Finally.

[thuringwethil]

I thought she'd never leave::sticking to the shadows, Thuringwethil glides through the Gates of Mandos. Not being fully alive or dead, she confuses them, causing the heavy doors to swing soundlessly open. The Balrog guards ignore her, familiar with her from ancient days when they all served Melkor, and by keeping to the shadows, Thuringwethil

Comments

...oh...crap.

[hama]

*It takes a moment for me to register who you are, but work in this business long enough and you get a sense for what's alive, what's not, and what shouldn't be. Undead...not a wraith...vampire! I hastily stow Opal on under the desk (not that she's very happy about THAT) and scramble up, sharp letter-opener in hand*

Er. Right. You must be Thuringwethil. Mouthful of a name, there. Gates are that way. Over there. ThankyouforvisitinglovelyMandos.

[thuringwethil]

::smirks, gliding forward:: Oh, I will leave shortly. ::circles him slowly, allowing him to stay between her and the desk and all time:: Not much of a threat. She must be growing soft. ::feints at him, trying to tangle the letteropener in her flowing cloak::

Re:

[hama]

*is surprisingly accustomed to defending himself against murderous females in flowy garments, and manages to avoid losing the "weapon"* It's not like we expect enemies up here. I mean, death being the great equalizer and all that. Nobody LIKES dying, but nobody messes with its maiar eith-- ack. *finds himself backed up against the desk, Opal hiccuping angrily against his ankles* You know, this letter-opener might not be a wooden stake, but it's very sharp and I DO know how to use it.

[thuringwethil]

A pity. You might have done some damage with the stake. ::seizing his wrist, she squeezes on it, trying to make him drop the opener. grabs at his neck with the other hand, tugging him just barely off his feet, enough to cut of his air:: A pity you are not one of the maiar, also. ::extends her fangs, leaning towards his neck::