[Open: Caranthir] Breathing break

[elven_irs]

Well, it happened. And now, there is no sleeping to be had at the treehouse. Of course, for an Elda, sleep is not quite necessary - it is replaced by meditation, eyes open, and rest. Neither of those things are easy to achieve either, though, with a newborn dictating the schedule

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[killedthesnake]

Neville first encountered Caranthir when Aredhel had sent him to the greenhouse, to warn him off building a cottage away from the Mansion. (Something he still hasn't done, but more because of circumstances rather than the warning.) He'd fought with him, and the other elves against the wolves, and he would have called him an ally afterward. But their most recent meeting had been tense, and so Neville is unsure about approaching when he sees Caranthir in the common room.

If he can catch his attention, he'll try and gauge his welcome by the Feanorian's reaction.

[elven_irs]

His response to Neville's gauging is to nod in his direction, allowing the conversation to happen, to a certain degree.

He's embarrassed by his behavior, but at the same time, he knows not how else to respond to grief.

"Neville," he says, simply.

It's open enough.

[killedthesnake]

"Hello. Are you well?" Neville asks politely, approaching the elf. "I haven't seen you in some time." He's not likely to mention the specifics of that last meeting; they'd almost physically fought, after all. He still wonders if he could have handled it better.

[elven_irs]

"Aye, time's been a-changing," he replies quietly. "And all's well, fear not."

There's a pause, and Caranthir looks at Neville for a while.

Feanorians are extremely terrible at apologizing.

"It's been pointed out to me that I sought an enemy where a friend stood," he finally says. "I was blinded."

[time_willdecide]

When they spot their brother the twins immediately go over and plop down next to him, one on the floor by Cara's feet and the other trying to perch on the arm of his couch or chair as they cuddle up to him. "Hey, you."

[elven_irs]

Yay, brother cuddles! There's immediate accomodation for the twins, and the elf smiles a little.

"You," he tells them, so very fondly. "How are my favorite troublemakers?"

[time_willdecide]

"We're good. Bit bored."

"Not much hunting to be done in winter."

"You look like you've found something to occupy you, though." One of them reaches to (carefully) snatch at the toy Cara's whittling.

[elven_irs]

He allows the snatching, keeping the blade safely away, though.

"More like that witch did," he replies, snorting. "Artanis had me saddled with her pregnant atan friend and her gorilla for months at a time."

Grunt.

[trolololdamsel]

...because the typist just can't resist. Maledisant walks into the common room, stops near Caranthir, and sniffs the air.

"Something in here smells," she says. "Is it you?"

There's probably not even any unusual smell. Maledisant likes to make things up as a means of insulting random strangers.

[elven_irs]

"Atani smell more than my kind, woman," he replies blandly. "Begone, and get your nose fixed."

[trolololdamsel]

Maledisant is actually amused by the response, but she keeps up the haughty act.

"There's nothing wrong with my nose," she says. "Perhaps you should take a bath."

[elven_irs]

He snarls at her, and says, "What is wrong with you, woman?"

He'll stand (he's quite tall), and will look her over with contempt before he spits on her feet.

"Atan bitch."

He'd forgotten how some of those can be irritating at times.

Then, he turns to go.

[beau_fis]

How about a nice conversation with the guy who broke your arm in the tourney, Caranthir?

Gingalain's just come in from outside (he was playing in the snow), so he's in an even better mood than usual.

"Good day!" he says, so cheerfully it might actually be disgusting. "Are you making something?"

[elven_irs]

That broken arm was actually the highlight of his year, because our pissy elf is weird that way.

"You," he says to the young atan. "I see your good humor is undeterred."

Grump grump.

[beau_fis]

"Yes," Gingalain says, still smiling. "How's your arm?"

[elven_irs]

"Well enough for a rematch, boy." Caranthir, in fact, could do with some bloodknighting. "Are you man enough?"

[cyclewolf]

[elven_irs]

Looking up, Caranthir sizes up the human, then looks at the object (an exquisite piece, for Feanorians are masters of craft), and smiles sheepishly.

"I assure you," he says, chuckling, "it's not for myself."

[cyclewolf]

[elven_irs]

And Caranthir likes that the Atan has a taste for dark humor, so he replies, on the same tone, "No, I'm Feanorian," he replies.

Which, well, is true, and probably a synonym for talent, when you think of it.

I can't recall - they never met before, right?