Athera Lavellan (halam_shivanas) wrote in somerealityrpg, @ 2020-03-11 13:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | active: bucky barnes, inactive: athera lavellan |
Who: Athera Lavellan & Bucky Barnes
What: A first meeting
When: March 7th
Where: "Central Park"
Rating: Low
Status: Complete
Athera had finally - with Hawke and Varric’s assistance - procured herself a map of Goodland. It was incomplete, but it was enough that she could try and get her way around the city without getting too lost. They had helpfully scrawled over it and there had been no small amount of teasing from Hawke (you managed to close the breach, Inquisitor, but you would get lost in your own forest) and some affectionate ribbing from Varric, little comments left along the way and places of interest circled, either by her own hand or by Varric’s, as he’d been there longer. The warning from him stuck out though (the food here’s very rich, Tiny), and she had lived by it as though it were gospel passed down from her Keeper.
With more than a little reassurance, Athera had taken to wearing her hair back in braiding and not covering her ears. She was told that the Shemlen - the humans - here didn’t really care if someone was of another race. Still, she carried her staff with her everywhere regardless.
Just in case.
After all, she had only been here for a few days when evil people from a number of worlds had crashed in.
A particularly strong gust of wind snatched the map from her hands and sent it drifting along the park. She swore and hurried after it, her magic not quite subtle enough to just call it back to her without sucking half the park along with it.
Godsdamnit.
“Get back here!”
Bucky glanced up at the shout, expecting to see a person -- a child, perhaps -- running away from the one calling for them, but no. It was a paper. He slipped Fuzzy Blue into his jacket pocket, careful the puff wasn't squished or all akimbo, as he rose from the bench where he'd been seated. The paper wasn't exactly floating through the air, it was traveling a bit too well to call it that, but its path was close enough to him that he only had to take a few steps to reach up and pluck it from the air.
He didn't glance at it, not caring what it was, it rather in the direction it came from, at the girl who’d been chasing it. “Yours?” he asked, holding it out as she drew closer.
“Oh, ma serannas,” she breathed gratefully as she came to a halt in front of the tall man. He was built like a warrior, powerful and strong with broad shoulders that would easily carry a shield or a broadsword. She took the map back from him carefully and folded it so she could put it back into the inside pocket of her coat (her coat, so warm compared to even the warmest furs but much lighter). “I would have been lost without this.”
She offered him a crooked smile and held her hand out. Shem greetings were confusing to her, but she knew this one. A handshake. No weapons. Well, except the one strapped to her back and embedded in her palm but that was neither here nor there. Her fingers flared green slightly underneath the wraps that she had wrapped around her left hand, outstretched in greeting.
“Athera.”
She looked… not of this world, but Bucky wasn't surprised by much anymore. He knew he probably came off strange to those who came across him, so he wasn't exactly in a position to raise any eyebrows. His smile mirrored hers, crooked and a slight bit abashed as his hand rose to meet hers. Because she'd extended her left hand, and he preferred seeming normal to people as much as possible.
“Bucky,” he replied, his hand meeting hers in greeting, giving it a shake before he pulled it back.
“Bucky?” She repeated, trying the name on her tongue. It was strange, but then most of the names were. She’d met a few people here, she’d seen a few more on the network. Names that weren’t familiar or even similar in type to the ones she was used to. When he shook her hand, she noticed that his fingers were silver, as was the rest of his hand. Her powers flared at the contact.
She only stared a little bit.
“It, uh- Thank you for catching my map. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Bucky,” he confirmed, his smile flickering a moment. The stares weren't new. Bucky wanted to be used to them, but he wasn't. He never knew what they meant, if the person was going to react badly or not. He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers stretching out then clenching. “You're welcome. It's a map -- of this place?”
“Yes,” Athera said, cheeks a little pink. “I- I am what my friends call ‘directionally challenged’. So they made me a map to help me explore.” After all, she couldn’t expect them to figuratively hold her hand forever. Though she did want to take Varric up on finding new places to eat. The four of them could go; Solona had been here a while, she was bound to know some good places, too. “They’ve left notes of places to try on it.”
