TDM #5

[calderaevents]

ARRIVAL

It happens in an instant. A heavy weight in your gut, a trembling of your limbs, the world spins and you barely have time to register that you're falling before you lose consciousness. And when you awaken, it's not where you were last. Dark, unadorned oak walls surround you in a tiny room, the only furniture the bed you are currently resting upon, and the bedside table with a folded piece of parchment resting atop it that simply reads:

“The Tavernkeeper is awaiting your arrival downstairs.”

As you exit you find others like yourself emerging from the surrounding rooms. You are indeed in a tavern, but there is no hustle and bustle one might think to hear in such a place. The only person down on the main floor is a humanoid figure wiping down the bar, who smiles when they see you. They're familiar, but not, and you can't quite place their face. For some reason, however, their presence is comforting and warm.

“Welcome, Visitor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”

And you most certainly do.

Due to popular demand, the starter tavern and the drinks provided are available to in game characters via a portal accessible only to those with a faction gem.

DRINK MENU

FLAMEFRUIT SANGRIA a deep red wine based punch with chunks of softly glowing fruit floating in it. A single serving makes you feel relaxed, social, and maybe even a little flirty.

MOLTEN MEAD Though the thick drink itself is room temperature, it bubbles sluggishly, and feels very warm going down. The bold flavor affects your mood. You feel very bold! Like you could do anything!

BESALT BRANDY a hopefully staple drink for the brewery, this liquor is smooth and rich with a peppery bite. Ironically after consuming it, you kinda want to bite someone! Not hard! Just a little nip and nibble!

THAT ASHY ESPRESSO a single potent shot of dark espresso swirled with a gold-tinged cream. Intense and bitter with a hint of caramelized sugar. You are now very awake, hyper, and excited.

PYROCLAST'S WHISKEYa glossy black whiskey that turns a vibrant glowing orange when swirled. You now breathe fire.

EMBERMARK WINE a rich, velvety, spiced wine that immediately makes one feel mellow and calm.

CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY

As the effects of your drink wear off, the Tavernkeeper speaks once more:

”It is time, my friends, for you to find your new homes.”

You are compelled to walk through the only door leading out of the tavern, finding yourself not outside, but in a deep black, seemingly endless room with five portals arranged in a circle. As the last of you leave and the door closes behind you, gone when you look back again and replaced with nothing but that black void, three of the portals illuminate:

The first portal is surrounded by an almost blinding light, prismatic rainbows shining brightly in the dewy air outside of the tavern. A soft breeze may gently caress you, pulling you toward it. The portal seems to lead to a city in the clouds, airships and winged beings of all sorts soaring through the skies. Of the little bits of visible land, much of it boasts giant waterfalls that look like clouds melting into the land below. The portal calls to those who crave independence and freedom; and especially to anyone that wishes to find the strong bond of a family not forged in blood.

The second portal is encircled by a fairy ring of spotted white capped mushrooms, the faint scent of damp stone and rich earth wafting from within the faint green glow. Peering inside, one can see a sprawling harbor city of gray hewn stone, a melting pot of humanoid beings going about their day, and beyond, rolling green farmland and cottages clustered in small villages. This portal is destined for those who crave stability and solid ground beneath their feet. A simple life, an adventurous one, and everything in between can be found within.

The last portal is adorned with shells and seaweed, the glow of blue around it catching on droplets cascading down the circular opening. Beyond it you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, spiraling towers encrusted with coral, and a variety of different creatures mingling about the streets. Outside of that bubble, merfolk swim, a massive squid engulfs the view from the portal as it smoothly glides through the water, and schools of fish disperse as it passes. A sanctuary in the sea that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid those in need. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you - the lure of the unknown in the depths that bids you explore it.

---

Upon following the pull of the breeze through the first portal, you are thrust into the beauty of a lively city that goes by the name of Heaven's Bow. Much of this main city feels exactly as you would expect on a city below, but there are clouds surrounding every direction you look. The walls of buildings are made with light-colored limestone, and buildings are generally built up to heights made even more grandiose by their position in the sky.

