bakerstreet | ( picture prompt meme )

[ Over the years there still were things that all elves held onto from a culture long forgotten by most. The culture that lived on within him, and those like him. Few as there were of them now. Many concessions have been granted, some rules loosened and outlooks on matters changed. All to be able to live a little more seamlessly among the human folk. But touch, beyond handshakes and brief embraces, was still something reserved only for the closest of friends, and the touch to hair an even more intimate gesture—

And Legolas shouldn't have allowed it, perhaps, he should have ducked out of the way in that manner he knew would not hurt anyone's feelings, and let Venom's hand fall by the wayside, unable to reach its destination. But instead he huffed a startled laugh, jerking away only once his hair was nice and well dishevelled.

Or at least, as much as it could be, with how silky smooth it was, incapable of holding much shape other than gentle waves from how often it was carried in a braid. ]

Is my trust in my own ability, and in those who I know will have my back— overconfidence?

[ A small shake of the head, and his hair returned to its normal shape, only a little more fluffy now, Venom as much a culprit in this as the wind.

Holding the gaze on him, Legolas moved to lean against the railing with his front, bumping their shoulders lightly together as he did. ]

[ People don't believe Venom to be tactile, but that assumption is bred from a tendency to see the title before the man it belongs to. 'Big Boss' is an untouchable concept, a product of allegories and stories that lends to the image of transience; you don't touch legends, because they exist on another plane of reality entirely.

Despite this, the fact of the matter is that Venom is a man of the earth. He gauges people by the pull of their muscles, the expressive silences of their bodies. Legolas bumps him with shoulder to shoulder, and he interprets the gesture as deeply and intimately as he does the words that accompany it— perhaps even more deeply, if the spread of his subtle smile doesn't give it away.

Reciprocation comes in the form of a shuffle, a millimeter-closing of the small gap between them. ]

Not if you put it that way.

[ Please refrain from tugging at his heartstrings, Legolas...

That said, Venom motions to a piece of hair that's still slightly unkempt, then curls his fingers near the culprit in silent questioning. Can I? ]

—Reminds me that I haven't taken you out for a mission recently.

[ For a person all too keen on exaggeration, someone prone to flourish, Legolas was still plenty well versed in the art of subtleties. A master of them, in fact, as much as he was a master of gestures theatrical and overly elaborate. This boldness often hid deeper meanings, disguised against the eyes of the world at large, so only those they were meant to could see them. That is should they be observant enough to catch them.

And similarly too, he could read the same in another.

This now, it was a small point of contact, and it was a subtle smile, but they both warmed him much as an embrace would. ]

You have not, I have counted the days! And boredom— [ As if he ever let himself get bored. ] —can make this restless spirit of mine wilt.

[ A question posed without a word spoken, deserved the same in return. Legolas only inclined his head, closing his eyes slowly as he offered his permission. It was one thing to be surprised with such a gesture, and another to give permission for it. He had to brace, and he did, with his tongue sweeping over his lips discreetly, and with a small inhale, before he looked at Venom again. Though this time his eyelids were just a touch lower over his eyes, long lashes casting shadows, and yet there was still mirth to share— ]

Though it is no fault of yours at all, I suppose, I cannot offer you such a majestic beard as DD can.

[ Shy? No, never. Impish? Always. ]

[ With the permission given, Venom sweeps the flat of his gun-worn finger along the outline of Legolas's ear with medical precision. How funny— maybe he could have been a physician in a past life, if the sniper-sharp focus of his single eye wasn't distinctly combat-honed.

The look eases as he manages to tidy the loose strands of hair back behind his companion's jaw. Pads of his fingers drum along silver-gold, satisfied, before coming back to rest at his side.

He has a hum to spare for Legolas's joke: a half-hm. ]

You have enthusiasm in common with him.

[ Which is a spectacularly rude comparison to make, isn't it, an elf to a wolfdog. It would have been far ruder if Venom'd left it at that, but he braces himself on his feet and looks out into the sprawling expanse of Seychelles waters to find inspiration for his incoming words in the neutrality of the sea. ]

...Got an extraction mission coming up. I'll tell Ocelot to put you down as my backup.

