sixthiterationlogs | [ MINGLE ] FORGE AFTER HOURS

WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: South Village Forge
WHEN: January 8th
OPEN TO: Smitherns (Thor, Brigitte, Annie Cresta, Siefer), Plus Ones, Passers by, and Friends! Anyone, really, come on down.
WARNINGS: Language, discussion of canon typical violence probably, drinking?

THE HEARTH

With the bulk of the work and chores done for the day, the heart's banked down to a tolerable level rather than steel meltingly hot, positively cozy. Tables are cleared of metal filings and shavings, the floor is swept, extra chairs and seating or overturned crates serve as places to kick back and enjoy the warmth. A large kettle of tea is kept brewing all night, another of coffee, and a jug of cool water for those thirsty with no real requirement RE flavor. There's a rack for coats and scarves when people don't need to be quite so bundled up, and space cleared enough for milling about, tossing ideas back and forth, or simply relaxing. Arguments happen at The Debate Wall, not by the fire.

THE FOOD

It's an eclectic spread- a pot of stew, some crusty bread, frittatas, a few large, simple cheese pizzas, bottles of wine, and whatever other food the Smitherns or their Plus Ones chose to bring. It's a bit of a potluck, food spread out on one table for perusal, plates waiting and a bin for dirty dishes. Tony will scrub up at the end of the night. By the fire there's a waffle iron and as many toppings as they could find for waffles- jams, zalpaca butter, dried fruit, preserved peaches. Serve yourself or sit and sample!

THE CHILL OUT CORNER

For the more introspective or anyone taking a break from The Debate Wall, there's a comfortable chair tucked in the far corner where the light isn't as bright, the sound not quite so loud- and in this chair sits a young Peacat, a smaller pot for tea, and a few books. Elton's a friendly sort and will chirrup to lean for pets or simply sit on a lap and purr, offering calming, quiet company.

THE DEBATE WALL

Scrubbed clean for the night, the wall opposite Tony's Scrawled projects, equations, rules and definitions- currently marked only with a few notes RE proper charcoal use 'It's for the wall, not your hands, not anyone's clothes', the large space cleared for marking out or drawing out- well. Games, hangman, tic-tac-toe, sketches, or debate points. The only other rule listed is 'If you're going to pick a hill to die on, cite your references'.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He isn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here. He'd only made a periodic trip to the most inhabited village, and there's been light and warmth and someone inviting him in and now there's some kind of party and it's hitting him as he looks around, that he really doesn't remember how to do this. How to... be around people. In a non violent revenge-fuelled way.

There's swiftly a mug of tea pushed into his hands, and there's the sound of relaxed chatter. It would be cosy if it didn't make discomfort prickle down the back of his neck.

He drags himself back to the man who'd invited him in, focusing on the question. "Waffles. With fruit and syrup."

"Yet another member of team waffle. Rhodey will be pleased. Help yourself, he's got a station set up over by the fire. If you tell him your vote he'll probably make you a fresh one." And there's nothing quite like a fresh waffle in the middle of a cold ass night. Tony pats the man's arm lightly with the back of his hand, an offhand, glancing sort of comfort as he sips his tea. Not wine. He's trying to get rid of the wine for-

Reasons.

"I haven't seen you around the village before, are you new?"

"I'll do that." He has to admit, the thought of fresh waffles is pretty appealing. Most anything is appealing after living on MREs for any length of times.

The pat is a little... odd. He's not used to being touched. makes him feel uncomfortable. But it isn't violent and it doesn't linger so he can deal. It's just... strange. Been a long time since anyone outside of a med bay touched him when they weren't trying to kill him. This guy just seems like the type to touch without thinking though.

"Yeah," Wash replies. "I'm new. Arrived around New Year."

Easy, offhand, and ultimately meaningless. In the corporate world it's a power move- owning one's space and that of those around you. It's a thing. Outside of that...it's grounding. Reminds him that he and the person with him are here and not like, crumbling into ash.

