#﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — vs third age; your ethereal elvenking .

[gildinbainas]

"Ya trynna' make me jealous?"

PROMPTS FOR A LITTLE JEALOUSY

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @despairforme

Thranduil   found   himself   fighting   the   urge   to   roll   his   eyes   as   he   turned   to   face   a   rather   pesky   intruder.   Considering   Nnoitra   towered   over   half   of   the   guests   present,   it   came   to   no   surprise   that   furtive   glances   were   cast   their   way.   Of   course,   considering   Thranduil   was   the   Elvenking,   few   would   dare   question   the   company   he   was   supposedly   keeping.

Cool,   grey   eyes   looked   past   Nnoitra   across   the   room   at   the   other   elf   who,   for   a   time,   held   Thranduil's   attention   in   rapt   conversation.   There   was   nothing   going   on   of   course,   as   Thranduil   had   made   it   perfectly   clear   to   all   that   he   was   not   looking   for   another   wife   or   husband   for   that   matter.   It   didn't   stop   people   from   flirting   though,   something   that   was   to   be   expected   considering   the   magical   pull   elves   had   upon   others.   Cele   had   been   all   over   him   for   a   time,   but   he   imagined   now   that   Nnoitra   was   looming   over   him   like   some   glorified   bodyguard,   Cele   would   cut   his   losses   for   the   night.   They   all   would   so   long   as   Nnoitra   was   standing   around.

"Why   are   you   here   breathing   the   same   air   as   yours   truly?   I   would   have   assumed   you   had   better   things   to   do…   like   STAINING   YOUR   HANDS   WITH   THE   BLOOD   OF   ENEMIES   then   storing   them   for   a   midnight   snack   later.   It   never   once   occurred   to   me   that   I   should   waste   precious   time   attempting   to   make   you   jealous.   That   would   imply   that   I   care   what   you   think   and   we   both   know   that   couldn't   be   farther   from   the   truth."

The   Elvenking   turned   his   back   to   him,   his   long   hair   remaining   perfectly   in   place   over   a   back   covered   in   the   finest   of   fabrics.   His   slender,   but   defined   frame   was   dressed   in   a   gown   of   silver   that   hugged   his   form   in   a   manner   that   highlighted   muscles   in   all   the   right   places.   A   large,   wooden   crown   adorned   with   various   seasonal   berries   and   red   leaves   sat   high   upon   his   head.   Considering   autumn   was   upon   them   now,   his   crown   symbolized   the   changing   of   seasons   in   their   realm.

He   paid   no   heed   to   the   warrior   behind   him,   having   decided   that   if   Nnoitra   wanted   to   eat   him,   he'd   have   done   so   ages   ago.   That   didn't   exactly   explain   why   the   warrior   insisted   on   making   his   presence   known.   "One   night   stands"   as   the   mortals   called   it   was   simply   just.   There   was   no   need   for   further   interaction   after   passions   came   to   rest   so   he   was   truly   baffled   as   to   why   Nnoitra   was   still   popping   up   at   random.   Regardless,   the   espada's   presence   was   going   to   make   it   difficult   to   find   joy   in   an   evening   of   frivolity   and   so   he   planned   to   leave   soon.   In   some   ways,   this   was   just   the   excuse   he   needed   to   venture   back   into   his   hole   of   solitude.

[gildinbainas]

❝ i know what you're thinking. ❞ // Hendrik @ Thrand

MISC SENTENCE STARTERS WITH A DASH OF ANGST

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @nvrcmplt

He had done well to avoid Hendrickson during the day although truth be told, it wasn't all that difficult. Hendrickson spent a majority of the time with his people and there were times when he would vanish for weeks on end. Their tribe was nomadic in nature and so Thranduil never really expected them to return except… Except despite the fact that several months had passed between the last time of visit, a member of the Elvenguard retrieved him well into the night to let him know the tribe was back within the forests of Mirkwood. It had Thranduil leaving the confines of his bed to make his way into the throne room. There stood Hendrikson at the foot of the king's throne waiting patiently for the king's arrival.

