Findekáno│Fingon the Valiant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
utulien_aure) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2017-11-23 12:32 am
utulien_aure) wrote in hadriel_logs2017-11-23 12:32 am
A Form of Ugliness So Intolerable
Who: Fingon + OTA, Elfhouse Resident and Squad 13 especially welcome
What: Fingon attempts to “improve” that jacket.
Where: Around the city
When: Backdated to 11/16-11/21
Warnings: Violence against clothing, unwarranted snippiness against Dragon Ball Z, mild romance between cousins
His first instinct upon seeing the jacket is to wince. He’s seen ugly clothing before, of course; no one who had lived through the Noldor’s brief but flamboyant artificial dyes craze could say they hadn’t, no matter how badly they might have wished to. But this thing, with its garish color scheme and weirdly stylized faces, may be the ugliest thing he’s ever seen.
He could throw it out on the spot, of course. It’s tempting. But still, waste not want not, right? One day, he might have need of a jacket, even one this ugly. So after an invitation to some friends (everyone seems to have them, surely they do too right) Fingon heads off to be shops and the orchard, trying to figure out if there’s a way to dye the damn thing.
A few days later, he has to admit defeat. The jacket may be discolored, but it’s as ugly as ever; the glaring faces visible even now. It’s not worth the effort, he finally decides, to salvage this thing.
But he can have some fun with it in the meantime. Soon there’s a nice roaring bonfire in the park, with the jacket going up as fuel. There are snacks for anyone who wants them, but Fingon’s content to watch those irritating faces shrivel and char.
This setting fire to things is surprisingly fun. He should do it again sometime.
His first instinct upon seeing the jacket is to wince. He’s seen ugly clothing before, of course; no one who had lived through the Noldor’s brief but flamboyant artificial dyes craze could say they hadn’t, no matter how badly they might have wished to. But this thing, with its garish color scheme and weirdly stylized faces, may be the ugliest thing he’s ever seen.
He could throw it out on the spot, of course. It’s tempting. But still, waste not want not, right? One day, he might have need of a jacket, even one this ugly. So after an invitation to some friends (everyone seems to have them, surely they do too right) Fingon heads off to be shops and the orchard, trying to figure out if there’s a way to dye the damn thing.
A few days later, he has to admit defeat. The jacket may be discolored, but it’s as ugly as ever; the glaring faces visible even now. It’s not worth the effort, he finally decides, to salvage this thing.
But he can have some fun with it in the meantime. Soon there’s a nice roaring bonfire in the park, with the jacket going up as fuel. There are snacks for anyone who wants them, but Fingon’s content to watch those irritating faces shrivel and char.
This setting fire to things is surprisingly fun. He should do it again sometime.
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"It is an offence to the eyes!"
Is how Maglor announces himself this time, holding his jacket by the fingertips as if it would contaminate him.
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No relatives burnt, no relative playing hermit, no relatives let near werewolves. Fingon’s got this covered.“It is suspiciously shiny for a jacket,” Fingon agrees dubously, “But at least the color’s not terrible.” He shakes his own for emphasis, the vivid yellow of the men’s spiky hair still visible.
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"True." Maglor flicks his into the flames with a shudder.
"I must think yours is far worse."
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That opinion might be fueled by being the one stuck with it, of course. If it had been anyone else's, maybe.... Though it would still be hideous.
He spares another glance at the jacket. "I don't think I could bear to wear this thing. Or see anyone else in it. If it had been in any way salvageable, I'd like to think I could keep it."
But hey. Entertaining kindling is a use for it, right? He's not being wasteful.
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He laughs softly.
"Or maybe fling it in an enemy's face to blind them."
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"Maybe that was the point of the jackets. A secret weapon against our enemies...maybe to be paired with some of the city's most recent ballads."
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"And perhaps so! Although I am thinking that would possibly constitute cruel and unusual punishment!"
I'm dying. XDD
Well, at least he's not casting himself into the flames with it!!!"Are there marshmallows?" Grin.
(That's what Curufin said at Losgar, too. Sorry. Sorry! XD)
Fingon's been dying since he saw that monstrosity
No, no jumping into the flames alongside it- that means the jacket wins, don't you understand?Fingon hears him running and turns, "I brought a bag of them, I just haven't gotten them out yet."
He shrugs. "Sorry, I should have warned you before I set the fire."
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That evil jacket, that cursed garment. . . surely it would laugh silently in its malicious heart, as it took its wearer with it into the flaming pyre. Indeed, one must at all costs stymie its wicked plan!"How hospitable of you! You think of everything." And he reaches into his own jacket and pulls out a flask of liquor from the Speakeasy. "I can contribute, this, though, if you like."
"And that's all right. It was good practice." Because what if it had been a trash fire that was about to get out of control, or something worse?
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"We found a good use for them." Or at least some entertainment.
"I much prefer the clothing you make."
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And they're not the only thing which look lovely in the firelight; there's a shine to Maedhros' hair which makes it irresistible for Fingon to keep his fingers out of it.
"Really? I'm hardly Serinde with a needle, though I'll grant I have some competence."
Usual warnings with these two.
Maedhros let out a long breath and leaned against Fingon, relaxing under the skilled fingers. He'd never discourage it!
His grin warmed as he curled an arm around his love's waist.
"You do not give yourself enough credit!"
is this a kissing thread? /say all the suspicious kids/
Lucky that he feels that way, because Fingon isn’t inclined to let them go. He curls the red strands around his fingers and lets them slide through. Grinning, he leans in to blow against Maedhros’ ear as well.
He’s laughing as he responds. “I know what I’m good at, and what craft guilds would laugh in my face if I tried to apply. I can get the job done but if you want artistry in your clothing speak to Sansa.”