paradisalogs | Deck the Halls

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Deck the Halls

Who: Thranduil and you!
What: Thranduil arrives! Kissmas shenanegins likely.
When: Now
Where: Floor 3
Rating: ... kissmas shenanegins likely. PG-13 to be safe?

When Thranduil had taken a step forward and found himself somewhere entirely different from where he had intended to be, the first thing he did was stop and examine his surroundings. Behind him was an open door of fine wood, behind that was an entirely unfamiliar hallway, in front of him was a room. It was furnished richly - too much so for his tastes, especially after having spent the past several thousand years becoming accustomed to the constraints and realities of living in Mirkwood, and even longer away from those whose business was crafting luxurious items that fulfilled no other purpose; the wood-elves made many beautiful things, but rarely anything so needlessly opulent. The sheer extravagance of his surroundings was in itself off-putting. Luxury was all well and good, but this....

Half because of the room and half because he should have been in a forest, and was beginning to wonder if the creatures he had come to attempt to dissuade from disturbing his people had somehow managed to reflect his magic back at him (but he was not asleep), Thranduil had turned and walked into the hall. It was nearly as rich as the room had been, gold and rich fabrics strewn everywhere, expensive woods and stones and glass as clear as water unfolding like a painting.

This was not home. This was nowhere familiar.

Exploring further was probably a good first step.

The door behind him had, in graceful script, his name on it, which was both thought-provoking and rather disquieting. It did, however, make him decide that it was as good a place as any to set down the bowl half-full of Dorwinion wine he was still holding, from the feast which he should still have been at; he had no real desire to carry it everywhere he went. Which left nothing to do but explore.

He both did and did not fit in with the grandeur of the castle - his robes were fine enough when the source was considered, but still rougher than what he was surrounded by, and there were a few dead leaves caught near the hem. He was crowned in leaves, with flowers braided through his hair, and although beautiful gems and gold and silver were winking at his belt and collar and fingers, they were not what lent him the aura of splendor that he carried with him. It was how he held himself which turned this all into a place where he could belong.

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"It is hard to place where you are when you do not recognize the landscape or remember the journey here. You just appeared here, did you not? It's how we all come," he said, though was becoming irritated with conversation now. He had other ideas for how those lovely lips could be used. With the mistletoe hanging above them both, it was hard to think of much else.

Without a word he reached up and slid long fingers around the back of Thranduil's neck and up into his hair to cup the back of his hand - or as much as he could whilst not displacing his crown ( a fine one too, very lovely ). Using strength that belied his thin frame, he brought the elf in close as he stepped in.

"You'll have to forgive me for this," he managed with the remaining part of his non mistletoe influence brain.

It was as much warning he could manage before he pressed his mouth to the newly arrived elf king's. He moved his lips firmly against the others, delicately brushing his tongue against the bottom for want of deeper interaction, almost craving it ( a thing born of magic and his own desires amplified ).

"Would the one who brought us here not know?" And were there not ways to find out from such a person? But then the other was stepping in close - much too close, all told - and reaching up to cradle his head. It was surprising, moreso because, for all that he knows full well that his natural inclination would have been to pull back, far back, he doesn't. In fact, he does the opposite, and leans further in, and then the other....

The murmured words were the only warning he had, and they weren't much as warnings went. Thranduil was about to ask him when his mouth became otherwise occupied.

He did not want to kiss him, but at the same time could not seem to help himself, could not seem to pull back and avoid being kissed. And - horrors - he was kissing back, leaning into this, and the entire thing was snarling all of his thoughts.

What was going on? What was happening? Was this the fault of the stranger in front of him or another part in the one who had brought them there? At the moment it didn't seem to matter, and it was certainly out of his control.

Snarling thoughts indeed. He had not a moment to be ashamed of this, continuing to cup the back of his head. Where before Ashura might have been a bit clumsy, a few years being Felix's beloved had brought him quite a set of skills with tongue and teeth in a kiss. He made no move to end the thing quickly, for indeed Thranduil was handsome, and a wicked part of him enjoyed the taste of the elf-king. It would be a shame to part without getting a proper taste - or was that the mistletoe talking? It was hard to tell.

Oh yes, very snarled.

And none of it really kept him from stopping the kissing with Thorin, even seeming to rather delight in it. He kept in close to the other kin, their bodies almost touching even as he drew the last kiss from the elf's lips. He leaned back, panting the tiniest bit and eyes and cheeks slightly flushed.

"One way to make introduction," Ashura said mildly.

Thranduil was left being unsure how to respond - few would dare in the first place, but more than that, he'd kissed back. It left him fighting a light blush (and that was something rare enough in itself), stepping back and trying to work out what had just happened.

"Not, I hope, one that is customary."

"No, at least, not usually. This time of year, though, it is a bit hard to get around without it happening at least once," he sighed, in the way of someone who has to put up with a mischievous child. "It is a prank this Castle pulls every year around this time - hiding magicked mistletoe that requires anyone within its thrall to be kissed before they are released."