She spotted him slide his hand into his pocket, obscuring his shining fingers from sight. It looked like plate-mail but didn’t feel like it, and he wasn’t wearing a glove on his other hand.
The question blurted out of her.
“Why do you have a glove on only one hand?”
Bucky was lucky in that he knew New York, both from his life Before and also he knew he'd been there Since. There was still plenty to take in, both in the city itself and in Goodland. It seemed Athera was probably not from around there, so a map seemed like a good idea.
The muscle in his jaw twitched at her question, fingers flexing again. “I only have the one,” he said, pausing, then: “Real hand.”
Athera’s eyes widened then, “Fenedhis,” she breathed, “I- my apologies. I have never seen anything like that before. It looked like armour.” It wouldn’t have been a rude question where she came from, but here the rules were different. She forgot briefly. He did not look like someone who had lost a limb in a war, unless the injury was old and long healed.
“It looks like a hand to me. Though silver.”
“It's metal,” he said slowly, examining her expression to try and gauge what she was thinking. Where she was coming from. Her mention of it looking real… well, that was the point, wasn't it? “It was made here for me, I had… one before, but there were problems with it and needed a new one.”
That seemed an easier explanation than trying to get into it being blasted off. Not important. “It's not… silver, but it's metal.”
“That’s incredible,” Athera said, glancing up at Bucky’s face and then at the sleeve that covered his left arm. She wanted to ask if it was just his hand but she’d already been rude once. “And it was made here? By… science? Not magic?” Because science, she was learning, was a lot like alchemy in many ways. But it involved more numbers and lines on pieces of paper. Dagna’s alchemy and enchanting were much more… let’s see if this blows up.
Bucky studied her expression a moment longer, trying to determine why she was asking. She didn't seem to be coming from any kind of weird or bad place, it seemed more curious. He could understand that. “Science,” he confirmed, his normal hand slipping into his jacket pocket to curl around Fuzzy Blue. “But made here, yeah. I didn't have -- I was missing it when I got brought here.”
Athera smiled a little when she spotted him watching her and she nodded, not quite satisfied with the ‘science’ comment but she knew she would never understand. Not truly. Her world was… almost backward in comparison to this. They had no such things as cars or laptop computers. No such things as electric lights or winter boxes to keep packeted food cool.
Of course, then she realised what she said and her expression shifted into something like alarm.
“Your hand was taken from you as a result of bring brought here?”
“Oh, no.” Bucky’s brow furrowed, concerned he’d said something wrong with his statement before. It made sense in his head, but that didn't always mean it made sense to anyone else. “My arm… It want there before I came here. It was already like that, not because I came here.”
“Oh.” Athera’s hand rested on her chest. “That- that makes more sense than someone taking your arm when you arrived.” She opened her mouth to ask him how he lost his arm before catching herself. It was unkind, maybe, to ask such questions. Especially when there were likely traumatic injuries. She had seen enough of those in her own people after Haven fell.
She looked down at her own hand, “Do you think there is the chance that the science of this place would be able to make another one? Like yours?”
His gaze followed hers to her hand, brow furrowing. Not that he could see anything wrong with it, but that didn't mean anything. Not everything had to be big and traumatic to happen.
“Yes, the doctor who made it for me is still here,” he replied, slowly letting his hand come out of his pocket and simply have his thumb hooked on the inside. “So I’m sure he could.”
Athera nodded, looking down at her own hand then. She chewed her lower lip and then pushed her sleeve up a little, revealing her slender fingers, her hand wrapped like a fighter. She deftly undid them, revealing a pale, pulsating green light in her palm, spiderwebs of green snaking up along her palm and past her wrist, obviously disappearing under the cuff of her coat and up her arm.
Her breath hitched slightly, clearly pained.
“One day,” she told him, “this will grow too big. I’ll lose my arm or my life. If there’s a chance I can keep going - we don’t- where I come from these kinds of marvels are nothing but a fantasy. Not even the best dwarven smiths can create limbs.”
