It feels like Thedas spends more time in war than not. There's always one part of it that's fighting against another part. [ Through Tevinter fighting the Qunari, or Fereldan fighting Orlais--or mages fighting Templars. ] Does Middle Earth have more peace?
[ At the question of his age, she hesitates, almost spinning around to look at him, as though that would give her any indication of the exact number. But she stays still, frowning up at the ceiling in thought. She knew he was immortal, like the Elvhen of old, but the scale of just how old the elves could be was simply out of her scope. How could someone who only had a handful of decades grasp living over thousands upon thousands of years?
She would have guessed--maybe 500? That seemed impossibly old, but the way he'd spoken of Luthien being 800...She clicked her tongue in thought, then hesitantly offered: ]
Maybe...A thousand? That'd be...before we even started using ages to keep track of the years.
[ Distant, impossible ages were all but forgotten in light of a much more relevant topic: herself. And people. And people interacting with her. This time, she does end up pulling away from Thranduil so she can stare at him, face a mixture of embarrassment and alarm. ]
I--? Um. Well--If you think so. I'd be honored--? If I met them. But. I mean, it'll be fine. The next arlathvhen...I'm not sure, but the Keeper said that with everything that's been going on, they're talking about moving it forward. There's a lot to discuss. A fl--city elf wouldn't be terrible, if they'd be willing to come to the clan. But surely they would want to escape the alienage?
But this is all assuming the Keeper doesn't find someone first. So if all else fails, there's always that option.
[ She sounds much less dismal about it than Cyril did. It's not like her mother would ever force her to bond to someone. And she always seemed to know what was best for Beleth, moreso than she did herself. ]
no subject
[ At the question of his age, she hesitates, almost spinning around to look at him, as though that would give her any indication of the exact number. But she stays still, frowning up at the ceiling in thought. She knew he was immortal, like the Elvhen of old, but the scale of just how old the elves could be was simply out of her scope. How could someone who only had a handful of decades grasp living over thousands upon thousands of years?
She would have guessed--maybe 500? That seemed impossibly old, but the way he'd spoken of Luthien being 800...She clicked her tongue in thought, then hesitantly offered: ]
Maybe...A thousand? That'd be...before we even started using ages to keep track of the years.
[ Distant, impossible ages were all but forgotten in light of a much more relevant topic: herself. And people. And people interacting with her. This time, she does end up pulling away from Thranduil so she can stare at him, face a mixture of embarrassment and alarm. ]
I--? Um. Well--If you think so. I'd be honored--? If I met them. But. I mean, it'll be fine. The next arlathvhen...I'm not sure, but the Keeper said that with everything that's been going on, they're talking about moving it forward. There's a lot to discuss. A fl--city elf wouldn't be terrible, if they'd be willing to come to the clan. But surely they would want to escape the alienage?
But this is all assuming the Keeper doesn't find someone first. So if all else fails, there's always that option.
[ She sounds much less dismal about it than Cyril did. It's not like her mother would ever force her to bond to someone. And she always seemed to know what was best for Beleth, moreso than she did herself. ]