sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Village & Environs
WHEN: July 4 - 5
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: TBD

All American Star-Spangled Boy

[ There's nothing special about this morning, as opposed to the handful of mornings Steve has had here. He wakes up, changes his dirty scrubs for the other pair, and tidies up his room at the inn. It makes him feel better to have a little order, to be able to do something under his own steam. Then he heads out and takes a run around the village environs. He can't run thirteen miles in half an hour, not like he could back home, but just expending a little energy feels pretty good. Another little bit of control.

And after the morning jog, he heads back to the Inn for a decent breakfast and to see if there are any familiar faces around. Beyond that, he's not sure what to do with himself for the day. Supplies are limited, so he can't buy a drawing pad and charcoal pencils from the corner store, or even an easel and paints. He ends up just wandering around, staying within shouting distance of the village, with an eye out in case anyone needs help. Or just wants to chat.

Because there is absolutely nothing special about today. ]

When You Wish Upon A Star

[ Sometime well after midnight, when sleep is more of an optical illusion than a thing that is actually happening, Steve gives up on staring at the ceiling and counting non-existent sheep. Not that this island has anything as normal as sheep. He throws on some clothes and heads outside to get some fresh air.

But it's not until he gets outside that Steve realizes that the early-hours fresh air is also accompanied with some rain. Rather than turn around and stomp back inside, though, he decides to take his life in his hands and go for a walk. With no super senses. Around a world he's been in less than a month. Because he's just that stubborn.

Time to find out what trouble an insomniac former super-soldier can get into. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Bucky and Steve have fallen into a subtle sort of rhythm; they both wake up at the ass crack of dawn, they're both incapable of going back to sleep. They both change and suit up, and they go for a run nearly every morning. Today is no different even if it is, and he doesn't say much when he meets Steve out in front of the inn. They run, and Bucky falls into step beside him, keeping pace easily.

Even without the serum they're both in peak shape, and he might be the only person on this island that can keep up for the duration of the run.

When they finally round back out slightly breathless and sweating, Bucky shoots a hand out to grab Steve by the bicep before he can pop back into the inn and disappear like Bucky knows he probably wants to. He's going to downplay this whole thing, or try but Buck's not gonna let him. ]

Hold up, soldier. C'mon.

[ He nods his head, an indication for Steve to follow.

Bucky tore the supply room apart looking for something to give him last week, and as luck would have it he found some perfect swag. ]

[ It's always on his left. That first morning, when they met without much discussion on the path, Bucky fell in on his left. Not behind, as his sergeant, but right at his side. On the left. Even if it's a new choice, something Bucky doesn't remember from the life they shared in Brooklyn, it means a lot. It means he's willing to let things slide, to jog in silence other than the occasional question about which trail to take.

And running like this is a joy. He can put everything to the side for an hour or two and just be Steve. Hopefully, Bucky can do the same. Set aside cares and worries and indulge in a little endorphin rush. At least until they get back to the inn. He borrowed a book from Bucky and has every intention of staying in his room to read it.

All day, if necessary. ]

Sure.

[ But a little detour shouldn't hurt. And there's very little he won't do if Bucky asks, anyway. ]

[ The position just felt natural, felt right, like he was falling into step in a place specifically made for him. He ran every morning before Steve got here, ran by himself laps around the village. It had been peaceful but lonely, now there are no cons to the habit and it's one of the easiest parts of his day. He treasures it silently, something just for himself.

Even if Steve occasionally gives him shit about the ponytail he wears when he does it.