Thranduil was taken aback, even more so when the half elf approached him. Reaching for his hand, Thranduil watched as he pressed lips to each knuckle and were he not practiced with the task of deadpanning and feigning ignorance of feelings, he may have allowed such a gesture to fluster him more than he let on. Their gazes remained locked with each tender brush of lips against smooth knuckles that could fool anyone meeting him for the first time. Where a normal man's hands might show the wear and tear from time or war, his own hands remained void of such telling signs. They remained as smooth as the day he was brought into this world.

He opened his mouth to speak yet closed it just as quickly. He knew not what to say though he was rather curious as to why a tribe of nomads would return to this place after so long. The question was burned into his mind and remained on the tip of his tongue even as the table nearby gave a momentary flashback of their last encounter. He drew in a subtle breath, but was spared speaking by the words that befell Hendrikson's lips.

"I know what you're thinking."

Thranduil's expression remained unchanged as he watched the other. Hendrikson eventually motioned for the Elvenking to join him at the table. There was a moment's hesitation, but more so due to the flashback he experienced just by looking at the table. Even so, he made way to the table, taking a seat quietly. After dismissing the other guards, he turned curious eyes to Hendrikson awaiting an explanation.

[gildinbainas]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @sanguinelf

"My life is a constant battle between what I want and what I must do."

Words were spoken aloud, but quietly by the Elvenking who was, for once, unaware that he wasn't entirely alone. Standing in a loosely tied robe, he stood over his chalice debating pouring himself another glass of wine. He was musing over the past, triggered by a conversation he had earlier in the day with his son. The constant urging by Legolas to find a 'mate' was wearing the stubborn king's nerves. Did Legolas not understand one's duty? Eventually he would pour himself a glass, turning and stopping abruptly at the sight of the vampire. He initially frowns, but it is late and he is of no mood to quarrel.

"Bold of you to wander about at this hour. If you are not careful, one might assume you are looking for a late night feast."

[gildinbainas]

{ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 '𝐸𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔' 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑖𝑙 } || @sanguinelf

"I can tolerate many things, but uninvited guests lurking within my lands isn't one of them." Icey grey eyes looked down upon the other, his pale, flawless features as stoic as ever. While he sat upon the throne in a manner that screamed 'relaxed', on the contrary, he was anything but. Foreigners, especially the kind he had few or no dealings with in the past, oft incited a type of anxiety that triggered his fight mode. Of course, recent events had saw SOME change within the Elvenking. No longer quick to take heads without question, he was at least, entertaining this foreign invader. That is to say, he was allowing them a moment to defend themselves through words. Perhaps there was a good reason for their detour. Or mayhaps they came in peace. For their sake, he hoped that they would make the most of this rare occurrence. His trust issues were far too great to simply let them leave without satisfying his elven ears.

[gildinbainas]

"Just… stop talking." 💋 //Hendrikson :3c

“Shut Up” Kiss starters

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @nvrcmplt

Thranduil didn't know why he allowed the halfling to cross barriers that few were allowed to where it concerned the Elvenking. Aside from Bard, another human whom he had come to appreciate a great deal, no other human had been allowed to sit near him, let alone share a cup of Elven wine. But he supposed his willingness to let his guard down around Hendrikson was rooted in the man's initial introduction months back. Elves were rather vain creatures --- even the ones who claimed not to be. He wasn't ashamed to say that part of the appeal to being an elf was the way their own natural aura seemed to hypnotize those around him. And he, as king, spent a great many years using that to his advantage.