The Skyfall Docks are the first thing you notice, boasting hundreds of airships sailing in and out across the clouds with shouts that accompany a typical port city. Just outside is a fantastic market with goods not only from the other regions of Caldera, but from what some shopkeepers claim are other worlds--items sold or left behind by Visitors. Almost anything can be found in the markets if one is willing to look hard enough. Transport to other locations throughout the sky and even to the land or sea can be found here.

If the docks are too lively for you, you may instead find yourself roaming the underbelly of Heaven's Bow and finding brothels and gambling parlors filled with the promise of pleasure and fortune. The guild house for the Sylphs can be found here as well, giving out quests and training to prospective adventurers and guards alike--though none of them seem concerned with the illicit activities that surround them. Perhaps the freedom the Sylphs boast of extends to what others may deem an undesirable activity.

But most curious of all, you find a shimmering opal gemstone in your hand. When placed anywhere on the body, it will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If it was the second portal that called to you, you will find yourself in the busy city of Grey Ward, with its cobblestone streets and sturdy grey stone buildings. You are in the heart of the city, the Glass Market, so named for the colorful stained glass windows of the surrounding buildings. The scent of cooking food and the sound of barkers fills the air; watchful guards keep an eye out for pickpockets and thieves, and citizens go about their day. From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring skips transport people and goods. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers. The Hearthstill, the main residential area. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means.

Outside the city walls, one can explore acres of farmlands to the east and west, or follow Terra’s Pass to the less settled areas, but take care. Past the Skyward Range, out in the smaller burrows and villages, the influence of the city guard diminishes quickly, and you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Bandits along the road are always a risk, and the wildlife are less controlled by regimented hunting.

In your hand is a gemstone, a brilliantly green emerald that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If the last portal beckoned you through it, you find yourself within that bubble covered city beneath the sea, the city of Salt Spire. Your ears pop with the change in pressure, and the smell of the salty sea fills your nostrils. All around you buildings made of dark stone encrusted with coral and seagrass tower high above your head, the backdrop outside the dome a deep blue, seemingly endless sea filled with fish and merfolk and all other manner of creature swimming through the water. You stand in the heart of it all, surrounded by people with gils on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin, all of whom seem intrigued by your arrival. You have many options of where to visit in the city under the sea, but where oh where will you go first?

The Salt Spire Library is right before you, an impossibly large building housing thousands upon thousands of books of all genres. Fiction, non-fiction, romance and mystery and all between. You may even find books from your world and others! Oddly enough though, no Calderan history books are to be found, and if you ask for them, the librarians and locals all choose to ignore your questions.

If scholarly pursuits aren't to your interest currently, perhaps a trip to Bluetide Market would be more your style? The marketplace is host to every manner of shop one might ever need: artisans of all varieties, apothecaries and healers in the Shimmer Quarter, the most in fashion undersea clothing shops, food stalls, and all between can be found in Bluetide. There are also the Tideshore and Fogbottom docks on either end of the city. The former allows transport to the surface via large, magical bubbles for those that cannot hold their breath or make the swim themselves yet. The latter allows people to venture further into the sea. Those without their underwater abilities are offered rebreathers for travel that last for four hours before needing to be replaced.

In your hand is a gemstone, a shining sapphire that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

IGNACIA'S CRADLE/EMBER VEIL

Months ago, a piece of land from Heaven’s Bow fell from the sky and scarred the land below, damaging a part of the city. From that chaos and ruin rose new life, a new ruler, and a new city: Ignacia’s Cradle. Just a short walk from the edge of Grey Ward, the gates of the city are guarded by two massive obsidian golems, and any who did not rise from the lava itself are warned at the entrance that to travel about the city will be most difficult, unless they have obtained a way to mitigate the extreme heat: be that with a charm, an ability, or a potion. The very streets themselves are paved in slabs of volcanic rock, tall spires of buildings constructed and shaped by rapidly cooled lava. The main method of travel are the mine carts, with tracks that wind through the spires ready to take one to almost any location.

