9153/Glittering Boughs, Glittering Blades

Glittering Boughs, Glittering Blades
Date of Scene:	18 December 2021
Location:	Rockefeller Center
Synopsis:	Figure skating!
Cast of Characters:	Wanda Maximoff, James Barnes

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Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Rockefeller Plaza buzzes with activity and colour under the auspices of a huge, well-lit Christmas tree trimmed to the nines. Lights blaze in festive decorations of trumpeting angels in a processional row or gift boxes stacked several meters tall in multi-hued arrangements. Kilometer after kilometer of illuminated, twinkling glory net bushes and planters, fashion fantastical shapes. Spotlights wash the high buildings. This is Christmas as New York knows it and does it.

Probably hell on Earth for the Winter Soldier, comfortingly familiar for Bucky, and a bit eye-catchy for Wanda.

She has gone out of her way to dress down. That is easy. Not everyone commands the instant face appeal of a Wayne, Kent or Stark. Funny how few of those names are women, by the way. Her dark coat and scarf effectively conceal her identity to some degree, helping them blend with the other members of the public come to bask in holiday cheer or force themselves to go through the motions. No judgment.

But she's got glittering blades to go with glittering boughs. Not a stinky boot from the overused rentals, hers are from a reputable shop -- still used, but lightly. The case bumps against her shoulder as she descends to the small, popular rink. "I might remember how to do this properly." An admission to Bucky beside her, though she'll let him navigate physically through the crowd until they reach one of the rinkside benches where guests can take off their skates or stick them on. Rentals are a short distance away. Opening up a spot to sit is her job. "You will hold my hand and make sure not to let me fall?"

A wry turn of her mouth is almost a teasing thing.

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky has his own skates. He bought them for today.It's less that he has prior knowledge of how to do this and more that he has natural aptitude so well-suited for this sort of thing that he's a little bit like James Bond in the movies: he can do it if he sees it done. And he can see it done all around him.

They both sit on the bench and he smiles at Wanda. "I will hold your hand the whole time even if you are doing great, if you want." he himself is wearing his baseball cap and a scarf; just in case. Hydra can be anywhere.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
James Bond in the movies, Bucky Barnes in real life. A fitting imagery there, if he chose to share it. The bench heaves with people, all spots warm in the not too deep cold. In fact, New York's not been stuck in a deep freeze at all this winter. A couple chilly evenings, the occasional bit of cold to earnestly summon hot cocoa and heavier blankets. "I don't trust this flirting with us. Nice weather, soft breeze. Watch it become a monster," was Wanda's opinion over breakfast. One she cooked up, more than hardtack and filched fruit.

Putting the case down and replacing her boots with the skates isn't a very long process. The lockers around here would be great for a spy movie. High turnover, lots of people. Many cameras, too many targets. They're flimsy enough to stow a bag in. HYDRA can be anywhere. HYDRA is everywhere.

She tightens laces after cramming her foot into the skate. "I'm not very good. No time to practice for years. Now it is about feeling balance and not hitting others." Pietro would like this, but Pietro is off in his own world. Instead, she smiles at the assassin. "What puts you in the zone of a clear mind? Something like this?"

James Barnes has posed:
"I don't really have to do anything to clear my head," Bucky says, "not if I want to focus." It's been trained into him that focusing is something he can just _do_. "But if I want to relax and just not think for a while, something like this works. Painting works. Dancing, maybe." Maybe.

He stands up on his bladed skates and then holds his hand out for her to take.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Painting. You can decorate every wall we have, you know? So sterile without some colour on the walls." Arm Wanda with a paintbrush and someone is getting a two-tone wall or maybe the occasional abstract bit. Her artistic skills need some work, unlike Bucky's greater skill set. When it comes to scribing magic circles, the witch is your girl.

Another tug on her knotted laces and she gets up, testing for balance on the heavy rubberized mats. They give support to little kids on skates, full-grown neophytes aren't much trouble. "Dancing? Have I been missing out on nights to waltz or take you out to the streets? For shame." Excoriation with a smile peeks through as she closes her fingers around his. Metal or flesh, doesn't matter. All the same to her.

James Barnes has posed:
"I'm more of a sketch artist than a painter, to be honest," he admits. "And I'm not sure I'd want it hanging." But he doesn't seem to take her suggestion the wrong way. The hand he offers is the flesh one; she can feel the way the muscles and skin give when she squeezes.

He leads her out to the rink and then gets in first, turning around and taking both her hands in his as he pulls her towards him, gliding out onto the ice. "I'm not much for crowds these days," current activity notwithstanding, apparently, "but I'm sure we can manage an outing or two."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Isn't it the same?" Wanda looks up particularly innocently. No, it's not the same, and they both know that. "Something doesn't have to be seen by anyone but us." The offer to Bucky is only that. Far be it from her to force the matter, not her aim in life.

