#v: leave your body unhaunted

[nightmarecountry]

"What I'd like to know is, do you dream?" Lucy squinted thoughtfully, following the Nightmare. "I think you do. I think they motivate you."

"And if you do dream, have you ever wondered what that means? Is he up there when you're resting, poking around at your secrets? Does that mean that you're him, in a way, as well as being yourself? See, I've been thinking about this a lot lately-- your desire to escape. What, precisely, are you trying to escape from? Dreams? Nightmaredom? Flesh?" She tutted thoughtfully.

"You're always running. But where are you going?"

He was on the hunt again. It was harder like this, in someone else's flesh-and-blood body, a small and fragile one that neither matched the predator on the inside nor attracted the kinds of men he was interested in. In his annoyance he had cut their hair short, dressed himself in a manner that would make his chosen quarry more likely to see him as one of their number, but even in his usual haunts he felt men look at him like prey and hated it.

Even more difficult was the constant presence of the ghost at his side, distracting him, commenting and questioning his every move. When she invoked Him, the hairs on the back of his neck rose like a prey animal's might, and for a moment he feared she'd say His name and summon Him.

"I'm just me, Lu," he told her, through smiling teeth. Her words were still echoing in his head: him, in a way, as well as being yourself? "And I'm 'going' wherever I want. Do me a favour: stay out of the way this time."

[undisonae]

TOLKIEN || tagged v: a softness came from starlight

“i laughed today. / for a second i was unhaunted. i was the sun, not light / from some dead star.”

                             ( via )

NOTE The timeline on this setting is wide open and adapts to the primary setting of your Tolkien muse or whatever we plot!

TL;DR  A fallen star sparked from creation willed herself to personify and is lifted from the sea by the sun. She is a benevolent, playful spirit of hope and joy that’s wandered Middle earth since the end of the Second Age.

     THERE IS MAGIC in the earth, and with it, life. Every living thing, whether it has a beating heart or is but a blade of grass, carries with it immeasurable energy.  A magic that is celebrated by men and hobbits, shaped by the dwarves in their great craft halls, and mastered by elves. Is it such great surprise that this magic, great and wondrous as it is, would spark into something more? Into someone?

Her first memories are of the Seven Fathers, of those very first Dwarves created deep in the earth and slumbered until the Children of Ilúvatar took shape. This shapeless creature of light watched with AWE the waking of the First Born. From the stars she watched these elves shape their own worlds. Their lives, their culture. For an age she lived among the stars to gaze lovingly upon the world’s firstborns.

     O’, but the world had just begun! When the sun first rose so did this light in the night sky fall into the sea. The moon pushed and pulled her and when the sun would set her siblings, the stars, would relay the world’s ever growing wonders as their reflections joined in the sea. Most wonderfully they spoke of the Second Born, of a mortal and finite peoples who took JOY in their fleeting existences! Every night they would speak to their sister that had fallen into the sea and every dawn they would leave with the sun’s approach.

Millennia pass and this cycle, though bearable, is far from satisfying. For the First Age this nameless spark watched, for half of the Second Age she listened, but it was a LONELY existence. This creature, once a star and now part of the sea, craved more.

     And so as the sea kissed the shore she asked it to shape her a form. To sculpt her body from clay and shells into a form that could be received by man and elf alike. She craved LIFE. For all its joy, all its suffering. She wanted to laugh and breathe, to love! And be loved in turn! Millennia more pass and finally as the sun rises it lifts this child of sea and sky to the shore.

She is ADHLEA, The First Light of Dawn.

     If there was ever joy and hope in a mortal form it was she. Though an ageless creature born from sea and stars she took her first mortal breaths as a child. She was, by all accounts, flesh and blood. Thick black hair is split by delicate pointed ears, her two arms and two legs ended in ten digits. Two lovely dark eyes carried star shine in them from her life in the sky and always, no matter how far she wandered, did she carry the scent of sea air.

AND HOW FAR SHE WANDERS, with her two legs to carry her! For hundreds of years she is but a child. A playful spirit innocent to the fouler workings of mortality. Travelers that encounter her are baffled to find an “elf” child alone in whatever wilderness of the world she places herself in. Those fair of heart have illnesses lifted and spirits calmed in her presence. And for those who would mean ill? PITY to their rotted soul!

     As she travels, she learns, and though it takes millennia slowly does she age. From playful child, to reckless adolescent, and at the beginning of the Third Age: a woman of wisdom. Adhlea still travels far and wide in the body she crafted so long ago. Through wars, famines, and all the cruelties of mortality she endures as the personification of HOPE. For she is a child of the sea, fathered by the sun and kept company by her siblings, the stars, and mortality is all she ever wanted.

NAME: Adhlea ALT. NAMES: Dawn, First Light, Hope AGE: Undefinable RACE: Undefinable, could be perceived as Elf by anyone that’s not an elf POWERS: Adhlea’s magic is that of will. Given time, she can bend a great many energies to do as she pleases such as healing the injured, making flowers bloom, carrying messages on the wind, etc

[nightmarecountry]

Have you stolen many bodies, little nightmare? I didn’t know your ilk could do that.

"--I didn't do it on purpose."

He's seething. Centuries spent aching to taste humanity, and finally getting it--and now it's ruined. He can't do what he does in a body like this. Taking someone's eyes isn't the same, doesn't give him what he needs, the things he hungers for.

It's all just meat - and so is he.

[nightmarecountry]

“None of us can do exactly as we please.” whispered the ghost, watching pensively as the Nightmare manipulated and puppeted her body. (did it feel imprisoned; limited by those small hands as she had been? )

in which i still haven't answered the ask this corresponds to but tldr: local nightmare gets trapped in the body of a shortass human

"Clearly," the Corinthian hissed, which to any onlookers would have looked like he were talking to the empty air. He'd adopted the closed-off, tense body language one might expect from a predator suddenly finding itself prey--and that was dangerous. Act like prey, he kept thinking to himself, and every hunting thing you meet will look at you and know it. So the furtive movements had to go. Head up: eyes ahead.

But it was hard. Humans were fearful things, like any animal, and he knew better than almost anything just how much there was to be afraid of. He wasn't just puppeting Lucy's body: this was his body now. His nervous system. His bodily needs: hunger and thirst and urination and headaches and eyestrain (gods, the eyestrain) and nausea and terror when he'd eaten someone's eyes and found they came right back up.

They hadn't given him anything, the eyes. They were just meat.

The Corinthian nearly snarled when someone brushed too close to him--a man, as startled by the visceral reaction as he himself was--but even his vocal chords weren't the same now. He couldn't snarl. He could only make a choked, angry sound of protest that had the guy muttering a confused apology and passing by.

"You didn't get to do very much of anything you wanted when you were alive, did you?"