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[dissono]

for private scenes and correspondence.
non-urgent crystal messages will be responded to by letter at his earliest convenience.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

I will not dispute it.

[ what do the details matter? he doubts emeric has painted him as a monster. cleverer men laid the groundwork for that seven hundred years ago. ]

Do you wish for assurances?

[dissono]

( what for, when thranduil can give him all the assurances in the world and it's abundantly clear that, like her father (and uncle, and grandmother), young mlle baudin will do exactly what the fuck she likes.

he doesn't think his face is quite gullible enough to merit that, but maybe all humans look alike to an elf like this. )

Of, of, ah, of what?

[rowancrowned]

That I have no ill-intent towards her.

[ he is well aware he has as much ability to control gwenaëlle’s actions short of binding her as he does galadriel. which is to say: none.]

That I am not conspiring with her to vex her family.

[ in another world, he would have been professing his love for her, his intends for the future. here? he can barely promise her safety. at least the eyes of the court may fall from them eventually. ]

[dissono]

( neither of those are things gervais has particularly worried about; thranduil's word means little to him when he knows him so little, cannot judge for himself yet its worth and therefore sees no particular value in demanding promises of him. what would thranduil feel gervais is owed? what would he think, in his place?

after a moment, )

Imagine I, ah, I, I will see. For, for, for myself.

( besides, it had been immediately evident that whether or not gigi conspires to vex her father, that he is vexed pleases her so immensely it's irrelevant. )

[rowancrowned]

[ thranduil inclines his head; gervais will hopefully see very little of it, no one will be seeing very much of it until he and emeric have another conversation.

he does not give his word lightly.

but to speak of what one sees, well: ]

That is Ser Coupe's hound.

[dissono]

Th-th-these are, ah, are, are Wren's rooms.

( what of it, fancy boy. )

[rowancrowned]

Are they? [ thranduil says pleasantly. ] For our friendship, I have not been invited inside until today. I understood her to be a private woman.

[dissono]

Th-th-th, ( an exhale, ) the ring w-was my, ah, my. Our, that, that is, mine and, ah, and Em's. Our mother's ring.

( gwenaëlle had poorly hidden her displeasure, but he'd been mildly touched that she'd felt him worth trying to hide it from. )

[rowancrowned]

[ a moment for him to recall thedas marriage customs-- ]

[rowancrowned]

[ ah. ]

May you and Ser Coupe have an easier time of it than Gwenaëlle and I. Do you intend to let it be known?

[dissono]

Sh-sh-she's wearing it.

( and here he is, living in her quarters, making no secret. they're not taking out advertisements, but it isn't going to be a mystery for very long, he's sure. )

It, ah. It. We will—not, I am sure.

( have an easier time. )

But, ah... ( his shrug is easy, an elegant roll of his shoulders, always so very deliberate in the way that he moves. ) We, we, we, we are—nor young nor, nor, nor long-lived.

( they don't have thranduil and gwenaëlle's kind of time. take the good while it's good. )

[rowancrowned]

Perhaps the gossips will catch on.

[ or perhaps they won't. what is and is not noticed around here is as varied as the people who work for the inquisition. mayhap no one will notice or issue a challenge and good ser coupe and enchanter vauquelin will avoid notice and the history books.

what he says is sad. they have little time, and thranduil more but not enough. he'd bless them in the way of the elves if it would mean anything or they'd take it, but he knows the answer already. ]