The strength of her mind's recollection of this cold is powerful enough that Atticus, though he knows that the world around them is only the workings of her own thoughts put into the flesh of the Fade, feels the frigid bite in his bones. Somewhere in the waking world, he shivers, and looks with a rush of unexpected longing towards the light on the distant horizon. There, he knows suddenly, is relief, but it is so far away--
(A pause. It takes him a moment to reorient himself, to find his place in this fiction. A visitor, not a participant--)
It is then that he notices the buzzing swarm of demons shifting, hissing and undulating in the pitch blackness around them; there is no fear in his cold eyes as he watches them, only sudden understanding. Despair; that is what they feed on, and the despondency of this dreamscape only slakes their appetite for more.
"Tell me what it is that matters about this Middle-earth," he coaxes her, his tone like silk across steel, and keeps his eyes on the mass of demons that seem as repelled as they are attracted by Galadriel's peculiar, alien power.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2017-12-19 06:40 pm (UTC)(A pause. It takes him a moment to reorient himself, to find his place in this fiction. A visitor, not a participant--)
It is then that he notices the buzzing swarm of demons shifting, hissing and undulating in the pitch blackness around them; there is no fear in his cold eyes as he watches them, only sudden understanding. Despair; that is what they feed on, and the despondency of this dreamscape only slakes their appetite for more.
"Tell me what it is that matters about this Middle-earth," he coaxes her, his tone like silk across steel, and keeps his eyes on the mass of demons that seem as repelled as they are attracted by Galadriel's peculiar, alien power.