[ It took a great deal of self control not to tremble at the touch, but perhaps the near dead stillness was a blatant giveaway in its own way. Legolas stared right back, though it was with half lidded gaze. ]

I fear I fall short even on that, or my greetings do, for certain. [ It was always a smile, a good word, a welcome back, much less excitable than DD's jump on and slobber all over your face style of greetings. Though the greater point to make here was that Legolas did, often, come out to welcome Venom back from missions, much the same way DD was allowed to. ] But other than this, I suppose, I may have to concur.

[ No, not such a terrible comparison at all. An elf of Mirkwood, or once upon a time of Mirkwood, and a wolf-dog. As honest, as loyal and as vicious, the both of them, after all.

He straightened too, then, shaking his head slightly against the breeze. ]

I will not disappoint you. [ A little more on business now, but not without lightness, still, Legolas tipped his head a little. ] What was it, truly, on which you wished to know my thoughts? I trust there was more to this misfire than the desire to incite jealousy.

[ And never serious for too long. ]

[ If Venom is business, Legolas injects a well-needed sense of play into his pragmatism. With his chin angled towards the seabreeze, Venom blows a silent laugh towards the expanse of horizon. ]

R&D's been busy trying to get you to use something other than a bow.

[ Which is self-explanatory: we've made new 'toys'. Personally, Venom doesn't mind his companion's unconventional choice in weaponry— anyone who can shoot between the seams of riot gear is entitled to choose their own method of murder, in his opinion— but he supposes that it's the principle of the thing. Still, it's an ill fit for Legolas, the sniper rifle. Far too inorganic.

Removing himself from the railing, Venom positions his feet in the direction of the towering platform in question. ]

Test it. If it doesn't work for you, don't compromise.

[ That certainly did earn Legolas's interest. His brows arched and he managed a look that was half-unimpressed and half-amused, moving as Venom did, looking in the same direction.

Old he was, indeed, and very set in his ways, as all elves were— a bow instead of any firearm, always, a bow built by himself using the newest technology and improved upon further. A bow that no other but himself could draw, too heavy for the surrounding humans, but for the same reason, it did not fall short of any sniper rifle, having the range, the power and with an elf's eye: the accuracy. Over most, it had advantages, in fact. Some more important, other a little less.

It was lighter, it was quiet, it did not smell, and it was very much like a fifth limb to Legolas by now, one outside of his body yet a part of it at the same time. He was near certain that Venom understood that.

But at the same time, he was not of stone, he was not himself of metal. A living, breathing force of nature that could adapt, like the breeze that enveloped them. It did not try to force its way through them, but glided over hair, skin and cloth. ]

Would you like to watch?

[ In the end, that was all he said with a sideways glance to Venom and a smile. ]

[ There are a few things he's gleaned about Legolas: one, that the elf isn't impervious to change, two, that the decades and centuries that the elf has on Venom hasn't jaded him nearly as much as one would expect, and three, that Legolas is a rare sort of exception to the rule.

(Venom has yet to meet his companion's father, but if honesty permits, he's not quite rushing to set up that meeting.)

The easy acquiescence to a suggestion that may have offended someone else in Legolas's lineage is cause enough for Venom not to think twice about his answer. He gives his assent with a nod, and gestures for his partner to follow as he winds his way down their network of complex stairs and walkways. ]

Always satisfying, watching you shoot.

[ He means it genuinely, his statement made without looking back to meet the smile that is doubtless spreading over those perfect features. ]

[ There was not a single person in the entire world, or so Legolas believed, that did not enjoy praise. Even as confident as he was in his skills (and in his looks too, though that was not being discussed here and now,) he still enjoyed every such remark. Even more so, when they came from people he valued. In his opinion, too, there was simply no such thing as too much praise.

So indeed, he was smiling, following in Venom's wake. Behind him a step only for a second, before falling in step with him, side by side. ]

I will be sure not to disappoint today either. [ A side ways glance, as Legolas gracefully weaved around a saluting soldier. ] Or perhaps you would like to be my competition today?

