July Arrivals

[sixthiteration]

WHO: Arrivals
WHERE: The fountain park
WHEN: July 1, 12:00 PM
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: CLOSED

---

In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.

Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.

But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.

It is the first of July.

It is precisely twelve o'clock in the afternoon.

Comments

[notabirdcostume]

Sam knew there was a possibility she wouldn't believe him. Either thinking him crazy or a liar. He had no evidence to back it up -- he could say some things about Steve, but given how famous he would have been she could easily chalk that up to other means.

Sam doesn't say anything more until she asks her question. He doesn't want to get too much into this, they're both under enough emotional duress without adding the resurrection of dead friends on top of it. He considers his answer carefully.

"Yes. He's well enough. He has people he can call friend and he's save the world enough times." He knows she probably wants to know more, but he really doesn't think it's the best time to be opening up those wounds. He can only imagine it, honestly, and he regrets bringing it up -- but at the same time he really didn't see another way.

[womanofvalue]

The whole thing is almost too much. The idea that somehow Steve has survived enough to make friends and save the world isn't quite adding up in her mind. He's not supposed to be in the future. If he's going to be anywhere, the selfish voice in her head that sounds like a tantruming child insists that he ought to be with her, in the past.

He's supposed to be saving the world at her side, with her and Howard. And yet, how can she insist on that when she's already moved on herself? And still, it makes her unsure of what to think about everything. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm going to need to take a moment..." To process everything, she doesn't say as she steps aside, drifting away with a furrow in her brow.

[notabirdcostume]

Sam almost moves forward. He almost says something. He stops himself though. He'd already said enough. This situation was messed up enough without dropping the bomb he'd just dropped on her. Sure, in a way, it was good news. But it was the kind of good news that was double edged. Would there have been a better way to do this? He wasn't sure. His time as a counselor had prepared him for handling a lot of bad news and difficult cases, but you didn't typically have to tell someone that a person important to them was alive but now separated from them by several decades.

So, instead he nods his head, "I understand." He'll let her go, he isn't sure what else he'd be able to say to her anyway.