remove this world and its sadness [open]

[taurohtar]

Who: Tauriel (plus whomever feels comfortable walking into her room)
Where: Room 215
When: February 14th
What: gurl she's cutting all her hair off with manicure scissors what

 

 

[Being a creature that does not require sleep the same way humans do, Tauriel has spent most of the last week or so carefully exploring the hotel once most of the guests have locked themselves in their rooms. Being light on her feet and inhumanly quick, she has managed to avoid detection by most, taking advantage of the dimmed lights and long shadows to slink through the halls, slipping in and out of rooms, testing doors that do not open and windows that will not budge. The sight of the trees outside shrouded in mist has a kind of wretched longing curling in her breast, but she pushes that down for now. She cannot focus on how near the trees are while she cannot reach them, it will only compound her sorrow, and she does not have the luxury of letting herself fade here, in this unfamiliar realm, in a building she cannot escape, with people she does not know who do not trust her.

During the course of her wanderings, she had discovered a small mirror bolted to the wall of what was labeled a "restroom," a mirror that swung open when she touched it. Astounded for a moment, she had simply stared at first, but then her curiosity got the best of her, and she looked behind the door on the little shelves. There was not much there of use -- a small bar of soap wrapped in thin paper, a frankly miniscule pair of scissors that she can barely fit her fingers through, three strange little sticks with buds of soft fluff on either end that look like pussy willows, and something that claimed to be a bandage but was sealed in a paper sleeve that she had never seen before -- but she pocketed all the items nonetheless, and continued on her hunt.

It has finally sunk in that she is not leaving this place, not for a very long time. Perhaps, to a being that is over six hundred years old, that is not as terrible a sentence as to others, but she still feels a terrible pang of grief in her chest at the realization that she is trapped. She will not get to see her beloved forest again, she will not get to roam the hills and plains she knows so well, she will not get to hear her own tongue spoken by those who share her culture.

This, compounding the grief she has borne ever since the Battle of Five Armies, was almost enough to send her into a melodramatic tailspin, but she had managed to resist the urge and instead simply shut herself in her room for two solid days. Upon rediscovering the tiny scissors in her pocket when she went to take off her surcoat, an idea formed in her mind, and that is what brings her to where she is now; sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, her hair loosed from its customary braids and hanging about her face, hiding her ears and brushing against her cheeks as she stares down at the scissors in her hands. Clearing her throat, she sets the small carved stone Kíli had given to her on the bedspread before her crossed knees so that she might look at it as she cut her hair in penance, and begins to sing a soft, slow mourning song in her native tongue as she lifts the tiny scissors to her hair.

One by one, long red locks fall to pool in her lap.]

Comments

[pontificus]

[She's come to search out the woman who so bravely explored the inn-- no, no. It is a hotel, they say. Lucrezia is too fond of her, eager to have some sort of the security she finds herself without. Even at her husband's estate, she has had something to fall back. Of course his abuses are altogether something different.

Padding down the hall in soft slippers, Lucrezia comes to the lady elf's door. She means to peer into it to see if she's there. Instead she knocks softly on the hard wood.]

Tauriel? It is I, Lady Lucrezia.

[taurohtar]

[Tauriel had not given much thought to the lovely young girl she had taken such a shine to — how terrible of her, to have put her so easily out of her mind, but she had been occupied with other thoughts, sadly — since she had come to terms with the fact that she would most likely not be leaving this place, at least, not for a very long time. She has been so consumed with her own grief that she had not spared a thought for nearly anything else at all, and so the gentle knock on her door is quite a surprise.

What is more surprising, of course, is what is said through the door.]

I— It is unlocked, my lady. [Tauriel does not much want visitors, at the moment, but Lucrezia is of noble blood, and Tauriel is still reluctant to be rude to those of higher station than her. Perhaps the girl will not tarry too long, and she can be alone with her tears once more.]

[pontificus]

[She does not think that anyone would not wish to see her if they tell her to enter, so she does so in high spirits. It is not that things are going particularly well for her here, being so alone and separate from her family, but she not yet so hardened to take this place as hard as she could. But when she enters the room and sees the elven woman with most of her hair sheared off, it is hard not to stop and gasp at such a sight.]

Tauriel-- [She tries not to balk, realizing that it is indeed a terrible time to bother her.]

I had only hoped to see you well, but I see you are not. My pardons for intruding so.