day 49ish am; {open after initial waking}

[bracchium]

{sam + steeb}
[One moment silence echoes from the wound where Bucky’s mind should be. In the next, an explosion of frigid static unfurls from the emptiness and cascades through his links. In his room, he stumbles from his bed onto the cushions laid out beside it. The feathers braided into his hair swing about his ears and into his vision, releasing a surge of confusion alongside the static. Voices fill his head, like they’re standing inches away from him but when he raises his head from where he’s crouched on the floor, there are only two faces watching him.]


{everyone/anyone}
[The swell of static doesn't stop, but it does at least ebb quieter and quieter as the initial burst calms to a low hum. Occasional flares still rise to the surface throughout the coming days, however.]

Comments

[bracchium]

[Oh yeah. Eating.]

( Not yet. Not hungry. )

[deployed]

( I'm making eggs. )

[ hint hint ]

( There's enough for two. )

[bracchium]

[Oh. He chews on the idea before reaching back out to Bellamy.]

( I could help. )

[deployed]

( I could use help. Come here? )

[ Bellamy projects the kitchen to him casually, beckoning. Come on, Bucky. You know you wanna. ]

[bracchium]

[He does want to busy his hands with something; helping make food sounds like an excellent use of them. On top of that, he didn't eat anything with Sam and Steve, due to a now-passed nausea. Good timing Bellamy.

Bucky will make his way to the kitchen at his own pace. Feathers are braided into his hair and he does his best to tuck them back as he comes into view.]

Think I could help break some eggs.