2020-03-28

morgynleri: never do anything you wouldn't want to have to explain to the paramedics (explain paramedics)
2020-03-28 07:28 pm

Daily Journal

I went to bed waaaay late last night because of a headache that would not quit that I'm pretty sure was the start of the migraine that wiped out most of my day today, and seems to be easing off at this point. Finally. I suspect weather changes, because I know those can do that to me.

Still was attempting to muddle along on things today, but mostly have ended up rereading bookmarked fic as much as doing bookmark wrangling. And had a productive nap of unknown length, but over an hour. I feel better. Not entirely - things are still too loud in places or very wrong frequency for me to tolerate, and smells are off slightly, and things are too bright a bit, because these are what migraines do to me, but the brain fog, which is the worst part of it, has eased.

Perhaps not enough to do more than read fic and crochet, but still. (Certainly not enough to do more work on cutting cardboard into fancy buildings that notch together, because handling what amounts to a scalpel right now would be a Bad Idea. No matter that I wanna, sorta.)
morgynleri: the word tolkien in black over pale green (tolkien)
2020-03-28 07:37 pm

Daily (ish) Snippet

From a piece that is going to go with my A Path From the Fire AU, set just after the Fall of Gondolin.




Fingon untangles himself some from Aredhel, and reaches out to grab hold of Turgon as she had over Gondolin. Leading them through halls that bend strangely and make her wonder if it is possible to have a headache without a head to ache.

Yet all that is forgotten when they reach a space that holds familiar faces. Her father, summer sky and midnight stars. Her uncle, all bright flame, gold and red and sun warm. Steely Caranthir and mirror‒polished Curufin. Golden Elenwë already wrapping around Turgon.

And beyond hope, curling around her with murmurs and joy‒lightened grief. Safe. He is safe. Safe. Safe. The chant echoes between them, the fierce and sharp hope that had kept her fighting until blood ran thin and flames burned too deep.

Nothing else matters now. She can rest here, with her beloveds, and she can know her son lives, and all else is the concerns of the living.