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hallabackdir) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
faderift2017-12-04 12:28 am
[Open] Ready to Start the Conquest of Spaces
WHAT: Haldir is having a hard time going from the Utopia that was Lorien, to the S*ithole that is Kirkwall
WHEN: This month and the next
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: None at the moment!
I. The Only Tree Kirkwall
Haldir wandered Kirkwall for several days, trying very hard to make sense of it all. In Lorien, everyone had a purpose, a place. In Kirkwall however, it seemed like no one did. There were a handful men grasping at threads of power, climbing and pushing over one another for a chance to climb the next rung of the social ladder, while majority of the population lived in squalor, fighting over table scraps dressed up and sold to them as a full meal.
Besides the political and social climates, the overall structure of city was dreary to say the least. The walls looked to be little more than mud, mortar, and iron spikes slapped upon walls haphazardly. There was no thought to the lines of houses, to their architecture. It was just box, after box, after box. The walls seemed to close in on him, so he mostly spent times on the rooftops. It was easier to for him to move from place to place, especially at night. It seemed like every night, one gang or another converged on anyone who ventured out. Dealing with these ruffians was becoming far too inconvenient as it added at least 10 minutes onto every journey he made. Rooftops were much faster by far.
There also was very little in the way of greenery. In Darktown, Lowtown, and a place lovingly referred to as the Gallows, there wasn’t a speck of anything green anywhere. Hightown had some shrubs, and a few “trees” hardly taller than he was. In his wanderings on the first day, he came upon a large tree. Well, large in terms of what could be compared to in Kirkwall. In Lorien it wouldn’t be considered much more than a seedling. But, it had been far to long since he had stood under the calming shadow of a tree, or heard leaves whisper on a breeze. The residents here, who also were called elves for a reason Haldir couldn’t explain given their differences, had painted the bottom of the tree red, with curling white filigree. It obviously held a great amount of significance to these people, so out of politeness, he did not climb it even though he wanted nothing more than to feel the cradle of it’s limbs under him. So, he came every day, just to stand under it. As he was doing right now.
II. The Wounded Coast
Haldir thought he’d never be able to hear the ocean again. He needed to get away from Kirkwall for a while, and so he just walked. He followed his feet, letting them take him where they would. He came upon a bluff, and his nose was hit with the smell of salt and seaweed. He took a deeper breath, and followed the bluff down to the coast.
He toed off his boots, letting feet shift into the sand as the waves lapped at them. He hissed at the cold, but couldn’t pull himself out of it. He let his eyes drink in the sweeping seascape, and he felt like he could finally breathe for the first time since coming to this forsaken place. With no purpose, and no home, he felt more wraith than elf. He swathed himself in the cover of his cloak, just wandering, watching, existing. A ship without a rudder or sail. He turned left to look at the towering rock pillars that had slowly been eroded by the churning sea. He scooped up his boots, and then climbed the rock, very carefully due to the slippery surface. Once up on the rock, he sat and watched, finally feeling like Haldir again.
III. Speak Friend and Enter!
Got a random scenario? Wanna go climb some shit? Get a drink? Let’s talk. Haldir needs some friends.
ii.
a slip of a thing flies past him, a blur of long braids flying behind her and the pounding of bare feet in the sand and the way pale undergarments become slightly confusing at speeds where it's hard to tell where fabric starts and bum begins - whooping like a little spring-loaded demon when she puts her hands out and launches herself bodily into the surf.
So that's happening.
It is winter, so while she swims out she doesn't go far, spinning upside down in the water and righting herself, surfacing with her hands smoothing back the hair that's come loose of her braids and plastered itself to her tattooed face. What a fucking rush. It's a moment to find her footing again, toe at the bottom and then plant her foot and march out, delighted with herself.
no subject
He waited in anticipation as they swam out a ways, hoping against hope nothing happened that would require him to lend assistance. He was just getting used to feeling cold, and he grimaced at the thought of having to go in after them. They dove back into the water after a time, and he caught his breath until they surfaced again. He cocked his head to the side as their hands smoothed back the hair that had escaped from the tight braids before continuing their frantic swimming back to land.
To his relief, a few minutes more and they were on the shore again, laughing and shivering all the same. He was fairly confident now that she was in fact female, for undergarments provided very little in the way of coverage, wet and clinging as they were. Haldir flushed, and averted his eyes upward.
"Ex-Excuse me. Are you well?" He called out, hoping she wasn't as mad as she appeared to be, and this was some sort of joke or wager.
no subject
and up, good grief
and up
and there's his face. It's kind of him to ask, though as she stands in front of him squeezing salt-water out of the end of her braids, she looks more politely amused by the question than anything else- “Hello,” as a sly prompt, like maybe he forgot how greetings work.
(He did not.)
(He is not the crazy person here.)
“Very well, merci! Much better now. I think I will do that again.” Not, like, now.
no subject
With another blush, he unclasped his cloak, and held it out to her. "To keep warm-for the time being. What...what is it you were doing out there?" He cleared his throat, and clenched his free hand a little.
no subject
like for example 'please cover yourself up'
and says, “Oh, clearing my head!” cheerfully, wrapping herself up in a cloak that could easily hide the whole of her and wriggling to warm herself a bit, the worst of the wet soaking into fabric. “It's very good - I heard there is a girl who swims, I wanted to try and see it. Maybe next time I can stay in it longer,” thoughtfully. Endurance can be learned, right?
no subject
"You wanted to try swimming? Had you ever tried before?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
What thoughts would require this sort of extreme action to clear them? Perhaps it was beast he did not know. This woman was mad, surely. But, at least she was not unpleasant.
no subject
Her teeth are chattering, very slightly, but it doesn't seem to have discouraged her from how much sheer delight she takes in what she's done, little toes sinking into the sand.
no subject
His eyes widened a fraction, suddenly realizing he's been terribly rude by not introducing himself. He bowed his head, although it didn't make the angle in which she had to crane her neck remarkably different, but he hoped she would be able to read the meaning behind the gesture.
"I am called Haldir," he said while clearing his throat a little. "May I know your name?" His eyebrows raised up a fraction waiting for her response.