King Elk Forest of a boy ruled by the sun, burned by the things he could never touch

*rubs my little hands together*

despite their recent influx of new blood, brienne's disappearance casts a pall over tindómë. delight stubbornly clings to the notion that she will return, although with each passing day it will be harder to forgive her, even as surely as he blames himself. he cannot help but think of their last conversation, how stilted it'd been. if he hadn't kept running off to the sweep to get away from the happy glow of the couple --

oh, speak of the devil. he still feels guilty that he was inadvertently rewarded for hiding from the morwinyon and his wife. sure, it did lead to jomyo and sunflower at the least, but if mato really knew why - it wouldn't end well, he doesn't think. he slows his steps, watching the silvery prince as he moves across the borders, his breath catching at the way the sun lights him gold. the nénar has long since accepted that his role is of the unrequited lover, but. but.

said mercutio shakes himself from his wondered daze. there is no happy glow to hide from (and again he feels guilt - of course his trips to the sweep diminished with bri's absence, there's nothing to be jealous of) and so he slips closer, announcing his presence with a soft chuff. his selfish feelings aside, he is worried about the morwinyon, though the prince has maintained his stately air without change. "hey," he says, seizing the opportunity before his courage deserts him, "how are you doing?"