It was winter-time; the air was cold, the wind was sharp, but within the closed doors it was warm and comfortable, and within the closed door lay the flower; it lay in the bulb under the snow-covered earth.

One day rain fell. The drops penetrated through the snowy covering down into the earth, and touched the flower-bulb, and talked of the bright world above. Soon the Sunbeam pierced its way through the snow to the root, and within the root there was a stirring.

- The Snowdrop by Hans Christian Andersen

Danger close. Often times it was rude to mention but the Ranger's senses were enhanced. He called the cloak a gift but the finest gift ever given was the enchantment that had given him the ability to smell, hear, and see in a way most mortals could not comprehend. The paint and graphite were there, but beneath, when she passed this close he could smell it. Hope. Spring. Somewhere along the way all of that had been derailed for the former Ranger. And he fiercely admired how much she had been through, and how she could still rage onward. No mention of it. He just reveled and let the door close behind her. Pausing before he followed after.

"So, I do believe ya said something about sharing?" Fingertips reached out, as if to touch the cloak, but refrained. knowing it was not her liberty to take. She took slow, ambling steps along the porch, the wood creaking beneath their weight, the world quiet and muffled under it's mantle of snow.

There was something deafening about all that white around them. Bright and brilliant even beneath a dreary sky. Hawk let the first few flakes fall onto him. With a flourish fit for a royal court he swept his right arm outward, holding the cloak open for her. "Much easier to stay warm this way."

Juliane grinned so broadly, her cheekbones nearly seemed to touch the edge of her crocheted hat. Stepping over, into the outstretch arm, she waited for him to settle it around them. "So should we count off 'right, left' so as not ta bump hips th' whole way ta New Haven?" Her head turned towards him, their faces very close, and then down at their feet. Luckily, as they were both tall, the gait should not be a problem.

It wasn't a wonder why he could withstand this so well. The first few flakes that settled melted. Any that were unlucky enough to dot his bronze skin disintegrated. She could feel it as soon as they occupied that cloak. Hawk's body heat was radiant. Almost overwhelming. Like he walked around in a constant state of fever. "Gods no. Bumping hips the whole way was what I intended from inviting you to share the cloak in the first place." They hovered. Danced. When they spoke words so close they could almost crash together should she looked down. The former Ranger was unabashed.

"Perhaps th' sayin' should be changed ta sly as a Hawk, and not 'sly as a fox'..." Her laugh bubbled up easily, as the heat of him seemed to pull her in like a magnet. The way one approaches a roaring fire both out of a need for comfort and the mesmerizing pull of the flickering firelight. All colors and spark. Spark they seemed to possess with no shortage.

Tall, but that did not mean she lacked feminine qualities. In fact Hawk found it was quite the opposite. Willowy would have been a better term if she had not possessed that quiet, steady grace. Willows he found bent too easy. The arm set itself across her shoulder line. It was easier to share that way, of course. And Hawk started down the road. "I know my way to New Haven, but you will have to show me the best route to your studio." He wondered with their proximity if she knew his heart raced beneath his rib cage. If she could see the jump, the thrill, at the pulse in his neck.

Oh, the farm girl was solid, all right. Solid and comfortable beneath the weight and drape of his arm. "It's easy. Head ta th' square and Hope Creative sits ta th' left, at th' corner of th' alley that bisects it." Her voice wavered, but it certainly because of any cold she was feeling. The city blocks seemed to fly by in a blur of white as they made their way along the quiet streets, only ever having to sidestep children having a snowball fight, or a family building a snowman.

No stranger to the streets of Rhy'din themselves. Hawk had made himself as familiar with them as possible the moment he had come to the city years ago. It had started, after all, with getting to know those haphazard, uneven stones well enough to never once trip on their cobbled formation. The hood would have concealed him in shadow. So he let it blend into the rest of the cloak, gathered around his shoulders. Dusty gray and white kept them almost completely camouflaged and very hard to pick out amidst the falling snow and what had already gathered on the ground. Hawk followed her directions, and did his best to calm his rapid breaths and the menagerie of butterflies that had gathered in the pit of his abdomen. "Here?" Hawk said when they reached the alley.

"Mmm hmmm, and now ya get ta decide. Would ya like to go in th' front door and take th' full tour, or around back ta my personal entrance and head straight to the studio?" Her arm trapped between their bodies brushed against him as she turned to watch his face for the reply, snowflakes melting as they landed on her nose and eyelashes.

