revivalproject | Vacillate

Entry tags:

Vacillate

WHO: Tony, Link, Peter
WHERE: The hotel in Temba, the laboratories in Sh'Ka
WHAT: Tony gives a gift and gets a gift
WHEN: Time is meaningless.
WARNINGS: We'll see.

a. Hotel [For Link]
Celty would have done this for Tony. He should have shown his appreciation more, before he lost the chance, and he had to linger awkwardly outside the hotel to make his own deliveries. The D.A.T.A. unit that had climbed up over the door peered at him expectantly, confident in the supplied chart of Link's most likely location, and rapidly updating its similar data of Tony's location the longer he stood there. Tony pursed his lips in return, and purged that record, and the video of his loitering, which was going to be pointless if he didn't hurry up and go inside before someone else spotted him. His next move was a lot less clear. Though he drifted somewhat aimlessly, he didn't stop moving until he had impulsively wandered toward the desk of the hotel lobby, like he could ask a clerk there to leave this package with Mr. Link. It wasn't a large one, small enough to be wrapped in a single, waxy leaf of something that resembled a banana plant, and Tony could probably etch a name into it if he decided to just leave the thing on the counter and hope someone eventually noticed. Or it would fall back into the dust and this whole thing would have been a waste of time.

With a grimace, Tony considered the stairs, then slouched his way toward them with a sigh of resignation. Maybe Link wasn't even home, and Tony could confidently leave the package in front of his door without being spotted. He just had to climb this ridiculous cliff. Maybe Link's chosen egress wasn't as weird as it looked on camera.

b. Lab [For Peter]
Nothing moved in the caved in expanse of the overgrown lawn. Iron Man sat at the edge of the destruction, feet hanging into what used to be a basement, and was now mostly a landfill of old stone and broken glass, kicking restlessly as he sucked on the berries he had foraged and thought, at the time, that he was going to bring back to Jon. Maybe the demolition had supplanted any memory of their time living in Sh'Ka anyway, he wouldn't care about some berries; he deserved answers. The helmet sat in the grass next to Tony, eyes pointed toward the rubble and scanning what was left of the palatial building, searching for any shift, air current, spike of energy, or fluctuation of temperature--anything to suggest there was actually something to find here, and Tony could tell the team he had roped into the risk that it had paid off. In the approximately nine hundred hours Tony had been sitting here, he had seen a beetle move a rock, and a bird land briefly on an unsteady beam. The Iron Man did not report any alerts. He was out of berries.

Scooping up his helmet, Tony slid from the ledge to drop down onto the settled destruction, letting his weight rattle it and send a shower of dust falling through the cracks that he could only hear below him. Any shifting it had left to do must have been quickly packed down by the snow over the winter, so even Iron Man could wander through the rocks and slowly climb back up along new topography. At the peak of the mountain that had been a palace, he slowly turned, squinting in the sun, intending to watch the way he had come for any changes from the disturbance, only to freeze at only half a turn, staring out across what was left of the lawn. Debris had rained across the big building's nearest neighbour, a squat and already claustrophobic looking structure, without any visible doors or windows from Tony's vantage point. Some of the evidence of the explosion still remained there, dust clogging cracks and larger stones scattered across the roof, and with the basement sunken and suddenly straining under a strange weight, the earth was split with spidery cracks that reached hungrily toward the next building to swallow.

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For a moment, Tony was stricken, his super casual lean against the doorframe that was supposed to suggest the door just opened all by itself and he was perfectly innocent going rigid as he let the door swing open. As far as it would go, anyway. Before he could even taken in the details, the full impact of the collection had him starting to raise a lip in uncomfortable confusion. Then he noticed the bones. Now he really hoped this kid's deal was some magic thing, because Tony did not know of a comforting alternative explanation. At least Strange kept his weird collection very orderly, though--Tony felt like he had to keep his elbows tucked in as he sidled into the room so he didn't overturn some pile and release a hex. Why was he still going in? Was that a cricket?

He finally made himself stop at the desk, not sure what he thought his next move was supposed to be. Abruptly, it became dumping the package there, among the herbs, then turning on his heel to escape.

What wrong with bones, Tony? Sometimes they're useful for elixir making. And they look cool.

Plus, Link had found that without his korok-enchanted pack, other things he used to keep where a bit harder to store. Like hearts. And eyeballs. And guts. Bones, at least, didn't rot.

Just so happens, though, that outside the window there's some faint scuffling noises. Like perhaps someone is now climbing up the wall. Maybe towards this very window.

The sound caught Tony mid-spin. It might have been there since the door open, he realized in the awful eternity he was suddenly caught in, he just hadn't really heard it over the noise all of this stuff was making in his brain, not until he was already too far into the room, and he was turning, and then he was impulsively crouching, like that would help him sneak away from the approaching noise any more effectively. What it did was knock him off balance as he went to take another step, and whatever was under his foot was weirdly soft and had him recoiling. It felt like he had so incredibly much time to listen to the ever increasing noise from outside, and the glimmer among the pile of rocks that he was pitching into. There were probably some precious metals in there, if Link would let him process them.

