milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Moonlight.

Moonlight and stars and one needs no sharper knife in the darkness than the sky reflecting against the bright white snow. And so it is the stars on the snow that light his path as he walks beside the lake.

Winter is a cocoon. The stars are freedom. He could walk here like a man through dreams until sunrise and never know the time had passed.

Perhaps he could use some company, though...

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Lupine company.

His mind's been a mess lately and, though he'd had reservations about it, tonight he runs as a wolf.

Everything's so much simpler and easier to understand when you're an animal.

Who is that?

Faramir knows the wolf is nearby. He was a Ranger before he was a Prince, and he was an extremely good one. He slows his step, makes no sudden movements, and is aware in the animal's direction, though not looking there directly.

He does not reach for his sword. He cannot know if the wolf is a threat or a patron. Besides, even in Middle-Earth, only Sauron's wolves attack without provocation.

Sometimes the darkness is an ally. It's the ultimate camoflage. Especially when you're a bit on the dark side of the colour spectrum.

Eyeshine? That's another story. Anyone can see that.

Friend or enemy?

Faramir continues walking, slowly, casually.

He is no threat to any beast, whether they move on four legs or two. Though human, his body language mimics that of a stag: he has weapons, and knows it, but he is not an aggressor, he is not a danger.

Nor is Rabastan. Reined in by wolfsbane he's unlikely to attack. Unlikely to hunt down a human to bite him and savage him.

He moves a hindpaw, as though to move backwards.

Curiosity keeps him where he is.

Faramir turns only now to glance briefly at the wolf, pausing for a moment in total stillness. Truly he is like a stag.

He nods his head onc e in greeting to the animal, and in respect, and comes no nearer, nor offers any further communication, to allow the fellow night-walker his space.

But the wolf moves forward this time. Slowly. Brushing foliage out of the way.

What would Faramir do if Rabastan decides to take back his human form in front of him?

Does he want to change back? Now?

Faramir would probably watch solemnly then ask if the man was quite all right and would he like to go inside for a cup of tea?

For now, he continues to stand stoill and watch the wolf with stone-grey eyes.

Tea? Tea is good.

Firewhiskey is even better.

He continues the approach, stopping just a yard away from the stranger.

Faramir continues to watch the animal for several long moments after it ceases to move. He then speaks.

"Good evening."

His voice is soft and his manner gentle. He has a way with animals. Even real wild ones!

Headtilt.

Okay. Looks like if he's going to engage in conversation he's going to need a human mouth.

Strahan he is not. Though he does sometimes wish he could do what the sorcerer can do and talk in animal form.

This is so going to hurt, but what else is new?

Focus... Change... Ow... Pain....

It takes a few minutes, but when its done, he stands before Faramir as a man, though his eyes seem to reflect the starlight a little.

A wizard, then. Faramir waits until the transformation is complete. He can see the pain, and asks, "Are you all right?"

But not one of Faramir's wizards.

"It always hurts. But other than that I'm as well as anyone can be."

Especially given my ... condition...

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At the edge of the forest, Steph's sitting in the snow, arms wrapped around her knees, in the classic Broody Teenager pose. No - it's Robin, which is slightly less bothersome; her costume's well insulated against winter. Her nose is turning blue, though.

She's also not paying attention to much except the stars. Let's say for the sake of creating interaction that she's sitting in his path, then.

He sees her. He stops part way to her. He squints in the starlight.

"...Are you all right?"

Steph glances - well, down, because she's been lost in the starlight.

"Oh! Hi. Yeah, no. Uh. Fine. ... You?"

The pause before he answers is perhaps a little too long.

"Well. Are you not cold?"

So they are both fine! Clearly all is well with the world, then.

"Um... a bit." She rubs her nose absently. "But ... 's nice out here. Clear. I can ... think."

He nods.

"Shall I leave you?"

Steph looks like she might say yes, but ...

"Do you want any company? I'd kinda ... I wouldn't mind talking."

He pauses again. He, too, is about to say no, but -- he knows full well the real answer is yes.

Which is why, sensibly, he's outside, as far away from people as possible, wandering around in the dark.

Wise move there, oh Prince.

"I would not mind... company."

He sits beside her in the path and absently tosses his cloak over her shoulders. Being a typical Middle Earth cloak, it's large enough to fit them both without him having to sit too close to her.

"Thanks," Steph says, absently.

She sits in silence for a moment before remembering she wanted to talk.

"...so. What's up?"

"...Stars. See the Seven, there?"

If she thinks he sounds melancholy, she would be correct. But he flashes her a slight smile. "What's 'up' with you?"

"We call that the Big Dipper," Steph says. "Or the Gourd. There are these myths about the slaves following it home, or something, I'm not very clear on that..."

She didn't pay much attention at school. Or, y'know, live to graduate.

"I'm okay. I. Well. I just ... I just found out a friend died."