( 2ND Snowy Flight — video, both courts )

[smithwork]

[ Smoke is seen billowing as the locket's owner shoves a door open, coughing and waving a hand. This is broadcasting from the Station, evidently, with the modern-day look of things behind only mildly scorched around one side of the kitchen. Hiccup himself has since bathed after the journey from Caer Scima and obviously raided the Station's underground storerooms for clean clothes; he wears a bright red hoodie that hangs open over a plain tshirt, which in turn shows he still wears his leathers beneath and his prosthetic. Only the flightsuit is safely stored in his underground bedroom.

He spits a mouthful of sooty grime aside, swiping his weeping eyes as he steps out into the sweet relief of fresh air. ]

To anyone who wants to use the Station's kitchen right now, uh. It's down one 'microwave' and 'freezer'. Not our fault, I might add! Well, improving the freezer could debatably be called a mistake on Jack's part ...

[Behind Hiccup, the winter spirit could be seen approaching, sans wearing his cape which he instead uses to try and wave off the smoke in the air. His normally pristine white shirt is no longer very winter-like at all, darkened and dirtied by all the floating soot most likely. Upon hearing his name, he peeks from behind his accuser, not as cheery as he tends to be.]

Excuse me, Doctor Boom. I was trying to calm down the fire that you started because your science-y senses started tingling and you got, and I quote, "curious". I'd say that my miniature blizzard saved your life.

[ Looking more harassed and frazzled than normal too, a twitch goes in Hiccup's jaw. His pitch heightens, although he attempts to keep his irritation down. ]

There's nothing around here that says you shouldn't put metal objects in the box that heats everything up, you'd think it would make sense and just melt it, if anything.

[Excuses that Jack has heard over and over, prompting the repeated eye roll. Instead of arguing further, he brings up a hand over Hiccup's shoulder to grab the locket, directing his attention to it.]

Point is, because of Mr. Metal Bomb over here, the kitchen's been compromised, so if you wanna roast your meal, you'll have to do it old campfire style outside. Or if you have some things to blow up— [Hiccup gets a nice quick pat on the cheek.] —you can refer to Sir Haddock right here. He's apparently pretty good at that.

[ A very flat expression and folded arms await Jack coming full-circle with his own version of events, and Hiccup rolls his eyes so much that it looks like they might slip right free of his skull. ]

Thank you for summing that up. Pardon me for not understanding everything about electronics within a single afternoon. [ The locket is then, for a third time, turned back his way. ] There is an oven left, it's just the box thing that died, and someone destroyed the frozen food cupboard-whatever. I'm going to be cleaning up the resulting mess all day, if anyone wants to, oh, I don't know, help.

[ The latter is said with a pointed look at a certain winter spirit.

Unexpectedly, lost in their bickering like old ladies, the boys have forgotten about the flame-haired (literally, she's still smouldering) teenager in the midst of the kitchen. They both wince near-simultaneously when a thick accent curses loudly, and sporting equally sheepish faces the locket is hastily switched off before Merida can catch them slacking.

Apparently a sixteen-year-old, pissed off Scottish girl with singed hair is a far better incentive for two grown men to clean up their mess than anything else. ]




( OOC: Hic, Jack and Mer are all at the Station if you'd like to dive in with Action, otherwise all three will be chatty on their lockets regarding the big boom from the kitchen today. )

Comments

[winterwork]

Oh no, you're not squealer over dragons too, are you? I deal with that enough with Hic.

[He just wants a pat on the head, okay? :c]

[teenyoda]

Hey, we don't have dragons where I come from.

[That he knew of.]

But there've been some here, so... I don't know.

[No pats. Stiles is not a patter.]

[winterwork]

Well, since you're no expert, who's to say that it isn't an ice dragon?

[teenyoda]

Because that's just you being wishful in your thinking. Dragons equal fire.

[winterwork]

Where's the proof of that? [You non-believer.]

[teenyoda]

Tell you what. You go up to the one dragon I've seen here, which is a baby, by the way, and ask it to open wide. Or you can talk to the monarchs or, I don't know, pick up a book? Read what kind of dragons are here.

[winterwork]

[Well, he's not that into the dragon fiasco, but ...]

Where exactly did you see this baby dragon?

[teenyoda]

With some Seelies.

[Which Seelies, he wasn't saying.]

[winterwork]

Of course it is. [He sighs, figuring there wasn't much else to learn with that.]

Hic can be a bit of a pouty baby sometimes. Figured he might cheer up if he got to see some dragons somewhere.

[teenyoda]

There's only one left, from what I hear. They've been hunted to extinction here. I'm sure there's info on it in the library. You might even be able to ask around at the Station. Otherwise, your friend's SOL.

[winterwork]

Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. But I guess I can keep looking into. Might even find one with ice.

[teenyoda]

Uh huh.

[Hear that? That was so much no crammed into two barely grunted words.]

[winterwork]

You are too excessively optimistic, sir.

[aka PLEASE LIGHTEN UP A BIT PLS]

[teenyoda]

Sorry, I stopped doing optimism about a year ago.

[See: When his life went to hell.]

[winterwork]

It's a waste to not enjoy the brighter side of things a bit more.

[smithwork]

[ YOOOO, DID SOMEONE SAY D R A G O N S? LET HIM CASUALLY WEIGH IN HURR. ]

Actually, ice-spitting dragons are a thing, they're just extremely rare because they're the Alpha species. You wouldn't even know if there was one around here because they build nests far away from the commotion of settlements.

[teenyoda]

Not sure if your dragons are the same as these dragons. Or the ones from Westerosi. They all seem to be firebreathers and are also close to extinct in both places. I think I read that the Jabberwocky something hunted them all down? Here, that is. Not sure about where Jon comes from.

[smithwork]

Yeah, but there could be a Bewilderbeast here and no one would know, that could totally happen if we're getting pulled in willy-nilly. [ Wait, new people wut. ] Who's Jon? Is he a dragon-rider too? Dragon-anything? Trainer? Stable-hand? I'll take what I can get at this point.

[teenyoda]

... Uh huh. [You were so desperate, Hic.]

Jon? Um, no. Jon's more into wolves. Daenerys is the dragon lady. She had three the first time she came here, but then she left and came back and has none. So, I don't know. Maybe a different timeline? Maybe they just didn't come this time. She called them her children and was basically their dragon mama. You could talk to her since she's still here. Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Gendry, Renly... um, I think that's it. They're all from that same world, but they seem to be from different parts. One's cold, one's hot.

[smithwork]

Yeah, I've heard about her.

[ >:( MISS BLUDVIST, or close enough. ]

Besides the crazy dragon-toting war-lady, which of those is the most sensible and-or sane?

[teenyoda]

Jon and Sansa. I know them the best and they're good people. They might only know stories since Daenerys seems to be on the other side of the world from them and they don't exactly have airplanes, but stories might be a good start. Just let them know I told you to talk to them.

[Because they might be weird with strangers.]

[smithwork]

[ Airplanes, wut. ]

And you would be —?

[teenyoda]

Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. Just Stiles will work with them.

[smithwork]

Hiccup. Hey, Stiles.

[ With your super weird name but okay. ]

[teenyoda]

[Says the guy named after an intestinal reflex.]

Hiccup. Right.

[Because why not, right?]