[ Without any fuss or ceremony, he pulled out a hair tie — one of the few he always kept on his person — and began braiding his hair, so it would stop whipping every which way with the wind. A little ritual, sometimes calming if he felt nervous, sometimes purely pragmatic. It helped, when shooting, not to have his face full of his own hair, after all. ]

[ The question of whether or not Venom would like to be thoroughly outdone by Legolas spurs a silent laugh into an obstinate breeze. ]

You're really looking for me to feed your ego today.

[ Which isn't a no, which makes it closer to a a yes. This isn't the first time that Venom has been in the company of someone who could outshoot him on a bad day— take Ocelot, as the nearest example— but they've all been somewhat courteous about it. Or patronizing, depending on the angle one prefers to look at it from.

Venom bypasses the Jeep that could take them to the R&D platform in a matter of minutes; the long bridges connecting strut-to-strut extend like pathways straight into the sky, and Venom prefers to savor the howl of the wind and the rhythm of the waves instead of rushing through them. ]

No one on this base is competition, not for you.

[ Quiet would have been, but Quiet is a wound he's still getting over. ]

[ A pleasing answer, indeed, in spite of the bite to it. It was what laid underneath that brought the joy, after all. ]

Perhaps so, after your cruelty today.

[ Walking on the left side of him, to maintain some form of eye contact, the small touch to Venom's elbow fell on cool metal, slightly warmed from body heat and the Sun and warm air of Seychelles, but it was metal all the same. Smooth and alien, still something of a surprise every time his attention was drawn to it. First that it was there at all, and second how well Venom managed with it.

Either way, Legolas did not draw his hand back, though his gaze flicked down briefly. Instead, he let it trail up a little higher, over the edge of the prosthetic arm, to give Venom's bicep a friendly squeeze over the uniform. ]

Or perhaps because none of the others are ever willing. [ Everyone preferred to just watch him shoot, rather than shoot with him. They were not unkind about it, and Legolas himself was smiling as he spoke, but he still had to voice a playful complaint. ] Am I such a poor sport?

[ Truth was, he wasn't, but few ever were willing to get into something they knew they would lose. ]

In return, however, I will offer you my own competition, such as it may be, in a task of your choice. Would that not be fair?

[ Contact to his artifice is a sensation that still takes some getting used to. The feeling of Legolas's fingers around metal is less one of touch but of pressure, a sway of nerves that registers as something secondhand— like a rifle strapped to his back, or a grenade at his hip. His attention flickers to his companion, questioning, when he feels the added weight on gaudy metal, but relaxes as he realizes that the gesture is one of camaraderie as opposed to utility or concern.

He shortens the gap between them just a millimeter, shoulders nearly brushing as they traverse a stretch of sun-warmed platform. ]

Something about your shooting makes the others want to watch. Not every day we find crack shots with a bow and arrow.

[ That's a two-in-one compliment for both Legolas and his Diamond Dogs. You're both exceedingly good sports, is the sentiment; one delivered with a tinge of paternal fondness.

(One wonders why they chose a soulful medic to fill the role of a man with a hollow soul, really.)

At the suggestion of a competition they can play on his own terms, Venom hums in mild contemplation. ]

I'll think about it.

[ He could be cruel and offer a fast-eating contest, but that would earn Kaz's ire for wasting resources, no doubt. ]

[ It was those little things that always made Legolas so comfortable in Venom's company. The understanding that didn't need words, to keep a distance, or to come a little closer, to touch, to almost-touch, to not crowd at all. Few understood the language of the body so well, or the subtle langue of small gestures.

The compliment pleased him, genuinely so, with no mirth or teasing. It showed in the small quirk of the corners of his lips, a smile that did not sharpen around the edges.

Truthfully, though, Legolas had not a single clue what sort of competition Venom would suggest him. Already as he suggested it, he was interested in what it would be and simply doing it, but now with the evasive answer and the thought haunting him all of a sudden, the interest grew tenfold. Legolas glanced over to Venom, eyes narrowed in thought. As if with mere look alone he could glean the thoughts that lurked behind his eye—

He probably could, if he tried, but he never did. ]

My dear friend, you are a master of inciting interest! [ Or was his so easy to pique, with this insatiable curiosity still in full force even at his age? ] What if those ponderings distract me from my shooting?