That's a thing that happened.

That he tries not to think about.

"None of the stars look familiar? I'm taking a running tally but the odds are still astronomical that not one of us recognizes a single constellation."

"I dunno. It's been a long time since I was back in the system I came from and I've travelled a lot since then. Short trips. Not really focussed on what things loo like planet-side."

The stars just don't seem that important... or romantic, when you're travelling through them and expecting every day to hear that Earth has fallen.

"I'm going to put you down in the 'yes' column and move on from there." Tony leans back against the plaster wall, head cocked to the side. "System- you do a lot of space jumping? That's a thing where you're from?"

He's not used to that sort of interest. Everyone came from somewhere and no-one really liked to ask in case it was a colony that no longer existed.

"I grew up on one of the colonies in the Leonis Minoris system," he says by way of explanation. "And I'm a marine so... I travelled a fair bit. Admittedly the longer trips were spent in the freezer but..."

"...You are literally a space marine." Give him a moment to process this, please. "How does that- what are your- wait."

Okay. He needs a moment to let his mind rattle from point to point and pare down to the most relevant questions. Of which there are like, fifty. Maybe fifty six. "For long rips you were in cryo? How does that work- we've got a system like that in my home but you kind of need to be enhanced to survive it."

"...yes?" That's sort of implied by marine.No-one's doing sea battles anymore as far as he knows. What would be the point?

He tilts his head slightly, curious despite himself as the questions come. Cryo isn't what he'd expect to be asked first. "Long trips through slipspace, yeah. Most non-essential personnel would be put on ice." You got very familiar with cryo pods in the military.

"There are these pods, you get in them, they inject you with a drug to stop ice crystals killing you, and you have to inhale this thing that coats your lungs. It's disgusting. And then you go to sleep and they dose you with fuck knows what to regulate sleep cycles and dreams and shit like that." Now that he thinks about it, the thought of being under while working for the Project is just a little uncomfortable.

"Huh. That would be the trick. Essential personnel just age as needed but that still has to be disorienting as fuck. Were there any long term studies on this? I mean my money's on not, necessity being the mother of invention and all that, but still." Weird. Fascinating, but weird. Regulating REM sleep and brain activity while they've gone under-

He's not sure if Hydra bothered.

He knows no one was able to for Rogers.

"Did you wake up in the tubes or the fountain? The tubes strike me as similar but- well. Fluid rather than frozen."

"I have no idea. I just work there. Do what I'm told." And really, there'd been a pretty good chance they were all going to die anyway. Why worry about long-term effects when you weren't sure there was going to be a long term.

He grimaces a little when that name is brought up. Sure, it's a not uncommon phrase but he's pretty sure he's never going to be able to hear 'Mother of Invention' again without discomfort. Bad memories.

"In the fountain. The less time spent in a tube the better."

"Fair point." He'd woken up in the tubes and regrets every moment of that particular revelation. "You found much to occupy your time here yet? It's a different pace than military work."

By and large. Hobbies are kind of a requirement- or at least a long line of projects.

Cryosleep had never exactly been a fun ride. It was... mundane sure, but an uncomfortable mundanity. And what happened if your ship was attacked while you were under?

"It's not the most thrilling place. Mostly been training. Build some kind of routine here." Or he is going to go crazy. It's a little disturbing honestly, how hard he's finding it to adjust to not having a routine and not having a mission.

"Give it time. Something 'thrilling' will happen sooner or later." A wild animal, random magic, a plague- "But it's impossible to peg down exactly what it'll be- so. That's a bitch and a half."

Expect the unexpected. And the insane.

And the mundane, even.

"Great. I just love surprises." The sarcasm is palpable. Surprises usually mean that someone is gonna die, or something is going to go horribly wrong. "I'd rather deal with boring and predictable. For the most part." As long as he can keep moving and do things, keep occupied, rather than sit staring at a cell wall for the majority of the day.

[ MINGLE ] FORGE AFTER HOURS

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