In the case of Hendrikson however, there was no need. He too was part elf, but it was the deformity surrounding his ears that fascinated the king. Upon his initial introduction, the nomad wasted no time revealing this part of himself that most elves would have hidden forever if possible. Elves were meant to be PERFECT, exotic creatures whom everyone longed to be or within their airspace in general. It shocked the king initially though he never revealed as much that day. It was something he pondered in silence half wondering if there was still some angle being worked with such a huge reveal. It had taken many months for Thranduil to drop his guard and though his son still wasn't buying Hendrikson's act, Thranduil cast his son's doubt aside hoping it wouldn't end badly for his people. And speaking of the halfling…

Thranduil was seated at his vanity when he looked up to find Hendrikson watching him from afar. A thick, wooden brush was being pulled through strands of snow white hair that seemed to always keep its perfect form. Silence ensued between them with the human finally approaching the Elvenking. It is only then would Thranduil set aside his brush and stand, turning to face him.

"I do believe this is the first time you have ever had the audacity to seek me within my sleeping quarters. How is it that you still have your head? Surely they didn't simply let you wander this far without questioning your---"

He blinked, standing there in something of a stunned silence as his brain took forever to process the moment at hand. He had been abruptly silenced --- something he was not accustomed to in the slightest --- and in a manner that would have his son firing arrows without thinking. Indeed it was a good thing no one was around. The shock written upon his features was more than enough to have his Elven Guard reacting at once with their best intentions except…

Except when the shock of what had happened finally wore off, Hendrikson pulled away leaving the Elvenking standing there in a stunned silence. Did he not know what it meant to kiss another elf in their culture? Was this an err on his part as a half human? Thranduil could not be certain, but rather than address it, he simply turned away composing himself despite being extremely flustered. When he was certain he could face the other with a straight face, he turned, sweeping past him rather quickly with his long golden gown sweeping the ground in his wake. "We will drink our nightcap downstairs then I must call it a night."

[gildinbainas]

"Your Grace." A bow to the Elven King as Hendrikson wasn't above board in their presence, but just enough to keep the heated glares upon the back of his head from the soldiers around their posts. Awaiting the shift change to speak at ease, since Thranduil had no reason to fear his blades in backs or hearts. Instead, the wanderer had a question for this beauty. "Your opinion of dragons, may I know of it?" He wasn't sure if this place had a more… wary sort of thought, but curious he was. He hasn't seen a drake in the clouds since he's set foot in these new lands, and a curious creature he was. Who better to ask than the King of these current times.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @nvrcmplt

The  sun  had  long  set  behind  the  many  glorious  trees  that  made  up  the  once  beautiful  Greenwood.  Although  the  curse  had  been  broken,  the  fullness  of  his  home  before  the  war  had  not  yet  reached  its  potential.  Shadows  still  lurked  in  many  areas  preventing  the  king  from  walking  about  the  lands  as  he  was  once  accustomed  to  yet  he  found  himself  venturing  this  night  all  the  same.  His  guard  were  rather  cross  at  the  idea  despite  the  group  of  nomads  seemingly  posing  no  threat.  It  should  have  been  obvious  that  the  Elvenking  was  perfectly  safe  given  Hendrikson's  body  language.  There  was  a  healthy  level  of  respect  between  the  two  leaders  made  obvious  in  every  interaction,  but  after  war  had  ravaged  these  lands  once  before,  the  Sindar  could  never  fully  trust  anyone  alone  with  their  king.  Still,  Hendrikson  didn't  seem  to  mind  the  looks  while  Thranduil  was  often  the  target  of  some  as  well.  The  king  of  elves  rarely  let  such  glowers  get  to  him.  His  impeccable  mask  of  stoicism  only  ever  cracked  around  the  right  persons  and  speaking  of  right  persons...

Thranduil's  long,  silver  gown  swept  the  ground  as  he  moved  through  the  camp  alongside  Hendrikson.  It  was  only  when  they  were  out  of  earshot  of  various  guards  and  others  would  Hendrikson  pose  his  question.  Their  brisk  walk  led  them  to  a  small  clearing  upon  a  hill  looking  out  towards  a  small  creek  that  was  surrounded  by  old  roots  and  lush  buds  peeking  from  beneath  the  ground.  Even  though  they  were  deep  into  the  Autumn  season,  the  waning  of  the  curse  left  way  for  magical  plants  that  were  only  privy  to  Thranduil's  lands.

