Maglor's still making a habit of avoiding everyone he knows. This being an untenably unproductive way to go about things, he'll at some pont have to be crawling out from under his rock, with some aim perhaps of going to visit the invalid brother, harp unsurprisingly in hand. If other people want to accost him along the way, well, he'll just have to

Maglor gravitates towards water: it's where the original Music of the world yet lives the strongest, and as a bonus it quite nicely complements his angst. Of all the places to be unhappy forever, the beach is good and romantically atmospheric for it ( Read more... )

The very early morning finds Maglor emerging from his new room, restless, to explore the Mansion a bit. This has so far gone on a little long for a hallucination, is a bit too complete, but he isn't ruling out dream ( Read more... )

Elves are immortal, to a point; instruments are not. Maglor's outdoors, somewhere between the house and the Mansion, with a block of wood from which he's industriously carving out a new neck for an old viola. He's not really expecting company, but should it show up he'll probably manage.

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.

*hasn't had a proper open post in, oh, one year and eleven days, so this is as good an excuse as any. In short: there is, on the floor of the main room of the Mansion, a sizeable pile of jam jars. On a couch, with a book, is a Maglor, vaguely waiting for someone to claim it, and/or an errant brother to throw things at*

... Irissë? Is there something you aren't telling me?

( Stolen from his cousin, while everyone else is crackplotted. )

( LJ Horror )

Maglor is currently sitting with his harp on the porch steps, enjoying the Spring sunshine and musing on the Past. (Not, for once, brooding or regretting-- just thinking, really.) Family, in-laws and random strangers are encouraged to bother him.