Currently, the main feature of Ignacia’s Cradle is the Lava Flats, home of skilled smiths that use the extreme heat of the lava to melt the strongest metals and create unbreakable weapons, glassmakers and jewelers who fashion elaborate headpieces, rings, and amulets. These items are sold at the Ember Market on the outskirts of the Flats.

At the edge of the city lies the Ashfall Terrace, where a small farm using the rich volcanic ash and soil is in its infancy, as well as the Basalt Brewery where clever alchemists are researching ways to use the extreme heat to craft new and unique beverages that they are eager to find folk to test them out on.

---

The hot spring of Ignacia’s Cradle is a breathtaking anomaly located just beyond the Ashfall Terrace, tucked into a secluded crater formed by the celestial impact that gave rise to the city. Here, molten veins from the Lava Flats weave beneath the earth, heating a natural reservoir that bubbled to life amidst the chaos. The spring’s waters shimmer with an ethereal brilliance, hues of deep turquoise blending with molten gold and fiery orange, as though Heaven’s Bow itself left behind a fragment of its essence. Steam rises in curling wisps, carrying the tang of minerals and faint traces of sulfur.

The spring, known to locals as The Ember Veil, is both a sanctuary and a marvel of natural wonder. Its soothing waters are reputed to heal wounds and fortify the spirit, with the temperature kept in perfect balance by an intricate system of naturally formed vents and channels. The edges are lined with intricately carved obsidian benches, where patrons can soak their feet or meditate in the rising steam. Plants resistant to the intense conditions—vivid fire lilies and ash ferns—dot the perimeter, their resilience a symbol of life’s ability to flourish even in the harshest environments.

Sometimes, when two or more individuals share the waters, the spring creates a subtle connection between their minds, allowing memories to surface like ripples on its surface. These shared memories appear as glowing, translucent scenes that hover above the water, visible to all within the spring. Participants can relive moments from their lives, experiencing them through each other’s eyes, fostering profound empathy and understanding.

Another of the spring’s mystical properties occurs when bathers who enter the waters feeling drained, injured, or burdened by grief often find their vitality restored. The waters seem to draw out negative energies and emotions, replacing them with a warm, invigorating sensation that spreads through the body. In rare instances, the spring has been known to accelerate physical healing, mending minor injuries and soothing chronic aches, as though the magic itself is stitching the body back together.

A lesser-known but equally fascinating effect happens on particularly clear nights, when the moonlight reflects on the spring’s surface, some bathers report fleeting glimpses of potential futures. These visions are often cryptic, appearing as brief, dream-like flashes, but they have guided many to life-changing decisions. The alchemists of the Basalt Brewery believe this effect stems from residual cosmic energy, and they have begun experimenting with enhancing it through the addition of rare minerals and lunar elixirs.

RADIANT SUN

The day begins like no other, with the skies painted in hues of golden-pink as the Radiant Sun ascends. Its light spills over the world, warm and soft, caressing the land and filling every heart with a sense of peace. Beneath its glow, emotions of love and connection bloom like never before. Strangers exchange heartfelt smiles, old friends embrace as though no time has passed, and lovers find their feelings deepened, their bonds strengthened.

Even the air feels different—lighter, sweeter, as though the universe itself is celebrating. The songs of birds harmonize with the melodies of impromptu musicians who feel inspired by the sun’s radiance. Those with magical abilities sense their powers of healing and creation magnified, as if the sun itself lends its strength to their intentions. Long-held grudges seem to melt away under the sun’s tender gaze, replaced by tears of reconciliation and words of forgiveness.

The Radiant Sun touches every heart differently:

◾A widow finds peace as memories of her late spouse no longer bring sorrow but gratitude for the love they shared.
◾A timid youth finds the courage to confess their feelings to the person they’ve admired for so long.
◾A gruff warrior lets down their guard, laughing freely with their companions for the first time in years.

