paradisalogs | An Unexpected Visitor [open]

Who: Celeborn & Whomever joins him.
What: Swept away by a sudden current, an ancient elf prowls the halls of Cair Paradisa in search of answers.
When: Midday
Where: The Lobby of the Fortress
Rating: PG-13

Unfamiliar gray-stoned walls welcomed Celeborn once the Elf first opened his eyes. It wasn't very often that the regal Lord of Lothlórien ever found himself at a loss for words but today he was. Imagine walking through the moonlight canopy of the Golden Woods, surrounded by wild flowers and fireflies only to be suddenly whisked away to some stoney castle. Celeborn couldn't quite believe his eyes as he stalked down the hallways in total silence. His long gray velvet robes tailed behind him as he crept silently along the halls. Almost tempted to believe that this was nothing more than a mere dream, Celeborn suddenly found himself standing before a spiraling staircase. The white marble stairs caught his eye as his fingers caressed the smooth wooden bannister beside him.

Not a single word were uttered from the ancient's lips as he eyed the grand lobby of this estate with reserved wonder. While he's certainly likened to a "king" by his people, Celeborn never possessed much fondness for such gaudy decor. This castle looked like something out of fairytale yet oddly reminiscent to the grand halls of Minas Anor, the City of Kings in Gondor. While Celeborn had visited there once before many centuries ago, he remembered eying the lavish decor in great fascination much like now. Deciding to descend, Celeborn loosely held onto the bannister as he walked towards the lobby below. "Such a sight to behold." he said aloud with mild intrigue. "But is this a castle worthy of a king?"

Of course the Elven Lord doubted he was alone within this palace but so far he hasn't seen a single soul yet. With a castle as grand and luxurious as this, Celeborn expected to at least run into a servant or two during his languid exploration of this nameless estate. An explanation must be had, someone has to know why he was summoned here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A woman clad in red spoke to him with a bitterness Celeborn heard often within the voices of humans. While he was certainly unaware of Rosalie's otherworldly powers, the Elvenlord could at least sense something is amidst about her. Gazing down at the young woman as he walked down the stairs, Celeborn came to an immediate halt once he reached the last step. She was indeed dressed rather impractically but he had no right to judge her for it. That lovely shade of scarlet suited her well and gave color to her unnaturally pale skin. She almost looked reminiscent of fair the Princess of Doriath if it wasn't for her bright blond hair. The lovely Lúthien was known and prized for her dark locks but also valued for the fairness of her near pearlescent skin. While this woman couldn't possibly capture the full essence of Lúthien's ethereal beauty, Rosalie certainly comes rather close.

Offering her a questioning gaze, Celeborn speaks once more. "I take it that this estate doesn't possess a master at all." Not knowing how right he was, the Elvenlord let's his gaze stray from the blond and up towards the impressive chandelier that hung above. "Rather wasteful. I see no need for such lavishness if they aren't being utilized."

"This castle is full of extravagances that are unneeded." Rosalie kept her eyes on him. The chandelier was something she was used to; a symbol of riches she had grown up with and had stayed with in her decades with the Cullens. Extravagances that were pleasing to the eyes rarely captivated her attention for more than a few fleeting moments.

"And with none of the necessities, like a proper calendar." She kept her gaze on him, unblinking. Blinking was a habit she hadn't kept, nor was breathing; she liked being the statue of perfection, unmoving and beautiful. Somebody... a memory kept it this way. She couldn't remember what or who, though.

There's something mildly disturbing about this pale beauty. While she certainly seemed as average as any mortal woman, there's something almost surreal about her. Once Celeborn's gaze returned to Rosalie, the Elvenlord found himself somewhat unnerved by how still she was.

It's as if he's speaking with a statue rather than a living person. Not once did she blink her eyes and not once did she utter a single breath. She was cold and frigid almost if she was carved out of ice. Not quite sure what to make of this odd woman, Celeborn averted his perplexed gaze from her yet again as he spoke. This time he was focusing his sights elsewhere as he leisurely strolled around the lobby.

"Quite a shame that." he replied idly in hopes that this woman couldn't sense his mild distress. "One such as I have very little need for extravagance and in truth would rather have necessities rather than luxury." That's the honest truth. Celeborn sees no need in such fanciness and never will.