Seeing her hand, how that affliction clearly moved up into the rest of her arm, Bucky’s guard lowered a bit. No longer did it feel like some stranger passing judgment, staring, asking awkward questions for the sake of it. There was purpose behind Athera’s gaze, her questions.
“Sam Wilson,” he said, hand loosening from his pocket completely, the need to hide it away not rushing through him as it had. “He's who helped me, he's very good at what he does.” With only a brief glance at their nearby surroundings, he shrugged his jacket off his left side so his whole arm was free, his t-shirt only covering partway down his bicep. “I’d had a metal arm before,” he admitted, the details not mattering so it didn't feel needling to talk about. “This is what he made for me, though.”
Athera made a note of the name, to pass to Hawke should the need arise. Knowing that there was a chance she could still be whole made her feel better about his plan rather than hers. Hers was to just let it take her. To finally get a rest, to get to stop fighting. Everything was a fight, and she was so tired. But the other part of her wanted to find Solas and kick him in his ancient Elven ass.
“May I-” her hands were already lifted, though she made no move forward. “May I touch your arm? Please?”
That gave him pause, because most touch did. Touch from people he didn't know, didn't trust, he wasn't sure how to handle it. But this was fine, Bucky managed to tell himself. Athera was asking for a reason, a purpose, rather than just for the hell of it or a nefarious cause. As someone who'd dealt with losing his arm, he wouldn't want to take any chance of being ready from her. There really was no way to be, but any little bit might help.
“Okay,” he said quietly, fingers flexing around Fuzzy Blue. “But if I tell you to stop, I need you to.”
“If it’s not okay,” Athera said honestly, “you can tell me no. I am being forward. I’ve spent too much time around humans.” Her lips quirked up a little. Not quite a smile. He had said yes, and moving slowly enough that he could move away if he wanted to, Athera’s fingers - feather light and barely there, elves were graceful in everything they did as well as being build long and lithe and easily broken - brushed along the metal of his arm. It was warmer than she thought it would be.
As soon as her fingers were there, they were gone again, respecting that he had allowed a stranger to touch his arm she knew not to overstay the offer. She had no desire to make him uncomfortable. It was never something she wanted to do to another person, regardless of the shape of their ears.
She held her left hand out, palm up, a silent offer of returning the favour, as it were, if he wanted to. “You’re a warrior in your world? You carry yourself like my Commander.”
Not that he necessarily wanted to, but it felt like an easy gesture to return. Bucky's touch was brief and barely there over Athera’s palm before it was gone, hand pulled back to slip his arm back into the sleeve of his jacket. It felt strange, knowing he was being looked at specifically because of his left arm, but Sam’s work was good, he was grateful for it, and it felt like the right thing to do to let her know.
He hesitated at her question, chest clenching. Because no. Not a warrior. A soldier, once upon a time and not by choice, then worse -- not by choice. “Who’s your Commander?” he asked instead of answering. “Are you a warrior?”
Athera, too, recoiled her hand after Bucky had touched it, the skin glowing more vibrantly than it had before, like there was a tear in her palm of green light. She drew in a slow breath, trying to control the way the pain pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She looked away from Bucky as she wrapped her hand again, tight to counteract the pain, to keep it hidden as much as she could. When it was bad, though, the power shone like sunbeams through the wrapping.
“His name is Cullen Rutherford,” she said, proudly. “He was a Templar, but he used his strength to stop persecuting mages and help build the Inquisition. That’s my- that was my…” Army was the wrong word. She didn’t know how else to describe it other than as her Inquisition. “I led it, Cullen was my Commander and led the armies.” Others had other positions, they all answered to her. It was still a terrifying thought.
She shook her head, “I’m not a warrior. I’m a mage. I fight, but because I had to. I was training to be the next Keeper of my Clan.” She noticed he didn’t answer her question, rocked up onto her toes and then decided she had pried more than enough into his life for one day. He wouldn’t want to be her friend.
Her description didn't help a ton, because clearly she was from a different world with different types of people. Templars, mages, Clans, Inquisitions.
“I was a soldier,” Bucky answered after a moment. Her comment about how he carried himself seemed like it was meant as a compliment, considering how she spoke about her Commander. That was nice. “I didn't lead, but I fought.”
