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you know the rules and so do I

WHO: Marian Hawke
WHERE: Multiple places!
WHEN: Anywhere between December 10-19thish
OPEN TO: Filters to Iron Bull, Frank Castle, Finnick Odair, Elektra Natchios, and then OTA!
WARNINGS: Swearing. Updated: Sex in the Connor thread.

FOR BULL

Hawke likes a lot of things about being there. For one, she always feels useful. For two, she doesn't have to be in charge. For three, she gets to meet all kinds of people. For four, some of them are people she already wanted to get to know better. It's very easy to volunteer to partner up with Bull during patrols, as he is simply marvelous company and it is occasionally nice to spend time with someone from her own world. Less people to question phrases or terms she says. Varric was right about Bull being someone their group would have liked.

"So I got Wicked Grace decks out of no where the other day, I was thinking of teaching people how to play." She has her bow slung over her shoulder. "Also my official bow, but it was broken up into a set. It shouldn't be that hard to put it together with some help."

FOR FINNICK

Hawke gets it in her head to go check in on Annie, the first person she met in this odd place, after seeing some of the native birds and thinking of those adorable little geese. Also to let her know a bit about the extra meat just brought in, in case she wanted any. It wasn't too hard to ask around and describe the woman enough to get directions, and that's how she ended up at the Windemere house.

Her dark hair is braided and her bow is left behind for now, peering around. "Oi, Annie, you around here, love?" She didn't know that she'd be meeting a different member of the family altogether.

FOR FRANK

Hawke found a reasonable set of gloves that worked with her bow, although they would never be as good as gloves that were specifically designed for an archer. But they were tolerable. Which is good, because Hawke goes out in the field enough to need it for when everything is colder. She picked up some other warm things to get by, but she found that they're simply not cutting it on her latest patrols and scouting. She heard around that Frank was the man to see about getting some warmer things without having to share them with everyone else, so she got directions to his place.

It was day time and cold, but sunny at least. She was sans bow and arrows since that was only necessary when she planned on using them. Hawke knocks on the door.

FOR ELEKTRA

Hawke is delighted to find several gifts waiting for her one morning, including beloved daggers and decks of Wicked Grace. The daggers however she simply has to immediately show off, even if it'll take a bit before she can come up with a good harness or set of sheaths for her back. She has a particularly chipper skip to her step today, wandering into the village to see who she could catch. She spots a familiar dark head from not too far away.

"Elektra!" Hawke gets warm fuzzies whenever she sees people she has good memories with. She has this gut feeling that Elektra would approve of these finely crafted matching daggers. "Look at what was randomly delivered to me over night!"

OPEN TO ALL

Hawke is someone easy to spot and meet around the village. She has lunch at the inn every day and will chatter at anyone there. She as usual can be found at the fountain here and there in case someone shows up, but she is now working on her sewing instead of creating arrows. She sometimes has some mischief and bathes nude in the hot springs. It gets cold out there! She's shameless. Finally she just generally scouts around the perimeter of the village, especially at night, with her knives and bow. She is very friendly. Just say hi. Or run while you can.

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It would be fairly difficult to deny something that was true. He did like her, and he found himself liking her more and more as time went on.

Exactly as she had said he would.

"Is that important? It being a bestseller." It's clear that the subject saddens her, even if she's rather good at covering it. There wasn't anyone Connor truly couldn't live without waiting for him back home. The only person had been his mother, and he had lived without her for the past eighteen years.

"My people are native to this country. To America. We were here before long any others claimed to have discovered it." That was a terrible pun, Hawke. "I do not think you would be able to pronounce it. Much less say it during."

How does he keep flirting without even meaning to why is this his hidden talent?

See. She knows what she's talking about. She grows on people like a pretty mouthy fungus.

"It's important to him and his ego. And he does have a lot of fans, which of course helps his ego too." Hawke smiles so fondly though. "He's family to me. My group of friends don't really believe that blood is the only thing that can bind you that closely." For all the shadows she hides, there's plenty of genuine brightness to see too. No matter how many terrible things happened in her life, she had people who made living worth it. "A merry band of trouble makers."

