sixthiterationlogs | wow look what the cat dragged in

Entry tags:

wow look what the cat dragged in

WHO: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes
WHERE: fountain, inn
WHEN: May 13
OPEN TO: closed arrival, otherwise open to all
WARNINGS: language
STATUS: ~~second prompt is open~~ closed

the fountain

When he closes his eyes, he knows it will only be a moment in his mind, even as darkness blots out his vision and swallows him whole. Regret lingers as it always does, the fact he chooses this over consciousness impossible to ignore when the last thing Steve does is insist on standing there with the wish that Bucky will change his mind written plainly on his face. But it's all the more reason he shouldn't. Yet, even as he prepares himself to wake again to the worst possible scenario, being immersed in water is definitely not something he considered.

There's air in him, enough that he knows that he hasn't been thrown in and also enough that his mind cannot decipher the circumstances. It's hardly enough reason for dawdling, however, and his focus is quickly turns toward finding the surface. Easy enough, even short an arm. Maybe not as efficient or balanced as he'd like, but there isn't time to reassess.

He gasps for fresh breath once he breaks through to air and throws his arm out to pull his body out from what seemed a well but is apparently a fountain. Curiosity after curiosity, it doesn't stop him from clambering free from the water, even if the effort comes quite clumsily without the aid of a second arm. It's then while water drips generously from him, free from the metal joint and free from his clothing, that he realizes his clothing isn't really his clothing and that this obviously isn’t Wakanda. Not even a little.

Jesus Fucking Christ. “Can’t it be Kansas? Just once?” He doesn't expect an answer.

the inn ~~(open)~~

He’s not even going to pretend he’s not new. It seems like something that should be obvious, so why bother with putting people on? Not that it means he won’t do his damned best to make sure people know he’s not incapable, especially with the blatant visible handicap. But he’s dripping a lot less now, and that’s a good time to try and figure out what all he actually needs to deal with given his clear displacement of space and possible displacement of time.

Soaked is still very much the description of his physical state though, something that’s apparently becoming a trend, but he’s far more grateful this time around since his arm isn’t trapped in a vice and, well, he clearly hasn’t gone on a murder rampage either. It’s the little things in life...

There’s a fire at one end of the establishment he wanders into, and even without the cold, it’s a welcome sight. Soggy garments are really not his style, and having a quicker way to dry off other than waiting for the world to end is a huge bonus. He plants himself nearby and takes the opportunity to dig through the pack. It’s sturdy. Effective. But everything else inside is soaked through like him.

God. Why can’t anything ever be easy?

Dragging a hand down his face, he gives a long sigh. One thing at a time, Barnes. And at the least, the water isn’t sopping out of the bag, he tells himself. So it’s not all bad. Maybe.

He wants to laugh, but instead a wry grin plasters itself to his face. Patience is a goddamn virtue, for sure. But as long as he doesn’t get kicked out for being a drowned mess, he’s glad to stay parked here for another couple hours before moving on.

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His brows raised with surprise upon recognizing the young woman. Given the circumstances, maybe it wasn’t the oddest thing to experience, the oddity of even finding himself in such a location jarring enough that most other things pale in comparison, but he did feel a mild sense of comfort knowing that there was now another person he could hold faith in here.

Well, insomuch as he ever was willing to trust anymore, but that was neither here nor there.

Catching the recognition in her eyes helped ease any doubts he had about what her intent might be, blanket in her hands or not. The gesture was thoughtful and enough that it brought a small smile to his face. The easy one that didn’t ask for anything.

“Well, to be honest, I did consider that, but most people really aren’t into the other people walking around naked kinda thing. Since the only other clothes I have are. Kinda. Also wet.” He nodded toward the drenched sack by his feet, amusement lingering on his face at the dilemma. “Though I guess maybe I could get a room and spare everyone that awfulness. But the fire’s kinda nice to have, what with the hail.”

