OPEN RP POST

[elfoflight]

Pretty straight forward. You have an idea you want to play out with Finarfin, throw up a starter or plotting comment and we'll go from there. Haven't threaded with me before but want to try something different than how you found this journal? That's fine too! I'm always open to new RP partners. If you have questions, feel free to shoot me a PM if you're more comfortable that way.

Comments

[bythewaves]

"Not." Petulant in his sleepiness. "Home is with Aunt Earwen. With Galadriel. With the cousins."

Softer. "Not with me"

He sleeps, but not even the comfort of Arafinwe's presence can ease the nightmares, not for long, and he wakes with a stifled scream, the noise of one who cannot, must not make a sound but who has to anyway. He wakes with his brother's name on his lips.

"Nyelo!"

[elfoflight]

Such simple words, but they cut deep into his heart. France bit hard at his lip to keep the sob back as he curled protectively around the emotionally wounded elf. Unable to sleep at that point even if he'd wanted to. He found himself remembering his family, replaying memories.

Until Maglor's nightmares woke the elf, and bought his focus back to the present with a hint of a sigh as he cupped Maglor's cheek gently. "Hush. You are safe." No one would touch his nephew while he was around.

[bythewaves]

Half-asleep he turns immediately to the source of warmth and comfort with a soft keen, hands coming up to latch on instinctively, burying his face against a familiar heartbeat.

"Why does everyone always leave me alone?!?"

No prizes for guessing what he was dreaming.

[elfoflight]

France wrapped his arms around him, leaning his head against Maglor's as he hugged him close.

The prize would be lousy anyway :/

He didn't need to guess to know, even without the cry and the ache in that question. Why.

"I will not leave you. Not while I draw breath." And as he would live as long as France lived, that would be quite some time.

[bythewaves]

Maglor keens softly, curling close, not truly awake, but no longer sleeping.

"Everyone goes. Everyone leaves me. Cano is a terrible person."

[elfoflight]

He'd never been able to handle the tears of those he loved. Now was no exception and he could feel his heart ache just that much fiercer.

"Not this time. Not me. We have each done terrible things. Made mistakes. How do you live now? How have you lived for centuries?"

[bythewaves]

Slowly, he settles, pressed up against a familiar heartbeat, a familiar (not familiar) song, and the dissonance is enough to bring him to full wakefullness (which also means he pulls back, almost flinches, when he realises what he's doing)

"Uncle?"

Not Uncle, France. But Arafinwe?

[elfoflight]

He just kept up those reassuring words until Maglor settled, then pulled back. But Maglor seemed better, so France let him, though he kept one arm looped around him. Not tight enought to trap, yet.

"Yes. And no, all at once," it was complicated. But he wouldn't lie, not to this one person who saw him.

[bythewaves]

"Forgive me. I have ruined your bed." Still in Quenya, all unknowing, falling easily back into the language of his childhood.

"You... you are really him? How can this be?"

[elfoflight]

He didn't mind at all. In fact he finally chuckled, and let his arms tighten in a warm hug. "It matters not. Bedding can easily be washed."

Another hug. He'd missed this...

"Yes.

"It..." He stifled a sigh and gave a wry little smile. "It is not a story I remember precisely. More a feel that this was what I was needed to become. So here I am." For memories to not be in a clear pattern to be told by an elf was rarely a good thing. But he didn't show any hint of trepidation, just acceptance.

[bythewaves]

He goes very, very still in the hug (unsure, uncertain) although he does not pull away (there might, eventually, be the slightest lean into it).

"But... you are the Noldoran... it... what about Aunt Earwen? Your family? What about the rest of Tirion?"

The High King can't just up and leave after all. Well. He can. But the last time that happened it didn't end well for anyone.

(The acceptance comes easily - Arafinwe does not lie, and Maglor trusts his uncle, even if he does not know France.)

[elfoflight]

For one he doubted wasn't touched often, certainly not with affection, France felt Maglor did well. And he was patient, and when Maglor eventually leaned just a little into the hug, his heart nearly burst with joy and relief.

France did sigh then, and settled back against the headboard once more, though gently tugged to get Maglor to follow.

"This much I know without doubt. They are well, and led well. Earwen would scold you for doubting her skill, and Artanis...Galadriel would as well."

And that was the only reason he'd left. Knowing and trusting his people would still be taken care of and looked after in his absence.

