abraxaslogs | ( open ) there will come a poet, whose weapon is his word

Entry tags:

( open ) there will come a poet, whose weapon is his word

WHO: Elrond + Anyone
WHAT: Catch all, open prompts for the month
WHEN: December
WHERE: Thorne + Horizon
WARNING: nothing yet

( starters in the comments. for anything specific, please hit me up @

timmtams / pm this journal )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The Horizon is a fascinating place, crafted and shaped freely by the will of the Summoned — sometimes unknowingly, from what he has been told. His own experience in this plane is middling at best, but he has spent time exploring when he can spare it, wandering away from his own domain and into the far reaches of others.

Here, there is nature couching him at all sides, peaceable and golden — with the exception of a familiar face stationed in a tree, scribbling away. Struggling with words.

He approaches, hands behind his back.]

“Belief”, maybe?

[Hello again.]

[ elrond pauses with his quill. the writing on his parchment would see strange to henry, the lettering appearing as a bunch of curves and dots. ]

Belief and feeling feel too vague still.

[His smile tilts in faint amusement. He does notice the handwriting, elegant as it is, but certainly can't hope to understand any of it.]

Well, what are you trying to say?

A plea for peace. Or at the very least, a de-escalation to armed warfare.

[ bold, but you have to start somewhere. written appeals can at least start a discussion. ]

[Bold, indeed. Especially given this man’s newness — one that he shares with Henry, if he recalls correctly, given that they arrived around the same time, only planted in different parts of the world, divided up by territory lines and brewing tensions.]

Do you think the leaders of your territory are given to listening to new arrivals? That's ambitious of you, and so soon.

[He says it with a quirking brow and a lilting tone. There is no real judgement couched within—or at least none that Henry allows himself to enunciate—but rather, a true curiosity. What is the leadership like in Thorne?]

[ elrond chuckles softly. it sounds like the ringing of bells in the early morning. ]

Oh, it is unlikely they'll listen. But if I am persistent and well spoken, at least they may give my thoughts a pause until the ground is fertile.

That’s very optimistic of you.

[Henry’s smile is well-kept, faint, and seemingly constant.]

Well, I’m sure you’ll find a satisfying way to word your letter with enough time. This place seems like a good environment for focusing.

[It is wildly, wildly fantastical to Henry, despite his rather mild disposition.]

[ elrond flashes him a smile. ]

Yes, I'm quite fond of this place.

How do you find it so far?

It's beautiful to look at.

[At least that is... objectively true. No matter how one looks at it.]

What's its significance? If you don't mind me asking.

It is the realm of the Elves on Middle-Earth. We all congregate there, under the leadership of the High King Gil-Galad. There are no others like it.

[A "realm". The verbiage itself is suited for the environment, but Henry wheedles for more.]

But this tree specifically? Is this a new creation, or is it reminiscent of what exists in your "elven realm", too?