[ They wouldn't, but who would he be if he did not give Venom shit over such noncommittal answer? ]

[ The thing about being in Legolas's company is that it's potently difficult to remain humorless for too long. Trust Venom when he says that maintaining professionalism around the elf is a struggle.

Keeping his gaze fixed straight into the seam that the ocean makes with the sky, the austere soldier tries, valiantly, not to laugh. ]

If that's enough to break your focus, I'm gonna have to reconsider bringing you out onto the field.

[ Spoilsport.

But, no— there's a twinkle in that single fog-blue eye, and he fills in the gap between his Savage Reply and his subsequent negotiation with a low hum. A rumble, like gentle thunder. ]

—What are you bad at.

[ Not even quite a question, in the way that the statement lacks the proper inflection when it's delivered. It leans more towards idle admiration, being that he can't imagine Legolas fumbling with... well, anything, really. ]

[ This time Legolas did not bother with continuing the theatrics, knowing full well when to stop to not drive right over certain lines that made things turn from funny to obnoxious. He simply chuckled at the joke, because that was all it was, and met Venom's eye with mirth and, more deeply, with trust, and loyalty and a myriad of other things, some unnamed, some still obscured. All of them, however, positive.

It got him wondering too, that non-question. Over the many years of his life he had learned to do many things, and if he didn't excel at them, then he was at least passable. And then there were things he was poor at, when compared to the other elves. With humans, there was even fewer of them. ]

I have only the rudimentary knowledge of technology. [ He offered, tipping his head sideways. Genuinely helpful. ] I do not know how it is at all that this— [ He spun, speaking, to walk backwards towards their destination and face Venom fully. His fingers once more found his elbow, but this time instead of up, they trailed down. ] —moves the way you wish it to.

[ There was no mirth now, just warmth in that smile, as he drew up Venom's metal arm. His fingers and hand bumped into the wrist, nudging lightly the palm to open and the fingers to spread, to match the splay of his own. ]

And yet, gladdened I am it does what it does.

[ Sometimes Venom catches that other in Legolas's eyes, but he doesn't rush to attribute a name to the missing number. Time is only afforded to Venom in increments, fleeting pockets of solace the burn away as quickly as they're presented— shared moments are priceless, and emotions offered never required a label for them to feel important.

(sometimes it feels... incongruous, that he cares so much at all. but that's ridiculous, isn't it?)

Matching his namesake, Venom lightly snakes his fingers around Legolas's for a brief moment, gently constricting before letting his companion do what he will with the point of contact. ]

Wouldn't worry. [ Venom replies with a lightness that speaks to how he's come to terms with his 9 years of stasis. ] I don't, either.

[ That moment when cassette players are top-of-the-line technology... and yet, iDroids also exist??? All you can do is roll with the punches. ]

Looks like I can beat you at driving, then. [ Back to the topic of competitions for a moment.

Venom tries not to look too pleased. ]

[ It was a sweet gesture that Legolas returned gladly, his fingers comfortable in between the spaces of the metal digits, even knowing that Venom would not feel it. Not on this hand, anyway, but perhaps he would see it and the intent would be enough to convey the sensation or invoke the memory of such— Or perhaps he should not discriminate at all! (Only that was not it, at all.) And with as a second thought, as he let their linked hands drop and separate again, he lifted his other hand in air and wiggled the fingers. A playful, silent encouragement along with the matching grin that spoke volumes about what he wanted. He thought, hoped rather, the meaning was obvious enough.

Soon enough, though, laughter followed. Driving. Ha, indeed! Legolas might have got a driving licence once upon a time, but it didn't see much use. Cars were loud and smelled terribly, much like so many things in the contemporary world. And so he didn't like to drive very much, and what he didn't like, he tended to do poorly with. ]

The chances are very high, but let us not pass judgement before we test it!

[ Even though Legolas knew what the outcome of that would be, already. Still, what fun would there be in admitting that and not going through with it? ]

I will not offer you the insult of forfeiting before we even begin, as you indulge me.