“I respect those who pick up arms,” she said to him with a nod of her head. “My soldiers are the most loyal people I could ever hope to meet. Some of the few who saw me as a person, not just as a knife-ear.” The slur was spoken with some pain; even after saving all of Thedas, some people couldn’t see past her race, her pointed ears. She truly did respect her soldiers, and cared for the men under her command (via Cullen). “And Cullen was a soldier too, a special kind, but he chose a different path when he needed to.”
And that had been hard for him, too.
“People always forget that those that fought the war are the ones most hurt by it.”
That statement hit hard, because it was so true. Bucky gave a quiet nod, his brow furrowed as he mulled over a word she'd said before. Knife-ear. He wasn't going to repeat it, he'd heard her change in tone and could recognize slurs when he heard them. He'd heard plenty in his time, even if that hadn't been one of them.
“Are you--” he started, the furrow in his brow deepening as he tried to figure out if it was a bad question to ask. Or what words would be right. All he could think of were examples in books, or things at the museum. “...an elf?”
Athera’s shoulders lifted a little, not quite defensively but it was close. She nodded. “Yes.” Turning her head to the side, she let Bucky see them slope and point of her ears properly. “Where I come from that is one disadvantage.”
Her smile was sad. “The other, I already mentioned.”
She extended her left hand again and a stream of fire wound itself around her fingers. “I am also a mage. So when humans are not trying to kill me for my ears, they are trying to lock me up for my talents.”
Her eyes were dark as she looked at him. “You do not have elves where you are from? Are you from somewhere that has hot water from a shower?” Because that was her marker for technology. Gods, showers were amazing.
Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever get completely used to all the different things he'd never seen. He'd seen magic from Wanda but that was different, he knew how she'd gotten those powers. Elf, mage, he definitely hadn't come across people who claimed to be either of those things. Or maybe he had and didn't remember, that was also very possible.
He'd noted the change in her posture, the defensiveness of it, how there was sadness in her expression. People could be awful, no matter what world or reality they were from, that was universal. The corners of his mouth ticked down at her comments on how humans treated her, settling into a frown.
“Humans can be assholes,” he commented quietly, his thumb running over Fuzzy Blue’s fluffiness to draw some calm from it. “We don't have elves, and yeah, I guess you could say that -- hot water for showers. You didn’t then?”
“That is true,” Athera agreed, closing her fingers into a fist and extinguishing the flame. “But most races can be. My own isn’t perfect, but we didn’t-“ She cut herself off. “Sorry, you don’t need a history lesson.”
She shook her head in response to his question. “No! But aren’t they incredible? We have no cars- we travel on horseback. No one has harnessed lightning for power, and your- Um, radiators?” She sounded the word out carefully, “would be a welcome addition to my keep in the winter.”
Bucky smiled softly, because those were all great innovations in the world. “I grew up a long time ago,” he said, hand coming out of his pocket to rub at the back of his neck. “Didn't have the same kinda stuff there is today, not the same way. Our cars were different, not as good. Lots of things are better now than it was then. Still no flying cars but I’m sure that'll come.”
“Is there a way of flying that doesn’t involve wrangling a dragon?” Athera asked, genuinely curious. No one in her world had cracked the car thing yet, though she was sure with magic and metallurgy it would be possible. But flight? Impossible. Even teleportation between two places was limited by distance. Not even the most powerful darkspawn could do that. “Or is that too silly of me to ask?”
She smiled, “My people are long-lived, also. Our Keepers often live to a hundred and fifty, though our race used to be immortal.”
“There are planes and helicopters,” Bucky replied easily, because flight without dragons was something he was familiar with. He paused for a moment before adding: “The guy who made my arm, he made himself wings so he can fly on his own.”
When it came to age, that was tricky. Of course there were races out there that could live longer, he knew Diana was centuries old. “We’re not normally long-lived. There were -- I’m not good at explaining.” His brow furrowed as his frown deepened, annoyed with not being able to find good or right words to say. “We don’t usually live so long. A hundred would be remarkable, a hundred and fifty… unheard of.”