She liked that smile. Without fail, someone always wanted something from her. It wasn't always something unreasonable. Steve had wanted her to accept herself and ignore the news that portrayed her as a weapon of mass destruction. Clint wanted her to have a chance to be a kid. Which felt like a ridiculous notion.

It was just the way of the world; everyone wanted something.

It was nice to have someone look at her in a way that suggested they didn't want anything at all. Wanda felt herself smiling back. It's been weeks since she'd really smiled like that.

"Not all of us would mind." Her voice was light though her accent remained thick. "The hail is unusual." She was stuck at the inn because of it. "I live with Clint and Sam at the edge of town." Wanda figured it was best to tell him who was here. There was an unspoken invitation should he need a place to stay. One that Wanda would offer to any of those she considered someone worth trusting.

There was a short pause before she spoke again, taking a seat across from him. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Her smile was something new for him. He’d of course seen the polite one she’d offered Scott when he’d remarked about her coolness, but it was far different from the one he found himself privy to now. Wanda was pretty when she smiled. Unfortunate that she'd gotten caught up in Steve’s tomfoolery.

His brows raised at the suggestion that she would not mind him bare, and a small laugh slipped free from his lips. There were few that would likely agree to such a thought, but he appreciated it nonetheless. It was honest, and that’s all he ever cared for. At the information she provided regarding her lodging, the thoughtfulness returned to his face, and Bucky’s smile shifted into something much more wry.

The reality was that despite familiarity and higher levels of trust, he had no idea who any of them really were beyond whatever happened to make international headlines. They were more Steve’s friends than his own, and even trying to pretend he could be comfortable with the idea of feeling safe with the three of them made him uncomfortable, regardless of how they had come so quickly to Steve's aid when they needed to find and stop Zemo. Not wishing to put Wanda on, what with her own clear display of honesty not moments before, he let the discomfort linger for several moments on his face before moving on to reply to her query.

“Went under. Cryo. Had some help.” He didn’t want to be too specific. The arrangement was by the grace of T’Challa after all, and it would be rude to transgress on the mutual respect they’d formed by simply giving away the fact that the Wakandan king was harboring an international fugitive so easily. “What about you? Before you got here, I mean.”

Wanda felt as if she owed a lot to Steve, to all of the Avengers, though what she knew of the future was significantly less than that of what Bucky knew. She was watching the Avengers fall apart and yet she continued to believe in them. They had been her support after losing the last of her family. She'd always owe Steve for that. In his own way he'd saved her life by allowing her to switch sides.

She wouldn't force him or even ask him to live with her, Clint and Sam. Natasha hadn't wanted to live there either but the house would be open to him if he needed it. She watched him curiously though her gaze was easy, reading what she could pick up from him but not pressing sternly for answers. She assumed that he'd share what he wanted either way.

"Clint was getting me to come help you." Not just Bucky but Steve and those he'd gathered to help him. She didn't know what the exact plan was but she'd known the end goal. Wanda hoped that they were successful in the attempt though no one had offered to tell her the details of the fight.

"Hungry?" There was some soup that she'd made a half hour ago still warming in the kitchen.

Humming thoughtfully, he eased back in his seat a tad, considering the implication. There was no knowing what was worth discussing and what was worth avoiding. He was from a time well after her last memories however, and that made the decision all the more difficult, not knowing what telling her of future outcomes could mean. Seemed exactly like the thing most people avoided in the novels he used to read, and fiction or not, there always seemed to be a strain of logical truth to the science fiction of old.

“Yeah, I could use a bite,” he answered, instead of answer with regard to the initial matter. Though as an afterthought, he added, “That was quite a bit before what I remember,” to keep up the transparency, albeit selectively.

She didn't expect for him to tell her more of her future. If she truly wanted to know then she'd ask Clint who appeared to have come from a time similar to Bucky. "You don't have to tell me. I don't think it changes anything here or when we return." If we return, she thought to herself.