[ Oh. Well. What passes as straightforward for Legolas seems to have been a blind spot for Venom— he blinks, bemused, before lowering his shoulders to blow a faint sigh into the wind.

And they say that Big Boss is undefeatable. ]

Never mind. Can't run the risk of watching you drive off the platform.

[ That kind of blood is one that he doesn't want on his hands, thank you very much. For Legolas's little show of insubordination, Venom takes that clever hand with its fluttering fingers and catches it by the wrist. For a fleeting second, it's almost as if he'll move to press his scarred lips against those fingertips—

—before he lets go and makes his way onto the deck of the R&D platform proper. ]

I'll think of something else.

[ For the first time in the course of their conversation disappointment crept up into Legolas's expression. A flash of surprise, a flicker of sadness that— indeed, why exactly? Was it because the challenge or because the gesture would not or did not come to fruition? Or perhaps it was a little bit of both. All the same, he didn't let it linger very long, smiling again as he turned on his heel to follow after Venom into R&D. ]

I assure you that would not happen— but neither do I wish to be the cause for grey hair for you. [ Time and age did not need his help. In fact, Legolas would rather deny them their power over his mortals, than aid them. ] Surely, we will find something fitting and safe in time.

[ But that was it for that line of conversation, and Legolas simply made a note in his mind to think longer and more thoroughly on all the things he was not very good at. As much as it was a jest, it would be something lighthearted and fun, perhaps help take Venom's mind off of all that was going on around them. And lift that weight off his shoulders, if only for a little while.

That was for the future days, and Legolas knew other ways to hopefully achieve that, for now— a scientist approached them, quite clearly excited that Legolas had come to test his baby, as he called it. He went on for a while about the ins and outs of this new rifle, and the reasons why Legolas would surely love it. This time. They could not say it handled like a bow, as no rifle ever could, but it was as close as they could get to something that could replace his usual weapon of choice.

Why were they always so insistent on upgrading it, however, that Legolas still didn't quite understand. Alas! He listened politely and nodded his head at the end, shooting Venom a sly glance. ]

Let us try it, then!

[ Raging Octopus is a very ambitious person, don't you know. One of those eccentrics that look for any excuse for someone capable to bring out the best in his so-called children: his is a very big family, and he keeps looking to expand... much to the Subcommander's chagrin.

(Does he know how much GMP goes into making one of those rifles??? What if Legolas refused to use it??)

Venom is find with his staff's enthusiasm, of course. To an extent, he shares it— that itch to test out an untouched trigger while the body of his new weapon is still unmarred by the elements. If anything, Venom is likely the more eager of the two, and steps towards the direction of the firing range with a curious lightness to his heels.

(Sometimes the boy never leaves the soldier, no matter how old he gets.) ]

You still remember how to fire a gun?

[ Facetiously. Legolas may prefer not to use a firearm, but Venom is more than aware that the elf is still lethal with one.

The practice grounds are empty, lined with monochrome imitations of victims. Ready to be put down for the sake of R&D. ]

[ Legolas didn't answer, at least, not with words. He took the offered rifle, he took ample amount of munitions, strapping a few magazines to the belts at his hip and across his chest. One of them was loaded to the rifle with a very telling click— he followed Venom to the practise grounds. A single, although long, look sent his way, as he passed right by him.

It was a familiar motion, even though it was the bow he had been using recently, to lift the weapon to his shoulder, to take aim — reflex sight, Raging Octopus knew better by now than to try and install optical sights on any weapon offered to the sole elf on the base — and to shoot. It was distinctly quieter than any previous one he used, though it still had the most powerful kick back. But it was light, it handled well, and he found it easy to switch to the next target and the next.

Five bullets, five shells falling at his feet, and five targets down with holes smack dab in the middle of their flat heads. ]

Does that answer your question? [ He grinned, cheeky. But he was hardly done, especially with the promise of a bit of competition from Venom. ] Lay down the rules, whatever challenge you wish to set before me— before us.

[ A low whistle, as Legolas makes 5 neat killshots in under 5 seconds. Not something lightly done, and not something that's usually accomplished with such poise; the R&D member watching from beyond frosted glass throws his fist in the air with unbridled joy. ]

First to 150, then.

