wow look what the cat dragged in

[lefthandfree]

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.

Comments

[goldsteins]

"Charted maps mostly," She offered with a roll of her shoulders. Her fingers twisted absently together in her lap as she turned her attention to the doorway that led to it. "There's a list of people, but I'm none too sure how updated it is, and what animals are here," She heaved a breath, "but I've been told the maps are about a year or so's worth of work and illuminate on found locations such as caves."

She hadn't yet had much to offer there herself, not from a lack of laziness but from a lack of knowledge of traveling in the woods. Maybe if she talked to Newt that would get easier. He could teach her, she supposed, but she put the thought to the side for a moment.

"I believe there's board games and cards around here somewhere now."

[lefthandfree]

He glanced toward the door as Tina looked to it and nodded mildly. Seemed like information, even often finding a home here, came at the price of limited by location and involved persons. While it was a good place to start from, it likely would prove cumbersome as time continued here. Accessibility had always been important toward advancement of society, and here too it would hardly be different.

A printing press could prove useful. Not that it was an endeavor he was particularly interested in undertaking, but duplication of materials would be handy, without a doubt.

At the mention of entertainment, his brows raised and a chuckle slipped free. “Games, huh? Guessing that’s how you guys keep from tearing each other’s heads off, huh,” he jested, lopsided smile on his face.

[goldsteins]

There was a lot that could make this place easier and more well equipped, but she's long since realized if they can't accomplish it with their own two hands it wouldn't happen. That had turned into her drive here even if with most things she stumbled with the No-Maj way.

She looked at the man, brows furrowed, and shook her head promptly. "There's really not all that much to do around here," She equipped with something of a grimace, "someone made a good point that once planting is done there's not much more you can do short of walk around with your thoughts or find somethin' else to occupy your mind."

"I've never really been a person to play games myself, but I hear they can cause a mess between friends sometimes," She added, mild amusement etched on her features. Tina Goldstein and break, or more especially vacation, would hardly ever be in the same sentence.

[lefthandfree]

“Planting?” That was new information. He could only assume it meant that there was some sort of collective effort in maintaining a farm. Which made sense with all the open land here. And that having a food source was generally a good thing. But farm life was also not Bucky’s idea of passing time either. “That seems pretty boring, if you ask me. Or troubling. Guess it depends on how stir crazy people will get without much to do but be stuck in their head.”

At least, he knew he would go looney without an outlet. Maybe it wasn’t so bad for others.

“Games can be fun though. And, yeah, sure, sometimes it ain’t gonna end with the best outcome, but,” he shrugs, “I feel like that’s only if you let it get away from you. Cause games shouldn’t ever be harmful. As soon as they are, it’s probably just bullying instead of a game, y'know?” Or maybe she wouldn’t. She just admitted to not really playing games, Barnes. “I mean, there’s also the strategy that's needed to win, so I think it can be beneficial too, if you've got the right mentality going in.”

[goldsteins]

"Yeah," Tina grimaced at the reminder, tilting her head to the window, "there was a big thing recently about planting everything, luckily most of it should be okay with this mess going on." She means, of course, the hail. They were going to have to do some serious looking after once this was over, but she almost wonders what's next. "Well, as far as I've seen, no one's done anything much too crazy. Yet."

Tina's just gladdened that she has the journals she does have. It leaves for places to write notes and the occasional sketch, though she too often refuses to do that. Most of the time she's glad she has her sister and Newt to speak to. Those are the real saving graces. Smiling mildly, the woman shook her head. "You can find someone to play them with if you want," She half teased, brushing back her hair, "but I looked at the games they have and I've never heard of them before. If it weren't for the weather outside I'd more likely be in the woods right now."