The sting of the scrapes from crashing into the pile were going to last another eternity.

Link pauses mid-climb, briefly, as he hears the crash. Did that come from his room?

Scurrying up the wall as fast as he can, Link soon clambers in through the window, trying to see what in Hylia's name just happened. Then he stops, and blinks, because apparently what happened is Tony is in his room, and has apparently decided to go swimming in his rock collection for some reason.

For a moment, there's just silence as Link stares.

Tony had plenty of time to prepare an excuse, and none of them felt particularly believable by the time Link was staring at him. What he had to offer was a weak wave, and a wince for the movement, and for the due displeasure that Link must have been producing for the invasion. Maybe if Tony didn't make too much eye contact, and kept them distracted, he could slip his way out of the room before he caught too much of that punishment. "Yeah, hi," he said, voice strained as he worked himself out of his rocky torture, "Thanks, no, I'm good, I've got this. You really shouldn't keep that there, it's a hazard, someone's going to get hurt." By then, he was on his feet, doing his best to smooth down his clothes so he didn't look entirely harassed by his fall, and started sidling toward the door. "Your stuff is there, with your...flowers, I didn't know where else to put it, they don't really go together, you know, listen, hard to tell what pile is for the mail in here, so, maybe make that more clear."

"...Hi." Link says, still blinking. Though really, it's not the fact that Tony's in his room that has him blinking. Link wonders into other people's places all the time; that's just normal, as far as he's concerned.

No, it's something else that really doesn't make sense at all. "Why were you in my rocks?"

There's a pile of giant mgoose feathers right there. Surely that would have been more comfortable to jump into?

There wasn't a reasonable excuse or explanation for the one, and it managed to halt Tony's very sneaky retreat as he opened both hands toward the rocks, grasping for answers. "Thing is, listen, they were in my way, I was just trying to, it's, I'll work on that one, I'll have the solution for you in no time, I'll bill hourly. Why do you have a pile of rocks?" Expert parry.

"They might be useful." Which, honestly, was Link's explanation for...pretty much everything in this room.

Really, he didn't get why people here kept asking him why he had all of his things. They were all weirdly hung up about it.

"And they're nice." And indeed, Link didn't just pick up any old rocks. He picked the ones that had interesting shapes and colours, or were nice and smooth to touch, or had a little bit of sparkle to them. He had yet to find any really big chunks of gemstone here, but he still had some that he liked.

He picks one particular rock up, and shows it to Tony. It's largely layers of browns and yellows, but there's flickers of deep red sparkles in there too. See? Nice.

The logic was sound to Tony, who gave an appreciative pout with a thoughtful roll of his eyes up toward the ceiling, trying not to think too hard about his own piles in the workshop and how useful he thought they could be some day. A pile of rocks in a bedroom felt a little different than meltable scrap in a forge. He did live much too lavish of a lifestyle to deny the draw of nice things, though he wasn't sure they were working with the same palate as Link displayed his shiny rock with pride. Maybe he was holding a bit of a grudge for the battering he took from the rocks. "Uh-huh. What are they going to be useful for up here?" he had to ask.

Link shrugs. "Don't know yet," he says.

But Tony seems to like getting more of an explanation for things, so he adds, "Used to give gems to the Great Fairies. For enchantments."

And hey, you never knew - there might be a Great Fairy hidden somewhere here as well.

There was a lot less logic in hauling up a bunch of rocks to your bedroom 'just in case'. Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow, and it remained there with clear dissatisfaction with the 'great fairy' explanation. He should have expected it was somehow a magic thing. "Are you...a lesser fairy...?" he ventured, hoping he was finally figuring something out and not just repeating the accusations his dad would make.

Link just tilts his head. Tony must not know anything about fairies, because Link would have thought it very obvious that he isn't one. Lesser or greater. He's not several inches tall and glowing, for one.

"I'm a Hylian," he says.

This did not answer Tony's question either way, leaving him giving a slow nod with narrowed eyes, not sure what he was meant to do with this word. Not that it mattered very much whether Link was a fairy, because that really didn't help Tony understand his deal any better, and gentle probing with the hope that Link might divulge something revealing kept on producing results like 'Hylian'. "Uh-huh, well, if that means you're allergic to silver or whatever--You know what, you can figure that out," he quickly decided against, instead of falling into that trap again. "If those don't work for you, maybe a Great Fairy will take them, too," he said instead, with another vague flap of his hand toward the package on the desk.

Link blinks, wondering for a moment why he would be allergic to silver. But he doesn't wonder for long, because then Tony points out the package. And Link realises that Tony has brought him something.

Immediately, Link moves towards it to open it up. Is this his shield? He didn't think Tony would make this so quickly!

But then he pauses, wrapping only half open, and looks back at Tony with a faintly guilty air. "...But I haven't found your shield yet," he says. "Or book." And yet here Tony is, giving Link something when he hasn't held up his end of the bargain.

