revivalproject | · OPEN ·

WHO: pietro and YOU
WHERE: around, palm cottage, civic center
WHAT: a lil exploring, meeting people, dipping his toes in
WHEN: few days after arrival
WARNINGS: tba

A. AROUND

[it is totally not acceptable for him to go about wearing only the uniform he got from the avengers, and the idea of it getting ruined because of how much he shoves it in the wash is not something he wants. he’ll never admit it, but it’s pretty damn cool that he got an avengers uniform.

also, it has got a bullet hole he would like patched up at some point.

he will go where the people are, showing up seemingly out of nowhere in front of whoever is happening to mind their own business.]

Hey.

Where can I find new clothes? [and, also, pointing at his arm—] Can you sew?

B. CIVIC CENTER

[if there is one thing pietro is not going to slack off on, it’s getting a workout routine set out for himself. besides, is there anything else he could be doing with his time? it’s only been a few days and he’s getting bored; he needs to go go go, but that—really—is on him.

at least there being a gym helps him with killing time.

shame about a lack of machines, but the weights work out just fine for him.

just as he’s setting down a curl barbell to the ground (with a little too much noise, oof), he wipes the sweat off his forehead and glances at the obstacle course. warm-up, done. so, this, at whoever else may be in the gym with him:]

Anyone can go?

C. PALM COTTAGE

[what’s more annoying in a ship than having someone run back and forth along the sixty meters of a ship?

—nah, there can’t possibly be something worse that comes to mind, even if the individual who is racing along the length of the ship is moving at such speed that they are hard to spot. said individual finally comes into view as he reaches for, in normal speed, across the floor of the dining area, the wall at the end of the dining area, seeming to be trying to catch his breath.]

Just—a minute...

[maybe there is a reason to this madness of running around?]

D. HANGAR ( CLOSED TO WANDA )

Twin Roses, it does not make sense.

[he is grumbling to himself, a quality of annoyance on his face as he debates this whole thing all by himself, born out of finding it obvious that he should be with his sister. really, he just hates having to walk however many steps it takes him to get to the twin roses (and for him it's really nothing, considering how quickly he could get it over and done with).

pietro, however, cheers up the moment he sees his sister near the ship he had been grumbling about. he beelines it with his speed, reaching for her arm with a hand.]

You were going to show me, yes? [he grins, good-naturedly.] It looks really nice from the outside.

[(maybe a little space is better, sometimes).]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh what an amusing young man. So forward and charming. Clearly he needed a bit of polish though. She reached out to touch the material of his shirt, thoughtful. Yes, her power could run through it. She could repair the thing.]

If you are strong enough, there might be furniture I need moved, since you insist on payment.

[Wait, that word, bullet...]

You know of bullets. Tell me of them. Someone mentioned them before.

If I am strong enough?

[please don't question him else he start flexing his biceps...]

It will not be a problem, I assure you. Furniture is easy for Pietro Maximoff.

[—and it certainly is telling if a person refers to themselves in third person—]

Are you not familiar with bullets? They are tiny metal things, put inside a gun. Like a machine, to shoot, yes? On their own they are harmless, but when a gun shoots them they can go through many things, and hurt people, too. [he starts shifting where he sits] Do I remove my shirt?

[She doesn't know yet, Pietro. Please be patient with the woman who is yet to be graced with your skills.]

Well then, Pietro Maximoff, I'll let you know what I want from precisely where, and where to move it to. But you'll need to have care. The steps are very tall.

[The bullets question earns a shrug.]

Kaz once tried to describe them and I admit, I'm quite confused by the concept. Cross bows, trebuchets, those I understand. But not these 'bullets'. Yes, though, I would ask for your shirt.

It sounds like a deal to me.

[what, like it'll be difficult? he's got this, whatever it is she wants him to move around, no matter how tall the steps may be.

with a knowing (?) smile, he starts to pull his shirt off and over his head, at the very least being kind enough to turn it inside out again before handing it over to her.]

Here it is. It is like a uniform, yes.

I guess guns are a little too modern for you? Crossbows and those things [he can't even fathom pronouncing trebuchets for the first time] are a little on the old side of my history.

—does it look easy to fix? [the shirt]

[Oh, she expects it will. But he inisted and seemed confident. She takes the shirt, and doesn't even seem all that impressed by his build. Really, when one considers him next to a hulking blacksmith like Frostpine, he really isn't that impressive. That man had muscles on his muscles from his work.

She takes the shirt and lays it in her lap, her fingers going over the holes as she probed at them with her magic.]

I do not know what you mean by modern. My time is modern enough. I would call what you have more futuristic. I have seen many things that might be 'modern.' I do not know how I feel about them.

[She feels her power reach into the threads and she considers. At last she looks at him.]

How wedded are you to the idea of the holes not being visible? May I patch, or oversew, or would you prefer it seem undamaged. I warn you, this latter part will mean the sleeves are a touch shorter. I shall have to replace these higher threads with those from the wrist area where the color matches.

[he works with what he has as a normal human and is happy with what he has. a true himbo that needs only validation from the mirror.]

Yes, futuristic, then.

[his attention then filters towards her focus on the shirt. she speaks, says some things, and pietro is hoping he can keep up.]

I want it to stay normal as it is now, but without the hole. See, [pietro points at where the sleeves end, on the thumb opening.] this might be problem if they are shorter, right?

[Most himbos didn't need validation. Poor thing.]

Yes, quite the problem. TO preserve the length I will need to do a patch instead. It will not match, I do not have fibers or colors like this. With the hole as large as it is, I cannot just tell the threads to reweave together. There is missing material.

[pietro makes a humming sort of sound for a moment as he rubs his chin in thought. hmm...]

Is it possible I find the material for you first?

[he could probably live with a hole on his shirt-uniform for a bit longer.]

Maybe use something else in the meantime until it can be fixed.

It is color that will be an issue. The material is strange to me, it seems to be one of these 'synthetic' fibers. I am sorry. But I will use something else for now. Undyed silk I think. It will be stronger.

[he has to think about this for a moment... though, really, in the end he would rather leave this in the hands of someone who is an actual expert at it. there is no way she isn't.]

Whatever you need to do, that is fine. My clothes are in good hands.

[speaking of—]

What is your name?

[They really are. She's magic, after all.]

I promise I will be careful about them. Sometimes they are all we have from back home, and thus they are sentimental to us. I only have my clothes, my magic supplies, and Little Bear.

[She smiles and hold out a dainty hand to him.]

I am Lark.

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