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

[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.

[debts]

Is he?

[ It's interesting, that he uses the word interested. If you're not interested, first you have to know what that word means — compare it to the things that do interest you, then note the absence of it.

It's a development. She thinks about what that might mean, then says: ]

Did you come with him, or before?

[wipedclean]

[He shakes his head.]

He's been here. Seelie.

[Because that makes a difference, and is one of the central reasons why he's not interested in participating in the war.]

[debts]

[ Of course. Briefly, she looks up into the sky, though what she wants to do is pin him under her stare and disassemble everything. He's not interested in fighting Steve; neither is she, though her disinterest extends a little further. ]

So you remember?

[ That's a lot of progress. ]

[wipedclean]

Some.

[It comes in flashes, waves, moments he can never control, and if he tries to chase them down they flit away like they were never there. It happens most reliably around Steve, and he'd stick to the man like he was his shadow if he could, but being on opposite sides makes it... difficult.]

Not a lot.

[It's unreliable at best, and patchy.]

[debts]

[ Her gaze tips towards him then. She blinks, her own expression shuttering into comfortable neutrality. His memory coming back doesn't mean recovery, doesn't mean he can put them all together and magically become the person he was before. Sometimes it's not a matter of waiting. It's a matter of rebuilding. ]

Have you asked them to help you?

[ She nods towards the direction of the main castle, its halls. The— Unseelie court. Magic, she means. ]

[wipedclean]

[He snorts again, shaking his head.]

Don't trust them.

[He doesn't want magic messing around in his head unless it's someone he definitely trusts. Otherwise, how can he be sure what he's getting back is real? He could check with Steve, sure, but by then it would be too late.

As for the arm... well, he's more willing to ask for help with that, but he hasn't done anything for them, so they're unlikely to do anything for him.]

[debts]

Good.

[ Not that he needed to hear that. But it's good for her to say these things outloud and cement them in the first place. There's some part of her that tactically thinks that it's good for his arm to be out of commission for the most of these lands, but it's a health risk. Loss of muscle, the strain in hefting metal that won't correspond fluidly. She'll need to ask Steve, later.

Enough questions. She stands up, adjusts her body language into something non-threatening before she offers him her hand. ]

Natasha Romanoff. [ Proper introductions and all that. ]

[wipedclean]

[He watches how she adjusts herself, appreciates it, but he stares at the hand for a little too long before he finally reaches out and takes it, shakes it gently, but pulls his hand back quickly. There's only so much touch he can really stand. With certain exceptions.

And, as always, he's expected to respond with his own name, which he does.]

James. Or Bucky.

[But it's a little hollow sounding, because he still doesn't really feel associated with those names. He answers to them, he provides them, but they don't feel like him yet.

Then again, it's not like he's got anyone else to be at the moment.]

[debts]

James.

[ It's better. Everyone knows about Bucky Barnes and the Howling Commandos, the one who gave his life. It ties him to a person he's still trying to figure out if it's his own. This is fairer, until he can put together something that's better.

A beat. Natasha stays standing, eyeing up the courtyard, looking not just at the plants but the higher stationed walls. ]

There are a lot of people to keep an eye on.

[ It's more of an observation. She hasn't been here long, but magic complicates everything. ]

[wipedclean]

Yes.

[The whole situation is stupidly complicated, and he hasn't been paying perhaps as much attention as he should, but then, he doesn't really care. It's not his mission, so why should he?

His handlers would be appalled. He's not sure if that makes him anxious or satisfied.

Besides, as of yet there hasn't been any one clear thing to focus on. It was definitely easier when he was given missions, because then he had a target, or several targets, and he had a focus. Here? There's too much going on.

So far his primary focus has been himself.]

Don't spend much time here.

[It's distracting. Unsettling. And Steve's not allowed here.]

[debts]

[ Her mouth curves up then down. Like a peace offering, some brief, wry glance at a smile. ]

Can't imagine why.

[ Natasha's considering it. Staying in the pit of vipers is easier than trying to navigate your way around it. You learn faster, you're better prepared. But there are limitations as much as there are dangers. ]

Though I don't think they'd let you stay over there, either. [ Which is her way of asking where he spends his time, then. ]

[wipedclean]

[He snorts. No. He doubts they'd even let him close.]

There's other places.

[Two in particular. Steve had even said... he said once the Station was fixed up they could stay there. Neutral ground.

He's still thinking about that one.]

[debts]

Where that— [ She nods to his arm. ] —functions properly?

[ That's her first guess. Neutral is better, but operating in a clandestine enviroment usually means picking a side. It means having an agenda, and it means weighing up the parts of you that align with a cause. Taking a stand is the kind of thing Natasha didn't do, before, but— well. Steve Rogers and his bad influence. Being a hero. All of that, she's still getting used to.