"Dragons?"  he  repeated  quietly.  The  question  had  taken  him  off  guard  though  he  hid  it  well  enough.  His  silence  however,  may  have  given  Hendrikson  the  impression  that  such  a  question  was  out  of  line  until  Thranduil  turned  his  head  slightly  allowing  the  glamour  upon  features  to  fade  slightly.  While  elves  healed  rather  quickly  from  some  injuries,  dragon  fire  was  proving  to  be  difficult.  While  his  face  was  no  longer  as  scarred  and  hollow,  he  allowed  Hendrikson  to  see  enough  to  justify  his  fear  of  dislike  for  the  creatures.

"We  elves  have  little  fondness  for  such  creatures,  but  we  respect  them  for  their  power."  He  paused.  "They  are  fierce  creatures  and  those  with  an  ability  to  wield  seemingly  untamable  beasts  deserve  to  be  commended."  He  looked  away,  his  perfect  features  back  in  place.  "They  make  us  uneasy,  but  I  have  never  backed  down  from  one  and  never  will  if  my  lands  are  threatened."

[gildinbainas]

another series of tag drops. because tumblr is killing me with my tags messing up.

﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ daemon targaryen — discourse . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ daemon targaryen — visage . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ daemon targaryen — isms . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ daemon targaryen — in character . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ rhaenyra targaryen — visage . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ rhaenyra targaryen — isms . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ rhaenyra targaryen — discourse . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ aegon i targaryen — discourse . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ aegon i targaryen — visage . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — isms . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — discourse . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — vs second age; your crown prince . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — vs third age; your ethereal elvenking . ﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — in character .

[gildinbainas]

Thranduil watched Hendrikson, noting the conflict between mind and body. The Elf Lord had a rather nasty habit of playing games with his guests, but more often than not, they were games that preyed on their character more than anything. The Elven King loved testing their character, trying to discern what lay beneath the layers many often presented unto him. Rarely did those standing before him present their true selves. It was all an act; an performance based on what they perceived the Elvenking to want with little or no first hand knowledge. It amused the king to say the least, for most preconceived notions about him were all false. He too liked performing and only those brave enough to get close to him would ever see the mask falter.

He watched Hendrikson think the better of it, stepping away from the stairs. The Elvenking looked down upon him, a smile playing at his lips but never truly forming. It was rarely that he smiled genuinely anyway.

❝Your hands could no more taint this item than my own. Believe it or not, these hands have too shed much blood over the years. Not maliciously of course, but we all do what we must to survive.❞

The king stood, long golden gown accentuating his height. He stepped down each step slowly being careful not to trip. It has happened in the past. He moves with grace, stopping just before his guest. They are eye level now giving the other a close up view of the very jewels men have gone to war over, himself included. ❝I will remove them for your comfort. Perhaps you are right. Not everyone is of mind to allude temptation and I've no desire to shed blood over a trinket anymore."

He stepped down, sweeping past him. The necklace is removed and placed in the hands of another elf. ❝Necklace aside, the sun barely seeps through the darkness of the forest yet you stand before me. You rose quite early today --- earlier than usual. Was there business you require of me?❞

It was within his range to reach for them, to step on top the stairs with the invitation to witness the gems between his fingers. Like capture raindrops on a summer's morning, a glistening frozen piece of time from the snow capped mountains or even a delicate glass piece from a frozen lake broken for the first time. It was a sight that took Hendriksons breath away as he stared upon it once more. Conversation almost distant as the draw towards it was forming a pull. An itch in his bones to move closer, to witness the items in his palm… He was not a man of wealth nor status, but something about that necklace spoke of something divine and wanton in his blood that made him furrow his brow at the sensation.

Instead, even though he could feel his body tensing, standing on its toes, moved forward in gravity with all intentions to take the invitation. Hendrikson's lungs inhaled sharply - a scolding burn within his diaphragm caused his eyes to water and his attention to tear away with solid blinks and a twist of his head. Easing away the tension, the want in his bones to instead squeeze his eyes shut with self-scolding in his mind. Fingers flexed in their leather gloves, down-dressed with relaxation in these grounds since being accepted amongst their leaves and walls.

