#arondir

⇢ ˗ˏˋGil-Galad

■ Subtle and perfectly timed. His words are carefully measured, but his presence says everything. He flirts with restraint and watches to see if you notice the moment it cracks.

■ He never approaches too directly. He waits until your eyes meet across a corridor or hall — then inclines his head, ever so slightly. If he steps closer, it’s intentional.

■ Regal, eloquent, slow. He crafts compliments like wine — rich, refined, and meant to linger. “You wear the dusk well. It favors your kind of quiet fire.”

■ He never touches first. But if you brush against him, his response is deliberate. A slow turn of the hand to catch yours, a thumb brushed across your knuckles as if in contemplation.

■ Gil-galad has learned to love without showing it, to yearn without leaning. His flirtation is a series of calculated risks; each word carries weight. Each glance is a signal, a lock awaiting a key.

■ When he speaks plainly for the first time without titles, without strategy, it will shake you. “I have led armies. Held kingdoms. And yet… I find myself wondering what you think of me.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋArondir

■ Quiet, present, and deeply emotional. Arondir doesn’t flirt with words — he flirts with devotion.

■ He always notices your discomfort before you speak it. He will reposition a chair so the sun doesn’t blind you. He will step between you and danger without thinking. And he will never mention it.

■ Rarely speaks without meaning. When he says something personal, it feels like the world has paused to hear it. “You are… unlike any path I’ve walked.”

■ Carves small tokens for you. A leaf from a tree that only blooms once a year, your name etched in Quenya on smooth wood. He leaves them without ceremony, then pretends not to notice when you find them.

■ His love is not showy, but it’s constant. He’ll watch you with the kind of gaze that says, I would wait an Age for you. And mean it.

■ The moment he finally touches your cheek, eyes locked with yours, is the moment he’s decided — silently, permanently — that he is yours.

⇢ ˗ˏˋCelebrimbor

■ Excitable, intense, and terribly earnest. He flirts by accident… and then makes it worse by being too sincere.

■ Hair tousled from long nights in the forge, hands stained from work, he runs fingers through his hair when nervous. His eyes light up around you and he doesn’t hide it.

■ Fast-paced, bright, layered with admiration. He’s always a little breathless around you, like you’ve thrown off his rhythm. “Wait, wait, you don’t think this is brilliant? Look - look at this, tell me that curve isn’t perfect. I based it on your — well. Never mind.”

■ Constantly gives you things: a chain he meant to throw away but thought looked “nice,” a ring he insists is “just practice,” or a sketch he swears wasn’t you (it was).

■ He falls fast, and deep. But his fear of being used makes him hesitant to admit it. So he’ll bury affection in gifts, conversation, and genius-level distractions.