rowancrowned: (091)
thranduil oropherion ([personal profile] rowancrowned) wrote 2017-10-11 11:39 pm (UTC)

[ hands shaking, he takes the sash and loosely hoods his face. he manages a knot, one-handed, still holding on to a fistful of leaves that scatter against the garden ground once he releases them, broken and wrinkled. ]

Yes, [ he agrees, inhaling through his nose. ] Yes, we will.

[ he puts one foot in front of the other and keeps close to her for practicalities' sake; he will not hurt himself by falling in gwenaelle's garden and further wounding himself. the humiliation of wren needing to catch him is offset by the thought of gwenaelle's face, of getting a scolding, of her seeing this. he is not ready to tell her about the death of his father, or the last alliance.

when they make it to the bench, he steps past wren to get there first, to plant himself down on it and nearly tear off the sash as fast as he is able. he offers it back to her in a ball, and rests his forearms on his knees. leaning forward, his hair curtains his face and offers some protection. ]


I need a moment more, I- [ he hates this, he will do whatever needs to be done so he is not forced through this again. he can taste copper on his tongue. ] Show me how it is concealed.

[ he can muster concentration. ]

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