"Well let me remind you again, perhaps it will linger in your thoughts a while longer: you are a bloody idiot, Bard."
There is emphasis on his name, a lingering of Thranduil's voice that passes as annoyance with the roll of the 'r' in Bard's name. A sound that coincides with the raise of Thranduil's eyebrow that would signify far more to the other pilot than it would to anyone else. It was like that with them, this strange connection that Bard claimed was an affect of drifting. Thranduil was not so sure himself, but he was at least aware there was a connection.
Sometimes all that flowed through it was anger and muted annoyance, but there was a connection nonetheless.
A noise awfully close to a growl rumbles in Thranduil's throat as he steps closer to Bard. He knows what the other was doing, or had been doing, but he didn't really know why. It bothered him when Bard took a hit that Thranduil could easily have handled himself, no matter what the other might claim. Despite his looks, Thranduil was no weakling, he was more than capable in combat in and out of the suit. He also knew that Bard knew that having been his partner for many a sparring match.
This was not the first time that such a thing had happened, and Thranduil was sure that it was not to be the last, but what was the most infuriating thing was, despite the drift, the link that was between them, there was still so much that Thranduil was still not able to make sense of in his partner. They danced around each other constantly, with sharp looks and sharper words, and yet-- then they would both (for Thranduil was not innocent in this case at all) throw themselves in the way of harm for the other. It wasn't simply because they were drift compatible, not at all, there was something else and it drove the blond nearly mad with the need to know.
"I am not some maiden you need to save. There was nothing in that that had to be done." He pauses, eyes drifting to the cut above Bard's eye, something fleeting in his gaze before the annoyance is back. "You are lucky nothing more than the filth's death came from that unfathomably stupid move."
saME HEREEEE
There is emphasis on his name, a lingering of Thranduil's voice that passes as annoyance with the roll of the 'r' in Bard's name. A sound that coincides with the raise of Thranduil's eyebrow that would signify far more to the other pilot than it would to anyone else. It was like that with them, this strange connection that Bard claimed was an affect of drifting. Thranduil was not so sure himself, but he was at least aware there was a connection.
Sometimes all that flowed through it was anger and muted annoyance, but there was a connection nonetheless.
A noise awfully close to a growl rumbles in Thranduil's throat as he steps closer to Bard. He knows what the other was doing, or had been doing, but he didn't really know why. It bothered him when Bard took a hit that Thranduil could easily have handled himself, no matter what the other might claim. Despite his looks, Thranduil was no weakling, he was more than capable in combat in and out of the suit. He also knew that Bard knew that having been his partner for many a sparring match.
This was not the first time that such a thing had happened, and Thranduil was sure that it was not to be the last, but what was the most infuriating thing was, despite the drift, the link that was between them, there was still so much that Thranduil was still not able to make sense of in his partner. They danced around each other constantly, with sharp looks and sharper words, and yet-- then they would both (for Thranduil was not innocent in this case at all) throw themselves in the way of harm for the other. It wasn't simply because they were drift compatible, not at all, there was something else and it drove the blond nearly mad with the need to know.
"I am not some maiden you need to save. There was nothing in that that had to be done." He pauses, eyes drifting to the cut above Bard's eye, something fleeting in his gaze before the annoyance is back. "You are lucky nothing more than the filth's death came from that unfathomably stupid move."