“So your lifespan is the same as the shemlen in my world,” Athera said with a nod. “Perhaps you aren’t too dissimilar from them. I should ask Solona, or Hawke.”
If she noticed his struggles, she did not comment or behave impatiently. She was more than delighted he was talking to her.
“Have you been in these...helicopters? What is it like to fly?”
Bucky had no idea what a shemlen was, or a Solona or Hawke. But if Athera was going to take those particular queries to someone more knowledgeable, that was probably a good idea. Even with the work he’d been doing, how Wanda had helped him with his head, it was still difficult at times to sort through his thoughts, piece things together.
“I’ve been in them. It’s… good?” It was difficult to describe. He was sure if he was Sam he would have a better answer, more meaningful since Sam flew on his own without anything between him and the air. “It’s loud,” he added. “Helicopters are loud. But they get you to places faster than cars.”
“Because they fly?” Athera guesses. Cars were good, they were, but they were limited by roads. The Imperial Highway would not support such vehicles.
She couldn’t imagine why it would be loud, so she just nodded. “I would like to fly, I think. I can levitate, and I can Fade-step but if definitely isn’t the same. Flying seems faster. On dragon-back especially. They are bigger than the buses I have seen here.”
“Because they fly,” Bucky confirmed. “Not much in your way once you’re up there.” He lifted his chin in a nod as if to indicate the sky. Dragons were only fantasy, at least to him, so he could only imagine how difficult it would be to steer or control them. Helicopters at least weren't sentient.
“What's a Fade-step?”
“Except for the buildings,” she pointed out sagely, in Thedas, not even the keeps were as tall as the shining buildings here. Skyhold perhaps was different: it was built on the mountains. That was cheating.
Her eyes lit up. Questions for questions was a game she could play. “Would you like to see? It is hard to explain.”
“Right, the buildings, but helicopters can go higher than the buildings.” Maybe he hadn’t explained helicopters very well, considering the only thing he’d said was they could fly. But they weren’t the easiest to explain. It would be easier to show, like Athera was talking about with whatever a Fade-step was.
“Sure.” He took a slight step back, because he didn’t know what exactly was about to happen and it felt safer to not be close.
“That’s so high,” Athera said with a slow breath, because it was. The height of the buildings was dizzying. You’d not survive a fall off them, that was for sure. “Technology is amazing.”
She didn’t need to remove the strap holding her staff to her for this, she just took three big steps back herself and flexed her fingers. “So it’s- a way of travelling quickly over short distances using the Fade.”
She breathed in and then disappeared, shimmering out of sight and, almost in an instant, shimmered back in with an icy-cold breeze and a soft, powder-fall of snow around her. She was on Bucky’s other side, now, having moved around him.
“See?”
It felt like it might be a little too mind blowing to bring up things like high airplanes went when they flew, or going to space, so Bucky merely gave a nod because yes, technology was amazing. Even without flying cars.
He watched Athera carefully as she spoke, careful not to blink as she disappeared -- then felt that cold from her reappearing and shifted to be able to look at her where she now was. That was way cooler than helicopters. “That’s… how far can you go?”
“I can go a little further than that,” Athera said, bright-eyed with her cheeks flushed. “Maybe two times that distance. Further if I needed to flank someone but it takes me longer to recover to cast again.”
She walked a little closer, relieved that he hadn’t drawn a weapon on her yet.
Of course, it took time to recover after using power like that. He knew from Wanda how that was, especially after she'd gone into his head. They'd both needed time to recover from that.
“Is there always snow?” It hardly seemed an important question, but it was one of the things sticking out to Bucky the most. “Why is there snow?”
Athera looked down at her feet, the melting snow disappearing and leaving a damp patch on the ground. “Usually, sometimes it’s ice. If I run through someone I can freeze them solid if I wish.” Which seemed, perhaps for someone who wasn’t used to magical warfare, extreme. But there often weren’t many other ways of defeating demons. Or other sorcerers, sometimes.
Why was there snow? Good question. “Uh- I think the snow is because this move is from the school of Ice. Magic is broken down into a number of elements and each school has specialised moves and abilities, rooted in that element.”