She noticed-- body language was not a foreign language to her. She had a vague idea of what it was, as well; her lack of breathing and blinking had been unsettling to many humans throughout the decades, she supposed. Before, she would have been careful to at least try to do it whenever she made eye contact with one. Here she felt no desire to try.

"Perhaps you will change your mind here. After all, this castle feeds on wishes of extravagance and luxury." She moved her gaze from him to her nails, sharp and as hard as her marble-like skin. "Your wish is its command."

"Then I wish for nothing other than my freedom." he stated a little too quickly for someone who've only just arrived in this strange castle.

Not at all fond of the arrangements made here, Celeborn found himself already trying to think of ways to escape. Despite all the troubles that plague his homeland, the Elvenlord would much rather be in Middle-earth than here. Nothing about this castle interests him and he has no need to live out the rest of his day in idle comfort. His people needs him and the crisis that has overtook Arda beckons him to act. The Fellowship is in need of guidance and the fate of Middle-earth itself rests upon the hands of a noble few.

Feeling strangely anxious now, Celeborn decides to shift the conversation elsewhere. "I take it that your not a native here." he stated for the sake of learning more about this pale beauty. "If so, where do you hail from?"

She didn't bother telling him that it was useless to wish for such abstract things. Only physical possessions, nothing more. It was strange how the wishes had limitations. At his question she looks back up at him with piercing yellow eyes.

"I was in Alaska before I was brought here." Her eyes narrowed slightly. She could remember her time there, but ... something was missing. She couldn't place what, but it was there. Something missing in her mind. "I was born in Rochester."

His stern gaze shifted into mild intrigue as she spoke briefly about her origins. Alaska? Celeborn certainly doesn't know of any realm possessing that name or any town nor kingdom by the name of Rochester. Quickly assessing that this woman hailed from foreign shores, Celeborn decided not to question her origins anymore. Perhaps it would be best that they kept the topic focused upon castle only but even that wouldn't be useful. Judging by how she hadn't answered his previous words, the Elvenlord knew that "freedom" wouldn't be possible in the form of a mere wish. Only these lavish luxuries could be wished for but nothing else.

"How many days has past since you've been summoned here?" Still content to keep the conversation pinned upon the statuesque blond, Celeborn allowed his thoughts to stray elsewhere. If he couldn't wish for his freedom, then how shall he achieve it? Until now, the blond hadn't mentioned any names or spoke of any reason as to why they're here. Instead, she looked quite reserved and seemed almost at some kind of nonchalant peace with her fate here. Most captives would show more distress and emotion at being ripped away from their homes but Rosalie almost acts as if this gilded cage is quite pleasant.

"I haven't been keeping track," she lied casually. In a castle with no time keeping, she relied on her ability to count each section of twenty four hours that had passed. She didn't like her end result.

"If you are hoping for a date or a year, you will be disappointed. This castle has no calendar." It seemed like a charitable act for Rosalie, to give this stranger unsolicited advice. It confused her that everyone here seemed so content with having no years in this castle. Months held no significance.

No dates to recall or even a year to go by, it would seem that Celeborn found himself in a mighty fine mess. Time itself is an entity that is often forgotten by his kind thanks to the Elves longevity. Time honestly holds no meaning to the Elves on Middle-earth but here in Paradisa this could prove to be different. Uncertain what to think of a prolonged stay within this castle, Celeborn finds himself desiring for a way to count the days in hopes of preserving his dignity. He refuses to stay idle within this glided cage, he utterly refuses.

Rosalie's advice will surely go on deaf ears but at least its been given. "Quite strange. I would think that those who've been captured within this makeshift prison would be more attentive." He doubts that he'll find Paradisa to be comfortable enough to forget himself or the sworn duties that still bind him to his realm.

"You are giving them more credit than they deserve." So far, she had met nobody here worth her time. She wanted her family here. Friends meant nothing to her; friends would die and leave. Family - well, a family of immortals - would never leave.

"Incompetence is rampant in this castle." She didn't bother to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

An Unexpected Visitor [open]

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