(no subject)

[feanaro_curufinwe]

Fëanáro stands alone at the side of a black road, stretching in a straight line from horizon to horizon, sere grasses waving on either side, stretching just as far. The breeze ruffles his hair as well, carrying the smell of sun-warmed earth and those same grasses, as well as smells unfamiliar to him, but welcome nonetheless.

Because he never thought he would stand here, never thought he would see the line where earth meets sky again until the end of all things, and so even though this place is nothing like what he would ever have chosen to be in himself... He can enjoy it and appreciate it, for at least as long as it takes to find his way to some kind of civilisation.

Comments

[stands_for_hope]

"I do my best to honor both of my parents, human and Kryptonian," he admits quietly with a bow of his head. Then he offers a smile.

"My name amongst Men is Clark Joseph Kent. My Kryptonian name, the one that text refers to me as, is Kal-El, last of the House of El. And the glyph that you see on the ship and on that tablet is the sign of the House of El. It means 'hope'."

[feanaro_curufinwe]

"Kal-El," he murmurs, turning the name over in his mind. 'Shining Star' it would be in Quenya. "And what does 'Kal' mean?"

[stands_for_hope]

"From what I understand, it translates to 'vessel'. Or 'messenger'."

And it makes enough sense. He was, in a very real sense, the carrier of his planet's, and his parents', hopes and dreams.

[feanaro_curufinwe]

He arches an eyebrow, though his lips also quirk up a little.

"That is great deal to put onto one small child," he says. "Though you would hardly be the first so burdened."

[stands_for_hope]

"I was all that they had," he says honestly enough. "And like I told you: I do the best I can."

He breathes out with a bit of a huff.

"Would you like to spend some time studying the tablet and the ship or discussing the book from earlier?"

[feanaro_curufinwe]

Fëanáro considers that for a moment, reaching out to run his fingers along the side of the ship (surely there must be a better word for it?), the light in his eyes gleaming brighter for a moment as the possibilities of alien - alien! - alloys turns behind them.

"I am torn," he admits then, feeling-- sheepish, in a way that he has not for Years untold. "For as a lover-of-language I wish nothing more than to discuss a new piece of literature. As an artist and crafter, however, I would dearly love to explore the possibilities - if only hypothetical - inherent in the existence of materials from entire other worlds."

[stands_for_hope]

Clark can't help but smile as he settles down to lean against one of the main supports.

"You're probably going to be here more than one night. All you need to chooses is for tonight."

[feanaro_curufinwe]

"I see no reason then, why we cannot have our discussion while I make an initial investigation into the nature of the materials of your ship," he replies.

[stands_for_hope]

"Works for me," and he settles in for the discussion.

"All I ask is that you're careful with the ship. It's... all that I have, but I'm sure you can understand."