Posts by Lone Feanorian

[align=center][size=9pt][font=andale mono]"Absolutely!" he replied, managing a smile for her sake. "If nothing else, come and find me at lunch; if I'm not in the cafeteria, I'll probably be in the library." Sometimes, if he finished his lunch quickly, he went in there for a while. Even if he couldn't read most of the books (almost all of them, really) he liked the atmosphere of the place. It seemed calm, almost, one of the few peaceful islands in the chaos that his life had a tendency to be. Without waiting for a reply, Dante entered the classroom, making his way to his usual spot, setting everything up as it usually was, trying to start the day off like just another Monday, just the beginning of another week. Perhaps if he could maintain as much normality as possible, the rest of his life would fall in line.

The redhead smiled. "There is nothing to forgive; to be quite honest with you, I had rather wanted to stay together as well." It wasn't really for the same reasons, but that didn't entirely matter. Maenion, for his part, simply wanted the company. He had been on his own for years now - there were some, once in a while, who traveled with him from place to place, but they rarely stayed for long. Usually they were a companion for one journey, or two, or maybe three, and then they were gone, and it could be years until the next appeared. For a long while, he had tried to separate himself from them, to remain distant and neutral - after all, if they were just going to leave him, why bother? Why try to create a friendship when it would just end up severed? Besides which, hardly any of them ever knew his identity. Still...well, it was lonely, being on his own all the time, and after a while he had decided to make the most of each traveling partner while they were with him. If he could form a friendship, even a fleeting one, so much the better. It would be a spark of life and conversation to help carry him through some of the lonelier times. And this particular relationship was rather different than those before. She knew who he was, after all, and that made a difference. So however long this lasted, he wanted to take every moment of it.

I'm going to wait for Moonraven's opinion first, I think; it's her thread.

"But we can still die in the West," he replied. "I- I mean, if we don't know what happens to us at the end, what if that's when we die? Or what if instead of dying, we're simply...unmade? Just cease to exist?" The young elf took a deep breath, brushing his hair back from his face. "But I think, for you, it won't be black," he added thoughtfully. "It's Illuvatar's plan, after all, and from what I know of him, he wouldn't have something like that happen, because that sounds terrible, and he doesn't do terrible things." Duilin shrugged. "But what do I know? To be honest, I'm just speculating."

[align=center][size=9pt][font=andale mono]Alisdair glanced over at the captain, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked, not quite seeing what it was she was trying to say. "About the wheel and my hands, I mean. And asking where I'm going, because I already did tell you that I really don't know, and that I'm only heading toward the trees because where I've been told to go." He seemed a little more on edge than he had been when it was just himself and Peter; although the captain had treated him well thus far, it still felt as though she were testing him, just a little.

All of these sound like fun right now, to be completely honest. I'm always up for more fantasy, of course. But I haven't had a good sci-fi or steampunk thread in a while...

Have you had any plots/characters on your mind recently? Sometimes that can help in figuring out a genre.

Although he tried to stifle it initially, as she kept talking Maenion began first to chuckle and then to laugh. "My friend," he managed at last, adopting the form of address that she had used for him in the past, "please do not apologize. You are young—some of this is to be expected, even celebrated. If I may be quite honest with you, it does my heart good to see your enthusiasm; it reminds me of happier times." For a few moments he paused, then glanced up at her with a bright grin. "And you are not the only one who enjoys a sticky bun for breakfast." He started for the door, lingered in the doorway just long enough to say, "I'll race you to the bakery!" and then was gone.

Ooh, fascinating. On my part...let's see.
There's Kai—he's a nomadic half-dragon in a fantasy world that has mixed (mostly negative) feelings toward dragons. (He'd originally been part of a fantasy rp I was doing with someone else, for which I'd developed a decent amount of dragon lore; my rp-ing partner then disappeared. ) If we ended up going a fantasy route, I might try to do something with him again.

To be honest, I don't often re-use characters. For the most part, I try to create a character depending on the world being used; if you want to pick a character you'd like to use or a setting you'd like, I'd be more than happy to come up with someone!

Maenion caught a glimpse of her as he was leaving the inn, and watched as she darted off into the crowd. Had she gone out the window? Bold. Not one to give up—even if she was ahead of him now—he dashed onward, trying to stick to alleys and side streets as much as possible. There seemed to be less of a crowd there; perhaps that would give him an advantage. As he neared the bakery, he caught sight of her again, approaching from a different angle. Maenion put on a burst of speed, hoping it would be enough to get to the bakery first.

(Nah, there's not really much you need to know ahead of time. I've got a couple plot ideas, but they're not completely developed yet; I tend to refine them further as the thread progresses.)

It could be fun to incorporate some dragons! If we went the Kai route, he's not necessarily on the best of terms with that side of his family; still, there's definitely enough room to add them in.