Edited 2023-05-04 19:37 (UTC)

The leaf was wrapped around something that Link hadn't asked for at all. Inside, there was what looked like a bracelet--or a bracer, wide and strong, in a smooth, polished silver. A silky coil of fabric slipped out from tucked into the curve of it, heavy and practically luminescent. It had to be unravelled to reveal a very small, shimmering shirt, the hems of its sleeves connected to the waist like bat wings.

Tony rolled his eyes toward the ceiling like he couldn't see any of that guilt, hands up to insist, "It's warmer out now, it'll be easier to look." Then, flapping, "And your new toys can help." When he dropped his hands, he balled one into a fist and brought it back up against his chest with an emphasized flick, the back of his hand aimed toward the ground then toward Link to hold the hand against his heart like he was taking an oath. Repeating the illustration with the bracer would activate the hard light shield, a slightly squat oval with a sharp ridge down the centre that would cut through dirt.

Link's uncertainty in the fact of getting gifts he hasn't actually earned yet soon disappears in the fact of shiny new things. He can't help but eagerly look what Tony's given him, his eyes going wide as he admires them.

Look at the shirt! It's got wings! And the shield - it's made of light!

"Like an ancient Sheikah Shield!" he says, as he reaches out to touch the hard light. If it's anything like those, it won't just be good for shield surfing - it'll be good for deflecting, as well.

Link's enthusiasm was appreciated, almost enough to make Tony forget that he was trying to slink away from being caught snooping, until he went and called Tony's work ancient. The other word was entirely unfamiliar, but that didn't stop Tony from touching a delicate hand to his chest, a futurist wounded by this accusation. The place that Link came from got more inscrutable by the minute.

"You'll have to show me what a newer shield can do," he said, gingerly for his bruised ego, but still intrigued by what technology Link could have been familiar with if this was ancient. "We can always improve." The shield, meanwhile, felt solid despite the sheer, wavering light that made its shape, and Tony gestured to encourage Link to take it and pull it free from the emitter. He could throw it, if he really needed to. Some people were into that.

Unfortunately, Tony's got it all wrong. Technological development in Link's world was not a forward progression of improvements. He looks at Tony, faintly puzzled.

"...Newer shields usually aren't as good," he says. There were a few that could compare - or even beat - the Ancient Sheikah Shields. But those were rare. And often in the hands of lynels, which made getting them...difficult.

This was a rare success then, and Tony still struggled to take it, really not sure he could accept that he was making ancient technology, but managed to try to convince himself, "It's good, then. Good. That's good." Maybe Link's whole deal was that he was really into old stuff, which wasn't particularly rare for magic people. They tended to be old, they were obsessed with dusty books, it was part of the package. That didn't stop Tony from having to press, "What happened?"

Link knowledge of his own home's history is limited. He probably knew more once, but lost that knowledge along with his memories. All he knows are what he happens to have been told in the year or so since he woke up.

Fortunately, this is one piece of history he does know.

"The Sheikah were forced to give up their technology," he says.

That was immediately darker than Tony was anticipating, and he kind of regretted asking, sure that he wouldn't personally be enthusiastic about explaining whatever oppressive colonialism led to some strange cultural fragment to this kid. Mostly because they didn't share nearly enough of the same language. "Sorry," he blurted, then twirled a hand, rolling his eyes, not trying to take responsibility for this force, still somehow feeling guilty. "Sorry that...This kind of stuff is pretty new, where I'm from. Cutting edge. Have you used one of those, the ancient ones? They still work? Are you surfing on ancient artifacts?" He couldn't even distract himself for very long.

Link isn't really sure why Tony feels the need to apologise. After all, Link isn't Sheikah. His people weren't the ones forced to give something up. And it was a long, long time ago.

But the technology is definitely still around, so he nods his head several times. Yes, he's used them. Yes, he's surfed on them.

No, he did not ever stop to think that perhaps he shouldn't surf down a mountainside on an ancient relic.

"Also Ancient weapons. And the Sheikah Slate," he adds.

There was something of a theme between the shield and the weapons which did not help Tony decipher what the Sheikah Slate was. Abruptly, he asked, "Do you know how to write?," realizing that maybe they had just been working in the wrong medium this whole time. "Not--that's not because you don't look like you're literate, it's just not an assumption a guy can make around here, maybe your people were forced to give up writing, too, I don't know."

Link blinks. "...Yes?" He didn't realise that was something that was in question.

Although, it does occur to Link that perhaps Tony's a little confused about the timeline. "The Sheikah buried their technology a long time ago," he says. And the King who'd forced them to do it was long, long since dead.

Sometimes, Link just volunteered information that would have been much more difficult to get if Tony had just asked, and this time it made Tony bite his tongue with narrowly frustrated eyes, hand up to try to capture whatever that equation was. No, stay on track, "You should write this stuff down. For--for Jon, for the library," he suggested. "A history, an alien factsheet, you know, listen, if someone else like you shows up, we can make a connection." Those were all very logical reasons.

Vacillate

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