milliways_bar | (no subject)

When Matilda opens the door to milliways, there's a slight caution in her expression, as though she wasn't sure what to expect. For those who'd care to notice, the door doesn't open to her room, but rather a closet. Still, the door is there and she lets out a relieved sigh when she sees Bar.

Closing the door behind her, she goes off to one of the tables closest by the fire. She's not cold, not by a long shot, but it's comforting and familiar and what she needs at the moment.

"Ms. Bar, could I have some hot chocolate please? And maybe a book I haven't read yet?" She gets the hot chocolate, but instead of a novel, she gets a coloring book with pictures of hidden animals within the pages. "Oh, this looks nice too."

She gets out coloring the pages. Not all of the colors go into each picture, but with a set of twelve crayons it's hard to choose. Either way, it's a fun way to get her mind off of things.

Ask nicely and she may even let you have one of the pages.

ooc: will have to go to bed soon, but wanted to get this out.

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Elrond passes by where she sits - and is captured by the bright colours.
And the clever pictures.

He is dressed in flowing robes the colour of a winter sky ( with quite a bit of pink actually) and his long, dark hair hangs down his back, unbound.

He is also wearing a thin, silver circlet.

(He should be on his way to dinner).

He smiles at the girl. He's got a very friendly, warm smile.

It's the robes that catch her attention first. Her own dad wore loud clothing, but they were eye catching and pathetic, the man before her looks almost out of a painting-or what she'd figured was a painting (she'd never had the chance to look at any art pieces).

She stops her coloring a moment (a green toad with yellow spots) and looks up. There's a quick run through in her head over which beings wear such robes. "Are you a wizard?"

He shakes his head.
"No. I'm a lore master."

He reaches up and moves the hair hiding his ear on one side. It's gently leaf shaped.
"And an elf."

If he was trying to impress the small girl-it was working. She'd seen colorful ponies in milliways, but to see an elf was something almost 'normal' and amazing at the same time. She'd read of elves, but then there were so many stories about them that they were hard to pin down.

"What's a lore master?" She tries not to stare at the ears.

"It is someone who remembers all the stories and tales. So we will not forget what life used to be like and how things were done in the past," Elrond explains.

"We have books for that." Not that she was looking down at him (or up, from her small height it would be difficult to actually look 'down' at him). "Also teachers, but they use books as well."

"Is it true that elves live for hundreds of years, then? Are those sorts of stories easy to forget if you live a long time?" She wouldn't think so, but then maybe after awhile,such things become mundane.

He laughs.
It's a nice laugh. Friendly.

"We have books too. But some things need to be remembered and not written down. And some things must be remembered that they might be written down. And it is true. We do have long lives. I have lived for more than 6,000 years."

The laugh is strange, coming from a grown up who's than solemn looking (even if he is wearing pink), but it's friendly sounding and that's what counts.

"What sort of things aren't written down. 6,00 years is a long time." Especially to a child, when 20 years old seems very old. "How'd you remember every story that happens?"

"Some songs loose their potency when they are written down," he replies.
"And sometimes there is more than one story to how something happened. As far as remembering goes, it is a skill you need to train."

She supposed that was true. A lot of sounds read funny, but when they were sung, they sounded better.

The story part, that was interesting. "I suppose so. In school, we read some stories from one characters point of view, than from another. That's sometimes called an 'unreliable narrator."

"And history is full of those," Elrond says with as all smile.
"So
You should never trust just one account of what has happened. Always hear from at least ,two or three."

She's down to eleven crayons now, we're afraid; a nautilus has just picked up the purple.

Matilda's not so absorbed in her work that she doesn't notice the moving green shell take her crayon. When she lifts her head, there's a moments delay as the crayons aren't really hes, but borrowed-on the other hand, how does she know that the creature doesn't want to eat it.

"Hey, that's my crayon." She reaches over to try and grab it.

"Minus, that's not yours…"

Minus hopefully shifts his grip to one end of the crayon. Tug?

Matilda lets out a quiet 'hah' and tugs at the crayon. She might be small for her age, but she's bigger than Minus and thus has a stronger grip. Her hand covers the rest of the crayon and she gives it a combination shake and tug, trying to loosen Minus's grip on it.

Minus does not let go of the crayon, but he is pulled after it, swinging about. Whee!

"Do you want him off? He likes tug-of-war, but he'll get off if he knows you mean it."

She laughs as well, mostly because it's funny to watch the creature swinging by the crayon. That the creature likes tug of war makes it even more funny.

Still, she would like it back.

"Could you get off." She tries to make her face serious. "I'd like my crayon back."

Minus chimes inquiringly.

"For real," Enzo puts in. "I'll get you something else to play with."

Reluctantly, Minus unwraps his tentacles from the crayon.

Really, Matilda didn't even need that color at the time, but she wasn't sure if Minus would steal it or not.

"What does he like to play with, besides crayons?"

She's coloring as she talks, looking for the hidden picture.

"He likes to chase my yo-yo. Or play with string, but then I have to detangle him..."

"That's funny." Had her almost wishing she had a yoyo, or rather, knew how to play with a yoyo. "You could get some string from Bar." It should be simple enough.

"I could," he agrees, and heads over to get some. (Bar provides a nice multicoloured length.) Then he returns, towing Minus by the string's end; the nautilus' tentacles are already starting to resemble something between a cat's cradle and a dreamcatcher.

"That's lovely." She means it too and for a moment her coloring is forgotten as she watches the sea creature play with string. It's rather like watching a cat, only more interesting. "Let me try with him."

Enzo hands her the end of the string. "Knock yourself out."

She takes the end of the string and slowly weaves it back and forth infront of Minus. She always wanted a pet of her own, but mun and dad wouldn't have it-maybe Ms. Honey would let her have one for christmas?

Minus chimes and catches at the string with his tentacles. She could probably make something like a god's-eye if she got the motion right.