sunlight room — ;

[ Galadriel has found herself unable to stay in one place for too long. The rooms are too white and too bare, missing all of the familiar details from her home-world. She is still … adjusting to being here and her every nerve is standing on end, anticipating surprises she could not even begin to predict. Such is the way of being plucked from her world and dropped into this station.

But it was her choice and so she will make what she can of it.

The last time she had seen snow and ice, it had been a very different experience too. This place feels peaceful; idyllic. There are no orcs to be found hiding amongst the trees, afraid of the simulated sunlight that shines above as it reflects against the light golden blonde of her long, wavy hair. There is no imminent sense of danger here as though time itself is at a stand-still.

She notices when you enter the room and tilts her head to greet you with a nod. ]

Strange that such an illusion can feel so real. Are you accustomed to this technology?

armory room — ;

[ Now, this is a room Galadriel can get behind.

She can be found admiring, judging, and inspecting some of the existing blades hanging on the wall next to other weaponry she has no familiar with … but can understand the gist of. She does not pick any one weapon up out of politeness, and perhaps to control herself, and her hand goes to the empty place at her waist where she had once been inseparable from the dagger that rested there. Her brother’s dagger, her raison d’etre, and … as it turns out … a tool in her undoing.

If you were already in the room, she might watch you train for a moment, intrigued by your fighting style (and eager to learn how it goes up against her training). ]

Care for a sparring partner?

[ Or if you’ve just stepped into the room after her, she might glance over in your direction and gesture to the wall of weapons. She doesn’t even notice the machinery to craft one yet — perhaps intentionally not thinking of someone who might man this machine and feel right at home behind it. ]

Which one is your preference?

the club — ;

[ Having spent enough time now acclimating to station life, Galadriel now sets her sights on what’s to come. Ever a soldier herself, she has come to think of Viveca and Degar as her commanders, and as such she decides that she will not fail them the same way she will not fail to undo a great regret.

She steps into the simulation room now expecting war and bloodshed, weapons raised, and finds that the simulation is … entirely the opposite. Not only do the people here dress unlike anything she’s ever imagined, but the setting itself makes her feel almost too out of place, enough to be noticed. Even back home, even on the likes of Middle-Earth, the tavern had never been a place she frequented. And furthermore, talking her way through diplomacy has … sadly never been her strength. (That was always something her good friend Elrond could achieve without even blinking an eye.)

To say this is something of a terrifying experience, then, would be an understatement. But she holds herself well, her expression unchanging — if a little curious at least. To you, or to no one at all, she finds herself asking: ]

What manner of tavern is this?

[ ooc: if none of the above sparks any inspiration, feel free to leave your own starters below (or use bits you like)! if you want to plot anything out, feel free to shoot me a PM. ]