With a nod of her head Wanda stood. "I'll be right back." She left him to his thoughts to go fetch a bit of soup. It didn't take her long to return with a hot bowl of soup as well as a glass of water and a hot beverage that she balanced on a small tray. The soup was a thick potato soup with carrots and fish. Wanda hadn't had all the spices that she needed but it smelled like it came from somewhere in Russia.

"Here." She placed the soup and water in front of him before taking the hot drink for herself. It was just hot water but it fought away the cold. She didn't have tea or anything to put in the water.

If, he thought for himself as well following her reply, though he nodded regardless. There was no real knowing in their position anyway, was there? No sense wondering.

Watching her leave, he wondered silently how long she must have been here as well. It was a fair thing to question, considering what Peggy had told him, and even without understanding how all the time displacement functioned with regard to...well, the lives they knew before this place, it likely did not make the experience any easier for any of the otherwise. Unfair really. He could only hope he wasn’t blamed for it somehow.

When Wanda returned with the tray, he sat forward again, hand tugging the blanket more firmly over each shoulder so he could eat without losing the warmth of the cloth. He smelled the soup before she set it down in front of him, and it was familiar in a way he couldn’t place a specific memory to. Not that it changed much of anything because his stomach rumbled quietly regardless. His heightened metabolism was going to be trouble here.

“Thank you.” It was offered with a grateful smile, though perhaps more sheepish than it might be otherwise. Only then did he notice the spoon set in the soup that slowly—slowly—sank down into the potato, as it trying to hide from the world. His eyes lit up, earnest amusement settling into his expression, and he laughed quietly as the spoon continued sinking and sinking, fearing the daylight and curious eyes. Bucky plucked it up before it found itself immersed, smiling to himself before cleaning off the sides of the spoon with his tongue so as not to make a mess.

“This is good,” he commented, moving to get a proper spoonful. “Did you make this?”

Wanda's fingers curled around her cup. She enjoyed the heat of the water as it seeped into her palm and warmed her hand. She took a small sip and focused on the heat as it coursed through her body warming her from her core. It was always relaxing to drink a hot liquid, which was why she developed the habit of drinking hot water when there was nothing else.

"If you're here around meal times you'll be fed." It was a useful piece of information. He didn't look like the sort of person who knew how to cook. Wanda was used to cooking for her brother when it was just the two of them. It wasn't until ending up here that she started cooking more often.

Wanda's gaze focused on his fascination with the spoon and she couldn't stop the smile that spread over her lips. That was a new sight for her and a pleasant one. It was cute and a little unexpected.

"Yes. You like it?" She sounded genuinely curious. She didn't think he'd lie.

The knowledge was indeed useful, especially given that his metabolism will need some time to resettle into its now more normalized output. He would likely need to monitor his intake again, making sure he was tapering to the proper amount and not wasting resources. Being served seemed a strange idea though. He had to do so much on his own for so long, it was certainly a very different pattern to switch to. He didn’t exactly feel proper making use of other people’s goods and kitchens though. Not without invitation.

Taking in the spoonful, he nodded with a faint hum. “Yeah. Nice and simple. A lot of stuff is overdone now,” he replied once he’d swallowed before then correcting, “I mean back at... Um. Whatever we’d call where we were before this now. Home? Earth?” Home didn’t feel quite right to him, but Earth sounded so stiff. Sure, the world despised the Winter Soldier, but Bucky never hated the planet any less, what with all the beauty it had to offer when people weren’t involved. “Well, you know what I mean. Maybe. Stuff wasn't so...extravagant when I was a kid.”

Wanda nodded her head slowly, her eyes looking down at the steaming water in her cup. "I understand." Her accent thickened momentarily as she continued. "Nothing was extravagant when I was a kid either." Her mother had taught her how to make that soup but it's been so long since then, Wanda hardly associates it with the imagine of the woman that she knew.

Earth was as good a word as any though it didn't sit well with Wanda either. Her attention refocused on Bucky, watching as he swallowed spoonfuls of soup.

