Mʀ. Wʀᴏɴԍ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fe_male) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-11-22 01:52 am
fe_male) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-11-22 01:52 am
(204): Text me later if you aren't dead and wanna have a drink later
WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: Blacksmithy
WHEN: Prob like Nov 16 to Nov 23? Flexible rn until i get more input.
OPEN TO: Annie Cresta, Sam Wilson, others.
WARNINGS: I doubt it but I'll edit if that somehow comes up.
STATUS: Closed twice, open otherwise. not that. there's that much of a difference
Open:
Tony wasn't really sure why he kept coming back over here so often. It wasn't like there was anything to actually forge. He had a few handfuls of nails he could clean off and melt down - needed to melt down, really, since removing them from their previous embeddings had bent nearly all of them into being little more than gradual triangles if force were applied to the heads a second time. Nails though are still difficult to use without some sort of mould, although he was starting to suppose he could just try something to see if it worked. That would work better with the larger pieces, like the hinges, since they wouldn't have to be completely melted down to change their shape, since he didn't think he had all the tools for that anyway. Regardless, it wasn't like he had much else to do, beyond keep up with his hand to hand, attempt poorly to forage, and continue dismantling destroyed houses.
Regardless, he's here anyway. Probably attempting to repatch something that was previously already repatched itself but working at least well enough to be, you know, working. The whole place is generally workable but needs updating in many respects. In his mind at least.
---------
Modified closed to Annie Cresta:
It's the same thing except he has like. This big pile of nails he's sort of. Just. Staring at. He's not sure what to do with such a finite amount of metal to work with, and he really wants to make something, but at the same time he doesn't know what to make. He knows he can make whatever and just redo it later, but that actually - here - runs through resources that aren't as infinite as he's accustomed to, and he's working to keep that in mind.
So he's attempting to run through all the scenarios mentally, so see what. Would work best. It's... having limited results. Most of which involve him staring intently at a pile of bent nails because there's no one to talk to here like he talked to JARVIS, and there are no holograms to project his thoughts to, so everything has to be internal.
[ This is literally 'my character is x-ing by the lake come bother him but feel free to notice like. an unnecessary fire dying in the forge or tools that don't match sitting out if she'd notice that sort of thing. Basically everything here reeks of at least one project that abruptly stopped. With like. Several tools nearby and a bunch of nails. ]
---------
Modified closed to Sam Wilson:
He's not even been attempting to fix or use the forge recently. Instead, he's been steadily - when he can or isn't already working on some other project - attempting to dismantle the houses that were already damaged by the earthquake to a point where they cause more problems to fix than otherwise. Architecture was never his particular foray, but he knows enough about it to work with these - what can be removed now and potentially put back later, what can be removed and is too damaged to be anything but replaced anyway, etc.
Tony's making what appears to be one of at least a handful of trips - this might be the last one considering once he dumps his armload into the part of the floor he seems to be using as a dumpspace it starts to roll and blob into more of the walkway; tony promptly kicks it back into place, apparently assuming the given hiking boots are totally a match for boards with nails in them and whatever else it is he's grabbed at first glace.
He's actually crouched down and about to start resorting items just now. He picked each one specifically at the site, but now that they're here, they need redoing.
WHERE: Blacksmithy
WHEN: Prob like Nov 16 to Nov 23? Flexible rn until i get more input.
OPEN TO: Annie Cresta, Sam Wilson, others.
WARNINGS: I doubt it but I'll edit if that somehow comes up.
STATUS: Closed twice, open otherwise. not that. there's that much of a difference
Open:
Tony wasn't really sure why he kept coming back over here so often. It wasn't like there was anything to actually forge. He had a few handfuls of nails he could clean off and melt down - needed to melt down, really, since removing them from their previous embeddings had bent nearly all of them into being little more than gradual triangles if force were applied to the heads a second time. Nails though are still difficult to use without some sort of mould, although he was starting to suppose he could just try something to see if it worked. That would work better with the larger pieces, like the hinges, since they wouldn't have to be completely melted down to change their shape, since he didn't think he had all the tools for that anyway. Regardless, it wasn't like he had much else to do, beyond keep up with his hand to hand, attempt poorly to forage, and continue dismantling destroyed houses.