(And oh, gosh, Eragon. I read the whole series and disliked each one progressively more as the faults became more and more obvious. Still, it was fun at the time. ;) )

Do we want to try a fantasy route, then?

[align=center][size=9pt][font=andale mono]Aerendyl had come to the conclusion that helping people was not entirely necessary. After all, he had helped save that girl from the river, and for what? By the time he had returned from gathering his things, she was already gone. There were tracks in the area, but he did not follow them; the distant sounds of pursuit had echoed in his keen ears. Someone was being followed - although he wasn't sure that the pursuit was really going all that well - and if he wanted to return safely to his homeland, it would be best if he was not caught up in such things. If he was swept into whatever this was, it could be discovered that he was not human; this might not be taken kindly, he might have to reveal his place in the Elven hierarchy, and at that point the whole thing would be such a mess that he would probably just have to return home in disgrace and hope that his parents didn't think too poorly of him for messing up so completely. No, it was better if he stayed out of whatever this was.

So he had crossed the river once again and continued on his way, moving onward through the night. Night travel came easily to him; his natural affinity for the shadows made the darkened forest a truly excellent place to be. For a few moments, he had been almost sad that there was no one following him and no companions with him. It would have been such fun to walk with someone he trusted, to let them see the way he moved through shadow. The darkness seemed almost tangible when it was near him, the shadows seeming almost thick enough to tangle in his hair. But there had been no one but himself, and so he had moved through the forest in silence until he reached the outskirts of a town.

The town was slumbering; there would be few people still awake, and none of them would have what he needed. Aerendyl retreated into the forest, going just far enough that he would be too deep for most people to find or notice, and then stopped. The first light of dawn was beginning to show in the sky, and he was exhausted from his travels. The elf climbed a tree and shrouded himself in shadow. While elsewhere, the princess was awakening and starting on her way, he fell asleep.

Alrighty then! Fantasy it is! Do we want to plan out some of the world-building things ahead of time, or just figure out a starting point and jump into it?

"Or perhaps I simply took a quicker route," he remarked mildly, although he did remember that he had also been faster the previous day when they were running into Bree. He supposed that it made some amount of sense; he did, after all, have many years of experience behind him. Travel had taken up a large portion of his time - and when he travelled alone, he ran. If he had companions, it depended on who they were and how they preferred to travel. But companions never lasted, and most of his journeys had been made alone. Why continue in this way, running back and forth across the land? It was not always safe to stay long in one place; while many remembered that the First Age was long past, there was still enough animosity toward his family that having his identity revealed was dangerous. Besides this...well, he would not admit it to anyone, rarely even to himself, but through the ages he had carried with him a hope. His brother wandered by the sea, the stories said, singing his laments. Did he still live? If he searched long and hard enough, would he finally see at least one part of his family again?

Shaking himself loose from his thoughts, Maenion opened the door and offered a faint smile. "I would be happy to indulge," was the soft reply. "I do not often allow myself to do so."

I suppose so. What would we like to start with in regards to that? (I have some dragon-lore from my previous thread with Kai that I borrowed/made, but that doesn't necessarily come into play for a while.)

Lysander rubbed his fingertips against his temples, glancing up from the floor. "Look, I know I probably don't have anything to say that you want to hear, but it seems to me that more important than gaining their trust is finding out the extent of their abilities. For example—do they have any powers? Do they employ people who do? How tight is the security in this place? If we have to gain their trust to do that, then fine. But we can probably find out some things just by observation."

[align=center][size=9pt][font=andale mono]Beyond the music, he could hear the sound of a bicycle approaching slowly. The young man continued playing. Why should he care? If he was busy, if his hands were moving, he was safe; if he was still, it would be too easy to try and talk to him. This likely wouldn't be a problem - with any luck, the cyclist would be going somewhere else. Not many people crossed the bridge at this time of night, or so it often seemed to him. There were usually a few cars here and there, moving past in a blur of light and sound, but between them lay long periods of silence that he could fill with music. He stared directly ahead and continued to play, unwilling to let thoughts take root in his mind. It would be all too simple to let his imagination take control, coming up with horrible scenarios.

And perhaps all would have been well if the cyclist had just continued forward, or had turned before the bridge. From what he could see, though, it was doubly bad. They were coming onto the bridge, and they had not only slowed but done so enough that they were simply walking forward now, pulling their bike along. He willed himself to keep playing, but the song was inexorably reaching its conclusion; in a few seconds, it would be done, and there would have to be at least a few moments of silence before he could begin another. Nikolai was terribly, irrationally terrified of those few seconds. After all, with a stranger approaching, anything could happen. In theory, it shouldn't, because he didn't appear to have anything worth stopping for - he wore jeans, a t-shirt, a tattered jacket, and carried nothing but the violin - but one never knew what would cause someone to pause for a few moments.

