Aeonian [Legolas]

21

Walking through the halls was almost feverish. Viridis walked, almost as if in a trance, barely aware of his feet hitting the ground or his mind telling him that he needed to stay focused.

He was home.

But at the very same time, something still felt off. Misplaced.

He was misplaced.

Legolas cleared his throat, and Viridis blinked. "We're here." The prince announced, sounding just as awkward as his words. It was almost uncanny to see the Prince shift on his feet as he did now, without any idea of what to do with his hands. 

 They had stopped in front of a large door decorated in ordinary Elvish fashion but even still it was nothing short of breathless to any outsider. Twice as tall as he and encased in wodden finishings crafted from the very laws of the reckless mother nature, it bore down on him both ominous and comforting at once.

Viridis worried his lip between his teeth as he nodded dully and opened the door, stepping through soundlessly.

Legolas waited by the door, watching the Elf tread forward, holding his breath as amber eyes scraped every inch, groove, and crevice.

"Nothing has changed." Viridis said, voice almost uncertain. It was an odd tone the Elf rarely suited. He felt exposed; vulnerable. It was a position he scarcely would find himself in but he didn't move to diminish those feelings. He would be gone soon enough. Only after he paid his childhood a visit.

"It gets cleaned." Came the simple reply, more words hanging in the air unspoken. When were you ever going to come back?

Viridis could see it in Legolas' eyes as he peered at the prince briefly over his shoulder. He pulled his gaze away as if it were the hardest thing to do in the world. A bow and arrow rested on a slot on one of the walls, held up by a deliberately placed rack hand carved out of Mirkwood wood and engraved with designs only suitable to those close to Sindarin kin. 

Delicate hands traced the arrows perched next to it, memories flashing of events that happened years ago. He had been in the prince's personal army, a close guard and warrior. One of the best of the best.

But that was when he still used a bow. Now it stood on its perch gathering dust and waiting to be used by the right person.

"You look awful." A voice cut through the onslaught of memories. Viridis snapped out of it soundlessly and let his hand fall, a frown replacing muted monotony.

Viridis looked fully at the prince this time, letting his eyes meet blue.

Legolas' gaze took the Elf in, eyes not focused on the scar but free-roaming everywhere else. His hair lay limp- brushed only three days past, his garments littered with traces of their journey thus far. Leaves, spiders silk, and wooden dust lodged in the crevices of his tunic.

Viridis suddenly had the striking feeling of being totally and wholly exposed as he stood there, unable to do a thing but let the prince gaze at him.

Legolas cleared his throat, eyes flicking back up to Viridis' as he shifted, only just enough that keen eyes noticed. They were both unsure of what to do with themselves, the old practice of courtesy and friendship lay disheveled at their feet, neither of them moving to bend down and untangle the pieces. Not yet.

"Let me draw you a bath while you gather yourself." Legolas then announced.

Viridis frowned as the prince untucked something from the waistband of his person, unholstering the Mori Twins and delicately laying them on the entrance worktable before shutting the door behind him and moving across the room with the grace of a cat to draw a bath.