For a fleeting moment, the world feels as it should be—unified, harmonious, and drenched in love.

But as the day wanes and the Radiant Sun dips below the horizon, an unease begins to settle...

JEALOUS MOON

The golden light gives way to deep purples and silvers as the Jealous Moon rises, its glow pale and cold. Its light pierces the heart, not to warm it, but to expose the insecurities that lie buried within. Where love had flourished during the day, doubt begins to creep in.

Under the Jealous Moon’s influence, emotions twist and darken:

◾A once-reconciled pair of siblings argue over old grievances, as jealousy over perceived favoritism resurfaces.
◾A couple, who had spent the day lost in each other’s arms, now question each other’s loyalty and intentions.
◾A nobleman, inspired to be generous during the day, grows suspicious of those who received his gifts, fearing they may exploit his kindness.

The air grows heavy with tension, and the magic of the Radiant Sun fades, replaced by the sharp sting of distrust. The moon’s pale light seems to follow people like a judgmental gaze, amplifying every fear, insecurity, and lingering resentment.

Worse still, the night seems endless, as though time itself has bent beneath the weight of the Jealous Moon’s envious glow. For three long days and nights, the moon lingers high in the sky, its pale, piercing light casting a shadow over hearts and minds, amplifying discord and despair. Its power sows strife among even the closest bonds, driving some to dangerous extremes. Yet, when all seems lost, the scholars of the three factions unite their wisdom and uncover a glimmer of hope—a means to dispel the moon’s cruel influence. For those who have not yet succumbed to jealousy’s grip, there remains a chance to reclaim harmony, a chance for redemption before the damage becomes irreversible.

The solution lies not in complex rituals or rare relics but in the simplest and most instinctive actions: physical connection. To weaken the moon’s hold, people must embrace one another—offering a hug, a handshake, or even resting a hand on someone’s shoulder. These gestures of closeness disrupt the isolation and mistrust that the moon thrives upon. Sitting side by side or holding hands creates a barrier against its oppressive light, reminding the afflicted that they are not alone. Even small acts, like sharing warmth through proximity or clasping arms in solidarity, build a shield of connection that the moon cannot penetrate.

As these actions ripple through the night, the Jealous Moon’s light begins to dim, its sharp, cold glow softening until it fades from the sky entirely. The tension in the air lifts, replaced by a quiet calm that feels almost foreign after the chaos of the past three days. Slowly, the world seems to exhale, and the darkness that clung so tightly to the hearts of many begins to loosen its grip. People step back from the brink of despair, their minds clearing as if waking from a long, disorienting dream. Relationships strained by the moon’s influence begin to mend as apologies are exchanged, tears are shed, and bonds are reaffirmed.

ALL IS WELL(?)

With the Radiant Sun rising again, its golden-pink hues spilling across the horizon, life begins to return to normal. The birds resume their morning songs, markets reopen, and the hum of daily activity fills the air once more. Though traces of the moon’s influence linger in whispered memories, there is a collective sense of relief and gratitude among the people—gratitude for the light, for connection, and for a second chance to heal.

In the outskirts of Ignacia's Cradle, Aella and Terra, two of the three leaders of the factions, come together to address the gathered crowds. Together they assure the people that this celestial event was a rare anomaly, something never before recorded in the annals of history. They explain that while the Jealous Moon’s influence was unprecedented and deeply unsettling, it was a unique alignment of cosmic forces that is unlikely to occur again in their lifetimes—or ever.

The leaders thank the people for their resilience and compassion, emphasizing how their acts of unity—simple gestures of closeness and connection—proved stronger than the moon’s envy. They commend the scholars for their quick thinking and the Visitors for their role in guiding others through the chaos. Finally, they urge everyone to move forward, not in fear of what has passed, but with the knowledge that even in the darkest moments, their strength lies in the bonds they share.