Almost against his will, the song reached its final few notes. He drew them out as much as he could, lingered on them as they faded away to nothing. But he could not stretch them forever. He couldn't allow himself to, really - it would have gone against his sense of musical integrity. But although he would really rather have launched himself into another song, none would come to him. This wasn't a crowd, after all. The bridge was empty except himself and the approaching stranger, and he was unable to wrench his thoughts back to the music, back to something else he could play. So he stayed still, gazing at the newcomer with wide blue eyes and hoping that this person - whoever they were - would simply pass him by.

Without a word, Jay made the beds, before picking one and curling up under a blanket. He wanted to cry. It was silly, maybe, but being back in the apartment, having a kitchen and rooms and beds again reminded him so strongly of how it had been before, back when their parents were still around, that it very nearly overwhelmed him. The young man was able to keep back the tears, but he stayed still for a long time, trying to block out his thoughts.

[align=center][size=9pt][font=andale mono]As the stranger approached, they seemed to stare, longer and longer until Nikolai was entirely uncomfortable with it. He looked down at his worn shoes, letting his hair fall back into his face and hide him a little. While he was doing this, though, the stranger spoke, and he forced himself to look back up at her. It would be rude, after all, to not make eye contact with someone when they were speaking to him. The words were slightly unusual; more often than not, when he was playing for money, people did not stop long enough to compliment him. It was easier for them to simply through a little cash in the case and move on. To interact with him, to speak with him...he suspected that it humanized him more than some were comfortable with. But this girl, this stranger, had spoke to him, and he supposed that an answer would not harm him too much. So far, she did not seem dangerous - although one could never tell.

"Thank you," he murmured, the words marked by a faint accent. "It isn't my standard music for others...I mostly play it for myself." While the public in general seemed to like a sad song once in a while, he had noticed that he tended to make a little more money on those days when he made himself play happier fare, music which was faster and brighter and a little less reflective of himself. It made sense, he knew; he was hardly in an enviable state. He tried to clean up a little when he could, but it was hard to get so much as a shower sometimes. The clothes he wore hung on his frame; while he was not obviously starving, it was clear that he hadn't had quite enough to eat in a long time.

The stranger had looked away, and he did as well, dropping his gaze again. His hair brushed against his chin, and he did not smooth it back. He held the violin a little more tightly, trying to conceal the way his hands were shaking. They shouldn't have been, really - logic told him that even if this girl harbored bad intentions, he was unlikely to get seriously hurt unless she had a weapon with her. Still, being alone with someone else was more than a little frightening, at least for him. It was a public place, but there was no one around to see if something went wrong - and even if someone was there to see, there was no guarantee that they would care. He bit his lip hard, trying to distract himself from his wayward thoughts. With any luck, the girl's curiosity would be satisfied and she would leave him alone.

[align=center][size=9pt][font=andale mono]This wasn't happening. She wasn't really—was she? What would make someone do such a thing, alone on a bridge at night? But she had stopped, had really and definitely halted and seemed intent on staying a while. Nikolai took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves, listening to her speak. She's just a girl on a bicycle, he reminded himself. There's nothing to be scared of. She's perfectly normal with normal intentions. Nothing to fear. Nothing to fear. Nothing— She wanted another song? Was she crazy? Normally, Nikolai would not have done such a thing, not unless she was paying him. After all, it was one thing to play for only himself, and it was quite another to play for someone else. Still...well, this night wasn't turning out to be normal at all. Perhaps he could make one concession. The young man nodded lifted the violin to his shoulder.

The first notes disgusted him. Where was his technique, his tone? He sounded shaky and terrified, like a young child performing for an audience for the first time. Nikolai stopped. "Excuse me," he murmured. "One moment, please." And he closed his eyes. Behind his lids, the world fell away. He was not on a bridge with a stranger, huddled in the cold yellow glow of the streetlamp. In his mind's eye, he stood alone in a cathedral, every footstep echoing, the acoustics just right to magnify each sound and send it flying through the empty building. And the door was locked. He was secure in the knowledge of his solitude. It was a gift, to make himself forget his situation.

Eyes still closed, he rose to his feet, and for a moment seemed almost elegant. He tucked the violin beneath his chin, took a deep breath, began to play. The first note shook. The cathedral, he reminded himself. I am safe. The second note was steady, and the third and the fourth, and then he was gone, swept away into the music yet perfectly aware of the way his fingers fell, of how the bow moved over the strings. He wove a melody, haunting and tragic, rising up in anger and pain, and falling, falling back into despair, darkness. His eyes remained tightly shut. He played on, until at last the piece tapered to a close, the last notes lingering for a moment before they, too, faded into the night. Nikolai remained perfectly still, not daring to say a word.