To America. She doesn't bother asking what America is, because she can sort of figure it out. "I see, so the people that were there before the conquerers or immigrants or whatever they call it." Yeah, all worlds probably had a version of it. She was a refugee herself at one point.

The comment though makes her for real gape at him and then laugh out loud. Hawke chuckles and laughs frequently, but when something really surprises her, it's as if her entire body shakes with the humor. A laugh from the heart. She really wants to crawl over that table now. The way she's leaning toward him almost sells that impulse. "That is a challenge I am happy to take up, although I would remind you that it would be a challenge for both of us. A challenge for me to say it correctly and during, and a challenge for you to make it impossible for me to say any name, least of all yours."

That is not at all an attractive image.

Something in his eyes changes at the mention of blood binding people together, but it's so incredibly brief that it's entirely possible for it to be missed, Nor does he make any mention of it or against it. Instead he focuses on what seems to be the more favorable subject, if for no other reason to erase the thoughts of his mother and his father that are currently attempting to flood his mind.

Leaning forward, arms resting upon the table, closing so much of the distance between them that she really wouldn't have that far to crawl at all. If there is one thing Connor never backs down from, it's a challenge.

"It is Ratonhnhaké:ton." He says the name slowly, eyes locked directly on hers, turning on all of that incredible intensity that he's more than capable of.

The thing about Hawke is that she is a sharply observant person. There are very few things that she misses when she's engaged in a conversation with someone, but she also knows well when to leave things alone. She'll store it away in her head for now. She has painful memories of her own family, so she understands when even a small reference to them can make it sting. As much as she occasionally brings up her mother, often to tease her properness, it hurts every time, hidden behind her smiles.

He really is an impressive person. His build, his pretty face, his presence, his intensity. Hawke can already feel the tingling of anticipation, warm in her veins. She listens closely when he pronounces the name, caught into his gaze and meeting it squarely. Never let it be said she was not up to a challenge. "First off, I love your name. Connor's nice, but that one really suits you." Connor seems like such a common name for this force of nature. "Second off, this might take me a few tries."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," she tries slowly back. She has a good ear so she has the sounds mostly right, it's the emphasis and accent that's not quite there. "Ratonhnhaké:ton?" Slightly better, still the accent that needs the work. Her Ferelden drawl was very precise, but only in languages she knew. "Do I get points for trying?"

Despite how very long it had been since his mother's death, it haunted him still. Would likely always haunt him, until the day he finally passed from this world and was able to be with her again. Sometimes, the realization that he had spent more of his life without her then he had with her would come, swift and painful and he would relive it all over again.

And this definitely wasn't the sort of moment that would benefit from those sorts of thoughts.

She says his name, his real name - or tries to, and it's a decent attempt. Enough so that it has him smiling, the king that actually reaches his eyes and sends them dancing in amusement. Says that she loves it, that it suits him, much more than the name he had been given. Honestly, most times he still didn't feel like Connor, but so many years had passed since Achilles had given him that name that he gave it now without even thinking.

"Yes." A lot of them, actually. Far more than he was really willing to admit. Enough, anyway, to have him reaching across the table, to allow two knuckles to brush over her cheek softly.

It would be a long time before she lived more years without her mother than with her, and she knew that made her lucky, having her so long. But her death was a vicious, cruel, tragic one, and Hawke would never forget her uncle's words to her, because they were her own too. Her fault. Her brother's death. Her fault. But these were things she locked inside permanently, and certainly while in a seduction.

That name was him, honestly. She assumed his mentor had very good reasons to change it though, if the implication about people responding negatively to natives was correct, which it likely was. Hawke smiles at the touch, leaning her head into it, dark eyes focused warmly on his face. "The first time I had sex I was sixteen, and it was in a dirty barn with sheep baaing in the background. Neither of us had an idea what we were doing." Hawke is fond though, in a way, as it's one of the steps in life to remember.

Her hand reaches over to mirror his on his face. "I'll make it much better for you, Ratonhnhaké:ton, if you'll have me. And also, if you're not ready for it all, there are things in between we can do first. There's no pressure." Her smile takes on a mischievous glint. "If you think this mouth is only good for talking, I can prove you very wrong."

