Maglor harasses Ioreth
Ioreth: *is dreaming of Hurin, thank you very much, and not some annoying Elf*
Maglor: *cheerfully butts in*
Ioreth: *thwackthwackthwack*
Maglor: *conveniently ethereal* *smiles a little creepily at Yorry*
Ioreth: *grumps* Piss off.
Maglor: *smiles some more* Hello. *peers* I know you, don't I.
Ioreth: Yes. *mutters rude things about damn Elves*
Maglor: ....who am I? *looks slightly puzzled* That has been bothering me. *his voice is a good deal more melodic than his 'Verion' voice*
Ioreth: *stares* You're Maglor. You're an Elf. You're highly annoying.
Maglor: *smiles even more* *moves to peer at Ioreth at close range and many angles* What are you doing here?
Ioreth: I'm not entirely sure.
Maglor: Sometimes they come to talk to me. They try to tell me that I'm not dead. Which is very silly. *casually takes off his shirt, which disappears the moment it loses contact with him - concentrates, and a gaping sword wound appears on his chest* *happily* See?
Ioreth: Yes, you're quite dead. I remember having to deal with poor Haldir afterwards. Shouldn't you be off talking to him, wherever he is, if you're going to talk to anyone?
Maglor: *brow furrows - his mind is not up to handling his emotional response to that name* *ignores it for now* They keep talking at me and talking at me. They won't let me have any peace. And the -world- talks at me too. So I found this place. They're quiet here.
Ioreth: That's nice. Could you be quiet, too? I'm trying to get some sleep.
Maglor: I'm not going back there. You're interesting. I like you.
Ioreth: *groans* You don't belong here...
Maglor: *curiously* Why not? It feels right here.*pokes around Ioreth's memories*
Ioreth: *glares* *swats at* Go AWAY.
Maglor: I don't want to go back. And I don't think I can go -out-.
Ioreth: Then just... shut up. Argh.
Maglor: *not hitting on Ioreth, not, honest >.>*
Ioreth: *goes back under the blankets* Arrghhh...
Maglor: *seriously* I'm sorry about the tall mortal with the hair.
Ioreth: *pokes head out of blankets* Why? What did you do to him?
Maglor: Well, he's not here and he should be. *nods sadly*
Ioreth: Who? ... Hurin?
Maglor: *sheepish* I'm not good with names.
Ioreth: *stares* Just go away. Please.
Maglor: But that sounds like a nice name. Very pretty. *thinks* I suppose he wasn't the mortal with the red hair and the chair, so it must be your Hurin.
Ioreth: He's not meant to be here. I'm meant to be there. Stupid Elf.
Maglor: It's much the same. *smiles* Silly lady with loose threads.
Ioreth: *stare* Is that how you got here?
Maglor: *vaguely* She talked at me and talked at me and I couldn't go away until I did. *smiles*
Ioreth: Answer the damn question. How did you get here?
Maglor: I went away from her. She wasn't as tidy as she could have been.
Ioreth: *wishes he was solid so she could beat some sense into him* But how? And do you know how to get back?
Maglor: I think I could go back to that place. But you have fleshy bits and I don't think you would fit.
Ioreth: *glares* Then go back.
Maglor: *patiently* I don't want to. They -talk- at me about being bad.
Ioreth: That is because you are bad.
Maglor: Well, yes, but they want to turn me into something I'm not. And that's irritating.
Ioreth: What do they want you to turn into? A rabbit, or something? *grins*
Maglor: Someone who listens to them, and pretends they don't make stupid mistakes all the time.*at Ioreth* I wouldn't think you would be taking -their- side.
Ioreth: Not if they landed me here, I don't suppose. *frowns* Could you get me back into the right place?
Maglor: Maybe if you left the fleshy bits behind you could come with me to the dark place - but they probably wouldn't give you new fleshy bits.
Ioreth: ... come up with another plan.
Maglor: I'm not good at that either.
Ioreth: What are you good for, then? Other than annoying me, that is.
Maglor: *smile redux, now creepier* I'm not good. I'm bad. That's what they tell me...