Armour with his people, shined without ask, but proudly awaiting his body to return within it. With flimsy clothing, the chill on his flesh was visible with the disgust in his own actions before he cleared his throat. Stepping back to adjust his stance, his balance returned and gaze focused with a warrior's will. "Thank you for the offer, Your Grace, but I dare not taint such an heirloom with my hands. To be told of its story was enough…" It was a beautiful thing, but Hendrikson felt a part of him turn for the worse, and he knew better than to act upon it.

The human half of his blood, he no doubt, believes.

[gildinbainas]

Thranduil's eyes downcast briefly towards the dazzling necklace about his neck. It had taken a great deal of sacrifice to get his jewels away from a greedy dragon, but worth it in his mind. It belonged to him so war was a necessary evil to get them back.

"They are quite rare, yes, but it is quite customary to show them off. Otherwise, what is the point of owning such an exquisite piece?" He paused. "At one time, they adorned the neck of my mother and then for a time, my late wife. My people have never coveted such treasures as they are merely grateful to be alive and well. We have been through so much as an outcast species of elves. Their only treasure is our home. None of them are willing to risk banishment over a mere trinket." That and wars were fought for this tiny necklace. He was confident in his abilities to know none would wish to earn his ire and face him in battle.

A smile played at his lips as he beckoned for his guest to come closer. "If you promise not to strangle me, you may come closer and touch. I will permit it this one time only."

Hendrickson wasn't to lie that it was a beautiful and expensive piece of heirloom. Though he knew he was in the lands of Elves and their King, as powerful as he was, welcomed him and his people in their front gardens, so to speak - it was still rather a cold statement. Were there truly no other elf here that felt jealousy for such garments to steal it? Never a whisper of wanting to wear it themselves? Hendrikson had yet to be around someone or something's that had never had such thoughts of greed, wonder or desires like that. That included himself, he had wanted to touch it - the ever glowing garment of a mountain's hidden treasure, but when spoken. The spell of that desire to feel such richness faded with realization.

"I… see. It is beautiful and rare, no?" He wasn't sure what it was made from, and he wasn't sure if the other would reply to the list if he did, so he held his tongue instead. After all, he didn't want his head to roll here. "Forgive me, Your Grace - is it custom for them to be on display here? During my travels, most heirlooms are hidden from all sight and knowledge." He blinked his wandering gaze again, pulling himself from their necklace to that of his King's face. His expression was stoic for sure, but Hendrikson knew a warning in those eyes like any other beast before a hunter.

[gildinbainas]

Thranduil knew he could be quite intimidating, but he would never apologize for it. He spent centuries crafting his act that now it simply stuck with him. It was difficult for anyone to know where the act began and ended. Even his own son had difficulty discerning Thranduil's true mood but the Elvenking knew that if his father were still alive, he would be proud of him. There was a time when the young elf was scolded often for wearing his feelings within features that could be quite animated. Twas a true work of art within grey-blue eyes and thick brows leaving no mystery as to what the elfling was thinking years ago. Even now if the mood was just right, one could catch the occasional slip, but such was rare.

Musings aside, he knew in some manner he might have been unfair. People could not help how they were born ( assuming he was always a vampire ). Thranduil had no sense of how vampires were made. The lore was confusing at best. If one vampire turned the other, then how was the original created? Was it a disease of the blood? So many questions there, but he was not one for prying. It gave him every excuse in the book to keep himself a mystery as well.

