(no subject)

[starrydome]

The weather in the Hidden Vally is cruel and cutting this winter and spring seems determined to stay away.

When Elrond walks through the door, he brings snow with him, dusted across his cloak and boots and lodged in his braids.


He brushes the snow off as best he can before he settles down in front of the fire to warm his hands.

Comments

[electro_kinetic]

For Noriko, it is actively snowing in New York, and said snow is one of the reasons she is not on the other side of her door. She dislikes cold.

So when she sees Elrond come in in a similar state to her (or to what she looked like thirty minutes ago) she pauses in undoing the tiny braid delineating her sidecut to wave. "Winter is ridiculous, isn't it?"

[starrydome]

He smiles at her.

"It is taxing once it had gone on for long enough," he replies. And agrees.

oops, misfire

[electro_kinetic]

"Yeah, but gone on long enough is like...the end of January," she chuckles, trying to fluff out her wet hair. Snow melt is a pain.

"How cold is it for you?"

[starrydome]

"The ice on the lake is thick enough yo carry the weight of several riders on horseback. And tepid tea will freeze if you throw it into the air."

Elves don't really do thermometers it seems.

[electro_kinetic]

"Asking for degrees Farenheit was just too much, huh?" she asks. "So, in a word, damn cold."

[starrydome]

He smiles.

"Yes. In a word."

He nods at her. "And where you live?"

[electro_kinetic]

Noriko shakes her head, not moving from where she's sitting by the edge of the fireplace. "It's...yeah, damn cold about covers it. It's snowing at home, but it's the sort of wet and icy snow that's really unpleasant."

Pretty snow she could take. Maybe. "Your hair's gonna be freezing when that snow melts." Hers is.

[holdingacat]

There's a man in one of the armchairs, surrounded by a small flurry of paper scraps and other debris, typing into his phone thoughtfully.

"Oh, um, sorry, this all has sort of... gotten away from me, I'll tidy it up. Help yourself to some paradoxes if you like, Bar always gives me so many..." Cecil offers as he tries to tidy the pile into something less... scattered.

[starrydome]

"Do not worry on my account," Elrond replies with a smile.

"There is plenty of room. And paper do tend to get a bit unruly when one is working."

He understands.

[holdingacat]

"Well, at least it hasn't turned into snakes." Cecil allows, but it's a grudging allowance. Frankly, this entire pile of notes he's managed to garner is on notice for failing to stay in any sort of logical order as he types up a rough sketch for his next show.

And yes, he is vaguely worried about pretty much everything becoming snakes after that incident with the gluten. You would too if your plate of spaghetti rose up against you mid-meal.

[starrydome]

Theres a sense of unease here. Of things - askew.

But Milliways is Milliways.

"Personally, I find the use of smaller piles and occasionally a paperweight or two useful."

[holdingacat]

"I started with smaller piles, and then there was migration, and turf wars, and I think some of them started a conga line..." Cecil sighs, managing to shove everything into one larger pile and placing a foot firmly upon it.

[starrydome]

"Notes are unruly things," Elrond agrees as he dries off his hair, mindful about not dripping on the paper.

[moonandstar]

There's another elf, this one of a rather darker hue, seated nearby. He has a library book on his lap about the founding of the Syffim during the Second Era. But it's a rather dry tome, and anything important it has to say seems to be something he already knows. He figures he could use the conversation. Weather is as good a starting point as any.

"Bar has good timing sometimes," Garyn says. "I came in from the weather myself."

[starrydome]

Elrond drapes his vape across the back of a chair and nods.
"The Lady does at that. And it seems that winter is vicious in more places at once."

It is worrisome.

[moonandstar]

"Well, there's no snowfall in Morrowind as far as I know," Garyn says. "Just ash from the volcano. Hit me when I wasn't dressed for it."

[starrydome]

"An active volcano?"

That is worrisome as well.

[moonandstar]

"Yes," Garyn says. "Apparently it's been blowing some kind of plague around on occasion as well. One would think I wouldn't forget about it, but I'd only just arrived."

[starrydome]

"A plague? And is there ought to do against it?"

If spread by the ashes-

[gondolin_noble]

Where there is an Elrond, there is bound to be, (eventually), a golden shadow.

In this case, a golden shadow that doesn't even bother to hide his snort of bemusement at Elrond's snow-bedecked state, even as he's wearing a braided flower crown and dressed for temperatures much milder than what Imladris currently has to offer. Shamelessly, he flops onto the couch to lounge.

[starrydome]

"Others might see that as spiteful," Elrond remarks mildly, as he undoes a wet and cold braid.

[gondolin_noble]

"Others might wonder why their lord is out wandering in a snowstorm." Glorfindel responds, "Shall I finish undoing those for you?"

[starrydome]

"Not wandering. Riding," Elrond replies as dignified as he can. And then, "Yes. Please."
His fingers are numb from the cold.

[gondolin_noble]

"Oh, that is much better." Glorfindel agrees, very long exposure to elves entirely more diplomatically inclined than himself muting the sarcasm into the background. He is quick about his work in undoing Elrond's braids, pausing from time to time to comb out the damp locks so they don't become tangled.

Why of course he has a pocket comb. He's not uncivilized.

[starrydome]

Elrond relaxes and says - tries to explain perhaps - "I wanted to -"

A pause.

"The winter is very harsh. Sometimes, I need remembering that it would have been so much more frequently had things been different."

Being a Ringbearer does not necessarily make one ecstatic about rings.