Bucky leads them easily, quietly, toward his room. They're a sweaty mess, it earns them a few frowns as they pass through the dining area of the inn, but most of the patrons are by now used to the habit. He tugs his door open, nods Steve in. Upon his bed is a bundle of cloth, tied at the top with a bow made out of duct tape. It looks like the jankiest Santa Bag a redneck ever came up with, but it is what it is. ]

I can't wrap. [ He says flatly, by way of preemptive explanation. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Rogers. ]

[Before Steve Rogers was Captain America, he was a file to Peggy in a folder of them. They had names, birthdates, and she still recalls pulling up Steve's and snorting at the July 4th birthday. It had only grown more ridiculous when they had slapped stars and stripes on him. For her, it's just another day, but there's something that she needs to return and this seems like the right time for it. Peggy doesn't even know if he's going to want it, given that it hadn't been him, but she'd feel wrong not giving him something. Honestly, she's not even sure if it's the right day. For all that she's tried her best to figure out when it is, most of her attempts have fallen by the wayside and she's left with the weather and small hints.

For all she knows, they're in August, but it's hot outside, he's here, and given how many times he's vanished, she thinks she'd better do this now before something happens. It takes her a little to find him, but she eventually does, a blanket hiding the gift that awaits, watching him wander with an amused look.]

You know, if you wanted a stroll, I would have suggested heading to the peaches. They're very good, you know, a friend once baked me a delicious pie from them.

[No need for her to mention that said friend was mutual and he's here and would never remember, but she does hold quite fond memories of it.]

[ The birthdate amuses a lot of people. Steve has honestly lost track of the times he's been asked - on the street, in interviews, over the internet - if that's a fake birthday and he's really got another more mundane one, tucked away somewhere. Like a sweater or a hat. Or even a passport. But nope. Clearly, he is one of the most patriotic sons of bitches who ever lived, just going by sharing his birthday with America. Flag decorations and fireworks as far as the eye can see.

Except here. Here it's just another day, and there are people on the island who don't know the significance of the date itself. And Steve really likes that. Likes the idea of being his own man again, without "Property of US Army" stamped all over him. ]

Is that one of the communal areas? [ He slows to a very slow walk and waits for her to catch up, offering a more relaxed smile than during their last encounter. Good morning, Peg.

It's a bit of a walk, but it's a grove nearby.

[She stretches her legs to catch up to him, the object in her hands still well-covered by the blanket, though she doesn't intend to bring it up just yet, as she's of the opinion that she's much rather walk with him and not bring that up just yet.]

Supposedly, they do something, the same as most of the plants here do, but I'm not entirely sure I recall what that is. I just remember it made a delicious peach pie and sometimes, that's all you need.

[She sizes him up, curious as to what he's out doing, but it's best always to simply ask.]

Where are you headed today?

[ Since arriving almost nine months ago, Claire has adopted a number of things that she never did back in her world. Part of it was a need to hold on to something familiar where it came to her city and the people she missed and the other part was a newfound appreciation for things that she felt she always took for granted.

She had been sitting on her porch for at least an hour, looking up at the night sky. Every corner of New York would have fireworks going off and people running around decked out in red, white and blue.

It was also the busiest day in the ER for burns.

When the rain starts, she doesn't mind and it's nice enough that instead of run inside, she takes a walk. Before long, she's running into someone else who has the same idea as her.

Slowing to a stop, she gives the man a smile. ]

Morning.

[ It's just rain. Water falling from the sky, and not in amounts that might drown all of New York's boroughs. Steve sticks closer to already-learned paths all the same, deciding that playing Russian roulette with the potential of anything bad happening might be a little too stupid even for him.

And his friends would yell. ]

Morning, ma'am.

[ On the other hand, here's a friendly face he doesn't know. ]

Nice weather for a stroll.

[ Even with them all coming to the new settlement, Claire is one of those people that comes across as being there awhile. She's not so bothered with wandering. They're all basically camping and as long as one uses common sense and logic, they'll be fine. ]

It is, but I should've brought my umbrella, though. Looks like we might get some rain.

[ She laughs, joining in on the joke. ]

I don't think we've met, sir. [ Back at ya, Cap. ] I'm Claire.

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Spangle-Dangle

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Makes no difference who you areeeee

aaaanything your heaaart desires .... blah blah blah

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