Turgon is familiar with grief - not all that long ago he lost in quick succession sister, father, cousin and then brother, and so many more of his kin are lost or unknown.
Tears Unnumbered shall ye shed had been the prophecy, and it has proven true.
He has not lost anyone here, but his tale of losses is long, and long indeed. In the rain who can tell if the dampness on his cheeks are tears as he kneels at the urging of the natives to place a small white stone, engraven with the sigil of his father's house.
He stands watching as the boats go out and is still there, staring out into the distance as the flames finally flicker out and die.
The Feast
He comes and finds a quiet corner to settle in with a drink and a plate, watching the leaves fall and folk dance with wistful melacholy. As the night wears on, the wistfullness fades and he smiles more. He might even be inclined to hug those he knows well, if they come up to chat.
Turgon | OTA
Turgon is familiar with grief - not all that long ago he lost in quick succession sister, father, cousin and then brother, and so many more of his kin are lost or unknown.
Tears Unnumbered shall ye shed had been the prophecy, and it has proven true.
He has not lost anyone here, but his tale of losses is long, and long indeed. In the rain who can tell if the dampness on his cheeks are tears as he kneels at the urging of the natives to place a small white stone, engraven with the sigil of his father's house.
He stands watching as the boats go out and is still there, staring out into the distance as the flames finally flicker out and die.
The Feast
He comes and finds a quiet corner to settle in with a drink and a plate, watching the leaves fall and folk dance with wistful melacholy. As the night wears on, the wistfullness fades and he smiles more. He might even be inclined to hug those he knows well, if they come up to chat.