That was a perfectly fine explanation as to why there was snow, but Bucky hadn't moved past the part where Athera said she could run through someone.. He’d seen a lot of shit over the years but that was something else. And he almost wanted to ask her to show him but also didn't want to be frozen. He'd been frozen enough for several lifetimes already.
“You can run through someone?”
“When Fade-stepping, yes,” Athera said, “it doesn’t always freeze someone if I don’t want it to, sometimes I can use it to replenish my energy, or to heal myself in a battle.” But freezing was most often used. “I do tend to use it mostly to get out of the way, I fight better from a distance…” Cole and Cassandra, Hawke and Bull. They fought close up. She and Varric and Sera fought from a distance. Where it was meant to be safer, since they weren’t as hardy as some of her other companions.
Bucky, she thought, would be a formidable ally. Not that she needed to think like that anymore, but she would have wanted to recruit him.
“They don’t feel anything but cold,” she continued, “I think. If I’m just getting distance and not out to hurt anyone.”
Bucky’s brow furrowed, because it sounded like a handy thing to be able to do but he hadn't met anyone who could do that -- at least as far as he knew. “So you… take their energy?” It was an assumption, but she'd said it replenished hers so it felt like it could be right.
Athera wrinkled her nose. “It sounds bad when you say it like that. Besides I’m not- I don’t know if they replenish my energy or if it’s the Fade that helps boost my energy.” She’s never studied the theory of magic after all. Solona might know.
She moved a little closer. “Do you have magic in your world too? Along with your cars and helicopters?”
“I meant… they give you energy, going through them. Not you taking it, like something bad.” Words, again, not his strength. He hadn’t meant to offend, not when he was actually having a nice conversation with someone. It didn’t always come so easily, but the genuine curiosity from both sides helped. Athera didn’t seem like a threat, even if she was a warrior. He said she wasn’t, but her description of her role made it sound like she was.
Bucky gave a quiet hum of thought. “I know someone who has magic, but it’s not something common. She got her powers in a specific way.”
“Oh, yes. I think so?” Athera smiled a little, rocking up onto her toes. “I’m not- I wasn’t trained the same way as most of the mages. My Clan’s Keeper trained me: we try not to send our own to the Circles, but to protect the Clan we can’t have too many mages. The risk of possession is too great.” It wasn’t the best way of handling things; turfing out magically gifted elves when there were too many in the Clan if another couldn’ take them on but it was for the greater good. Or so Athera had always been told.
She tipped her head. “So people aren’t born with it? It’s given?” That was interesting. It sounded like Dagna would have a great time in Bucky’s world. “How are they chosen?”
There was so much in what Athera said that was foreign to Bucky, so he just… nodded. What she mentioned about being born with magic, that made him pause. Not that he'd had much interaction with them, that he knew of, but he'd heard people around talk about magic. Like whoever made the potions Sam had in the clinic, that sort of thing.
“She wasn't born with it,” he said slowly, not wanting to go wandering around spilling Wanda’s story to whoever. “I think there are some who are? Here, I mean. I've heard talk about witches, wizards, stuff I used to think was just in books.”
Athera nodded, putting her hands in the pocket of her coat. She liked those, too, the pockets. Mage robes were light and offered a lot of magical protection, and her potions belt was useful, but pockets were for her non-travelling clothes and she didn’t get to wear them often. She loved pockets.
“Interesting that in your world, you have people who are given powers. In my world, there is a ritual used to take powers away.” She turned her head, spotting a cart in the distance. “I keep meaning to meet other magic users. I-” She was just shy without her people around her.
Wetting her lower lip, she tilted her head. “Would you come with me to that stall?” she asked. “Varric mentioned to me that I should try a churro,” she stumbled over the word a little, “but I don’t want to order it wrong. Do you have those in your world?”
Bucky glanced to where she indicated, taking note of the vendor before his gaze returned to Athera. “We have those,” he confirmed. “This is my world, or as close to it as could be expected for whatever this all is.”
He rocked back on his heels, turning to start toward the stall but waiting for her to join him. “Churros are good. What food do you have in your world?”
