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When it gets inside; [open]
CHARACTERS: Bucky and whoever
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day :012-:014
SUMMARY: Bucky is back at the Bearings after a bit of an absence.
WARNINGS: Probably mentions of death, gore, violence, etc.
{ A :011 late/:012 early } [closed to Steve Rogers]
[Bucky's back! Almost immediately upon setting foot back in the Bearings, he makes a beeline for one of the rooms farthest from the common room. He's come in lugging a backpack over one shoulder, with a metal arm half-sticking out the top, and looks a little like a sewer rat dragged through a gutter or two. His brain sounds much the same. As soon as he's cleared the threshold of his room, he snaps the door closed and locks it less than a heartbeat later.
An hour allows him to take a quick shower and calm his head enough to attempt sleeping. However, the bed is entirely too soft after so many days curled up on the floor (and eventually a mat). He can't close his eyes for longer than a handful of heartbeats.
One by one, he's stealing the cushions from one of the couches in the common room in multiple trips a few minutes apart.]
-
{ B :012 - :014 } [open to all!]
[The first couple days, Bucky makes himself scarce. Though he doesn't ever leave the Bearings, he's not exactly a stable fixture in the common room. Occasionally, he collects some food to eat from kitchen or ventures out to grab a book. When he does make a prolonged appearance, he's settled at one of the tables, alternately writing in a small notebook weighted down by a coaster and tracing the textures on said coaster. From time to time, he doesn't do either and simply stares off into the distance, brows furrowed, only to furiously scratch more words into the page when he comes back to himself.
On the rare occasion, a heavy steel arm will sit beside him at the table.
His head hums slowly, not nearly as active and loud as his initial arrival, not so cluttered. Static simmers at the edges of his senses, threatening to boil over, but Bucky is at least trying not to broadcast everything everywhere.]
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day :012-:014
SUMMARY: Bucky is back at the Bearings after a bit of an absence.
WARNINGS: Probably mentions of death, gore, violence, etc.
{ A :011 late/:012 early } [closed to Steve Rogers]
[Bucky's back! Almost immediately upon setting foot back in the Bearings, he makes a beeline for one of the rooms farthest from the common room. He's come in lugging a backpack over one shoulder, with a metal arm half-sticking out the top, and looks a little like a sewer rat dragged through a gutter or two. His brain sounds much the same. As soon as he's cleared the threshold of his room, he snaps the door closed and locks it less than a heartbeat later.
An hour allows him to take a quick shower and calm his head enough to attempt sleeping. However, the bed is entirely too soft after so many days curled up on the floor (and eventually a mat). He can't close his eyes for longer than a handful of heartbeats.
One by one, he's stealing the cushions from one of the couches in the common room in multiple trips a few minutes apart.]
-
{ B :012 - :014 } [open to all!]
[The first couple days, Bucky makes himself scarce. Though he doesn't ever leave the Bearings, he's not exactly a stable fixture in the common room. Occasionally, he collects some food to eat from kitchen or ventures out to grab a book. When he does make a prolonged appearance, he's settled at one of the tables, alternately writing in a small notebook weighted down by a coaster and tracing the textures on said coaster. From time to time, he doesn't do either and simply stares off into the distance, brows furrowed, only to furiously scratch more words into the page when he comes back to himself.
On the rare occasion, a heavy steel arm will sit beside him at the table.
His head hums slowly, not nearly as active and loud as his initial arrival, not so cluttered. Static simmers at the edges of his senses, threatening to boil over, but Bucky is at least trying not to broadcast everything everywhere.]
no subject
Rather than relying on the soil to provide nutrients, they are administered. They have some very complex machines to monitor the needs of the plant...
[ Her smile turns a little rueful. ]
It is impressive and fascinating... but it also seems to take something away. From the gardener's relationship to the plant.
no subject
Are you a gardener? [He's gathered fom her intense interest in the subject.]
no subject
I am. Before the Nest, gardening was my life.
no subject
no subject
No, we did not have any of these modern things. My garden was hidden beneath the palace... It was a special place, it grew with a bit of magic.
[ The necessity of sunlight had been replaced with some of the Godking's light, and what little water was available on their scorched earth was fed into the depths of the palace to nourish the plants, leaving plenty above to die of thirst. ]
no subject
Magic? [He's not entirely sure what magic is or how it would be used in gardening.]
le geeze I super lost track of this.
It was the way of my world. Impossible things made reality... I have none myself, so it is hard for me to tell you what it truly is. Only what I witnessed it to accomplish. My Godking wielded it, in sweet and terrible ways. He razed our world, but also used that power to keep his garden alive, and so I tended it.