimation of herself.

As far as why she's interested... well. She likes a good redemption arc, especially when she considers herself beyond it- besides, the dead are a lot more interesting than the living, sometimes.

"What was it like?"

Something Legolas would heavily disagree with, depending on the situation. The Dead they had taken the path to find had been cursed, betrayers while others, those who weren't cursed and could continue on after death, went on to the Halls of Mandos. The Halls of Waiting.

"There was a damp chill in the air and it was dark, so much so that it seemed to absorb what light our torches provided, though it only seemed so. And there was a constant sense of haste, we weren't wanted there but we had to go."

Chidori nods idly, listening carefully still. Despite that, part of her mind is preoccupied, trying to imagine the whole thing in her mind- it's one of the downsides of being an artist- sometimes she wants to put everything into images. It makes it more solid.

"You tell stories quite well."

Despite the subject, the story, he couldn't help but laugh softly at her compliment and give a half bow with his hand to his chest. There was even a bit of color to his ears though it was faint.

"You flatter me. My people have a gift for stories, song, poems. The arts. It seems that I am no exception."

"So it does," Chidori agreed as she took a careful step out of her self-made pyre, the flames dying down as soon as she did as Medea siphoned the last of the energy from it.

"I would like to hear more of them, if you would be so inclined. A little inspiration would be nice in a place like this."

"I would be glad to tell any tales you might wish to hear. And I'm sure that I could convince Lady Idrial and Haldir to tell some of their own as well, if you'd like."

He could easily convince Haldir, actually.

"That would be interesting, certainly. Are you sure it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

She'd be more than pleased to hear from any of them really, but she doesn't want to be a bother.

"Not at all! I'm sure that they've more tales to tell than I. And I see Haldir often enough that I can ask him before sending him your way, if you'd like."

As a march warden, he had to have more stories to tell than a prince who'd really only gone an adventure during the War.

She nods a little, already considering whether she should use pencils or charcoals to illustrate.

"Then I would indeed like that, thank you. Is there anything in particular you think I should ask them about?"

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