Athera looked excited at the prospect of Churros. She was enjoying trying new foods, as long as she did it slowly and didn’t push herself too much. She suspected that Varric had eaten too much and made himself feel sick which was why he’d warned her off it.
“Oh! So you probably know a lot more about it,” she said, falling into step next to Bucky even though she had to take two and a half steps to each of his one. She was used to walking next to people with long strides. Hawke was taller than her, as was Cullen. She kept up with them okay.
She shook her head. “Nothing like this. Our food’s very… basic in comparison. We hunt for our own meat, we drink ale or water as fruits are difficult to juice. We don’t have any winter boxes, so our food is fresh or salted and dried out…”
Food was something Bucky enjoyed. An existence of subsisting on nutrients provided to him through -- honestly, he had no idea how or what HYDRA had done to keep him alive when he’d been in their control, and he didn’t want to know. It had been rough going at first when he was on his own, his stomach unused to actual food, but he got there. That time he spent on his own, running from everyone looking for him and searching for scraps of who he was, he’d worked on it. Starting basic, working toward more.
“How do you like the food here?” he asked, glancing over to her as they walked down the path. “I know it’s… different.”
“It’s rich,” Athera said without missing a beat. “And so full of flavour.” After all, she’d grown up on the move, eating what they could hunt and what vegetables and fruit they could find - or steal - from the humans. “I like the cheese-covered fried dough. Cheese is extremely hard to get hold of in Ferelden or the Free Marches if you aren’t rich.”
“Cheese covered fried dough,” Bucky repeated, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. It felt like there could be plenty of possibilities, and who knew what the right one was. “Where did you have it?”
“It had um, tomatoes on it as well? And some kind of… it was called ‘ham’ but tasted like no meat I had ever eaten. And a yellow fruit- pin-apple, maybe?” Her brow furrowed in thought. “A place called Marios, I think.”
“Pizza?” At least, that's what it sounded most like it could be. Hawaiian wasn't his pizza of choice, but he also wasn't much of a picky eater.
“Oh! Yes! Pizza. There’s a lot of food here made with fried dough,” she told him, “it’s easier to distinguish it by what is on the top. I like denim too. It’s not a food,” she was quick to clarify before remembering that Bucky had said this was pretty close to his world. “We don’t have denim where I come from, or even a similar fabric. But the clothes I tend to wear are more for their protective rating than anything else.”
Bucky smiled softly when Athera clarified about denim. Because yes, he’d known that, but he liked that she made sure he did. “I get that,” he said with a nod. “Tactical. Utilitarian.” Protective clothing and gear was familiar to him, though he figured hers was still different than what he was used to. Different worlds, different clothes. He stopped once they were at the churro stand. “How many do you want?”
“Once you get past the slight stiff feeling it’s very comfortable.” And flattering. Definitely flattering. She tipped her head, “that’s a good way of describing the clothes in my world. Utilitarian. They do a job. My favourite is made of dragon scales.”
That was stylish and practical.
As they approached the stand, she looked excited again, moving to touch Bucky’s arm before catching herself, like she wanted to point the stall out even though he’d clearly seen it.
“How many are you supposed to have?” She asked, digging around in her pocket for the small money purse she had. The coins here were strange, and paper money? That would revolutionise the financial industry in Thedas. Still, it took some getting used to.
“As many as you want,” Bucky replied, his smile ticking a bit wider. Probably good to keep her from ordering dozens and getting a stomach ache, but still. He took a step to the side and motioned her to follow so she could see the display on the cart, showing what they were and their size. “I’d say at least two, so you don’t have to go back once you’ve had the first one and realize you want more.”
It had smelt good from a distance but now they were closer it smelt even better. She couldn’t quite describe how it smelt, but just that it was sweet and warm and it made her mouth water. She glanced up at Bucky. “What’re you having?” She asked, because she’d use him as a guide as to what to choose. She’d found her paper currency. “My treat?”
“Just the regular one, it’s… fried dough with cinnamon and sugar,” Bucky said, figuring it would do well to explain in the way she had to him. Plus it was probably the most accurate description. “You don’t have to do that,” he added, not wanting her to feel obligated. “I can get it.”