Once, he had been told by that same mentor that it would likely be best if he attempted to pass for something else, perhaps Italian or Spanish. His skin was, after all, fair enough to look like both. But he had never actually done anything to try and look like either. Even the braid that currently hung from his hair spoke of his true origin. Something as simple as giving him an easier to pronounce name could never change what he was.

She touches him, and his first reaction is to flinch away from her hand, to reach up and stop the path of her fingers. But he pushes the impulse down and away, although it's impossible to stop the way he visibly stiffens slightly, even if he relaxes within the next breath. It's difficult, wanting her to touch him while not quite being able to entirely control his bodies knee-jerk responses to it.

Instead, he allows the hand that had touched her face to capture her own, fingers idly brushing over fingers, lightly playing with them before allowing them to intertwine.

"It is very difficult to say no to you." Especially when she looked at him like that. "Is there a place we might go? To be alone."

Hawke sees that small instant reaction and for a moment she's concerned that she's pushing too hard. She likes the chase, and she wants him, but she doesn't want him to be uncomfortable either. She sees him relax but it's only when he takes her hand that she accepts it's probably fine. There probably is a good reason that he hasn't had sex yet, if he's hesitant to be physically intimate with someone, and she understands that. Respects it. She tells herself to be a little gentler with this one.

"I'm very persuasive, but you can say no. Just a reminder. At any point, you can decide that, alright?" She wants to rip off his clothes and help him lose some of that deeply held control, but she has to be certain it's what he wants too. She squeezes his hand reassuringly and then lifts it to press a sweet, simple kiss to his fingers.

Hawke stands and tugs on his hand, her smile back and her eyes full of promise. "I live very close to here. A big brick house, hard to miss." If all he wants to do is talk or snuggle or kiss, she can make it work. She's trying damned hard not to kiss him already. He's the most interesting mix of innocent and self-possessed. "Or ...." She grins at him, leaning in close, speaking on an almost whisper. "Catch me if you can."

She wiggles her eyebrows at him, unthreads their fingers, and bolts out the door. He likes a challenge, well so does she, and if he has to be the one to catch her, she's more than happy to be chased a little too. Hawke is quick on her feet and she was telling the truth, her house is very close and she heads straight there, not looking to see if he follows. If he does, that's his clear choice made.

Connor is more than aware that this is, at its core, his choice. She's already made her intention and desires more than clear, and now the figurative ball had been placed back into his court. Still, the reassurance that just because he may say yes now, didn't mean he couldn't say no later.

It's another weight placed onto the scale, aiding in the process of making his decision. The way she lifts his hand to her lips and presses them against his fingers is another, and for a long moment he's lost in how soft, how good they had felt against his skin.

There's still an air of indecision even as he moves along with her tug, as if he fully expects to simply be lead to the house in which she speaks. But then she's leaning low, practically whispering the challenge into his ear and something about it sends his blood racing. Perhaps it was the challenge she had presented, the urge to win that accompanied it. Perhaps it was simply because it was her.

Either way, it's a slipt second sort of decision, the one that he makes to lift himself from the chair, to swing one leg over the seat and follow after her. It's a little rash, made more in the heat of the moment and through bravado than anything else. But Connor had a history of running into things headlong without giving it a second thought, and he didn't foresee himself regretting this.

Thankfully no one gets in his way as he takes off after her, bolting from the inn and out into the cold, barely noticing the fact that he isn't well dressed for the change in temperature. She has the current lead, but he's fast and light on his feet, covering the distance between them in little more than seconds, a light-hearted laugh leaving him as he ran.

He hadn't thought about what he would do if he caught her, only that he wanted to. But her house is so close that they're practically there already by the time he does so, and the decision is made.

His hands land on her hips first, reaching out to stop her forward motion and to drag her back to him. The touches are different, more comfortable and free now that he isn't over thinking it. There's a smile playing at his lips as he repeats her trick, leaning down low and whispering near her ear.

"Caught you."

