(Untitled)

[river_meimei]

When River comes in, she's wearing a yellow sundress and pink lacy sweater, and her black stompy boots. She's grinning down at the floor, as if still amused by something someone said just before she opened the door

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[wolflord_andain]

It is a cold night, and one might suppose that this is why the lakeside is all but deserted.

Save, perhaps, for the shadowed shape padding out from the forest's edge, skirting the lakeshore and heading -- or so it seems -- toward the bar proper.

[river_meimei]

The moon's a bare crescent; the stars shine all the brighter for that, of course, and there's light spilling out from the door to the bar's common room. All the same, the shaggy dark shape of a wolf blends in well -- even one with crimson eyes and a splash of silver. And River hasn't been out here very long. Her eyes are still adjusting to the night.

Ordinarily, she might glance unerringly over anyway. But Galadan's shields are up right now, and his paws are silent on the October ground.

River's eyes are on the dark-glimmering lake, as she moves without hurry down the long slope of the Milliways lawn.

[wolflord_andain]

The black and silver wolf moves to meet her, pace similarly unhurried.

Dark the night may be, even speckled with stars. But it is hours yet until dawn, and such time is not often ill-spent in company.

These days, at the least.

[river_meimei]

Something catches River's eye -- a flicker of movement, or light glinting off a crimson eye -- and her head turns. Quickly, but without undue startlement; River sees many things, not all truly there.

This one's familiar, though. Even as a half-ghost in the darkness.

[calledgreenleaf]

There's a familiar Elf out by the lake, catching snowflakes expertly on his tongue. It's a very dignified procedure, one can be sure.

He's not dressed any warmer than ever, though he's technically wearing court clothing -- his feet rest lightly on top of the snow.

[river_meimei]

It's thin snow, anyway, but an impressive trick for all of that!

River probably assumes that it's a trick of her own eyes, if she notices. But she watches with interest, all the same.

[calledgreenleaf]

Still, it's more than's in the Greenwood this time of year.

He glances back to her after catching a flake, amusement in his eyes. Her clothing is strange, but no stranger than it was to him last time they met. "Good River-lady," he says, tipping a very slight bow, hand to his breastbone. "Do you intend a picnic?"

('Picnic' is not the word he uses, rather substituting in a Sindarin word to eat by oneself in order to enjoy solitude on a peaceful day in the forest -- but he is, by now, well certain that Bar can translate intent.)

[river_meimei]

"It's in the options," River assures him cheerfully.

Mostly, she intends a wander. But Bar did provide excellent snacks unasked for!

"We can call it festive."

[itwasjustified]

When River approaches the lake, she'll find a deputy U.S. marshal along the shore.

He's skipping rocks, watching ripples ring the surface of the moonlit water with every successful throw.

His mind is somewhere else - in the heart of eastern Kentucky's coal country - so those successes are something of an anomaly.

[river_meimei]

River's steps are quiet, on the grass. Not silent, though; she's a city girl and a spaceship-dweller, and she's not trying to sneak.

And she's approaching at an angle, safely in his peripheral vision. Call it habit, maybe, or call it accident.

But she is approaching, though she'll stop a few yards away.

[itwasjustified]

He's less focused than he probably should be, out here.

River's presence only registers a few bare seconds before she steps into his periphery.

He doesn't start or stiffen; he turns, and offers up a half-smile and a nod in greeting.

[river_meimei]

River half-smiles back. Her face is a pale blur, surrounded by tangles of dark hair, in the thin light of the stars and crescent moon. But the lake reflects light back, and there's more slanting out from the bar door; it's enough to see by, once your eyes are accustomed.

"Teach them to fly," she says softly to the rock in Raylan's hand, under the lapping of the water.

[maxwellsdemon02]

Duo blinks at her. "Interesting outfit."

[river_meimei]

"You're boring," River informs him cheerfully.

If mostly on autopilot; she's mostly investigating the basket she's suddenly acquired. But she did glance over long enough to establish that Duo's outfit -- his regular Preventers uniform, nothing fancy -- was probably not a hallucination.

[maxwellsdemon02]

Oh, he only wishes it was. Duo isn't sure this precise industrial shade of navy blue is his color.

"You love it," he says in reply, standing up to give her a hug. And maybe a kiss, if she isn't still busy with the basket.

[river_meimei]

Hey, baskets are interesting! And this one has surprise foodstuffs in it.

But she'll happily accept the hug, and the kiss, despite that.

"We'll allow it," she grants magnanimously, and without bothering to step away after the hug. Personal space is for people you're not dating.