Regardless, he's here anyway. Probably attempting to repatch something that was previously already repatched itself but working at least well enough to be, you know, working. The whole place is generally workable but needs updating in many respects. In his mind at least.
---------
Modified closed to Annie Cresta:
It's the same thing except he has like. This big pile of nails he's sort of. Just. Staring at. He's not sure what to do with such a finite amount of metal to work with, and he really wants to make something, but at the same time he doesn't know what to make. He knows he can make whatever and just redo it later, but that actually - here - runs through resources that aren't as infinite as he's accustomed to, and he's working to keep that in mind.
So he's attempting to run through all the scenarios mentally, so see what. Would work best. It's... having limited results. Most of which involve him staring intently at a pile of bent nails because there's no one to talk to here like he talked to JARVIS, and there are no holograms to project his thoughts to, so everything has to be internal.
[ This is literally 'my character is x-ing by the lake come bother him but feel free to notice like. an unnecessary fire dying in the forge or tools that don't match sitting out if she'd notice that sort of thing. Basically everything here reeks of at least one project that abruptly stopped. With like. Several tools nearby and a bunch of nails. ]
---------
Modified closed to Sam Wilson:
He's not even been attempting to fix or use the forge recently. Instead, he's been steadily - when he can or isn't already working on some other project - attempting to dismantle the houses that were already damaged by the earthquake to a point where they cause more problems to fix than otherwise. Architecture was never his particular foray, but he knows enough about it to work with these - what can be removed now and potentially put back later, what can be removed and is too damaged to be anything but replaced anyway, etc.
Tony's making what appears to be one of at least a handful of trips - this might be the last one considering once he dumps his armload into the part of the floor he seems to be using as a dumpspace it starts to roll and blob into more of the walkway; tony promptly kicks it back into place, apparently assuming the given hiking boots are totally a match for boards with nails in them and whatever else it is he's grabbed at first glace.
He's actually crouched down and about to start resorting items just now. He picked each one specifically at the site, but now that they're here, they need redoing.
no subject
"If you could figure out a way to somehow track the ground we've been over before, it might help, but it seems even that can't be trusted," she says, thinking of Margaery and Kate's vanishing in the woods and how everything had seemed to move on them.
"You're not alone," she reminds him. "We all want to go home. We all have people waiting for us."
no subject
As she continues, he listens a bit more calmly than he had been before, leftover energy from trying to make something work bleeding back into the gradual build up of the stuff he's got slowly increasing the pressure on him to figure all of this out. He has to figure this all out, he can't stay here; time dilation and chicanery aside, the world might be ending back home and even regardless he can't be stuck here. He doesn't do well with stuck.
He deflates a little, when she's done - not entirely, but enough - and sort of sighs. "Yeah, I know. Technically they might not even be waiting, on their end. That would be nice. Romanoff and Rogers are both here from after me and they didn't even notice I'd gone missing in their timeline. Of course, that also means there could be multiple timelines..." He trails off a bit to regather his thoughts from where they were scattering elsewhere. "I get the farming, I get the repairs, but why not an all out go at the border, all of us? Sometimes you have to take the risk." Despite the argument he's making, his tone and delivery suggest he already knows the reasons and is just... frustrated. The lack of options here, the lack of any ability to produce your own options, it's just maddening.
no subject
And yet, haven't her incidents int eh canyon been proof of that? "I don't understand how we can be here and not at home. Does that mean no one is looking for us?" she asks, a thread of worry hitting as she'd been counting on a search party from Daniel and Howard, at least from Mr. Jarvis in order to find her.
no subject
There's other things to address anyway. "How far outwards can it move if we keep going in a straight line though? Even if the land we're on isn't infinite, the confines of whatever physics-fucked space we are in is, or the boundaries wouldn't keep changing and putting us literally back in square one. We're not meant to go too far - what happens if we do?"
