towerofanimus | (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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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?"