QUESTBOARD

Settled in? Good. It's time to make your way to the Questboard located in every city in numerous, easy to access locations. That is, if you want to make any kind of impact on the world or just get some Bones for anything you might wish to purchase. Visitors are given a very small stipend in which to survive every month, but all it does is keep you fed and housed. These quests will assure you greater wealth, and they're the main reason you're here: each finished quest helps the Calderans fix their shattering world.

Quests can be accepted at the questboard via magically signed parchment upon the board. Just sign your name to accept and the paper will be whisked away... somewhere. You're not actually sure. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.

Once quests are completed, earned Bones will be dropped off at the character's residence by Bonita, the mysterious artisan who has supposedly handcrafted every Bone circulating in Caldera. Please do not speak to her, she startles easily.

*February will be the last month to complete quests for this rotation. New ones will go up on March 1st.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Caldera's fifth TDM! All characters awaken in a strange tavern with nothing save the clothes on their backs, all of their powers stripped, and a piece of parchment directing them downstairs to the Tavernkeeper. There is a thread of all questions answered by the Tavernkeeper here, and if you have more, feel free to ask there for what would be offered ICly.

For OOC questions, please direct themhere.

All locations are available to be explored! Ignacia's Cradle and Ember Veil have been added, along with details about the Violet Drop regarding the Cult of Triton.

The TDM is game canon and all completed quests can be carried over once accepted into the game.

Participation in the Radiant Sun/Jealous Moon effects is not mandatory.

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Comments

[holdshisown]

"So I invaded," he confirms. "No. My mind was not what it once had been, that is true, but I was not so far gone that I did not know what I was doing. And that is not all... the silmaril slipped our grasp. One of Dior's children escaped with it."

This part was so much harder to tell. Sirion had been so much worse than anything he'd done previous, but Fingon must know. He can't keep it from him.

"I was sick from what I'd done in Doriath. I... I tried to forswear the Oath then. I did. But it would not leave me be! It haunted me, gnawed at me day and night and it hurt. I held out for as long as I could but I was never going to be able to hold out forever... not anymore."

It had almost been worse than hanging of that damned mountain.

"So when my strength finaly ran out I was not kind. I wrote letters to Elwing as well, but she was no more inclined to return the silmaril to us than her father had been. So we went to Sirion as well, with our swords drawn." And how it hurts to tell this part of it. How the shame of it burns him almost as badly as the silmaril had. "But it was different then Sirion was not a city so much as it was a refuge camp. A place were the remnants of Doriath had fled... and where they were later joined by those who survived the fall of Gondolin. Some of my men turned against me there and I wish they had had the skill to cut me down. But I am far too good at war for them to have stood much chance and so they too I slayed. And I was so very terrible a sight to behold that day that Elwing threw herself off a clif rather than to yield the silmaril."

[utulien_aure]

"A refugee camp."

And not just of Sindar, it seemed. Gondolin gone as well- so had Turgon been among those Maedhros had attacked? What about careful, clever Idril, or Lomion, the sad-eyed boy with the face of lost Aredhel?

"I had thought, perhaps, that there was some small mercy when I saw you retreat. That if I would not make it, at least you might yet be safe. But you tell me that you spent a century after my death doing the work of the Enemy for him?"

A sob chokes in his throat.

"And now you just throw this at my feet, as though I can find some justice in this horror? If I took your head here and now, would it make you feel better? And if it would, is that a point in favor or against?"

[holdshisown]

"Mercy?" He asks incredulously. "You thought there was any mercy in surviving your death knowing it was I that brought you there? No. Mercy would have been if I had died there as well."

Turgon and Lomion had already been long dead, having not survived the fall of Gondolin, and Idril had long since left to seek Valinor together with her mortal husband. Not that their absence had made his actions any more forgivable.