"So what now?" She asked him curiously, unsure what he was planning to do. There wasn't that much to the village and the forest constantly changed. Wanda had done some recon with Clint and others but the outcome had been the same. A memory prickled at the back of her neck. "If you go into the woods, take someone with you." Her voice was softer now. "We've had trouble. Trees changing and bugs that cause fever and hysteria."

She wanted him to be safe.

As far as the village went, Bucky didn’t quite know. He’d gotten a brief from Peggy, but even with that, there wasn’t a lot to work with. There was little doubt that Wanda, Sam, and Clint skimped on reconnaissance either, the three being Avengers. Well, before the Accords. Though the warning wasn’t new information for him, he appreciated her concern nonetheless, nodding solemnly in reply.

“Don’t plan on it. I might know my way around Earth, but when it comes to uncharted territory, that’s always the quickest way to die.” Thinking over things a bit more, he took another moment to take a few more bites of soup before inquiring, “Is there a map? Or. Some kinda compendium of what we do know?” Because that would probably be useful.

Wanda shook her head. "There isn't a formal map." Paper was rather hard to come by. "But some people have one that's been hand drawn. I can sketch something out for you but I don't have paper." She could draw him a rough map in the dirt.

"Since the trees seem to move there is little point when you reach the forest but we're surrounded by a canyon with the river running to our right." She pointed in the direction that it was in, to give Bucky a sense of direction.

"There are fish and hopefully they'll be game soon. Spring is coming."

“No paper, huh?” Sounded like something that likely needed to be addressed. Made sense given the environment though. The place was far from what would even be called a proper town, so a paper mill was probably way out of the question.

Noting the direction she gestured in, he nodded as he resumed eating for a moment before licking his lips clean to reply, “At least food ain’t so much a problem. That’s good. Makes it easier to figure out the rest. Personally, I think the paper situation should be dealt with as soon as possible. Record keeping is important for progress and all.”

"Sam has paper." She replied in an even tone. "I'm sure others do too but not all of it is shared. I can ask and see what I can get." It'd give her something to do which she rather looked forward too.

"He has been here for a long time. You should talk to him, read his notes." It would probably be beneficial though she wondered how much Bucky cared for Sam, for any of those who were simply known through Steve.

Wanda cleared her throat and took another sip of her cooling water. "I'm sorry you're here but I'm glad to see you." She admits with a shrug. Wanda didn't really care if it was a selfish thing to say.

Well. That was a start. Something to take notes on was still better than nothing, at least until the issue could be properly addressed. And he had a feeling he would be needing every scrap he could get his hands on, even if mostly only for his personal records. Speaking with Sam seemed to be prudent by her description, so he made a personal note to himself to seek out the man at a later time.

To her admission, he offered a small, honest smile. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had said anything like that to him. Even such words were often lost with Steve, the expectation for Bucky to go along with everything stronger than any formalities they used to keep between them. God. Time really changed so much, hadn't it?

“I could say the same for myself.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with that small bit of care he guarded with his life. “Better to be stuck with allies than alone. And I know I’m not Steve, but I don’t plan on leaving any of his friends high and dry if I can help it.” A shrug followed, his eyes drifting back to the bowl as he stirred the contents idly. “You guys gave up a lot for him without even knowing me. So. It’s the least I can do to repay you.”

Wanda had no real answers but she wasn't the sort of person to give up either. Since losing her powers she's been standing strong, pouting a little along the way and punching inanimate objects, but she wasn't going to let the people who brought them here push them around.

"Not just Steve's friend. You're mine too." She didn't know everything about him but she knew that Bucky was trying. Sometimes trying was all that you could do. It wasn't an easy thing to keep going with the weight of so many on your shoulders.

"Put your bowl in the sink in the kitchen. I'll wash it later if you don't." She didn't really care and she'd be back anyway. "I don't think anyone should be alone. That's why I helped." Not just because Steve asked but because Wanda was looking for something, a way to find herself and do something good. She didn't have to know the people that she helped.

