TEST DRIVE #6

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

Comments

natasha romanoff | mcu | unseelie likely

[debts]

ARRIVAL (feast, courtyard, network);

[ To quote a friend: Natasha's Russian, not dead. Her name is Romanoff these days, not Romanova, but the principle still stands. She's heard enough stories about Baba Yaga and domovoi to be cordial and kind to those in this place. Treat them with respect, treat them with kindness, and most of all— don't eat anything. The people are the important part here, the information that they have. The war, the Courts? Natasha can't seem to give a fuck about picking and choosing loyalties to names rather than people when she's just come from settling one.

It's easy to blend in. It's all political, and if it's not political then it's a party, and she's been to enough of those. Natasha's old hat at unpacking the right boxes and putting the parts of herself that don't matter into the others, shuffling them around until it all fits. Throughout the feast she mingles just enough to reveal her name, where she's from— skeletal basics that people can use to build up their impressions, but not enough that the true details will guide them. Letting people think what they want is the most helpful tool she has right now.

Later, Natasha manages to steal away. She make her through the hallways, her feet light. Eventually, she makes it to an open courtyard part of the castle with some sky; it makes her thoughtful, if only for a moment, and she looks down at the locket around her neck before thinking what the hell. ]

Secure channel seven. Anybody out there?

[ A beat. Natasha kind of feels like an idiot speaking into a locket. She sighs. ]

I hate magic.

naaaaat! (and locket)

[starspangled]

You should be careful saying things like that around here. I know some people who'd love to change your mind.

[And settle her in for magic classes. He can just imagine Hermione now. Anyway, Steve's little face pops up in her locket, an easy smile on his lips paired with relief in his eyes.]

It's good to see you.

[Even if it would probably be better to see her back home.]

steve get these motherfucking fairies off this motherfucking plane.

[debts]

[ Surprise easily shutters into something more recognizable on Natasha's face. She quirks a brow — mostly at seeing Captain America's tiny little face inside a necklace? — and tries to squash down something that feels vaguely like satisfaction inside her chest. One person on your team is better than none. ]

Is it the house on chicken legs, or am I going to have to call a friend?

[ That's a joke. ]

he's trying!

[starspangled]

Sorry?

[Russian folklore. He'll put it on the list.]

I hope I'll do. They got you at one of their feasts?

[debts]

Yeah. You know, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I sent myself on a vacation.

[ Which is easier than saying she sent herself off to do... something else. Remaking in the name of an arm of a faerie war isn't really what she had in mind either. Her expression shutters again into something a little more serious half a beat later: ]

You're on the other side of town? [ Metaphorically. ]

[starspangled]

Well, you seemed to think that you couldn't wear bikinis anymore anyway.

[And what's a metaphorical vacation without a little trip to the beach? Steve smiles a little, but it fades before he confirms what she's really asking.]

Yeah. The view here's only so-so, if you get my meaning. You might see an old friend of mine on yours though.

[And he's a little nervous about how that's gonna go down, but it's better to warn her.]

Bucky's here.

[debts]

[ She huffs out a laugh. That amusement settles in her eyes and doesn't go away— she adapts to the use of shorthand easily. Even with how quick Natasha is, though, it's hard to miss how her expression shutters at the mention of the Winter Soldier. ]

We said hello.

[ She lifts her brows in a way that suggests that nothing bad went down, exactly, but it doesn't make her comfortable. ]

He seemed— [ A pause. ] —lost.

[starspangled]

You did?

[Steve arches a brow, his eyes flickering up and down as if he could actually check her for injury. He already knows that without Hydra and their orders, Bucky's less likely to give her trouble. But he still borders on unpredictable.

He sighs, relaxing a little.]

That's one way of putting it. We're working on it. But how're you doing? This place has gotta be new, even for you.

[debts]

[ That definitely makes her laugh. Natasha's Russian, but she's also a pragmatist, and being teleported out and told about faerie rings isn't exactly in her purview. ]

You could say that.

[ Enough generalities. She shrugs. ]

I've heard enough stories in folklore. And from the sounds of it, this is just another fight I have to put my name into. [ Whether or not she's going to decline is something she's keeping to herself. ] That part isn't new.