Tony simply refuses to accept that space can extend forever. He hasn't himself ventured too far out, but that's because he has no real reason to if he's doing it by himself. He's not stupid; he knows he doesn't have the skillset required to do the sort of potentially-long-term outdoorsmanning he's talking about. He's just surprised that everyone else seems to be content not to do the same as a group. They've surely been here long enough?
It's why he said you have to have a direction. Either they want to create a lifestyle here, or they want to figure out how to get home. In a situation like this, in his opinion as he's seen things so far, there is only one or the other, collectively. Individuals may have their own agendas, but as long as they don't all agree? They're apparently collectively okay with making a life here.
Anyway.
"I don't really get it either, but apparently it's happening anyway. I'm not sure how far ahead they are, but it's enough to mean something, and none of it's happened to me, and they didn't seem to remember me going missing and coming back from the world's shittiest summer camp, so." He shrugs a little bit, not trying to be unsympathetic but seeing no reason to sugar the news down. He'd been hoping someone would notice too, until he realised the futility likely involved. "I don't understand how we're here at all, but time is apparently about as much a factor as landscaping or a protest vote against the obvious prom queen."
no subject
"When I walk towards the canyon wall, it keeps expanding in front of me," she says. "You're welcome to come with me at some point if you'd like to see it for yourselves," she says. "And I would always love to spend more time with you," she adds, trying to add a little more guilt to her voice, even though she's giving Tony a fond smile. "Besides, once you have the drone working, you're going to find us an escape, aren't you?" she teases.
i'm sorry my tags keep getting so embroiled in his thought process
He's going to explode at some point. He can tell.
"There's not a whole lot here that seems to care about relative time outside of this reality." It's news though that Barnes is apparently gone - Tony had just assumed he hadn't seen the guy in a while, but he'd imagine the person living with the guy would have a better understanding.
"Expanding in the sense that you can visibly watch it do so, or expanding in the sense that you keep walking and things that seemed far away just stay far away? And I'm absolutely coming with you on a physics-breaking hiking trip. Count me in." The guilt is noted, and felt, thanks. It's vague, but he has enough of his own feelings towards her and his reaction to her - in his day - mental illnesses to get the adequate pangs she wouldn't even be aware of sending.
He does at least huff a laugh about the drone. "Yeah, sure. You guys just find me the parts I can use to craft a microprocessor or thirty, and I'll have us out of here before you can say 'interdimensional molecular proto-transport'."
no subject
"Maybe we ought to keep you to inventing something that can actually be done," she says, eyeing the smithy around them, hefting up one of the tools and using it as if a fencing rapier, setting herself at the correct stance before relaxing, setting it done. "Swords? Clubs, maybe? I'm a fan of using your own two hands in a fight, but your father was quick determined to equip people with mad new inventions that often doubled as weapons."
no subject
"There's got to be a way to rig up some kind of compass," he says, in the tone that people use to indicate they're both skeptical and disappointed you haven't thought of this already. There must be a reason she hasn't, but that doesn't mean he's not going to ride her about it. "Also, 'literally'? Are you being like, shoved into rock faces, or what?"
Anyway. He watches her fencing stance demonstration with vague amusement, manfully not letting himself be sad again about the state of the tools within the shop in general. He's totally okay with them, okay. He even manages not to have any visible reaction either way when she mentions his dad, and weapons. "I've got a couple ideas for arrowheads," he starts, moving a couple things that don't really need moving but work better with the organizational system he's come up with in the last seventeen seconds. "Clubs are a bit on the obtuse side of whatever physicalities we seem to have in abundance though."
no subject
She settles back in a seat, moving his plate about slightly as she regards him. "Do you want me to talk about your father around you?" she asks, having stormed right into that without delay.