[ A flip of a switch, and mechanisms grind to replace broken targets with new versions. The conveyors around them whir to life, shifting paper enemies in irregular rhythms from side to side, top to bottom— a morbid dance of would-be victims who jerk along metal railings like poorly-rendered animatronics. ]

Headshots are 10 each, 5 points for anything else.

[ This would be a rigorous competition for anyone but them, really. Venom harbors no illusions about the outcome of this friendly 'spar' (Legolas would be able to hit 300 long before he hits two-thirds of that number), but his ego isn't so fragile that he'll back down from something that he can ultimately benefit from. ]

What's your asking price, if you win.

[ He's offering a favor, Legolas. Choose one wisely. ]

[ Legolas had to admit one thing: it was a fine weapon, and in fact, he found it quicker than his bow, which was a very important advantage in its favour. The magazine held no more bullets, than he could hold arrows in one hand while shooting, and it was most certainly more comfortable and simply... easier. In his mind, he was already weighing the pros and cons of switching to this weapon— but maybe the decision would come on a field test. Next mission, this would be his weapon of choice. It was one thing to shoot at targets, even moving ones, on the practise grounds, it was something else to take it against live enemies. They were less predictable, and distances could be greater.

Listening to Venom speak, he swapped the magazine with surprisingly well practised motions—

One hundred fifty? And ten points for a headshot. Then these three mags, five bullets each, he had on him should suffice. A boastful thought, but he did not give voice to it, only grinned and let himself be lost in thought for a couple of seconds.

How often was it that he could get Venom to do just about anything he wished? Not nearly often enough. So he thought long and hard, not even the noise of the moving targets distracting him from this task. ]

One evening. [ He lifted his free hand in the air, index up. ] Those rare days when there is no place or person who needs our attention. I want your evening on one of those.

[ A strange request? Perhaps. One that would certainly benefit both of them at that. ]

[ In some distant future, Venom will most likely face a lifetime of scrutiny and disapproval from a certain other elf for making his son hold a firearm and— god forbid— contemplate using it on a semi-regular basis, but that's then and this is now. Life is difficult when your patron-turned-combat-buddy-turned-comrade-turned-(something) used to live in circumstances so far removed from your current predicament.

(Then again, Venom isn't one to talk.)

So he focuses on the present, and the perhaps not-so-distant future. ]

You'll get plenty of those on the field. [ An unforgiving Afghan evening, huddled in a bunker under starlight that's undisturbed by artificial illumination. In those hours, 'Venom Snake' becomes irrelevant: the white noise of his radio and the distant sound of wild animals are the only things that require his attention.

But he also knows that Legolas isn't talking about being dead to the world, so he narrows his eyes in vague softness before hefting his gun and facing his targets with quiet gravitas. ]

Fine. An evening on base.

[ Those evenings, out in the field, Legolas would take too, when they came. But there was a difference still, between the times when they could truly be at ease and feel safe, most of all, and comfortable, and those evenings when they awaited the continuation of their mission, that right moment to enter the fray or to leave it, or took a rest after a harsh day of tracking and hunting enemies. Besides that, here he could prepare better than out in the field— food and drink, that was. ]

I will take those when they come as well, I do not think you can take them away from me. [ He took position too, but still sent Venom a playful glance. ] I can promise you one thing, at least, you will enjoy it!

[ That said, he called out to another member of R&D that came by to watch the little display. Besides the one who presented him with the rifle, there were already a few more among their audience, and Legolas couldn't blame them, but he didn't mind either. ]

Count down to when we shall begin! [ And to all of them, he added with a grin that could easily outshine the sun itself. So confident, and in this confidence, very much looking forward to his reward. ] And all of you, keep track of the score!

[ Then, he turned to Venom again— ]

Are you ready?

( picture prompt meme )

aww, no worries! c: I'm glad you found it again / remembered, though!! thank you!

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hope this is okay...!

it's absolutely perfect ♥

♥ ... and also sorry about that premature notif... sob

DON'T WORRY AT ALL i've done so much worse, trust me...

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EMERGES FROM THE NO INTERNET ABYSS

webee!

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