Repudiate || legolas

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𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜... 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝

It's quite humorous. How quiet the elven prince was. The long cascading hair was pulled into a standard fish tail type of braid. He didn't seem to talk to anyone outside of Tauriel and a few others he came with. It was a small party for Tauriel, making As a warrior. Gleeful music played since no formal elves could say otherwise. It was only those who were classified as adults allowed. And that meant her dearest friend could come along. Tauriel knew that Awarthon was a bit weird. He didn't fit the expectations. His hair seemed to be more akin to the elves who came before with the curles of wavy hairs, but he never combed them. And he wore flowers in his hair, not as one would expect, not woven into a braid but just sticking in the curles of his hair. When he was to brush and tend to his hair, Tauriel always compared it to Galadriel. In fact, that's how she attempted to style his hair. But the rowdyness of youth seemed to have that lost.

Rather excitedly, she pulled Awarthon away from the group he had gathered. Mostly, as a noble seeing a peasant born elf doing magic as much as he had the knack for it was could be insulting. For she knew legolas hadn't had the knack for it as she did. And well, Awarthon put her healing to shame. "Legolas! Meet Trevad. He was who I was talking about. The best healer I know," she said, smiling watching as Trevad looked bashful with a laugh.

Trevad smiled at legolas, clear signs of intoxication from elven rum. Rum that would make any mortal pass out after a sip. "Sorry, I'm kinda buzzed, I just became legally allowed to drink. Well, i have dank before but not in public," he laughed, and Trevad hit the back of his head. "For legal reasons, I'm joking. Bit of elven mischief," he smiled tossing up his hands, and a rose petals jumped out. "I am Trevad, but some call me Tree,"

"Trevad," legolas repeated. It felt like honey in his mouth. "It suits you," he said softly almost shyly as he looked at Awarthon.

_______________________________________

Awarthon had been led to the others when legolas left. Being set with the others by Legolas, who respected Awarthons' wishes and kept their actions a secret. Two garuds approached legolas as Awarthon was 'tossed' and shut into the cold cell. Rather cutely, Awarthon took notice of Legolas being worried he hurt Awarthon. But Awarthon just gave a growl and did the same on all four walks and gripped the bars.

"I thought it was meant for solitary confinement," a guard asked Legolas, Awarthon thought he should mind his own and not question him. Legolas was quiet. Even shy, he hardly spoke a word to anyone, and when he did, it was simple, beautiful, and exact. When in groups, Awarthon did the talking while Legolas did the fighting.

Legolas scoffed slight, "it's no danger that can barely control what's happening. Just the dwarves pet," he said as he walked past the guards. Leaving to go see his father. Awarthon was tempted to use his thorns and grapple someone... to taste. He hadn't had elven blood since Legolas, and he remembered how sweet it was. He pushed those thoughts down as Bofur wished to comfort the warlock.

"There you are, I'm sure that elf wasn't too kind to you," Bofer said, trying to be an optimistic light for the bewitched male. Once the elves had left, of course.

A louder yet still kind voice spoke. It was still soft as almost anyone could tell Awarthon was a softer gent. The voice belonged to Balin. "Elves hate our kind. I'm not surprised that they would snub you for your appearance. They know not of what you are, laddie,"

All Awarthon could give was a shrug as he moved back, sitting down on the floor leaning against the wall. "He thinks I killed someone he knew," he said softly, "I might have, but I don't remember which doesn't suffice his qualms," he said softly looking at his bare hands. They looked increasingly claw like every day. The tattered clothes added to the idea of interrogation. "He put me here when I became of no more use, I'm quite glad for I would like to hear an update on a plan of us getting out," he said trying to lighten the grim, even when Awarthon had anxiety near crippleing levels. Optimisum and logic where things eh could apply. "I can see what I can do with my thorns, but it may not be much, I still have many years to learn," Awarthon said calmly.