(no subject)

[boogerman]

Who: Pitch Black, anyone.
What: Pitch, returning to his 'lair', after he's liberated some books from the library.
When: D488, twilight
Where: Odin towards Hel District
Rating: PG, will update if needed.

[Pitch, having only gotten more paranoid in the last few weeks, chooses his 'errand runs' wisely. Always after dark, always armed with his favorite sword and who-knows-what hidden on his person, and always with a nasty look. Approach and be snapped at.]

[The mission for today: some books from the Odin library to pass the time, and he's stalking his way back to his room. So far so good.]

Comments

[boogerman]

He's walking out the door just as Maglor approaches, with his spoils for the next week or so. It seems as if he's been arming himself more every time they meet--now he has a bow on him. He makes enemies everywhere.

[bythewaves]

"Pitch!" The voice is familiar, and unlike many here, not aggressive. Maglor knows now, who Pitch Black is. He knows that Alice hates him - and yet, Pitch has been nothing but cordial (and Maglor cannot help but remember him lost and confused, unable to remember anything). He does not trust Pitch - but he does not hate him, either.

"Wait a moment!"

[boogerman]

"Well." It's the horse lover again, armed with a name. "You know who I am now. So, what do you want?"

He's showing no concern. If it comes to a fight, it won't be a swordfight, and Pitch won't be the loser.

[bythewaves]

"Alice was... quite clear." Wry and amused. He loves her, his lovely little butterfly, but Maglor does not fear Pitch, nor have over cause to hate him yet, beyond that he has hurt her (which is reason enough, in fairness, but he has yet to do so again, and Maglor can wait).

"There was one here who knew you well - Mother Nature, she named herself." He holds out a small parcel. "She left you this."

[boogerman]

"Why am I not surprised? She's always been useless when it matters."

He shrugs, accepting the package and slitting it with a long nail...

What.

The locket. His locket.

What?

[bythewaves]

"We none of us can help when we come or when we go."

Maglor observes mildly and surrenders the package without fight.

"She brought it to me with the chain broken. Asked if I could fix it." Which he has, the new links glinting bright amidst the old (he does not think there is any power to be gained such in this world, but for her, because it seemed important, in tiny letters he etched elvish runes for protection on them)

"She also left a note."

[boogerman]

"She stole it from me. It's mine." He's already descended to hissing his words, furious... and noticing every little detail on his only real possession.

"And you've carved on it! Was that her idea too?"

[bythewaves]

"She found it" He corrects mildly, utterly unphased. "It was already broken when she did... and she recognised it, she said. She wanted it repaired."

One hand reaches out, to trace the brilliant silver of the new links.

"Varna" he reads, and even without the power that is his birthright, the word hums, a warm, bright sensation. "Protect and Safeguard."

"No, the inscription is mine."

[boogerman]

"What gave you the right? It wasn't yours to vandalize! It was never hers to begin with, she stole it from my room!"

He's only getting more and more worked up...

[bythewaves]

"She wanted it to be as unbreakable as possible." Utterly unphased. "And... she wished for the safety of the person to whom it belonged. I do not have my father's power, let alone my brother or my nephew, and I do not know how effective such things are here, in any case, but I did my best to see her wish fulfilled. If my skills have any say, that chain will not erode nor break, unless you or her wish it broken. It will not turn aside a knife, nor can it save your life, but it will be a light in your darkest times."

[boogerman]

It's not Maglor Pitch is upset with. All his intensity has to go somewhere, though.

"No one asked her to do that! Why would she?"

And he hasn't even read the letter yet.

[bythewaves]

Calm as a glacial lake, Maglor only lifts an eyebrow.

"That I do not know - she was my friend, but she did not confide that detail with me. But..." He offers the note. "Perhaps she spoke of it in here."

LOL HTML :|

[boogerman]

He takes the note more like someone afraid of what it might say, than someone as furious as he seems. And once he reads it... just a few more words.

"We are not talking about this."

/pets

[bythewaves]

The eyebrow stays up and is joined by its companion, but Maglor only tips his head in acknowledgement.

"As you wish it."

And he wonders - for that is not the attitude of one who lost a hated enemy... but one who has lost something (someone) precious.

[boogerman]

There must be pockets inside his clothing, because the note vanishes into the dark depths.

"In fact, you aren't saying one word about me to anyone. Understand?"

[bythewaves]

The eyebrow is never coming down and perhaps there is a glimmer of amusement, deep in grey eyes, but his voice stays perfectly calm.

"As you say."