His laugh only made her laugh, because she always liked making people laugh, and Hawke liked this playfulness he had underneath the serious exterior. It may be why she doesn't run as fast as she normally would, so he could see where she was going and yes, catch her. She laughs again when he does, grabbing her hips and pulling her into him. She shivers when he whispers close to her ear. "And now you have me, Ratonhnhaké:ton." It sounded better every time she said it. It was going to be hard to keep in mind when they were having sex, but she had every intention of trying.

She tugged him firmly by the shirt inside, kicking the door closed behind him. He was half a foot at least taller than her, so she saw no real reason to hold back. He was an overthinker, she knew that much. Time to not think. At all. It was why Hawke put her arms up around his shoulder and simply jumped up into the air, putting her legs around his waist and her hands around his neck. She could hold up herself easily this way, but she had a feeling he would get a grip on her soon.

"My room is up the stairs to the right." It was the only direction she was going to give him before she leaned in to kiss him. Gods, finally, and she made good on her mental promise. Their first kiss was gentle and as sweet as a whispered promise, pressing several kisses to his mouth that only lasted longer with each one, drawing it out until she gave in to her whims. She truly kissed him at the end, passionately and with very clear intent. This was what she wanted from a few seconds into their first conversation, and she typically got what she wanted. He was going to be no exception.

Each and every time she speaks his name it sounds a little better, the pronunciation a bit more precise - to the point where it's starting to send an unfamiliar sort of shiver down the length of his spine. Perhaps it's simply the way that she says it, or the context in which it's spoken. Maybe it's the fact that it coming from her and he is so keenly aware of what they're about to partake in.

But then he's being tugged inside so easily, barely even noticing the door being slammed shut behind them, effectively closing out the rest of the world and leaving it as only them. One moment he's attempting to get over the shock of it all and the next she's in his arms, leg's wrapped firmly about his waist. Without even thinking his hands come to rest on her body, one gripping beneath a thigh while the other goes to a hip, holding her up and keeping her in place against him.

He was going to say something, he's completely aware of that, but the words had died an early death the moment her lips press against his.

They're so soft and they feel so incredibly good against his own. It's so easy to get lost in her kisses, to allow his mind to clear, to stop thinking and start actually doing. They're short and sweet, and it helps to ease him into the idea, gives him time to figure out how to respond, how to move hips lips against hers. It's unpracticed, but he's a keen, fast learner, and it takes little time for him to pick up on.

The hand that had previously rested on her hip rises, long fingers slipping against her warm skin to cup her cheek as the kisses deepen, as his pulse quickens. It's so good that he chases after her lips even after she withdraws, barely leaving time for a quickly drawn in breath before initiating the next kiss. It's slow and passionate, deep and intense, as if intent on showing her what he's learned.

Ah, a quick learner, one of her favorite types of lovers. Hawke went all in when she kisses someone, as if there was nothing else in the room or the village or the rooms. Sex had always been the best distraction she could find, a wonderful way to not think about anything else but what the body begged for. The idea of being his first was so appealing. She was teaching him with every kiss, and he was reacting too feelings he'd never had before. She knew the best way to get past his nerves was to show him how to let his body take over.

She barely had time to breathe before he was drawing her in again and gods if that wasn't fucking fantastic. Hawke moaned into the kiss and if he wanted to make them breathless and gasping, who was she to disagree? He was a sweet thing, honestly. She slowed down her own ardor, because man was he built and no doubt big, but this was his first time. She had to remember that. He deserved as many kisses as he wanted. He deserved slow care and kindness. She doesn't regret jumping on him like that though. He was bloody tall, and she wasn't even short for a woman.

Hawke pulled out of the kiss because frankly she needed to breathe, and so she could look at him. His handsome face, his dark eyes, and her smile then was softer than usual. "Hey," she murmured to him, making that connection again. They weren't just some bodies, they were Hawke and Ratonhnhaké:ton, and she was glad she won him over. She kept an arm hooked around his neck and started kissing everywhere but his mouth. His cheeks, his forehead, ducking her head down to press warm lips against his neck, from one side to the other and back up again. None of it was hurried now, it was simply her enjoying the chance to taste him.

