[MINGLE] PLOT: Siren's Call

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: Anywhere
WHEN: August 25-26
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Mental manipulation, drowning, death
NOTES: Details here. This post is for EVERYONE, not just the affected. Please make sure and note if your thread is locked for plot purposes.

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It began slowly.

A wisp of song or familiar sound on the breeze swept in from the lake. No source to be found, only the uneasy feeling it had been heard before as it coiled itself steadily inside the minds of the chosen. The sound was a mantra, pulsing soft at first and then louder, growing over days until it seemed to fill the skull, relentless. Come here, the lake whispered, cajoled, shouted. It is cool and quiet beneath the waves.

Come here, it presses now in time with the melody until there is nothing but to blindly follow. The water is calling.

Comments

[living_proof]

"I know, I won't," I say, watching him carefully. He's going to go back in, because of course he's going to go back in. He killed JFK and is going to be forever making up for it by throwing himself into any situation where he might save people instead.

And I'm not saying I don't get it. I'm not exactly known for sitting on my hands, either. But that doesn't mean I relinquish my right to worry about what that water might do to him while he's playing the hero.

I clamp a hand over his wrist, pushing free from his fingers to dart a hasty kiss to his mouth. "Bucky, I—" I falter, and then swallow the words roughly down as I sit back. He's not dying, Liv, and what you do or don't say won't make a difference in that.

"Be careful." I heave out a sigh. "Please."

[freightcars]

The relief he feels is practically palpable; he's so used to being surrounded by people who'd steadfastly refuse, who would run in and get themselves hurt. God, it's a nightmare to be so wrapped up in a mission and have to watch people you care about drop left and right - he's good at compartmentalization, but some people, some relationships transcend it.

He doesn't consider this playing the hero, either. He doens't, this isn't a war, it's just a lake. It's not heroic to pull people out before they suck in water and drown, it's just... The right thing to do.

He meets her lips quickly, a rushed thing before he's pulling himself to his feet. Her words catch him, a slight widening of his eyes because he's not sure how she plans on finishing the sentence at first, but all too soon it's dissolved into a nod.

And then he's off, breaking away to turn up the beach and search for struggling civilians.

She leaves him something to think about later, though. Something to consider, once he's alone and the world is calm. Bucky, I-.