I could do without the imps, though.

feast/courtyard

[wipedclean]

[It's really astonishing how well such a large, intimidating man with a metal arm (currently in a sling because thanks fairy magic and not liking technology) can blend into the background and be unnoticed. Most of the time these days he doesn't bother, he doesn't have a mission, he's not stalking anyone, technically he's not the Winter Soldier or the Asset anymore.

But then again, he doesn't really know who he is.

But he sees her across the room, and he recognizes her. There was the bridge, where he saw Steve, where the Bird was, but he didn't have wings at the time.

And her.

He follows her through the feast at a respectful distance. He doesn't want to corner her or interrogate her or attack her, he just wants to watch her for a while.

If she doesn't confront him, he'll follow her out to the courtyard, where he just finds a bench and sits down, saying nothing.

He's curious. About her, and what she'll do.]

[debts]

[ She picks up on her tail slower than she'd like to admit. Natasha's always operated within the boundaries of her fear; she respects it, and so far it's kept her alive this long. The courtyard is as open as it is empty. There's that low pull at her chest that feels like fear, and she tolerates it as long as she can before vanishing into the shadows, trying to lose him in the brambles.

The Soldier sits down. It takes a moment, maybe two, for Natasha to walk back into the open, one footstep in front of the other sounding somehow too-loud. In her hand is the sharpest knife she could find at the banquet. It's not that sharp. Her grip is lax.

She walks right up to him, where he's sitting, maybe one step away, and says mildly: ]

You could have just said hello.

[wipedclean]

[He doesn't move. He eyes the knife, but makes no motion toward any of his own combat knives. She's good, he know that, but even with one arm in a sling he knows he can deflect an attack at the very least.

He looks up at her face, instead.]

Hello.

[debts]

Hi.

[ Flatly. She looks at him for a moment. It unnerves her, how still it is all of a sudden — not just because the hall was so busy, but also because she's never had the cause to look the Winter Soldier in the eye before.

It takes a long time before she takes a seat next to him. ]

Is it dead?

[ The arm. ]

[wipedclean]

[The eye contact doesn't last long. It's... uncomfortable for him, so as soon as she sits down, he takes the opportunity to shift his gaze away, his breathing just a tad anxious.

In answer to her question, he nods, picking slightly at the sling with his good arm.]

Yes.

[debts]

[ This isn't what she expected. In the back of her mind Natasha thinks about her own unravelling, the way the programming had slowly leaked out. There was a difference, though. She had something to fill that empty space back up with.

His gaze drops, his breathing turns, and Natasha thinks it doesn't really mean safety anyway, even if that's what her mind wants.

Dryly: ] If they want you to fight a war, the least they could do is be accomodating.

[wipedclean]

[He snorts softly, letting his sling alone and resting his hand on his lap.]

Yes.

[He wonders why he followed her. Curiosity, yes, but now what?

He looks at her a moment.]

Not interested.

[In the war.

...for several reasons. He looks away again.]

Steve's here.

ermahgerd hello friend fancy seeing you here (it's jae)

[badlysocialized]

[He turns the locket over in his hands, shakes his head, and accepts this new weirdness with the grace of practice.

It's easier with something that could be considered weird technology. Weird technology, and someone speaking his metaphorical language. His rusty voice tinged with amusement:]

Is there a magical spec-ops team I don't know about?

well what are the bloody chances? get in here!

[debts]

[ It takes Natasha less than a second to recover; another one after that to let her mouth pitch upwards into a laugh. ]

It seemed appropriate. Kind of makes me feel like I'm in a film that's marginally more believable than this world we're in.

[stickseller]

(Howard had stayed in the party quite a while before stepping outdoors. He too was familiar with the game of playing to the crowd, of putting on a facade of what other people wanted to see of him, and he was good at it. He'd bowed where applicable, smiled, he'd enjoyed the food and the drink to avoid insulting his host. But it had gotten old as the night wore on, and he'd needed a breath of fresh air.

What he had really wanted was a cigarette, to the point where he was holding his cigarette case in his hand, squeezing it gently, but not opening it. He had yet to find out if they had cigarettes here, and if they didn't, he wanted to make sure that he saved them, he only had 16 after all. On a good night he could sometimes work through twice that, but if that was all he had left... He needed to conserve.