She speaks and it's such a simple word, such a simple gesture, but it's enough to bring him back down to earth, to ground him within the moment. Gives his brain enough time to catch up to what's currently happening to his body, to the way his desire is slowly beginning to rise, with her the sole object of it.

But then her lips are pressing into his skin, to his face, to his neck. Across the point of his pulse and there's a very distinct intake of breath as her lips press over it, fingers tightening on her hip, on her thigh, head tilting just slightly to give her more room to explore.

His body wants her, he can so clearly feel the way it reacts so perfectly to everything she does. His mind has shut off, had finally stopped over thinking it, having finally come to the answer that it was fine. That he wouldn't regret this.

Her name falls from his lips as he tightens his hold on her, making sure she's secure against him before finally making the slow trip towards the steps, taking each one carefully, pausing only to nuzzle his cheek against her own, to press a soft kiss against whatever skin he can find.

It was wild when she thought about it, the fact that every sound he made was the first and it was all going to belong to her. This time at least. Hawke felt a great deal of softness about it, if she was being honest, perhaps even a touch of friendly sentiment. He didn't get to have this before, and she was a giver. It was all very nice until he said her name like that, and she felt that ripple of desire spread across her body like a flame. Well then. And he was finally making his way up the stairs.

"Mmmm, I like the way you say my name. I haven't forgotten our challenge, Ratonhnhaké:ton." Her voice is soft and throaty near his ear. One of her hand dips down the back of his shirt to dig her nails into the skin of his back. Very gently, for her, no sting or mark at all but only to get his attention. He was so broad. She couldn't wait to get that shirt off, she had a lot of thoughts about what she could do to his upper body alone. The best part of him being young and fresh was they had an entire night ahead of them.

Her hand moves up to his hair to tilt his head to the side, lowering her mouth back down to the curve of his neck. It was sensitive, she noticed that right away, and so she dedicated the time it took for him to walk them to her room to licking and kissing the skin there. Not nipping just yet; he was still too new to introduce that in. Later. When they finally made it to her room, she lifted her head and cupped his face with both hands, leaning in for another passionate joining of their mouths.

Connor was indeed young and fresh, and his training also meant that he had exceptional control and endurance. If she wanted someone who could very well last the entire night, she had chosen well.

The sounds of his name falling from her lips send another shiver running down his spine, tingling along the entire length. Another sound rose up deep within his throat as she turned her attention to that place upon his neck, and it sent sharp jolts of pleasure through him, pooling into his core.

If that was how good her lips and tongue felt against his throat, not even his wildest imagination could conjure how good it feel everywhere else.

She kisses him then, deep and passionate, and he has to pause, has to stop and press her back against the nearest wall. Has to press himself against her, closing the space that had existed between them. To lift one hand to slip long fingers into her hair and tug softly, to tilt her back to deepen the kiss further, tongue sneaking out from behind the barrier of his lips to tentatively swipe at her own.

Hawke herself had exceptional control and endurance, so it was going to be a fun night indeed. She was well known for her stamina, although it was normally used for fighting. She would really prefer if it'd been less fighting, but that's the mercenary way. She'd rather be doing this.

She smirked at his reaction to his throat, oh did he have some things to learn about what else she could lick, but then they were kissing and her back was up against a wall. She openly moaned, because frankly, this was a bit of a weakness for her. It was passionate to be so distracted by someone that any close surface would do, and she was happy to be swept up in it for a little while. His body was pressed flush against her and she could feel his strength, his solid weight on her, and she squeezed her legs around his waist.

Her mouth opened to welcome his tongue and she coaxed it in with her own. Now that she had something of a hold, she moved against him, her body rocking against his weight to cause friction. His body and the wall was holding her up which meant her hands were free to roam, and one instantly went up the front of his shirt. His abs were impressive when she ran her fingers against them, hungry for more than just a touch. She wanted her tongue to run on them instead, but patience was a virtue.

She pulled her head back, still in his grip but far enough to break the kiss, to get air but also try to drag his shirt off in the split second before she wanted him back for more.

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