eachdraidh | ( 2ND Snowy Flight — video, both courts )

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( 2ND Snowy Flight — video, both courts )

[ 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. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You mean th' ones like th' runnin' water in th' bathrooms?

[Well, it was a split second decision really, not that they discussed it beforehand. She smiles in return, not really minding the use of the title this time.]

Hello again, Jon Snow.

Aye, like that. [He shakes his head, since it's too late anyway.] You appeared to be... caught in it. Are you alright? [All that angry Scottish cursing...]

Aye, I'm fine now. I can't say th' same for my hair.

[She reaches up to finger the black strands that she didn't shave off with her knife. The damage doesn't look too bad, though she'll be sporting a different hair style for a while. Pay no attention to her angrish, Jon.]

It's not so bad. [She has to be the one person in existence with hair more unruly than even Ygritte's.] You've still got plenty there.

That I have.

[It's a small comfort at the very least, and she smiles as she pulls her hand down.]

I'm gettin' used to th' look, though I never had reason to put my hair up before.

[Hiccup said he'd help her braid it at one point, and she's going to hold him to it.]

Never? [All the Ladies Jon had had ever known had always done such elaborate, baffling things to get their hair up, he can scarcely imagine anyone with that much hair has escaped such a fate before feasts or whatever parties might be held in a king's hall.] Aye, well.. Might be it won't be so bad? Some ladies like it. [Though some ladies don't. He remembers Arya's constant bemoaning of being stuck still for so long to have her hair done when their father's guests came.]

Nay. I never had a reason to nor cared much. My mother wears hers in long braids an' some of th' maids do theirs up elaborately but I never have.

[Now that she thinks about it, the way her hair is cut where the singed hairs were resembles her brothers' hairstyles. As her father eloquently put it, she 'just wants to let her hair flow in the wind'.]

Mother braided an' tucked it up for th' games, but it was too constrictin'.

The games? [Some sort of tourney, he assumes.]

A competition for my hand in marriage.

[The look on her face says she detests the idea itself.]

--Oh. [Things that Jon Snow has learned from having little sisters that he legitimately thinks no one in the world is good enough for: marriage is the worst and the whole institution should be set on fire.] It does not sound like you enjoyed these games.

Aye, I didn't. I sought a way out of it.

[Much to her mother's distress.]

The rules were that only a firstborn could compete, so I followed th' rules an' defeated every suitor.

[Give Jon a sec.] You won your own hand? [That... is totally something Arya would do. If marriage worked like that in Westeros.]

I thought it would work like that at least.

[Nothing can stop pissed off, humiliated mothers though.]

I'm pretty sure th' four clans would be at war by now were it not for time stoppin' here.

[Jon has the grace to look more pensive, then.] I'm sorry, my lady. Often, that's the way of things. There are few simple answers, and men love war.

Aye, I know.

[She doesn't even bother to correct him on calling her 'my lady'.]

They were at war before my father united them to battle the northern tribes, an' they made him their king after. If it weren't for my mother, they wouldn't have been pacified.

She cannot do so again? [It's probably a faux pas to ask, everybody here seems to have at least one dead parent...]

It's...ah...it's complicated.

[Oh hell. He's probably going to learn sooner or later.]

You remember th' bear I was lookin' for when I first arrived?

... Aye, I do. [The look on Jon's face says: Where is this going?? Because it seems like a strange and possibly very tragic segue.]

I...may or may not have accidentally turned my mother into a bear.

[A beat.]

I stress th' 'accidentally'.

[Things Jon Snow saw coming: not that.]

I-- a... a bear. Your mother? [That explains why she thought a bear would make a good diplomat?? But still Merida why???] How does one do that accidentally? Or on purpose for that matter?

[She drags her bangs over her face and sighs.]

I ran away after mum an' I got into a fight when I won th' games, an' I was led to a witch's cottage by these wisps.

[Yeah, she's starting to realize how stupid this all sounds. She sighs and rubs her temples.]

I asked for a spell t'change mum but I didn't specify what I wanted to change...

[See, this is why he has so much trouble trusting magic. Or is it magic users? (Who aren't Stiles...)] These fairies... they've gifted a man I'd call friend with magic for a boon, and he has books that he studies to use it. Might be you could ask for the same and learn some spell, some way to turn her back yourself, when you go. I know little and less of magic, in truth, but it seems to me the only way to fight such a fire is with some flame of your own.

[She pushes her bangs back and peers at him around them, listening before she nods.]

I was thinking about asking th' High King an' Queen if they could remove it from here, but if I have to, I'll search for a cure myself. There should be some kind of transformation magic around in faerie land. You'd think anyway.

I would think, aye. If not in the fairies, then in other things. [There's hope! And hope is good. Even if Jon doesn't have much of it himself these days.]

Aye. Maybe...maybe if they can bring Angus here, things won't be so bad.

[Hope is definitely good right now. Even if they can't change her mother, she was told time stops at home, so if she goes back she still has time to reverse the spell.]

Ridin' th' castle's horse to get here was strange.

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