[o p e n] here stands a man with an arrow clenched in his right hand

[annatarr]

Who:Mairon/Sauron and WHOMEVER IS UNLUCKY ENOUGH TO CROSS HIM?!
What: Valentine's Day Event. Aka Sauron is running around in ancient Greece confused because what in the name of Melkor is going on here.
When: Sometime in this accursed month of hearts and shit.
Where: Ancient Greece.
Warnings: Sauron is a warning okay.
Notes: Uh, I'm sorry? Also this is like a mashup of 1, 2, and an almost 6 because he hates everything I MEAN. PICK YOUR OWN POISON. ADVENTURE. WHATEVER

Upon his arrival to this place, Mairon had been assured that he was there because he had been asked. That there was a reason to his presence and, upon a little while residing in the Library, he had to admit that, despite the less than interesting beings that he was stuck with, at least there were many a worlds that he was able to weave the song of Melkor into the fabrics. Nothing too obvious, nothing that would be obvious to anyone, unless they were looking for the threads of discord that Mairon weaved near effortlessly into being.

He had learned from the greatest after all.

This place had, in time, also proven to bring forth rather... interesting quests of sorts within the halls. Things that, if Mairon was in control of all his powers, would be simple to resolve and easy to order. But without them? They were... not precisely easy, but certainly still not difficult.

They, at the very least, gave him some way of enacting order in this accursed place.

Then, of course, there were the quests that went into the other worlds. Where his power was restored and--

Well, then things got really interesting.

Usually, Mairon would not be bothered with indulging in these pursuits, but--

They gave him time to think. To plot and weave and make those that were trapped in the halls of the Library think him something more kind than he was. Make them more likely to trust him, let their guard down, let--

"Watch out!"

The maia raises an elegant brow, stepping swiftly out of the way of the-- man? Shadow? Wraith? He wasn't sure, all he knows is that he was in a hurry.

And carrying an arrow, a quiver and--

"Hmmm, I suppose that would be the one we are searching for."

The words are soft, to himself, the golden eyes following the figure through the crowds around him, something almost amused gracing his lips. Almost.

Comments

[castintoflames]

He had been struck. Love flooded him and drowned all reason. The arrow disappeared once it had done its duty and there was not even a wound left behind. Not that Maedhros would have noticed. His gaze was fixed on a beauty that was both familiar and...not.

"Sauron?" he frowned at the name, knowing it was negative and thus utterly unsuitable, "Tell me another name. I do not care for that one." his gaze was intense, searching the Maia's face.

Did this ethereal being feel as he did? What if he did not? His heart throbbed in his chest and he felt like an Elfling all over again. Then again, where romance was concerned, he practically was an Elfling. Maedhros had never indulged in such - at least not overmuch - and now he was certain - he knew to his core - that he was in love.

[seawanderer]

It was a chord he felt he knew, vibrating in the air, drawing him on even more than the knowledge he had to find a certain thief and retrieve a special bow and quiver of arrows- arrows included.

A chord that struck disgust, fury, and pain through his heart and made his lips want to curl. But with the fact too that his brother and the sons of Elrond were here, or back in the Library he knew not for certain, he was more focus than he had in some time.

He got close enough eventually to hear those words of warning before a piercing blow struck him in the chest, doubling him over with a gasp. And his world changed.

Maglor straightened, feeling his head clear and a sense of peace and joy- of pure love spread through him, and so instead of going after the figure who'd shot him, he pulled his harp out of his pack and started to play a song that reflected his sudden mood. His steps turned almost stalking as he approached, grey eyes fixed on the vision of fire and heat and beauty before him, lips curled faintly in welcome.

"I feel I know you, could this be true?"

[lokilowkey]

He wasn’t even sure what had scratched him, and when he spotted Mairon it honestly didn’t matter. He wasted no time in all but darting over to where the man stood, the small grin that was already on his face scrawling wider, to a bright, genuine sort of smile.

Mairon! He could have spoken aloud, but he recalled the conversation they’d had when they first met, how so few wanted to actually talk like this, and felt a sudden rush of need to impress, to gain the other’s approval in a way he hadn’t felt since trailing after Thor. Would he have better luck here and now? Perhaps. Mairon wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Asgard’s golden prince, he might see the value in Loki’s efforts, perhaps even appreciate them.

For all he should have been suspicious of his sudden mood-swing, there was nothing of that here. Just an affection-starved child hoping for approval from the person who'd currently knocked Thor from the running for Loki's adoration.

I’ve come hunting the thief too. Maybe we should work together?