“More fried dough?!” Athera’s voice jumped up a pitch in excitement, she even bounced on her toes. “I have to learn how to do this myself for when I go back to The- If I go back.” If she survived that long. Her sunny attitude disappeared in an instant and she rubbed at her left hand, thumb digging into the palm.
Clearing her throat, she shook her head again and looked up at him (up, because he was very tall). “You’ve been kind enough to come with me,” she told him, “and other than being drafted into saving the world, through being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I’ve not done anything I don’t want to for a while. So. My treat. You can get the next one.”
Because there would be a next one, hopefully. Friends and all. She hoped they were friends. She would like that.
“So, um, four? Four of the regular ones?” She double checked with him first before asking for exactly that from the vendor, chewing her lip and counting her paper money to make sure that she had enough when he asked for it.
Bucky wasn’t about to argue about it, though he felt bad because it was one of those things instilled in him somehow from his upbringing. Besides, Athera had given him a way that made it be okay. “I’ll get the next one,” he agreed, thumb brushing over Fuzzy Blue in his pocket, proud that he’d made it this far into an encounter with a complete stranger and hadn’t had any issues, didn’t feel uneasy.
“Four of the regular ones,” he confirmed, gaze shifting from her to the vendor then back again to make sure she was okay with the money. They hadn’t discussed how long she’d been in Goodland, so he wasn’t sure how familiar she was with it. He drew his hand from his pocket to take a few napkins for them, watching the exchange of money for food to make sure it was right.
Athera handed over the paper money when she was asked to, though she had given too much without realising and was more distracted by the food in her hands than someone familiar with money might have been as she didn’t realise she was due change. Instead, she just got excited and turned to face Bucky with the churros in trays.
“Look! Here, these two are for you.” She beamed, “Should we sit down? Eating and walking is fine, we used to do it a lot when I was travelling.”
Bucky glanced at the vendor when he saw change being held out, taking a step forward to collect it from him since Athera was distracted by, and had her hands full of, churros. “Yeah, let's sit.”
“Do you have these much?” she asked, leading the way to a bench. “The sort of cakes that we have are never soft or warm, since we travel so much. At Skyhold we had to feed hundreds of people, and I always wanted my soldiers to be well taken care of, and the refugees, so whatever food was left over generally was what I had. Not much space for luxuries when you-”
She sat down and handed Bucky his tray since she’d only really waved it in his face before, “-here, these are yours.”
Once they were sitting, Bucky took his tray and gave her the change from the vendor. “Not much, no. Don't remember the last time I had ‘em.” But he knew that he had, that was important. He picked up one of his churros and gently tapped it against one of hers. “Cheers.”
Athera looked confused when he handed her some coins but didn’t argue. Perhaps they were hers? Had she dropped them? Still, she felt warmed when he joined her properly and didn’t just tell her to leave.
And then they were toasting. Well, neither of them had any mead, so a churro would do.
“Cheers,” she echoed quietly, “to new friendships.”
“To new friendships,” Bucky repeated with a soft smile. It felt nice to be able to say that. He took a bite of his churro, enjoying the warmth and sweetness of it, but mostly watching Athera to see her reaction.
Athera said nothing for a moment, taking a bite of her own before she exclaimed, “Elgarn’an! This is even better than pizza!”
Her eyes were bright and alive as she rushed her way through the first half of her first churro, apologising sheepishly when she realised she was being greedy. She cleared her throat and looked at Bucky, sincere and open. “Thank you,” she said, “I’m glad we met today.”
Bucky chuckled quietly, giving a shake of his head to indicate the apology wasn't necessary. He could understand, which is why he'd recommended getting at least two. “I'm glad we met today too,” he replied, still shocked at how easy their conversation had been. Progress. “Happy to be part of your first ever churro experience.”
Athera just leaned back against the bench and sat people watching with Bucky as they fell into a comfortable silence, people watching and eating their churros. She felt warm, despite the chill of the wind: she’d made a new friend today. That made today good.