Mt Hood National Forest / September 2013
Cursing up a storm the blonde dwarrow attempted to figure out where he was. Brows furrowing he glanced around the forest for any clues as to how to get out from under the thick canopy of trees and back onto the path he had intended to follow.
Growing more frustrated he hauled himself up onto a rock and sat down, attempting to calm himself. Maybe if he kept his head he’d be able to figure out exactly how he’d ended up here. It wasn’t the first time he’d been lost and he’d bet it wouldn’t be the last. He seemed to have inherited his Uncle’s lack of a sense of direction, much to the rest of his families amusement.
"Well, this is a mess," Marian sighed, hacking her way through vine and bramble. An hour had passed, and then two. Where was an elven clan when you needed one? This was a forest - wasn’t there a rule about that? “Never thought I’d actually be hoping to hear snippy death threats,” she grumbled.
The sky (or rather the miniscule pinpricks of it she could see), bright blue earlier this afternoon, was now ashen. A promise of rain.
"Might as well start looking for shelter—" and then she heard it: swearing. Quite colorful too. Pushing aside more branches, Hawke squinted and felt her wilted spirits lift. Blonde, braided, but definitely not an elf.
"Yer tha’ mad at me?" The blonde winced before looking up at her. "I told ya tha’ m’ sorry, I don’ know what else ya want me ta do ta make it up to ya but jus’ name it an’ I’ll do it."
"I’m not mad, Fili,” Marian responded, shrugging away the last of her irritation at being needled about her former ‘courters’. Short and bearded as they were, the dwarves here certainly weren’t the average scoundrels one ran across in Kirkwall. “I’m just saying you might want to consider a literary career. I hear it’s quite lucrative. Socially, anyway.” So long as he didn’t start biographying her exploits. “One apology is more than enough.”
"…Unless you’d consider finding me an eagle feather."
Peel your heart like a pomegranate.
Offer it to him, palms outwards.
Watch him come away
stained red by you.
You’re in his teeth.
He’ll kiss you with that mouth."
"How can you not have seen Bridget Jones’ Diary? I watch it every time a guy doesn’t call me back. Or does call just to say ‘something’s come up’. Like a family holiday, work thing, religious thing, dental appointment…”
"You know, the usual."
notes:Above all else, this.
Shadow | ghost-of-the-spire
Doors to Arrival | queenofthe-easternsea
misc.banter | bluemountainbofur
misc. banter | maidenofnanelmoth
letters x 2 | anonymous
Sparks Fly | open (modern)