bakerstreet | SNOWED IN

"Just as long as it isn't purple," Stephen mutters, "please dear god not purple in the Sanctum."

He pulls out of the hoodie and away from Stephen looking hurt... but its hard to tell if it's mock or not. "I like purple..."

Stephen smiles to show he's kidding. "I know Barton. I was joking. I figured one wall in the bedroom could be yellow and one purple."

"You need to work on your I'm kidding tone..." He says coming back over and working his way back into sharing the hoodie with Stephen. "They should make these big enough for two people.... and yellow and purple are very complementary." He laughs brightly.

[Hive tilts his head at that, amused and intrigued all at once. Will the boy press the issue?]

You have me confused with someone else.

[While needling him deep within his subconscious. Sending the vaguest images of - a dead and dying alien planet, a creature stalking the wastelands.]

[ Alien images received and transferred directly onto the planet’s surface, David thought he heard himself scream when the creature stalking him lunged from the ground and he blanked momentarily out of existence . He never screamed. ]

If I do have you confused for somebody else, I want to know who you are.

[Ward turns to face him, oblivious to the cold and snow. More insistent probing now.]

You're not one of my people.

You can't begin to comprehend me.

[ His people? David wrinkled his nose. ]

Okay. I only wanted to know your name.

"And I thought the family dog could be a handful." Though befriending half the forest does seem to better befit an elf, of course. Not that Hawke is much an expert on what elves do, himself, but clearly not all the stories are exaggeration.

"Your father sounds something like mine. ...Although no one would have doubted it, of him," Hawke offers, in lieu of chasing down that less appealing thread of conversation. There isn't a one among his companions who hasn't known loss, though, and Hawke himself is no exception, however he deflects the notion that any of it matters now.

"I've even been told I take after him. I'm funnier, though."

Whether it was by intent, or by accident, Legolas still welcomed and appreciated the shift of subject. It was far too cold all around to speak of matters that could chill the heart too. So he fully embraced the lighter turn.

"So say you, and I say prove it!" For all that excited exclamation, Legolas tried, to his best ability, to fix his expression into something resembling neutrality. He managed a challenging sort of seriousness that was on the very edge of crumbling away. "Draw a laugh out of me, and I will allow you your rest."

That he was laughing only moments ago was only a minor detail, conveniently forgotten for the time being. Could that skill of Hawke's hold up when he had to put effort into achieving a specific effect? Legolas had no doubts, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to challenge it.

Mercy let Jack pull her closer than wriggled in enough to give him a face bath.

Even huddled together as they are (or perhaps especially as they are), it's easy to tell how very absent of neutrality that neutral look is. And Hawke still manages to shoot him a look as skeptical as that sincerity is unconvincing.

"Another?" Because he most certainly is not going to go without credit for the fact that he's pretty much been the height of hilarity, all evening, already. Not that his offense is particularly compelling, either. "I didn't realize my duties as a traveling companion included entertaining you on command. What will you do if I can't make you laugh? Keep me up all night?"

Not discouraged by that answer, or that not so perfectly feigned offence, Legolas pressed on. His own crumbling neutrality giving way to a saucy grin — though he tried for a different expression, and failed — and raised brows, "Is it too great a challenge, my friend? I had thought you perfectly capable of the feat!

"But should you fail, keeping the watch will fall to you, indeed." Not that Legolas minded, in particular, to keep watch. Just as he was easily amused and entertained by others, he could find his own entertainment in the dead of the night, whether it was singing softly or staring at the stars.

Karin is resilient.

[ That Uzumaki blood, something he hadn't even known about until very recently, and a fact that as of yet Sasuke has failed to bring up to either Karin or Naruto. He regards the fire for a long moment before his eyes slide from the flicker of the growing flame to Sakura.

It's still strange at times, to think that they're married. Marriage had never been on his radar, or a family, after he'd lost his first one. His cloak makes a soft sound when he reaches out from underneath it to push a strand of snow-damp hair from her face.

The touch seems so casual, but he's put a lot of focus into it. Intimacy is not his forté, but he's trying.

Sasuke reaches to his throat to unhook his cloak. ]

I know where Iggy keeps a spare pair, but he probably wouldn't be too happy about us raiding it...

[ Noctis pauses a moment, looking over at the lighthouse where Cid's been working away. It's a shame Cindy isn't here today, because she would be the perfect partner in crime for Cid snowmen. He's pretty sure she'd get a hoot out of it for one thing, and for another it would be impossible for Cid to get mad at her over it. ]

Hm. ... if he does, we can always knock the head off and make it someone else.

Well, if it's going to be a challenge—

Hawke arches a brow, the haughty look a good side more successful than his previous efforts. "Hardly. But I'll take first watch and best your game. Just to prove how gracious I am." And perhaps just because he wasn't actually much help, navigating out there in the snow, trailing behind while Legolas found them something actually resembling sanctuary. But no one actually has to know that he cares half so much.

Parting the edge of the cloaks briefly, Hawke holds out his hand again. "Here, give me your hand."

Did he tickle and pinch Hawke's sense of pride just right with those words, or was that entire argument an ornery argument just for the sake of itself? Something to figure out, but later. And no matter the answer, it was time to feel tickled pink — and not put off in the least about that contrasting haughtiness —, which Legolas did and without gloating.

There was nothing more for him to say, but to follow along with the request. His own hand emerged from that same crack in their cloaks, pale and long-fingered, and not a hand one would expect to see on an archer or a warrior for how soft and unmarred it was. He offered it to Hawke, and hesitating momentarily how exactly, laid it palm up on top of Hawke's own.

