rowancrowned: (070)
thranduil oropherion ([personal profile] rowancrowned) wrote2015-03-22 06:02 pm
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[personal profile] arcaneadvisor 2018-08-16 10:15 pm (UTC)(link)
A few hundred years. [Not so bitter as it might be, the disbelieving scoff instead. Thranduil is something other but the person she invites in her home, around her son, who loves and is loved by Gwenaëlle, someone she's complained over work with, has joked with more easily than some she's known ten years and has had to learn how to be around. And then he says these things. Tips his head. Holds himself in a way that reminds her-- As if a star has angled wrong somehow.] The mages in the Circles learn nothing of history; the elves and their fate was there, what happens when another is handed the leash and yet look what became of them. Then in Skyhold they made their little circle and called it a council, as if that made any difference. They might paint this much the same way.

[Coming from her mouth. One or two at least do not like her and they are very loud in their opinions. Often, she wouldn't care but this? When she is right, then she does.]

They-- they are not her daughters. There was a thing that needed to be done. [Her hand is upon the grimoire, curled tightly (in this light it grips as an old woman's might when age decides when to seize the joints, an absent nod of yes) to keep herself from looking.] To strip the will from-- from me. Not them. Perhaps in knowing she will need to find one of these sisters if they might be found.