[bythewaves]

Maglor is slow to follow but shyly, hesitantly, he does, uncertain if he is allowed, in many respects (Osse gave up on asking halfway through their first meeting and resorted to simply hugging him. Maglor always leans into it eventually)

"You belong with them." He grumbles. "You were all supposed to be safe."

[elfoflight]

That was fine. He'd just keep poking and prodding until Maglor caved and gave them what they both craved. France kept his arms loosely around the elf then, just enjoying the contact.

"They are safe." He...didn't bother responding to where he belonged. Centuries ago, milennia ago, he'd have agreed. When he was still so new to nationhood and the memories of his old self were so powerful still when he slept.

[bythewaves]

"But you are not" A low grumble but since he's not being chased away and seems to be wanted he relaxes slowly into the loose hug.

"Nations are not safe. This world is not safe. I am not safe. That was why I stayed."

[elfoflight]

His smile was rather wry, flickers of old bitterness danced on the edges. "No. I am not safe. But I also do not stay dead for long. Not while my people remain. And the French people will endure." The last had his voice firm, allowing no hint of doubt nor giving chance for argument. A fierce love and devotion to his people was clear for any blind man to see. Just because France was no longer as 'strong' as some of his allies didn't mean he was weak.

"Then you will not mind visiting me sometimes." It was partially a question, partially a plea, and partially pure hope. "Not once a decade." France raised a hand again to brush fingertips gently over Maglor's cheek, gaze gentling again. "You have been greatly missed."

[bythewaves]

"Shouldn't have to die at all."

Another grumble but Maglor leans a little into that hand.

"Does Arthur know?" Maglor's relationship with England is complicated - Arthur is his fosterling, but England is his country - somehow, they still manage.

"I suppose I could. But I'm supposed to stay away... I don't... know if it's safe."

[elfoflight]

"Sometimes it can't be helped. But it's never without reason." Line of duty, after all. France cupped Maglor's cheek, affectionately and was just glad his nephew was there with him again.

He sighed. "He probably suspects something, but no. I haven't told him." Stupid caterpillar. "He also hasn't out right asked." And probably never would, because of the nature of their relationship.

The acquiesce earned a delighted smile and he pressed a kiss to Maglor's forehead. "I don't care how safe it is. Besides, I'm not who I was. Things have changed."

[bythewaves]

An irritated huff answers that - Maglor disagrees entirely - as far as he's concerned the rest of the family is supposed to stay alive.

"He'll worry. If I visit you. He gets jealous."

He shrugs, looking away. "And if my Doom still applies? What then?"

[elfoflight]

He let out a sigh and his head dropped back against the headboard. "You want me to tell him. He won't understand and will pester me relentlessly."

Stupid damn caterpillar.

Though he was fond of England, he'd never admit it the way he'd become.

"If it still applies, we will deal with it then."

[bythewaves]

"He is where I laid my heart. Since I can't go back. I don't want to hurt him, Uncle."

"To evil end will all things turn" Maglor murmurs softly. "France is in enough trouble without its personification dealing with a Feanorion."

[elfoflight]

France wrapped both arms back around him and found he couldn't deny him this. Nor was he surprised by it.

"When you return to him, I will go with you. I'll tell him then."

The murmured reminder of those painful words struck him silent again, and his eyes closed. "That...None of that is your fault. I will not let you take blame."

[bythewaves]

"I only just left. He will think something is terribly wrong" A flash of that old wry humor.

"And if it is my fault? It usually is, you know. It's why once Arthur was old enough I seldom lingered in England long."

[elfoflight]

He couldn't help a quiet little chuckle and gave the elf a playful nudge. "There is no hurry to go. But, if it will ease your mind, when I see him next I will speak with him." Whether the idiot wanted to be cornered or not.

France brought a hand back up to tug gently on a lock of dark hair. "Then do not linger long. Just a few days at a time. Enough for a visit. I will content myself with that."

[bythewaves]

He hesitates, even as he leans a little into the tug.

You should not. You know what happens when you get involved. warns Maedhros

I don't think we've ever caused the downfall of a Nation before says Curufin cheerfully

Well we didn't bring England's destruction? offers the Ambarussa

England isn't related to us snaps Caranthir Or did you forget that bit?

By treason of kin wasn't it? murmurs Celegorm.

"I... should not..." But he so clearly wants to.