"I've partaken in few arrangements these days. They are only a necessary evil during times of war. As of late, times have been peaceful enough though I'm certain your talents will find use in time. If not here, certainly elsewhere." He paused. "Do not speak on my kindness just yet. It is often fleeting. I would hate for you to be disappointed."

astarion gave a thoughtful hum. further south. perhaps that was somewhere he could go, as he was well aware that his presence within the woodland realm was not meant to be a permanent one. he did not plan on overstaying his welcome and looking as if he was trying to take advantage of the king's mercy; it seemed so tentative in the first place. he only needed long enough to get his bearings, come up with a plan as to where to go. as to how to live, with such sudden freedom.

something about the elvenking taking a seat settled the perpetual nerves within the vampire; it felt... much more casual that way. he felt less like a sudden intrusion. "All the same," he confirmed. "I worked on manners of the people rather than those of high-profile. I don't know if I could ever go back to that, considering my... ailment. But I do still have a keen eye for vaguely worded contracting. So please, my lord, feel free to call on my services if there is ever documenting you need read. It's the least I could do for your kindness." it was a joke, and not a joke all at the same time. the vampire let out a little laugh, but quickly felt awkward about it. he tried to cover it up with a cough and a clear of the throat.

[gildinbainas]

Thranduil was used to people and their flatteries --- whether such was directed towards himself, his people or his home. Such things were never taken to heart for sincerity was often a veil for other intentions. Nevertheless, Thranduil would not speak his thoughts aloud and merely hummed in response. Perhaps some part of the vampire was taken with his home. The woodland area was unlike any other place that elves called home.

"Thank you."

A simple reply but no less genuine.

Thranduil's long robe swept the floor as he moved to seat himself upon a woodened chair that had been cushioned some. Intricate carvings were within the arm's rest, all of which highlighted by Sindarin words. Upon the vampire's question, Thranduil took another sip savoring the taste of wine before replying.

"No, but I suspect most are far grander than my own. Not all of us prefer the cover of the woods. We do have distant kin that live in lavish homes equivalent to that of a castle. If you were to travel farther south you might very well run into other elves."

Thranduil fell into a silence, pondering the vampire's words. For the briefest of spells there might have been an ounce of sympathy felt towards the vampire, but just as quickly it was snuffed out by Thranduil's ability to care only of his own people. Instead, he focused on something else as opposed to the vampire's origins. "Magistrate. Is that the equivalent of a judge?"

there were questions on the tip of his tongue but he decided to swallow them down. best not pry into matters so private between an elvenking and his son, as curious as he was. "As you should be- I haven't ever seen anything like it. It's beautiful." and for once, astarion's words of honey were not just an act. he was often heavy on the compliments, heavy on the flattery- anything to lure prey in to follow him home. but for the first time, in what felt like a long time, the adulation given was quite genuine. "Like artwork. When you've lived a life the way I have, you forget how much color there is in the world."

the greens of the tree and natural oaky browns. he had seen nothing but shades of gray from the inside of the szarr palace to the broken cobblestone of baldur's gate while heading to the elfsong tavern for yet another victim. for centuries, the daylight meant certain death. it meant hiding away deep within the castle's bowels as even the slightest trace of sunlight meant pain. but he found the peril worth it here, in this fine kingdom. he had to watch from afar, but his mornings were no longer spent in concealment but at a safe distance, where he could watch the rays bask out over greenwood.

"Are all Elven kingdoms... similar, to this?" perhaps he was overstaying his welcome in front of king thranduil. he wasn't sure- but what he was sure of, was he would get shooed away if his presence was no longer wanted. so he continued, taking a few idle steps forward and leaning against one of the pillars. "I was very young when Cazador snatched me away and turned me into his spawn. I have little memory of what my life was like before it all. But I remember, I was a magistrate. Much else is lost to time."

[gildinbainas]

Thranduil was rather good at sniffing out lies. After centuries of practice, rarely was he wrong about a person's intentions. As it were though, men with at least a sliver of heart left inside of them could be fooled on occasion when emotions clouded their judgment. Thranduil had a reputation for being as heartless as they come, and his son could attest to this firsthand. However, it was all an act; a facade he had perfected over the centuries to protect his people. Empathy was in short supply as far as Thranduil was concerned. Even among his own 'kind', Thranduil was prone to using his head as opposed to his feelings. That in mind, there was a look about this vampire that screamed bewilderment; as if he truly had no idea what was happening here. IF his story was true ( and Thranduil could detect no sign of treachery ), perhaps they left him here because of Thranduil's reputation. Strangers within the Woodland area were often killed on sight. Either that, or Thranduil left them to rot in his dungeons. There were few acts of mercy over the years and that alone could have been why they saw fit to leave him here.