When Maedhros looks back up at Fingon his eyes are like two black pits of despair. "Nothing can ever make me feel better. But you are my king and I will not decieve you, you are owed the truth from me. If, however, you decide I am to die for my crimes I'd ask you to let me do it myself. This place... it's leaders may look unkindly upon you for taking the life of a fellow Visitor and I would not have you face censure for delivering justice upon me."

[utulien_aure]

“You did not lead me anywhere!”

He throws up his hands. “I am not some stripling youth at his first command, overawed by the great prince of the Marches into losing his own wits. I have fought the same war you have since the Bragollach, and I know how precarious our situation has been. The seed of this campaign was yours, but I have watered it with both eyes open.”

Best to keep the What Happened to Gondolin conversation to another time, possibly. There need to be limits on the number of crises they can have simultaneously.

“I have risked you as I have myself, because we are princes at war and the times demand it. But I had always thought I made it clear how dearly I held the life and spirit you seem to appraise so cheaply.”

[holdshisown]

"But I did!" He retorts just as vehemently. "It was my plan, it was my allies that betrayed us and it was I that left you there when I retreated!"

He has nursed this guilt for near a century now, has gone over the events of that day over and over again to find every little mistake he made to give himself yet another sharp tool to cut himself to pieces with. "So do not tell me I had no hand in your death."

That would be for the best. Maedhros can only deliver so much bad news to Fingon at a time, having to deliver another blow to him would be more than he could take.

"I wish I had it in me to hold it as dearly as you," he truly does. "If only because I know it hurts you when I say that I do not. But what else can I do but offer my life? What other punishment would be just for what I've done?"

[utulien_aure]

"Is that what happened? I could see an attack, but the details escaped me."

Bor or Ulfang, he wonders, before reminding himself that it doesn't matter. Is it strange that, even now, he feels the need to take stock of assets in a war they have lost so utterly?

"You are not responsible for everything that goes wrong in the world!" It's a lesson Maedhros will take until the end of days to learn, Fingon suspects, but in the meantime he'll keep trying to make a bit of it sink in.

"I do not even mean the obvious- the balrogs and their master. If I had thought the plans you presented a disaster in the making, I would have said so. I did not, and nor did the captains and counselors I consulted on the matter. Or did you think I nodded and agreed to everything you suggested without any thought in the matter?"

There are people, he knows, who think that Maedhros ruled through him, that he is inclined to give the nod to everything that the lord of Himring says. At home, few dare to suggest it to his face, and the small group who hint at it can be pointedly dealt with.

Unfortunately, Maedhros' conviction that he is the prime enabler of all the world's ills cannot be settled by a demotion to a year of latrine duty. And there is also the small matter of the very real crimes he is offering up for judgment.

"Maedhros. No- Nelyafinwe Maitimo Feanarion. Put aside that our new-" he has to pause, stumbling for a word- "hosts may disapprove of another's justice. What exactly can I condemn you to that is the equal of what you have done? And how could I, were there a clear action to take, knowing that you have been the joy of my life?"

[holdshisown]

"Yes. Ulfang and his sons betrayed us."

Bor had been faithful to the last, and both he and his sons had died for it.

"And yet I was the one ultimately responsible for this battle and I was the one that was too blind to see the betrayal fermenting within my own ranks." Maedhros will defer to Fingon in many things, but in this he will always remain as stubborn as an ill-tempered mule.

"Of course not! How lowly do you think my opinion of you is? I do not think you are a fool that cannot think for yourself, but don't you see? As the originator of that plan it's failure falls upon me. As do the literal hill of courpses it claimed!"

It was a rumor that had always greatly irked Maedhros as well. How disloyal did they think he was? How little did they think it meant when he gave his word or swore an oath?

No. If Fingon ordered that he'd comply, even though it would sting his pride terribly, but he'd be doing it still holding fast to the belief that he was one of the greatest ills to have ever befallen the world.

"I do not know, my king." He murmurs. "Nothing could ever be the equal to the wrongs I have done, the horror I have caused, but something must be done with me. If not death then what? I do not wish to cause you pain, Finno. I've never wanted that. But there is something broken within me and it makes me a danger to those around me at times."