The claim to friendship came as a surprise, the events he had endured prior to arriving still lingering in his mind. From that alone, he would never have anticipated such a quick sense of alliance, especially given how he had not truly interacted much with any of Steve’s other friends beyond his mild ~~mocking~~ ribbing of Sam. Wanda had little reason to lie to that regard, however, and so the admission must have been genuine, despite Bucky’s own comprehension of the details. His smile grew sheepish then, and he polished off the last bit of the soup.

“Don’t think anyone should be alone either, but... Just surprising. Considering what they said about me. Even Steve thought—” his words cut off as he realized the fact was irrelevant to the conversation, and he shook his head to dismiss it. That matter was between him and Steve. “I’m grateful. Not so good at showing it these days, but I am. So you’ve a friend in my too, if you ever need it.”

Wanda knew what it felt like not to be trusted or accepted by those around you. Even the people who claimed you as a friend would look at you as if you might one day turn and destroy the world. There were a few people in Wanda's life who didn't do that. Vision was one but Wanda didn't think that Vision knew better. He was like a child in some ways and one of those ways was with human interaction. Another was Clint who had adopted her after her brothers death and even went so far as to invite her to his home from time to time. It was a little strange but when she was there she felt like she was apart of a family. It was awkward but it was still a feeling that she enjoyed. The last person had been Steve but ever since her house arrest she hasn't been so sure anymore.

Bucky could understand and while they hadn't talked a lot, Wanda knew that he could understand. For the world to see you as a weapon, as what you are, and not who you are. No one can live like that and really survive.

"I'm not Steve." Wanda spoke coolly, not at all bothered by his surprise. "You don't have to show it." She knew that if she called and he could make it, he would. Wanda didn't trust people easily and how Bucky earned that trust was a little complicated in it's origin but it was there all the same.

The reassurance that he needn’t have to make up for it in show, as he would often need to for Steve regardless of whatever Steve insisted, was comforting to say the least, and so he nodded solemnly in response, losing his words for a moment.

While he didn’t know the full details of her circumstances, he did understand the basics of how she had been drawn into the affair with that machine of Tony's. Official news sources hadn’t quite detailed the events properly, Romania included, and he knew better than to assume without context, though trawling on the Internet had turned up more than he’d anticipated. He knew she hadn’t always been affiliated with the Avengers; there was more than enough footage to indicate such being the case, even as much as there had never been a formal statement released by Tony with regard to her having eventually joined. It said enough, however, for Bucky to know that she wasn’t much like the others, and even that alone brought its own sense of comfort.

He knew she would not view him quite the same, even if she believed the fear mongering that Zemo had tactically executed, and something about that was far more pleasant than he knew how to describe. Maybe in that way that he wasn’t being forgotten as the soldier he had once been and was...simply a foreigner; it made the sting of being a lost fragment of the past less apparent.

After several moments of thought, he looked toward her again and offered another smile, this time just the simple one he usually wore when he didn’t know what else to do with his face.

“Thank you for the food. I don’t mind doing the dishes though. Used to it. Well, when it needs to be done. Didn’t really get in the habit of using ’em at the safe house since... Well, safe houses aren’t really meant for comfort.” He smiled wryly at that and gave a shrug.

Wanda wouldn't be surprised if Bucky knew everything about her past. The tests that her and her brother under went were recorded by Hydra and most of their actions ended up on youtube or other public forms. With the reach of the internet very few things remained a secret, more so once the Avengers got involved.

American's always complicated shit.

A soft smiled tugged at Wanda's lips as she rose her hand in a quick goodbye gesture. She knew a thing for two about safe houses. She knew what it felt like to move from place to place in order to survive. Her brother and her had endured a lot before they were propositioned by Hydra.

"I'll rely on you then." For the dishes.

With that Wanda turned and left the inn, returning back home.

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wow look what the cat dragged in

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