Without a pause. "The full tour." This gave him time to practice those breathing techniques he had learned long ago to assuage his nerves. Funny that a gathering of snow and frost had built on his face. He barely felt it with the way his cheeks burned at her touch. On the precipice was a sigh of disappointment as her heat left his side. But he was able to mask it with a cough.

She only had to lean forward, her long arm holding out the keys to unlock the decorative gate and then the double door that allowed them to enter the gallery's main floor, soft recessed lighting on to illuminate certain pieces hanging on the walls. Juliane had no reason to still stand beneath the protection of his arm and cloak, but she was reluctant to leave the little cocoon just yet. Instead, she paused, waiting for him to move so that she could shut and lock the doors behind them.

He moved. Though he stood outside for a few moments longer to make sure he knew the face of the studio first. Long, lazy strides moved him inside. The world outside was quiet in a deafening resounding way. Inside it was just silent. And he was not one to prattle to interupt that. Far from it.

It was as if there was this tether between them, that withstood the silence. Juliane pulled the hat from her head and unwound the scarf, a soft smile as he stepped inside and past her. The only noise to interrupt the reverie was the click and tang as the large brass key worked in the lock and sent the tumbler home.

Fingers flexed. Then balled. A firm fist he hid beneath his cloak. Of course he wouldn't proceed any further without stamping his boots on the doormat to make sure he wasn't dragging dirt and snow everywhere inside. But with the door closed, the outside shut out from the inside, and their ability to exist without any prying eyes, he had a hard time not closing the distance. His hands wanted to act of their own accord. It was why he kept them so close, and why the knuckles now ghosted white. "Should I take my boots off?"

"Nah, it isn't necessary. One of th' artists barters moppin' th' floors fer part of their rent, so I may as well make sure there is somethin' fer her ta clean, right?" She stomped a booted foot, a little puddle of snow forming on the wooden floor. She swallowed a bit visibly, keeping the butterflies at bay. "F-feel free ta look at anything ya'd like." A sweep of an arm towards the exhibitions before shrugging out of her coat.

This was a rarity. The former Ranger followed suit. Somehow the sanctity had been broken now that they no longer shared its confines. Cords at his neck were untied and it flowed like liquid, falling from his form into his arms. Folded, and draped over his arm, it became a solid mass. There was only the sword over his shoulder today. The leather strap across his chest to support the sheath. He would have looked naked without it. Just as much a part of him as his limbs. Surefooted, graceful, he moved forward and marveled over the works. The talent and precision. "Which are your works?"

Juliane's eyes widened with surprise, and a sense of an unspoken compliment she could not dispel, as he removed the cloak. She hoped the deepening twilight and purple haze of the snowfall mixed with the streetlamps hid her blush. "Those." Oddly enough, he moved to her latest installation, a study of figures and forms using the negative space as form and detail. Not entirely different from the work she had drawn of him several nights prior.

He moved slowly between each one. Observant and quiet. Reverent for what she conveyed through sweeps with a pencil. There was a common theme in each one that Hawk couldn't quite describe. Emotion wrought though each portrait was a moment in time. He studied one that was at eye level for a few, long, unreadable moments. "I wish I could see people the way you see them." Was a quiet admission, made almost at a whisper, unnecessarily.

Breath sucked in over her teeth. She had moved to stand behind him, just over his right shoulder. Every word found her ears. A pause. "And if ya could, how would a girl have anythin' with which ta seek your attention, hmmm?" The air seemed to vibrate between them. "I think.." The pieces had distracted him, but he shifted, slid, and pivoted so that they faced one another. "With the way you look you would have had my attention either way."

Her eyes flashed, locked with his. "Oh....is that so?" Her voice was quiet and tender. Vulnerability seemed to lurk in their depths. Her hands flexed at her sides.

Ever aware, he must have misjudged or guessed wrong at the distance between them when he turned to face her. The words were warm breaths he could feel on his skin. "Aye." He breathed, and nodded, but only got to move his head down. The former Ranger had learned many things in his travels. In his years wandering. And how to bend was one of them. He did not have to, not much at least, to tilt his head. Hands coming to rest on her shoulders where he held on for his own sake. Eyes closed. He could only follow the flow of the current now.