Attn. mommies, especially.

[broodingelf]

Tonight there's music, soft and bitter-sweet, floating through the building. At the source, were one to follow it, you'd find an elf in incongruously modern dress sitting in a window-seat, drawing music out of his small harp while gazing out at the nightscape. This languishing poet look is just habitual for him; he probably invented it.

Comments

[redhairedwisdom]

It is possible she knows exactly who the player is the second she hears the music, but either way she follows it quietly, her traveling boots making only the slightest sound as she looks in the door. She leans against it, watching him play, rememorizing his face- he is her son, there is no doubt about that, but he is different, more so than any of her other sons.

[broodingelf]

That's what not dying'll do for you. When he notices her there, the music changes before his posture does: inviting, welcoming, reunion; and then he turns to look at her, letting the music fade away. Soft: "Ammë."

[redhairedwisdom]

"Macalaurë." She takes a step towards him, almost hesitant; her instinct is to rush forward, to embrace him, but she is still too unsure of this place - and her own sanity - to do so.

[broodingelf]

He smiles, a lopsided halfway-smile that's also habit, if possibly a new one since last she saw him, and sits up properly, setting the harp aside and swinging both legs over the edge of the window-seat "So you are here." It's almost a question.

[redhairedwisdom]

"I am..." For good or ill. "You've- grown." She half-means from the childhood state she glanced him in earlier, but there is the silent 'you're different' hanging underneath her words.

[broodingelf]

Character development is fun! And he's had a lot of time for it. Now, he nods. "Yes, I heard--." And he takes a moment to study her, quietly. "How are you?" That one is a question, and not just a pleasantry.

[redhairedwisdom]

"This place is very odd." She know she cannot lie well enough to say that she is fine.

[broodingelf]

"I know." With feeling, because he does know; much more than the others. "It isn't--" real, he almost wanted to say, but that's the thing: it is.

[redhairedwisdom]

"Stranger than a dream," she mentions, letting herself take the next few steps towards him and hold out her hand.

[broodingelf]

"I thought it must have been, at first." Okay, not a dream, exactly, more like hello again crazy time, but no need to elaborate. He stands, crosses to her, takes her hand in both of his.

[redhairedwisdom]

"I'm still not sure it's not." She squeezes one of his hands, reaching over to cover the other with her own free hand. "But seeing you is wonderful, either way..."

[broodingelf]

Softly: "And you." He squeezes back, and then frees his hands to hug her. Because mommy.

[redhairedwisdom]

She returns the embrace tightly, because hello, son. "-I missed you-" She finds herself holding back tears again.

[broodingelf]

"I've missed you too, Ammë." No matter how long it may or may not have been. He holds her tightly. "I'm sorry--." He's a Tweedle. They usually are.

[redhairedwisdom]

"Shhh-" She kisses his cheek lightly, grateful for the fact that he feels so warm and real.

[broodingelf]

He smiles, a little, though he isn't going to stop being sorry for -- honestly, everything back to the moment they left -- particularly soon. Not that that's new. He doesn't entirely shhh, though. "I love you."