The Long March
Jul. 3rd, 2013 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
orison posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
atimelessmelodyAransadorien was having a... difficult day. Which wasn't unusual for him. When he had to lead a fractious group of survivors, when he himself had little experience as a leader, things could get complicated. There were arguments to solve, wounded egos to soothe, conflict to resolve... and that was without taking into account the depredations of monsters and the constant threat of elvish attack.
It was exhausting work, and Dorien- for so he went among the humans, since they'd long since distrusted his elvish side- was showing it. He was usually fairly pale, but now his pallor was more pronounced. His bright blue eyes had deep shadows from lack of sleep, and his long blond hair showed a bit of the unkempt neglect that by now was rather normal. Once he'd been a bit on the slender side, but now he had bulked up from the constant exertion and training. He still had the grace that came from his elvish heritage, from the delicately pointed ears and the finely-chiseled face, to the lightness of his steps and the control he had with every motion.
Yet he was clearly human as well. More well-built than his elvish relatives, with stubble on his cheeks and a pronounced solidity to his appearance. Handsome, but not to the inhuman extent that he might have been. Dorien fit his chain mail, with its plates and its reassuring weight, but he also fit his clerical vestments, long flowing robes that, even torn by war and hard use, still retained some remnant of the glory he'd once had, something in the rich dyes and cunning silver threads that still could catch the eye at times.
For now, though, his thoughts were far from that. No, standing on the edge of a mountain range and staring down at the well-watered valley below... he sagged and had to sit down, his quiver and long sword rattling as he did so. Something that he'd seen had clearly overwhelmed him; in a second he'd regain his composure, but right now...
It was exhausting work, and Dorien- for so he went among the humans, since they'd long since distrusted his elvish side- was showing it. He was usually fairly pale, but now his pallor was more pronounced. His bright blue eyes had deep shadows from lack of sleep, and his long blond hair showed a bit of the unkempt neglect that by now was rather normal. Once he'd been a bit on the slender side, but now he had bulked up from the constant exertion and training. He still had the grace that came from his elvish heritage, from the delicately pointed ears and the finely-chiseled face, to the lightness of his steps and the control he had with every motion.
Yet he was clearly human as well. More well-built than his elvish relatives, with stubble on his cheeks and a pronounced solidity to his appearance. Handsome, but not to the inhuman extent that he might have been. Dorien fit his chain mail, with its plates and its reassuring weight, but he also fit his clerical vestments, long flowing robes that, even torn by war and hard use, still retained some remnant of the glory he'd once had, something in the rich dyes and cunning silver threads that still could catch the eye at times.
For now, though, his thoughts were far from that. No, standing on the edge of a mountain range and staring down at the well-watered valley below... he sagged and had to sit down, his quiver and long sword rattling as he did so. Something that he'd seen had clearly overwhelmed him; in a second he'd regain his composure, but right now...