He waved his hand absently, which amounted to a shrug for him - he did not want to ruin the lay of his robes. In winter it was always difficult to put the lay back correctly.

"Harmless, really, but it can create some... interesting moments. As you and I just found out."

It had been magic, surely, to compel him to behave in such a way, and though this stranger may have been the perpetrator, there was nothing to be gained by disbelieving him, unless it was proved that he was lying. Thranduil's eyes swept the walls and ceilings, and after a few moments he found the tiny sprig of green leaves and white berries, nestled against the ceiling. So that backed it up, thus far.

"It is a strange spell, if that is its only object. There is nothing further which results from it?" It's unsettling to consider; Thranduil likes to know the reasons behind actions whenever possible, it makes his life much easier when he is forced to prepare for the consequences. Something so seemingly nonsensical was not something he knew quite how to deal with.

"Whose castle is this?"

"No. A kiss is all that required, though certainly such things can lead to more... amorous play," he chose his words, not wishing to seem crass, though it was the truth.

"As for whose? Ah, we do not think there is any owner by the Castle itself. It is sentient, I believe, perhaps to a point or perhaps to a degree we cannot comprehend. There's evidence for both, but nothing concrete, and you might well die of old age before you ever discover the real answer," he said, looking about the stone halls with a slight mix of suspicion and respect. "We all tend to call ourselves Residents here, but words that work just as well could include prisoners and guests. The true nature of this place eludes us, even those of us who have been here for years."

That particular statement seemed to hardly bother him, but then, why should it? He had spent four years within its walls, the idea was not so terrifying now.

His gaze darkens slightly at the words, but he does not react otherwise. "It will be long indeed before I should die of old age. A hundred years, a thousand years, would do nothing but make me older." He looks at the walls, eyes suddenly sharper than they had been, for just a moment. "And It shall find that I am not so compliant a guest as some that it has stolen.

"Though true nature eludes you, has anything been done to attempt to defeat it? Or even to learn more?"

"Of course. We have taken expeditions beyond the forests that ring this place, found out... Things. But they often leave us more questions than true answers. At the least, we believe there are a native people here, people before us, and creatures too. Their intentions are harder to percieve. There are detailed accounts in your journal, if you care to read through them later, probably from men named either Felix or Allen."

He considered Thranduil, the sharp gaze. It was more interesting than the usual panic.

"Be careful in your non-compliance. The Castle is as like to punish you as not, and there is no escaping it's magic while within the bounds of its lands. The same goes for your wishing, unless you enjoy spending quite a bit of time as some sort of animal, for starters."

"My journal? What...?" He has been through too much to panic often; even when afraid, his inclination has become to use that fear as a tool, something to solve a problem. Blind terror does nothing but impede the very person feeling it, and to show that fear - especially without a cause - is useless and foolish. It would change nothing. But he does seem slightly taken aback, very nearly unnerved, at the warning.

"Does it have such power? To change the nature of a thing is no small task."

"It has the power to reach across worlds and bring you here, along with many others, to send us to new worlds by changing its very self," he said softly. "Changing our form is but a trifle, I would assume."

He looked away from a tapestry on the wall, gazing at it like it held far away memories. Golden eyes fell again on Thranduil and Ashura reached into his own robe, drawing from it the book that followed every resident everywhere, more faithful than any dog. He held it up for the elf king to see.

"This. We can use them to communicate with each other over distances, and we can record our thoughts in them like a normal journal. To put it bluntly - they are magic. Welcoming gifts, you might say, from the Castle itself. You will have one - either on you or in your room."

"There are many different kinds of magics, and what is child's play for one may be impossible for another." Thranduil's voice is just as soft, something about him turning distant. He looks with interest at the book, as he listens to the explanation that accompanies it.

"Not with me, I think," he says slowly, voice still quite soft, thoughtful. That meant it would be in the room behind him. "Do they have any power beyond enabling those trapped here to communicate?"

"Well, in some cases, liquids have gotten through the pages when people accidentally submerge them or spill something on them, but otherwise no. You can speak through them or write, but ultimately they are limited to their form," he explained, opening his and flipped through the pages to show him what he meant - words scribed in Ashura's more flowing hand, and then more clinical writing of the Castle's magic from dictation.

"If it is not with you, and you are new here, it is probably in your assigned room. If you go to far from it, most of the time it seems to follow if you do not carry it, or just appears. It seems the Castle wants us very much to have these around us, and they come in handy more than you would think."

"Can you call to them, or do they follow as they will?" It sounded like leaving it in one place forever was out of the question regardless. The idea of liquid traveling through pages was startling, but ink was just another liquid.

"They follow as they will, though I think they would come if you had summoning magic of some sort," he explained. "I do not possess such a thing, so I let it follow as it will. It tends to appear when you least expect it, but that sometimes comes in handy. And, they work, even beyond the Dead Zone."

