[OPEN]

[smirkwood]

Who| Thranduil & OPEN
What| Of Elvenkings and elevators
Where| Training Center; Central Commons
When| January 3rd
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment.

After the initial outrage had died down some, Thranduil took to investigating the area in a quiet and casual manner. Supposedly, this is where he was to reside. Unfortunately, though he was given directions to his more private living space, he had yet to understand how to use the small room with the many buttons and moving doors... rather than admit to anyone that he was at a loss, The king takes to inspecting the room and its contents.

Though the furnishings seemed comfortable enough in appearance, they were also... very strange. He inspects a curtain with mild interest, running his fingers lightly over the fabric to feel the smoothness of it. It was not of Elven make, but well crafted none the less. The brightness of the color, though, rubbed him the wrong way, so he moves from it and finds a tall backed chair to sit in. He crosses one leg over the other at the knee and hangs his arms casually over the armrests.

Here there was a clear line of sight to the small room with the numbers, so he might be able to discern it's use if he observed the people going in and out of it long enough.

Comments

[revocation]

"Want? Oh - nothing," Cullen says hastily. Maker's breath, he never knows what to say to elves, anyway. Well, except maybe to Sera, which is usually stop that. He has the bearing of a Dalish, but none of the tattoos, almost like Solas in a way.

He never knows what to say to Solas, either. Except maybe no, I'm not going to drag you to a Circle. Even if there was one left to drag you to.

"Sorry, my name's Cullen," he finally says, sketching a faint bow that's little more than a nod of his head. "I've only just arrived a few days ago, really, so I'm still working things out here."

/doesn't give his own name RUDE thran

[smirkwood]

"Then you are new to this land as well."

There's a internal touch of comfort to know that he wasn't the only one at a loss, however it wasn't as if he was showing any unease in the first place. A few days, however, was longer than a few hours, so the Man before him was at least a little more knowledgeable. Perhaps he even knew how to use the enchanted closet.

"Tell me, what have you learned of it since you arrived?"

THE RUDEST

[revocation]

Well, if the fellow doesn't want to give a name, Cullen supposes he can hardly force it out of him. They're all relatively in the same position, perhaps he's simply being cautious.

As they should all be. Cullen certainly isn't giving more than his first name, here.

"Other than the barbaric blood sports they force us all into, they seem to play the Game like Orlesians, and make use of some very strange magic that is not like any magic I've encountered before," he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "And yet they've stripped the magic from two of my friends, how I don't know."

[smirkwood]

All this he was hearing about magic was troubling. Elves had their own measure of what mortals considered magic but to their own people it was not so; simply gifts they were given as the Firstborn. However usually magic being used was not a good sign. Neither was hearing of magic-users.

"Who are they, and what sort of strange magic do they display?"

[revocation]

Cullen shrugs. "I'm not sure who they are, precisely. Whomever is responsible for bringing us here."

He points at a nearby television, showing footage of the last arena.

"That," he says flatly.

[smirkwood]

So far Thranduil had only thought the television some form of artwork imbued with magic, and since it wasn't pleasing to the eye - too much movement - he had largely ignored it. Now, however, a different scene was displayed - one more bloody than the outlandish characters he had seen on it before. It gives him pause, so he approaches it to investigate. If this was artwork, it was in very poor taste. After a long moment he turns back to Cullen.

"...Does this show the truth, or is it merely an illusion?"

[revocation]

"It shows the past," Cullen says bluntly. "Events that have already taken place. This - arena - it's all here, in the box. You will likely see yourself on it, sooner or later."

[smirkwood]

Hearing that, Thranduil studies the moving pictures more carefully. What he saw disturbed him greatly. He had only just begun picking up the pieces from the recent battle, and now he could only see more suffering and death. It's enough to let his cool mask slip for just a moment, his eyes closing briefly in sorrow. When he opens them again, his more neutral look is back.

