#curvo's day: had to be in the mud (-1) found silmaril (+10) realised silmaril burns (-100) found out new bestie is sauron (-100)

[admirableringmaker]

He took Curufin's hands in his own, for a moment, and let power wash through them. It would not heal it; it had not healed his lord. But it was soothing, or so Morgoth had claimed.

The game was up - entangling himself further in lies would only make extracting himself more complicated. It was better to reveal himself here, where he could easily dispose of Curufin. In Nargothrond he would be out numbered. But that did not mean he would reveal all of his designs; he would play the defecting Lieutenant, the shamed lord of werewolves, pretend he had no intention of returning to Morgoth's side.

"Carcharoth recognised me indeed. I have not been entirely honest with you, son of Fëanor."

And the disguise fell. From the roots of his hair a deep, blood red colour spread, and he seemed taller, brighter, with the light of the Ainur. His nails lengthened into to claws, his teeth to fangs. "I was Sauron of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. But now I am Annatar of... nowhere."

“Is that all it takes to charm a werewolf of Angband?” He rolled his eyes, for he was definitely not in the mood to pretend like he believed every single word Annatar stuffed down his pretty throat. No, he knew what lies tasted like, and he knew it too well. “Oh, Carcharoth, do not tear my flesh from my bones! Terrible Carcharoth, have mercy on me!”

He kicked at Carcharoth’s corpse with a grunt, and placed Angrist back in its holster, hanging bare from the side of his thigh. “And, forgive my prodding. It seemed like that beast look a liking to you as well. I saw the hesitation in its eyes as it turned to you. Please, explain just how you managed to sway a fell beast so I may teach my brother the same tricks.”

Curufin knew he was playing a dangerous game, snapping at the elf who had just helped him reclaim his father’s work, but… okay he doesn’t have an excuse. He’s in a bad mood. He sighed loudly, trying to not question everything he had done, every life he had taken to get to where he is now. “…I’m sorry, I don’t… good lord. No, no- you don’t need to heal me. I can bear it. Eru, Tyelko’s going to kill me.”