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khamvl heeft gereageerd op je bericht: I also just read bean is afraid of closet monsters...
“…. well, that may not be the worst idea, my lord. I only have two other robes in there, identical to the one I’m wearing. I could probably find a new one somewhere.”
“.... You only have three robes total? That’s it, I’m getting you new robes.”
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The wraith barely even knew the Noldo, except because of his Master. He was uncomfortable around the Elf, but perhaps if he explained the issue first? No, no, better to just get it over with, then defend himself. That would be better against an aggressive force. So he knocked on FĂ«anor's door, and as soon as it opened he stepped inside and gave him a quick kiss.
After a brief moment of shock, FĂ«anor quickly regained his senses and shoved the wraith harshly away. This was followed by a hard slap, then another, and then one more.
“I don’t know what madness has possessed you,” he snarled, drawing a dagger and advancing on his unwelcome visitor. He recognised him and knew who he was, though they’d never spoken.
“Or who sent you here, but you have FIVE SECONDS to get out of my sight!”
... I suddenly had this image in my head of Khamul with cat ears, whiskers, and a tail.
Khamûl had been in such a hurry, head down and steps just shy of a run, that he didn't even have a chance to try to dodge around the figure that turned the corner before him. He barreled into the Herald clumsily, grunting in distressed surprise as he caught himself against the other (as these ridiculous little shoes were still rather uncomfortably unsuited for the wraith). It wouldn't have been so bad, except in return the Herald's hands had found him, and in the process his ridiculous outfit.
HURRIED STEPS did not went by unheard, but the Mouth has trusted that whoever came rushing around the corner would be aware enough to look out for anyone who might round the corner. Too much to hope for apparently as a solid weight barreled into him && send him stumbling back at least three steps as he fought to stay upright. Anger rose already like an old lover, confident and hot when he became aware of cold flesh and an unmistakable presence. Khamûl?... But this was hardly like him.
“ What has you running down the corridors and almost further disabling me? ” Mockery tinted his tone, as well as a bout of annoyance. Automatically his hands had found the wraith’s body upon impact, and now his fingers felt strangely silky material and a rough belt... no belt, he noticed, as his fingers spanned further and caught a bow tied at Khamûl’s back. What in the void...? “ Are you wearing an apron? I am not aware that a Nazgûl could be on kitchen duty. ” Lame humor, irritation and wonder evident in Mordu’s voice. His hands explored further ( whether Khamûl wanted it or not ) and felt the frilly seams of said apron and what felt like a dress beneath? For sure it did not feel like respectable robes. “ What are you wearing? ” Deep baritone purr was firm but he already reached down and found the skirt ending well of a palm above the wraith’s knees. && were those stockings?
Being alive didn't mean he was excluded from regular duties. It was his turn to patrol, and as the Commander of Dol Guldur he was best suited for rounds through the wood. So he strapped on his knives and took a bit more care with his armor, and left. His winged mount was aware something was different, headbutting him warily before letting him on, and they stayed low in the sky as they circled the tree-tops. His eyes weren't as sharp as usual, so he relied on his beast's nose to seek any targets.
It was unusual for the elf to stray so far into emeny lands alone, but Beleg was cautious - moving silently and carefully, well hidden among the branches as he tracked his prey. But Beleg’s eyes were sharp, catching a glimpse of movement above him. What could it be?
There was only one solution. Climb higher, right to the top, and take a look. It couldn’t be anything dangerous.Â
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"Are you as... *influenced* by Master's moods as we wraiths are?"
“Not really. While I am part of his Song, mine vibrates to a different tune. I cannot hear his Song, so his moods hardly affect me. I’m only fully affected by physical actions done upon him,” Maltaril explained.
“Though sometimes I suppose his taste in partners overlap mine. We both seemed rather fond of the Noldo, at some point..”
đź’¬
Send đź’¬ and my muse will say what they really think about yours. - Accepting
“Ah... Khamul.”
A pause, the man looks away and smiles, a little, soft and happy smile.
“... I like him a lot. I hope we... I hope we can become summething, together. He be... very special. Very very much so.”
Fidgeting and clearly nervous, the wraith slowly approached the other and paused before them. "Ah... f-forgive me, my lord, for how very forward I have been recently. I assure you I mean no disrespect, and I-- I very much realize that I do not have the right to do anything of the sort, it is just-- w-well, I was-- you see, there was this-- this dare, and..." He knew if he talked anymore he would talk himself out of it, so instead he carefully darted in to press a chaste kiss to their lips.
Maltaril just blinked, unused to the boldness of Khamul that he had been showing the past few times- but the change was hardly unwelcome. They pulled the ringwraith back into a tight hug, before kissing his forehead.
“You are the cutest being in all of Mordor.”