So instead he was staring up at the nights sky, he'd always been fascinated by space, and what else could be out there. He wondered if Earth was out there somewhere. One of the tiny dots, and if this where he was now had been one he had looked through from the deserts of Nevada on nights where he'd been consulting with the Manhattan Project and stepped outside to gaze.

His ears perked lightly at the sound of the voice, his lips twitching ever so slightly upwards.)

It could be worse. (It could always be worse.)

[debts]

[ Her expression shutters too quick to glance on anything recognizable, but that's not to say she doesn't recognize him. The bunker, the founders portraits; Natasha huffs out a laugh, dropping her locket back down in her lap. This seems a little more pertinent, especially considering how much this could revolve around the whole magic thing. ]

What, is that supposed to be reassuring?

[ Dryly, but not in a way that excludes friendliness. She tips her chin in a short nod. ]

You get tired of the party too?

[stickseller]

Not directly, but some might interpret it that way. (It was words he'd said many times during his own war, both to himself and to others. A running joke almost, especially with Peggy. They'd sigh over the food, the weather, anything really. Huff out a It could worse?, and it would, if nothing else, produce a smile or two.) I can't say I'm a fan of the lack of technological...anything, but it could be worse. At least there's solid shelter.

(His shoulders shrug lightly.)

I just needed a few minutes of fresh air. And I wanted to see what constellations were like from here. If there was anything I'd recognise.

[debts]

[ Just like a Stark. Natasha huffs out a laugh, though it's not exactly because something is funny. She glances up at the sky — she'd had the same thought, though her knowledge about constellations only extends so far, i.e. navigation — and raises a brow. ]

Maybe you'll have better luck than I did.

[ A beat. ]

What I wouldn't do for satellite imagery right now.

[stickseller]

(At least this Stark isn't QUITE as addicted to it? Or in need of it. He can do things without, he just prefers with because it's exciting and new. He doesn't really believe that brushing your teeth requires advanced technological assistance, but ever since he invented a vibrating toothbrush he hasn't had a single cavity so clearly that's something!!

He can't help the burst of laughter that comes from his mouth then, shaking his head.) Satellite imagery? (He raises an eyebrow slightly at her. Of course, he's heard rumours. Whispers of the possibility of sending something into space that could send information back down, ever since the Germans had managed to launch a missile into space in 42, and then the V-2 rocket back in May, but actually sending and receiving information was still a far off dream, let alone sending and receiving photographs.) I see I'm dealing with a dreamer. (A dreamer he's curious to know how knows about that kind of thing, it wasn't something advertised.)

One day. Maybe.

[debts]

[ Her smile peters out into something more genuine, a little more directly amused. Howard Stark: first and only person to call Natasha Romanoff a dreamer.

She doesn't clarify the expression. Instead, she shifts the set of her shoulders as she stands, brushing her palms against her sides before sparing another glance towards him. It looks -- a little thoughtful, but mostly approachable. The kind of expression a diner girl might wear when she's having a good day over a bad one. (The implications of time travel are easier to digest with magic, but she's still working the trajectory of that particular conversation.) ]

Natasha.

[ Clarifying: ]

My name.

[stickseller]

(To him she is, though. Space travel is something still years off. Sputnik 1 is still a decade away, having something in space that could actually show them a picture of where they are, which he's assuming is what she means by it, that is a dream.

He returns the smile, his own relaxed, pleased. He seems surprisingly at ease with all of this for what it is, but he's always been good at putting up facades. Truth is though, it did come at a convenient time, and while he worries for his butler, he knows the man is more than capable of taking care of himself. And hopefully it'll all soon be cleared up. Hell, maybe the magic can help somehow. (even if he is still skeptical to it all, at heart. But for the time being it's better to go with the flow, as it was. He'd seen a few trying to resist and he'd much rather keep dealing with the faeries than the imps.)

Beautiful. (The grin flickers into the vague area, blurred between a smile and a smirk.) The name. And the person it's attached too.

(He is a Stark, after all. He'll reach his hand towards her.) Howard.