On the other hand, Thranduil wondered if they thought this former slave could be used to end him --- the Elvenking himself. A vampire losing his mind and growing hungry could very drain the life of a sleeping elf. Thranduil and many elves like him, slept like the dead. Not every night, but at times their bodies would enter something of a hibernation state. Most commonly it happened after long battles or instances where healing major injuries required much rest. Their magic worked much better when the elves were idle. Whether or not this vampire knew of this was beyond him, but Thranduil was not going to take any chances. Such information would remain tucked away until necessary.

"I never take anyone at their word," Thranduil began. "Words mean little. Only actions." He paused. "Still, to have dropped you out in the middle of nowhere says a great deal about those who saw fit to take you. Death was the endgame but for you… or myself? I suppose we will never know."

Thranduil slowly encircled the other and despite not standing as tall as he would in those heeled boots he often wore, his presence alone was still rather intimidating. There were moments when this was sign that you were about to lose your head. If walls could talk, they would surely show this vampire a montage of heads taken during this very moment, but mercy? Though in short supply, Thranduil was curious as to whether or not trouble was awaiting his forest.

"You have given me few reasons to suspect you are even remotely capable of holding your own against one of my men. Your life is spared for the time being." He could make no promises as to whether or not his guards wouldn't kill him. Their duty was to protect their king at all costs. Any suspicious activity resulted in their swords. They did not need the king's permission to take down a threat.

And with that he walked away, putting much space between them. "Your lifespan here depends upon you. In the meantime, someone will show you to a room and a word to the wise: do not wander about alone. I do not care enough to save you from the monsters that lurk outside of my lands or within them."

"I have the same questions you ask. I'm nobody." of course, provided a few more details, and astarion could take a few educated guesses. perhaps it was the gur, plotting a revenge from the recent attack on their caravan. or maybe it was monster hunters, hoping that a captured spawn might release the location of his master. but none of it explained why he was here, where was here- what happened to make them drop him off to wake up confused, alone. far away from his master's influence. there was a wobble in his stance when the guards on either side of him released his arms, and for a moment he felt he might breathe easy.

astarion's head lowered in a sign of submission as he was approached, but his eyes stared up through pure white lashes. would it be considered rude to look upon such a glorious king or rude to avert his eyes? he wasn't sure. maybe it was the unblinking stare but something about the elvenking caused an uncomfortable feeling to crawl around inside of him. he decided to keep the eye contact. keep his expression as neutral as he could, but droop his shoulders. look as small, as harmless as possible.

"Threaten?" astarion repeated, brows furrowing, his voice raising- but only momentarily. getting worked up would surely only play against him. he shook his head, "I bring no threat. I am no threat. Two centuries of servitude and I rarely saw my master leave his palace, let alone the city. He won't be coming for me. There is no value, sentimental or otherwise, lost." there was undeniable connection between vampire lord and their spawn; one where his free-will was siphoned and he must obey, regardless of how much his mind was screaming against. but how far was that line tethered? astarion didn't know, but what he did know was that wherever here is--- there was no commanding voice speaking over his thoughts.

to gain his trust seemed impossible, but perhaps he could gain his belief. "Please. I'm not asking for anything- I'm not asking for shelter or protection. Food. I'm simply asking for your mercy. My presence brings no threat. I did not wander into your land on purpose." astarion dared raise his head just a fraction. his eyes first gazed along the crown of thorns and leaves, then followed the silken hair that draped over his shoulders. he could smell his blood: it reminded him of fresh, sweet berries. the beast that lurked within urged him to take a deep inhale but he lamented. he must remain civilized, if he hoped to talk himself out of a hopeless situation. "I bear one weapon," he admitted. as soon as the words left his mouth, there was searing regret. but keep one secret that might be misinterpreted as a threat, and his chance would be blown. his head would roll. "It's here." astarion tapped his right foot against the ground, his hands raised flat as to prove he would not reach for it himself. "A blade. Take it. Take it and ask me anything you wish to know, and I'll answer as well as I can."