[utulien_aure]

"And Bor did not?" The poor man. Even if he did survive, his people would likely be taken as guilty by association by non-Easterling survivors.

"It was a risk, but it was a risk we both felt we had to take. You know that. That we were undone by treachery does not make the underlying logic of the campaign unsound. Nor does it excuse what was going wrong already before you took the field."

Because the plan was already undergoing contact with the enemy. It wasn't unsalvageable, he thinks still, but once the Nargothrond contingent was loose things needed to be improvised.

A sigh. "And Ulfang was Caranthir's man, if I remember aright; if you are taking responsibility for the errors of your vassals, why are you excusing me from doing the same for mine?"

He pauses to hear those last words, looks a long time at his cousin's face. "You think yourself a danger at present? So far from Arda?"

[holdshisown]

"No." Though it might have served him and his family better had he done so, or at least not actively stood in the way of those of his kin that had. "He and his sons remained loyal to the end. Little good that that did them..."

He does know that Fingon is right about it, of course, but he has grown so used to blaming himself for it that it's hard to truly believe it. "I should have known. I should have. I knew how our enemy worked. I knew his tricks... and still I failed to anticipate the one he's most known for."

"And Caranthir was under my command." He says mulishly. "Because... because you died! How could I hold you accountable for anything when you died?! They did not even leave a body behind of you! They... all they left were a puddle of blood and gore that would have been indistinguishable from the rest of them had it not had your banner in it!"

Maedhros himself pauses for a moment before he awnsers. He want's to say yes, to claim he's never going to be anything but a danger to others. But it wouldn't be the truth. Not in entirely, at least. "I'll always have the potential to become one," he says. "But... less so here, perhaps. There are no silmarils here to rouse my oath."

[utulien_aure]

"Little good it did any of the Edain who followed us, it seems. If Bor and his sons are on your head, then Hurin and Huor and all their kin are on mine."

They will be beating their heads against this difference until the end of time, it seems. "And you are under the command of the High King. By the same logic, I am responsible for every error you made." He feels so very tired. There's too much of this to deal with at once.

"But you will not hold me to it, because you believe it is only Maedhros Feanorion who must be subjected to such an unforgiving eye, Maedhros Feanorion and perhaps, at a distant second, the Black Enemy of the World. What you do to yourself is unkind, cousin. And it is as sure a path to madness as any ever treaded.

"More, I fear that judgment has blinded you to all that you truly did have power over afterward. You are grieving still, a hundred sun-years later and staring at my face; did you think at Doriath that it did not matter what you did, for you were already damned?"

He sighs. "Then I do not see the point in bringing matters of Arda to a place so removed from them. Not without a reason for a threat to emerge. And not in a place where I have no claim to make justice, if a dead prince can even have that right."

[holdshisown]

Maedhros opens his mouth to argue again but shuts it before he's even gotten a word out when Fingon turns his own logic against him. It is entirely unfair of Fingon to turn his own words against him like that!

"That is..." Not the same? Entirely different? But was it truly? Was this hoarding of guilt and blame just some perverse manifestation of his damnable pride? The belief that all the wrongs in the world could be traced back to himself?

"I have never been overly prone to treat myself kindly. But you just might be right that it is a path to madness... I would not claim I was entirely sane before I came here. My mind is... quieter here and less disordered than it was in my last moments." Oh. Oh, he hopes Fingon did not catch on to what he accidentaly let slip there. He had not planned to let him know he had died as well. That was a discussion he'd like to put off for quite some time if he could, if only so he didn't have to tell his cousin he'd done it to himself.

"No. No, that is not what I thought at all. Not at Doriath, at least, it wasn't until Sirion that I'd lost hope entirely and was just... playing the part that seemed to have been assigned to me, I suppose."