He shifted, tugging his robes a bit closer about himself, his hair shifting and revealing the gold, and light, light blue gems that dotted his ears along their length. "Eventually, they become just another accessory to life here."

They do not come as they called, and do not stay where they were - briefly Thranduil wonders what a spell of sleep, if cast on it, would result. It would at least be interesting to see if it would tarry in its watchfulness, though for the moment it did not seem to be doing any harm. In any case, there was a more menacing part to what had been said.

"What is the Dead Zone?"

Names like that were not lightly given.

"A rather unsettling place, at least for me. There, no magic and no modern technology works," he explained. "You are left, essentially, powerless except for those skills not attained through magical or other means." He frowned, clearly just the thought making him shiver. He hated it, when his magic was stymied like that, like a river being blocked by a massive boulder. "Do not go there lightly, or at all if you can help it. We have to pass through it on expeditions, but that is the only time I willingly go there."

"Magic is not something that can be lost or simply turned off so easily." It was inborn, as much a part of who you were as the color of your eyes - moreso, perhaps, because form could be relatively transient. The suggestion that it could simply be gone was much the same as a suggestion that suddenly your arm could be gone, and was unsettling.

"Expeditions?"

"You think I do not know this? Yet I have gone to the Dead Zone many times and that is the result, every time, without fail or exception," he said sharply, golden eyes hardening for a moment as he regarded the other king. "It uncomfortable and disturbing, but it is what happens. I avoid it as much as possible. I can fight without my Talent, but there are dangers here that we would best not be faced without. As if that was not bad enough, the Castle can and does regularly take them away here on its whim when it changes its very form."

He looked at the stone walls again, as if expecting them to morph just to prove his point, but they remained calm stones.

"The expeditions are journeys we at the Castle have gone on to find answers to our predicament, because we have seen or heard something that warrants it. The last was to a meteor far away, in a village of giraffes. The things that came from it... were unsightly, to say the least."

"I don't rely on magic when I fight, but to be without it would be...." His voice trails off; what a person could do was a part of who they were, unique for each person. There shouldn't be a category to wipe out, unless a very, very broad net was cast, and who knew what else would be taken with it?

"These are things which should not be possible." He sounds calm enough again, though not particularly happy.

He would have been content to leave the last statement alone (he had no idea what Giraffes were, but it did not sound as though it was too important) if not for the last part of the statement. So, though he does not ask, he directs a questioning look at Ash.

He smiled bitterly at the elf king. "Paradisa itself should not be possible, and yet it is. I suggest you begin redefining your definition of that word, if only for your own sanity," he advised.

He was no fool, seeing the look and he sighed, shivering as he recalled it. "They were bug like - and hostile. We have to battle some, and it was difficult, to say the least. We did not learn much though, which is a pity, but I do not think anyone could speak their language anyways. The giraffes brought us back when it was done, but that thing that fell from the sky is still out there. Thankfully, I do not think many of those bugs survived the crash of what I think might have been there ship."

He was old; he did not like having things changed on him as things have been changed. There was enough to keep track of without changing the rules partway through the game.

His eyes narrow at the summary. "Then it would not have been unfamiliar." The spiders did not come from the sky, but otherwise the tale sounded similar enough.

"Then you might be the only one," he admitted. "Most of us were taken by surprise and shocked at the least. And there are other things besides, but you might be better off reading about them since some were before my time here," and also because he did not wish to stand in this hall way forever giving a history lesson of this place.

"Besides, there are a few things that should be gone over as well," he carried on. "Has anyone explained to you about wishing and losses here?" he asked, because that was always the first two subjects one needed to cover. Again, for the sake of preserving sanity.

"My home has long since been overshadowed by evil. The Great Spiders that came as a plague are but one symptom, but have required constant battle to control for many years." Standing in the hall forever covering history would not be Thranduil's preference either, for all that it was important to know more or less what he was dealing with.

"No." There's a hesitant pause, because the words are familiar enough, but the order doesn't make sense, nor do they make sense if taken as simple items in a list. "Wishing and losses are... connected?"

"But of course. You cannot wish for something and have it granted and not expect to pay a price, can you?" he inquired, arching both brows now. The concept was not new to Ashura, and had been a focus point in his own world in his discussions with Yuuko over their short, but enlightening relationship. Some things, after all, had no equal...like a life... He snapped himself out of that train of thought and focused on Thranduil again.

"The Castle provides for us, but even so, if you want new things you either find a way to produce them manually somehow or you wish for them. If it is within reason - such as, say, a blanket - the Castle grants it and it appears for you. You can wish for a long time, for many small things, or at once for a large thing, but eventually the Castle is going to call your dues. These take the form of a loss and they are myriad in their forms. I personally have been turned into a child, a statue, a woman, and put to sleep within a painting for a month among others."

Deck the Halls

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