The skating rink is loud, busy, somewhat full of skaters making desultory laps at a comfortable speed and a few happy to break off into thumping on their butts or showing off. Rules posted on a sign say no figure skating moves or aggressive checks, reducing all would-be New York Rangers to straight-up going with the flow. That flow is faster on the inside than the out. Getting skates onto the ice gives her a feel for the rougher surface, brushed by many passing blades, sharp and dull. Figures that Bucky knows what he does, sweeping his foot and hauling her along, though she pushes off her heel and distributes her weight. At least yoga has some uses here. "I'm not either. Submersion to acclimatize myself, the theory is that it will do some good. Stop me from looking over my shoulder, right?" Whomever's therapeutic recommendation that is, she clearly gauges it with a grim eye. They both look over their shoulders, and for good reason. "All this has to be for something. Life means more when it is about day-to-day, not only fighting big things and waiting for the next struggle."

James Barnes has posed:
"You don't have to look over your shoulder when you're with me," he tells her, skating backwards for a bit, before he switches, turning around and holding only one of her hands as they go slow, take it easy, and don't rush it. "I promise." Like he's paranoid enough to look out for the _both_ of them.

Of course, he knows there are things she can see --sense-- that he can't.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
They're pushed together by held hands and the crush of humanity. People skating together tend to keep together, trying to maintain some consistent speed, just like on the sidewalk. Yahoos elbowing their way through to showoff at the Rockefeller Plaza rink soon enough get glared at, stopped in their tracks or ousted by a good thrust over the boards. Not that it happened tonight. Maybe it will.

Wanda lifts her eyebrows. "Who looks over your shoulder then?" She is, while he negotiates in reverse and shifts. Her pace is not fast, but the rhythm of gliding on ice has some familiarity to it. Skimming over water, leaping, so like her twin understands movement. Her smile brightens. "Your promises mean much. You don't do that often, do you? I will have to write it down somewhere."

A thread weaves across their shared thoughts, taking root. Nothing but simple gratitude.

James Barnes has posed:
"I'm paranoid enough that I look over my own shoulder," Bucky shoots back with a smirk, maybe even giving his shoulder a quick look-over, for effect. He squeezes her hand and then picks up the speed just a _little_ bit, tugging her along. "I don't," he says, when it comes to making promise, admitting, in whatever way he hasn't yet, that she's special. Her gratitude is met with warmth, and he pulls her in and wraps his arm around her waist, lifting her and turning once with her in his arms before he sets her down again.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Eyes in the back of your head?" The spread of people ahead of them mean some tricky manoeuvring on Wanda's part. She tightens the push of her ankles to a narrower line, even if that makes her more prone to being knocked or tripping over Bucky. No matter how skillful he might be, unbalanced crowds never help with staying graceful and upright.

Following his lead could slow him a tick compared to speeding her up, but the small benefits follow her around in the unconscious bubble of of opportunity. Slightly greater chances of green lights or open gaps in a group probably help for threading the eye of the needle with greater impunity. The great tree sparkles above them in its enormity, all that wealth on display. A green, great spruce dressed up in its best, showing all the wealthy New Yorker nothing beats nature's splendour.

The witch is not prepared to be turned before that, and he wrests an unexpected laugh from her and the subtle curve of her body to lend the turn some flash and flair. "Again?" she asks, though they probably face getting kicked around for it.

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky grins as he sets her down. "Eyes everywhere," he says, ominously, as he continues skating. At her request that they do the twirl again, he laughs and then pulls her back towards the outer rink, where people are going slower and are much easier to dodge or see coming.

Then he puts his hands on her waist, turning to skate backwards, and lifts her up, pulling her in close until her stomach is against his chin, and turns not once, not twice, but _three_ times, before slowly lowering her down along his chest, until he can give her a short kiss on the mouth, just as her skates hit the ice.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Eyes are everywhere, painted on coats and framed on those ridiculous reindeer with bulbs for eyes and noses. A slow spin will get her wobbling if not for Bucky, and throwing chips from the toepick catching on the ice and leaving a groove. <<Damn it.>> Transian makes for excellent curses. "We only did this on ponds."

Limpid they are not, bound in that soaring flight. If she closes her eyes, there might be a weird kind of freedom. Mutters around Bucky for showing off and 'Hey, rules, man!' are probably balanced by the cameras of NBC sloping across the pond, and there not being much of a facial recognition system to worry about. Right? Laugh how they will, soldier and witch, after a fleeting kiss. "So what are you doing this weekend, hmm?"

James Barnes has posed:
He sets her back down and rolls his eyes at the protests around them. As if they occupied any more space while doing that than they do separately. He drops into an easy pace along with her and shrugs at her question.

"Well, barring any emergencies that might crop up, I'm pretty free. Why, did you have something in mind?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Rotational forces create eddies. Just watch. Wanda isn't complaining of them, her hand still in his. The occasional stumble or skid keeps marring the pattern of her skating. Mostly laughing through it helps, though sometimes she gives a glare to the ice for being responsible. Or, her own balance not anticipating the wobbles and scrapes of so many blades swished right to left at weird angles.

"Emergencies I would like to avoid. Unless work calls us." They are who they are. "Maybe a good time to get some dreamwalking in?"

A guess, there, but she says it casually as them hopping rooftops. That colourful image hangs in the mind.

James Barnes has posed:
"I can do that," Bucky says after several long seconds of contemplation. "If no emergencies show up." He may be hesitant to do the dreamwalking, despite being convinced that it's necessary. This isn't a surprise.

He squeezes her hand again and smiles at her. "Either way, we'll spend some time together."