Curiosity had his gaze flicking between their hands and Hawke's face, but he said nothing and asked nothing, only waited to see or hear.

"Here. Old Fereldan drinking game." Hawke takes his hand and, without ceremony, lifts it over his head, pressing Legolas' palm to the back. There under his fingers - and the choppy mess of Hawke's hair - is a distinct, gnarled knot of scar tissue.

"I show you a scar, and you get three guesses where I got it." As jokes go, perhaps it's a bit of an odd set-up. But if he was expecting "an elf, a dwarf, and a human walk into a bar," well— Actually, Hawke probably wasted that prime material on the first day of this trek. "And I only tell you the truth if I like your guesses. ...Or if you get it right, but I can't imagine you will."

It sounded very much like one of the most bizarre games Legolas had ever encountered, and at first he only lifted his brows, listening to the explanation. But he did not pull his hand away, far too curious to see how it would all unveil. If nothing else, with the strangeness of that start, Hawke had all of Legolas's attention and interest.

Those gentle fingers stroked along the raised flesh of the scar, just the very tips, to feel for the shape of it, figure out just what kind of injury could have caused it and also how old it was. That it all had him combing through Hawke's mess of hair at the same time, that was an added bonus Legolas didn't mind.

But then again, was the truth really that important? It would be shared, if Hawke liked his story. So it was creativity and appealing to the other person's ego that played the biggest part. Legolas smiled, finally finding his words after a moment's thought, "Was it, perhaps, from your first encounter with a dragon? Hulking beast, it must have been, yet this scar was the only injury it inflicted upon you— after it had been slain, at that.

"In the joyous elation of the victory, you stumbled over rocks and hit your head on a rough and hard dragon scale."

On my way!

[ And he keeps on, adjusting his course a little bit towards where he can hear Ignis. ]

I'm fine. Are you?

[ Ok, ok his knee is still a bit sore, and a fall from that height is enough to leave anyone not feeling their best but after the potion that pretty much counts as not being injured anymore, right? Right. In any case, he keeps on going, using the Scepter to light his way ]

Keep talking, if you can.

[ Between the light and the voice, he's bound to stumble across Ignis eventually, right? -- oh. There in the direction of his voice is something dark against the snow that is either Ignis or something that's stolen his face. Noctis chooses to believe the former and stumbles over to put a hand on his shoulder. ]

World's worst 'marco polo'.

Hawke hums, the soft rumble of a laugh building low in his chest as he shakes his head. From someone less innately charming, he might not have taken that kind of defamation of character without offense, but it's too obviously a ploy to get a rise out of him, now. "While I'm flattered by the unflinchingly heroic figure you make of me—

"Not even close."

It's evident enough on closer inspection, though, that nothing sharp made the mark on the back of Hawke's skull, no blade - nor any jagged edged dragon's scale. It's a firm knot of scar tissue, not particularly large, and somewhat faded with age. Probably not a war wound, all things considered.

"If you want to forfeit your next two guesses, though, perhaps I'll have pity and tell you the truth, anyway," Hawke offers, the same faux-haughty lilt in his tone as his expression.

It might have been a miss, but Hawke's amusement was worth that failed chance. Eyes widening, then narrowing again, Legolas took that teasing — even with that almost convincing look, that was what it was — mockery in stride, "Forfeit? Nay, no matter the odds stacked against me!"

Another moment of silence, another moment of thought, and finally with the last brush of fingertips he removed his hand from Hawke's hair. There was nothing more the scar could tell him, and he had no other excuse.

"Perhaps then, you and your siblings are all too alike, and they paid their older brother for his pranks with pranks of their own," a lot more vague, this time, but he didn't bother adding any details, "The first time the payback came, and you were not prepared."

Very likely another miss, Legolas already knew, but he didn't feel particularly nervous about it.

A look of unarguably genuine surprise crosses Hawke's face, as he gives the cloaks draped around them a cursory tug closer. "You're actually getting warmer."

Granted, most of the details are still off the mark, but that's a great deal nearer to the truth than Hawke was expecting. Most, he assumes, might have banked on the even more ostentatious, after that first guess. That more of Hawke's scars are the result of far simpler misadventure might not have ever crossed their minds.

Not that he intends to let a moment's impression ruin his game.

"But you don't stand a chance, now. You've only got one guess left."

Charles rolled his eyes at Erik, making grabby hands for the towel. "It's freezing out there my friend, I could catch my death out there," He stated dramatically. He was shaking like a leaf however, hence the need to warm up.

"They're alright for now though?"

One guess remaining, but his current train of thought was the correct one. There was no saying just how much warmer, though, and he could either go for something even more mundane such as falling out of the bed, and overshoot by leagues again, or he could keep closer to that current guess and stay relatively warm to the truth—

"If I have one guess, I stand at least one more chance!" Legolas shrugged a shoulder with a grin and a sidelong glance. If nothing else, it was a fun game, and Hawke already won that challenge, as far as he was concerned. There no laughter, maybe, but there was amusement. "If that was warmer, then the hottest may be a failed prank of your own, when you have just began learning the art of them—

"Or one morning falling out of bed!"

Two guesses for one, but the look about Legolas was that of thoughtfulness and absolute innocence.

SNOWED IN

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Re: Captain Jack Harkness l Doctor Who l ota

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im always so happy to see u in my inbox

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three years later

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Re: Erik Lehnsherr l X-Men Films l ota

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