Maedhros could keep arguing, he supposes, but he too is tired. He does not have as much fight left in him as he once did. "Then I suppose I'll have to accept that. You are my King, Finno, no matter where we are and, even if I may try to argue my case, I'll heed your judgement." Then, with a wry and humorless smile. "My own has proved to be less than sound, I fear."

[utulien_aure]

"Your last-"

Something about the look on Maedhros' face brings a memory to mind- the ghost of a man with Fingon's dark hair and their shared Finwean cheekbones, looking out to a horizon on fire with the gaze of one who sees only one terrible road before him.

He shakes his head. "No. I don't want to know. Not yet."

It occurs to him what some of their kin would say, of what trouble they were in if Fingon the Valiant was the one needed to be sensible. He doesn't say as much- if Maedhros is thinking about what he said earlier, Fingon doesn't want to undermine his own credibility- but a short bark of a laugh escapes him all the same.

"I think I need air. Else it will be rich of me to speak of anyone else's chance of madness."

[holdshisown]

Maedhros's eyes widen slightly before he schools his expression back into something a bit less telling. "My last moments before I ended up here, I mean."

Ah, if only Fingon knew how accurate that thought was.

"There's nothing to know. I misspoke, that's all."

Fingon may be a bit rash at times but he was not incapable of sound judgement. He certainly was no worse about it than Maedhros himself, who had masacred his way through Beleriand in his grief and his despair. So, really, he actually was in that much trouble that Fingon the Valiant would have to be the sensible one of them for a while.

"Do you want me to come with you or will my prescence just make it worse?" He does not want Fingon to go but he does not want to keep him here against his will either.

[utulien_aure]

That is a lot of clarification for nothing; if anything, Fingon is more suspicious than ever. But the facts of this conversation haven't changed.

"Of course," he agrees, and lets the issue pass. "This has been grueling for us both."

Despite... everything, it's tempting to grab Maedhros now, shake him, demand he never leaves Fingon's sight again. Loving Maedhros is easy as breathing, seeking comfort from him natural as looking for warmth from the sun.

All the same, he can't. Not now, at least.

"I think I must be alone for now," he shakes his head. "For a little while. I need to think."

And also he's going to not pay much attention to the gems and end up in Undine by accident, and I reasonably think Maedhros would have prevented that.

[holdshisown]

No it's not. It's a perfectly reasonable explanation for a minor slip-up. Nothing suspiscious about it.

"It has," he agrees. "It was a heavy conversation to have to speak of so soon upon your arrival."

He'd certainly deerve it if Fingon did. He's obviously proven he can't be trusted on his own.

"I understand," he says. Though he can't say he much likes the thought to be away from Fingon right now. Not when he is alive again and his stomach is already tying itself into a knot of worry at the thought of not being there should something happen. "You... you will contact me if something were to happen, right? This place has dangers aplenty and it is not entirely unusual for natural disasters to occur."

In truth he'd only keep Fingon away from the Sylph portal. For even though he's part of the Dryad faction he's actually been living in Undine lands together with his friends. Being alone, it turned out, had not done his mental state any favors.

[utulien_aure]

If it makes you feel better, Maedhros, you keep thinking that.

"I know this isn't the ideal moment to make this argument," he says, "but I am capable of looking after myself."

And despite the distance in his sentiment, despite the decision he's making, he can't leave Maedhros with nothing either. He raises his hand, brushes his finger against his cousin's cheek.

"But if that changes, I will find you. I promise you that, Russandol." His hand flicks up to push a lock of Maedhros' hair back behind his ear.

"This is not a farewell. We are not done, you and I. We never are."

[holdshisown]

He will. He is pretty good at being delusional, after all.

"I... I know you can take care of yourself." He says. "But it is hard not to worry considering... how everything turned out in our own world."

He makes a wounded noise as he leans into the touch. This is so hard when all he can think of is the possibility of losing Fingon all over again.

"Alright. Thank you, just... just be careful, alright?" He quietly wipes his eyes to prevent himself from making this even harder by crying.

"No. Not a farwell. A see you later, instead, perhaps?"