"We are expected to participate in this savagery?"

[revocation]

"Were you told otherwise?" Cullen asks curiously. "As far as I'm aware, yes, we're all participating in their barbarism, whether we like it or not."

[smirkwood]

"Of course not, but I would hear it from someone other than my captors." He studies the screen further. "Surely they cannot force us against our will to slay one another?"

[revocation]

"They can force us into their arenas. What happens after I suppose is variable," Cullen says with a shrug. "What little of the arena I saw was... quite dangerous, even without the other tributes actively trying to kill me."

[smirkwood]

"I can well imagine the dangers faced if this image is an accurate one."

He inclines his head towards the screen, to point it out.

"You seen one of these arenas, then?"

[revocation]

"I was in it, for a short time before I arrived in this city," Cullen corrects. "It was unpleasant, to say the least."

HOLY MOTHER-- ugh, there was a "have" in that sentence i swear. I'll blame my eyesight today.

[smirkwood]

He couldn't imagine the experience being pleasant, but the fact that Cullen was standing before him now made him curious. There were other things Thranduil had heard about these arenas that were disturbing.

"Did you survive the battle?"

An odd question to ask, and one that was probably uncomfortable for Cullen, but Thranduil needed to know.

[revocation]

"I'm standing here now, aren't I?"

Cullen shrugs, rubbing at the back of his neck. "There was an explosion. I don't remember anything between that and waking up here. We're told we all died. But that's - not possible."

[smirkwood]

"If what I have been told is true, your being alive now may not mean that were always so, difficult as it is to believe."

The idea of the dead being returned to life was a disturbing one, but Thranduil supposed he wouldn't know what was going on without witnessing it for himself.

"You have no memory at all of dying? I cannot imagine it would be an easy thing to forget."

[revocation]

"The whole place exploded. I either died and was resurrected -" And his tone suggests he doesn't believe that for a second - "or I was knocked unconscious and awoke back here."

[smirkwood]

Well, it looked like he wasn't going to get any further answers from this man, at least. Either he had died, or he hadn't. Thranduil found it rather strange that he might have been returned to life as well, but doubt was still there.

"I am not so sure. There are always darker powers ever seeking new ways to have dominion over others. I may have to see for myself, in time."

[revocation]

"No one here as far as I can tell even believes in a god," Cullen remarks with a faint wave of his hand. "And there is no large magical energy being expended, either, so far as I can tell."

[smirkwood]

Hearing Cullen speak about magical energy, Thranduil takes a moment to reflect upon his senses since he arrived. He was unable to use glamour to cover his scar - that was troubling enough in it's own right, but it seemed clear that he had been stripped of some other things that made him one of the Eldar.

"Nor do I sense any enchantments, but our perception may be dulled."

[revocation]

Cullen's perception is definitely dulled, in general, but he would know lyrium use when he - hears it, nonetheless. Not that he's going to say that aloud to this stranger. No, those things are better kept to himself, most certainly.

"All magic appears to have been cut off. I have a - colleague, here, from my world. He's a powerful mage, and yet, here - it's as though he never had magic to begin with."

[smirkwood]

"A mage." He repeats the word, having not heard it before. With magic being involved, however, he could take a guess. "Is that a wizard?"

[revocation]

"I suppose you could call them that, but I don't know why you would."

It's an absurd word to use, frankly, and has very little meaning except as a joke.

I'd like to wrap up if that's okay, but idk how.

[smirkwood]

Thranduil looks at the screen again for a few more moments of scenes in the arena. When it switches to a fictional show, he turns away from it.

"I call them what they are, troublesome as they might be."

okay how about this?

[revocation]

"We... may be thinking of different sorts of people, in that case," Cullen admits. For all he knows, this man may not even be an elf - he's certainly far too tall for one.

"Regardless, I suggest you have a care for what you say - the authorities here seem to have an almost preternatural sense for sniffing out dissenters. Good luck."