But that can come later. Right now: ]

I can't imagine anybody being happy with a neutral choice.

[wipedclean]

Only one where it works.

[And only in its sphere of influence. It's not a wide range, which is one reason he's hesitant to take Steve's offer. It feels a little too much like being caged to him, even if it's not the case. Still, it's better to have the arm working than not, for various reason, not the least of which being his own body's upkeep.

As for neutrality... well. He shrugs, one shoulder moving up and down and the other remaining still.]

Better than being forced.

[debts]

[ Again, a huff of laughter. This time, it sounds equal parts knowing and dry. ]

Yeah.

[ Freedom of choice is important. She needs to delve into the Unseelie library but, so far, at least they believe in that core tenet. Natasha rolls a shoulder back — a physical tic rather than readying herself for anything — and considers. ]

I'm going for a walk.

[ Her chin tips. ]

Wanna come with?

[wipedclean]

[He looks at her, tilts his head, considers her.

Well. They haven't tried to kill each other yet. No reason to. So he does his one-shoulder shrug again and nods, standing.]

Yes.

[debts]

[ It's a test, kind of. Natasha wants to see how he walks, how he carries himself without the arm; how it affects his balance, the basic stride that constructs a physicality. She doesn't actually have a direction in mind but she thinks might get a pass on exploring if she's with someone who's been here longer, even if they're not involved.

So it's along the walls first, mapping the outsides that spin out from the courtyard. That knife she stole before, it's palmed and put away, and Natasha doesn't bother to fill the silence up, just watches him from the corner of her eye. ]

[wipedclean]

[He follows, a few steps behind. He's already been over much of the castle, and though he only spent a few days here, he's got most of the layout memorized. He watches her, even as she watches him, on the off chance that she decides to pull that knife out again. He doesn't think she will, but he doesn't know her, doesn't trust her.

Given that he's had several weeks to get used to the dead arm in a sling, his balance is fine, though his stance and pace is fairly different. The weight is being carried in front now, and though it's different, he's had enough time to get used to how to move with it to prevent it from affecting him negatively.

He makes no comment on the path, nor does he say anything at all. There's nothing to say.]

[debts]

[ Good. He's making up for the deficit &madsh; his training hasn't lacked out, though sometimes these things can be deep enough for muscle memory anyway. There's nothing to say, and right now Natasha is most interested in the things he doesn't. She didn't feel like saying very much after her defection either, though that was for wholly more political reasons, and she doubts that James Barnes has a sudden interest in fairy courts. ]

So.

[ Natasha leads them on a path that she thinks might be circling back around to the feast. If not, then— it'll be fun. Or something. ]

No more missions. [ Not subtle, but that's not what she's aiming for. ]

[wipedclean]

[His gaze, which had been drifting around their surroundings, comes to rest directly on her at her comment, his brow furrowing.

He doesn't answer right away.

No more missions is one of the things he's... having a little trouble coming to terms with. On the one hand, no, he's not being used, and he gets to choose what he does next.

On the other hand, being faced with so much choice is... overwhelming. Sometimes... he almost misses it. At least with Hydra he had a purpose. Now? He's... aimless.

Not entirely, of course, trying to figure out who he is apart from Hydra is no small matter, but there was a simplicity to his existence with Hydra that...

No. He's not going to think about it that way.]

No.

[No more missions.]

[debts]

And Steve, [ Natasha continues, less because she knows Steve but knows men like him, who love too hard and never let go. ] He's around a lot, right?

[ The implication there is that he's around too much, maybe. While James looks directly at her, Natasha's gaze flits to her surroundings, making mental maps and taking note. To operate within the realm of cold warfare, you have to know the land. Even if it's completely from scratch. ]

[wipedclean]

[His gaze drops away again, and he shrugs slightly, one shoulder moving as the other remains still, dead.]

When he can.

[It's not too much. Really, he prefers Steve to be around, because it gives him... focus, of a kind. Grounding. And he remembers more when Steve is there than when he's not. But obviously he can't be around all the time, and maybe... maybe he shouldn't be.]

[debts]

[ That's not a lot to go off of, even for her. Natasha considers it, the way his gaze drops and shoulder tics, and decides to ask anyway:— ]

There are missions that don't involve kill orders.

[ She wonders if that interests him at all. ]

[wipedclean]

[That does get his attention. He looks back up at her, his brow furrowing in a silent question.

Of course missions involve kill orders. That's why he exists. There'd be no point otherwise. Maybe a mission is more along the lines of "stop this from happening" or "find out what is going on here" but there's always blood involved.

How can it be otherwise?]