sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixthiterationlogs2018-06-19 11:58 pm
ex_enlisted288) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2018-06-19 11:58 pm
Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore
WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Fountain, Inn
WHEN: June 19 - 20
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None yet, but will update
WHERE: Fountain, Inn
WHEN: June 19 - 20
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None yet, but will update
[ Fountain ]
[ It's over. Right? It's definitely over. A letter has been sent, friends are rescued, some of the dust is settling. Steve can sit down and take one damn minute to catch a figurative breath. To get his head together, so he can figure out what to do next. Oh, there will be a next. There's always a next. He settles down on a bench in an otherwise empty hallway in Wakanda's palace, grateful for the lack of company. That won't last, of course. Someone will come to fetch him soon but, for now, solitude.
It's great. He hunches his shoulders, elbows braced on his knees and heaves a tired sigh.
Then, abruptly, there's a lot of water surrounding him and when the hell did he fall asleep? Where the hell did he fall asleep? For a moment, there's panic and sputtering, and then Steve's instincts take over. Kick down, swim up, head for what looks like the light. It seems a long way off, though, which means he has to keep reminding himself not to take a breath and risk drowning.
He surfaces in a fountain, throwing one arm over the edge, and takes a couple of seconds to just breath. Before completing the task of hauling himself out and rolling onto the ground in a heap. And stays there, too, for ... he's not sure how long, actually. A minute, maybe two. Maybe even three. Whatever. He takes stock without moving: wet clothing, wet boots, there's something lying against his back, but he's going to have to wait until the disorientation fades. The air doesn't smell stale or like medicine, so this probably isn't a medical facility. No giant tank of icy water and god knows what else, no artificial voice offering stilted reassurances while he endures a panic attack. No hint of the needles-and-pins sensation that comes with being defrosted.
Steve takes a shaky breath. The lack of a frozen, watery tomb is. Good. Very good. Eventually, sitting up seems like a good idea, so Steve follows that instinct too, shoving hair (and water) out of his eyes and peers down at the white, wet scrubs he's currently decked out in. The heck? Then he looks up and around, blinking in confusion. There's a .. little square with a fountain behind him, and a whole lot of bushes. And trees. But not the kind of trees found in Africa.
Which means this isn't Wakanda. Well, shit. ]
[ Inn ]
[ Later, when he's has had a little time to adjust to the idea of a brand new set of omniscient beings deciding to screw around with his life (protip: he hasn't actually adjusted yet), Steve decides to do a little scouting. Of the informational variety. There are also some sketchy plans to wander around and see what can be seen and learn the layout of the immediate area. Then learn the layout of the not-so-immediate area. Here's hoping he'll only be here a couple of days. There are people, back home, who are counting on him and Steve doesn't intend to let them down.
But first, something to eat. He chooses a seat near the wall, where he can see the exits and probably anyone trying to sneak up on him for nefarious purposes. Because people don't sneak around for non-nefarious purposes in his experience. He hunches his shoulders a little, to try and negate some of the space his body takes up, and starts watching other patrons. Best way to figure out local customs, also in his experience.
And locate someone who looks like a waiter. Or who can point him in the right direction. ]
no subject
Not saying he wouldn't go back and pick up the arms he dropped, go back to the fight against Thanos in a heartbeat if it was possible and if Steve asked him to, but the change of pace is nice. He's starting to feel a sense of belonging, and it's probably mostly just because he hasn't killed a single person in this world, nor the family or friends of anyone either.
He huffs a laugh. ]
You'd be surprised. [ Is his mock-ominous reply. He's going to have to be the one to explain this place. That they don't come here how they left back home, that eventually the serum might come back just like Benedict's eyes or Sam's vampirism. That there are people from all over the timeline back home, and people from all over the multiverse here not even from Earth. That they're trapped.
He's going to have to ask about Thanos, about what Steve remembers, and he's going to have to feel uncomfortable as hell when he realizes Steve doesn't know anything about it at all yet. He's going to have to decide whether or not to even tell Steve because at this point it wouldn't do him any good, he'd just obsess over something he couldn't help right now.
But for now, they just walk, and they coexist, and they take five minutes to be who they once were for a change, and that's...
Damn fine. ]
no subject
[ That is going to be an interesting talk. It'll probably break Steve's brain a little, but considering all the shit he's either been party to, or endured, over the course of his life, an island somewhere in the world -- a hidden world -- that takes people from a multiverse of realities, including theirs, isn't the weirdest thing he's ever heard. Or ever will hear, if one takes Thanos into account.
Who he has definitely not met in person, but will be quietly, selfishly gratified to hear he manages to hold back for a whole thirty seconds.
He'll want to know what Bucky's been up to, if he's doing alright, and what Steve can do to make his life a little easier here. Until that talk comes, however, he is content to walk alongside his oldest friend as they head toward wherever it is Bucky is leading, and only flicking water in the direction of said friend's face every twenty paces.
Because Steve will forever be a little punk. And this is the closest to the old days he's been in decades. It's fucking great. ]
no subject
[ He agrees wryly, nodding.
They arrive at the inn, Bucky tugs the door open and nods Steve in. They pass through a merry room of wooden tables and pleasant company, through faces Steve may find familiar or that may be total strangers, it's hard to anticipate the population at any given time.
Bucky doesn't give him time to parse it out, and leads his friend around a corner toward room 2. His room, evidently, judging by the familiarity he exhibits in it and the few artifacts strewn around. Books and clothes, a knife tucked away and barely visible but easily accessible. He doesn't own a lot, but what he does he displays with a certain sort of pride. Like it makes him human to have personal property.
From the dresser he digs out a change of clothes, they're close in size, he figures they'll do. Passes them over wordlessly. ]
no subject
[ Because that's the first non-lethal sport he can think of where participants hang around in pseudo-military garb. Not that he's biased against stupid people wandering around with realistic looking guns shooting other people with realistic-looking guns. At least, not unless they're obnoxious.
And he's clearly overthinking all of it because they're at the inn in what feels like a surprisingly short time. And the two of them are moving fast enough for him to garner more than a glimpse of the common area on the ground floor. Steve makes a note to investigate later.
Investigating Bucky's room is a lot more pressing once they get there. First, though, he accepts the change of clothing gratefully -- with a quiet 'thank you', even -- and spends a couple of minutes divesting the wet ones in exchange for wonderfully dry ones. And then he might snoop around a little, mostly interested in what Bucky is reading.
The weaponry won't bother him overly much. It's not like Steve didn't carry around a huge, frequently dangerous shield until very recently. ]
This is nice.
no subject
Steve starts to change, and Bucky glances at him only for a moment before turning his back quietly, modestly dropping his eyes to the wood panels that make up his door. ]
The clothes or the room? [ He asks, not having sight of Steve's eye line to fill in the answer himself. ]