(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]

There's someone walking along that black road, a dufflebag over one shoulder and a low-slung baseball cap on his head. He's wearing a dirty t-shirt and a pair of jeans that've seen better days.

He looks up once with eyes that are more blue than any humans had ever been, takes in the addition to the road, and raises an eyebrow. Then he throws up a hand in a short wave.