[gildinbainas]

Thranduil's expression remained unchanged throughout the other's explanation. One could hardly tell what the Elvenking was thinking and he liked it that way. With several centuries of perfecting the craft of keeping his expressions neutral at best, it made for quite the intimidating tactic when dealing with those unfamiliar with his game.

Of course, you would think he'd show a bit more compassion as it pertained to fellow elves, but no. The elves of Middle Earth were quite divided with Thranduil ruling most of the Woodland area. The others were scattered about in other areas ruling their people and keeping to themselves. Rarely did paths cross unless mutual interest forced it upon them. Such hasn't been the case in eons.

But the explanation that was given seemed truthful enough though Thranduil still could not find it in him to relax too much. While slavery was not a thing in these parts, he knew it was customary in others. He had no opinion on the matter as it pertained to other cultues. He did however, choose not to own slaves. What would be the point when he had willing soldiers and servants? They did his bidding because they wanted to serve him. Not because he was going about threatening them from day to day. Even so, it seemed strange that a mere slave would be snatched away. What value did a slave hold? Were they not considered quite low on the social hierarchy? His eyes narrowed slightly, but the other's demeanor is likely what spared him for the time being. He seemed nervous --- not much of a threat at all in terms of how he was carrying himself. Thranduil was not so easily fooled, but he would humor him for the time being.

"I see, although I must admit your situation baffles me quite a bit. If you had a slaver that means you were a mere slave. I find it odd that someone would snatch up a lowly slave when he could simply purchase him from their master. Why go through all that trouble? It seems… reckless and foolish."

Thranduil looked to his guards. A slight wave of his hand would command them to unhand the other for now. Confidant he could kill him if need be, Thranduil finally stood and began making his way down the wooden staircase towards the other. His long, golden gown hugged his slender form as he moved, elegant with each step taken as to not trip over his own attire. Those cold, grey eyes remained unchanging while he softly spoke with each step taken. This was quite the predicament for one who was so used to tossing out intruders with ease.

"Now I am left with the burden of deciding what to do with you." He clicked his tongue. "I hardly know you so I do not trust you and while your story seems fair enough, it raises questions that --- quite frankly --- unsettle me. I for one, do not keep slaves nor do I employ outsiders as servants so it would seem that the best course of action would be to kill you and be done with it. If you are dead then there is no evidence of you ever being here nor do I have to worry about you leaving and bringing trouble to my home."

At the last word spoken, Thranduil took his final step standing before the other elf. He looked neither pleased nor displeased but those who knew the Elvenking best could tell he was not at all happy about this potential bad news standing before him. Slaver? Abduction? Both were huge red flags that he had no interest in getting involved with now that his home was experiencing a time of peace.

"Your presence threatens my peace. I do not care for things that threaten my serenity."

"I hadn't meant to lurk," astarion assured; apologetic be his tone, he was unable to keep himself from smiling awkwardly. "My name is Astarion. And I didn't know these lands belonged to you. Or anyone, for that matter. I'm lost, you see. I haven't a clue where I am." crimson eyes darted from one side to the other, tried to casually peek back over his shoulder although guards held him steadfast and forward; towards the king. he was like them, but not. he hadn't lived among elves in centuries but perhaps their same race was enough to help him get through this, despite how alien of an elf that he was. from his accent to his victorian-esque dress, to the blood he craved. he could smell it all around. sweet, floral. he tried not to salivate, swallowing down the cravings and training his eyes back forward. "I hail from Faerûn. I was snatched away from my-" he paused. his mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. shame would have colored his cheeks, if he weren't undead. "I was snatched away from my slaver and dropped here unwillingly. Accidentally, I think. I'm weary, and confused. And I meant no one any harm."