{Video; UN: elvenking}

[tauraran]

{He is a king without his elegant trappings - but, really, he doesn't need them. The robe he wears catches the light with the smallest of motions, glittering faintly as if precious jewels are woven in the fabric. His hair is bound into a single thick braid that lays against his back and his circlet is elsewhere - as are his rings.}

How many parents reside in Lunatia? Are you separated from your children if so? {The flickering light on the table before him is all the illumination he requires as he works on a sketch. The drawing depicts trees and a variety of animal life beneath their mighty boughs.}

My fear for my son increases by the day and I have found no relief for it. I hardly realized how helpless I could feel as a father.

{His attention shifts from the sketch of the forest to a second sketch of a face much like his own - yet different enough that it must be his son.}

Comments

[angelshot]

No, I mean is prettyboy dtf. C'mon, dude... who the hell even says "mate" unironically. Jeeeesus.

[tauraran]

I do. {Duh.} I'm afraid you will have to speak with words and not rely on letters.

[angelshot]

[ Jeez, Thranduil. Way to be an old fogey. He needs to - as the kids say these days - get jiggy with it.
One word: urbanprismadictionary. Get studying! ]

Come on, who doesn't know what 'DTF' means? What shitty rock have you been living under?

[tauraran]

{He doesn't do jiggy. Learn how to speak properly, brat.}

If I were your father, I would cover your mouth until you learned to speak correctly.

[angelshot]

[ There's an ominous pause - brace thyself, elfdad. ]

...I mean, if you wanted me to call you "daddy", you just had to ask.

[tauraran]

{This...imp. Yes, she is an imp to him now.}

I did not sire you.