James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes | ɹǝᴉploS ɹǝʇuᴉM ǝɥ┴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sinistral) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2024-03-15 11:48 pm
sinistral) wrote in revivalproject2024-03-15 11:48 pm
11 | Time is a valuable thing
WHO: the Soldier (sinistral) and you
WHERE: Spaceport NG-102
WHAT: being a space celebrity is weird
WHEN: during the second phase of the Problems with Portals event; as for what actual order things are going on, what is time really
WARNINGS: n/a in top levels; will update if that changes in threads
SPACEPORT
→ A Hint of Recognition;
→ What's in a Name;
→ It's Only Popularity;
STUDIO
→ Before Class;
→ After Class;
ELSEWHERE
→ Those Are Great Starters, But...;
→ Wildcard;
sinistral) and youWHERE: Spaceport NG-102
WHAT: being a space celebrity is weird
WHEN: during the second phase of the Problems with Portals event; as for what actual order things are going on, what is time really
WARNINGS: n/a in top levels; will update if that changes in threads
SPACEPORT
→ A Hint of Recognition;
The first few days at the spaceport quickly established in the Soldier's mind that if deliberate design went into its layout, the designer must have been a heavy drinker. He could find no logic in the way anything was laid out. Perhaps there was no logic, expansions slapped on wherever someone had the whim, or could fill the needs of a quickly growing population. On the plus side, the almost chaotic nature of the place also seemed to give rise to a huge variety of shops and eateries and other facilities, a literal something-for-everyone, no matter what shape anyone took.
Diversity at its finest. And most unusually shaped.
While the Agrii had sent their He Rows on a specific mission, the Soldier also recognized the opportunity to search out some personal wants: clothing, small tools, maybe a few items for the shelter Billy wanted to build. His wants had to come second to anything that was needed for repairs to the Agrii ship but seeing what was available certainly couldn't hurt. In his time in the Fleet, the Soldier had been no stranger to taking on odd jobs at their various stops to gain funds or barter for goods; he planned on taking that approach here as well. He only had to find out what price the shop would ask for the item that had caught his eye in this particular establishment; knowing the price, he'd try to exchange labor for its cost. It was with that plan in mind that he approached what seemed to be the sales counter.
What happened when the alien standing behind the flat counterspace turned around surprised him.
"Bucky Barnes!" the clerk exclaimed, weirdly heavy, elongated accent on the long E sound, and followed by a burst of something in another language. "Bucky Barnes, from Drifty Fleet!"
The Soldier blinked, looking uncomfortable for a moment. "I used to be there, yes," he finally answered, clearly a little surprised at the recognition. He looked around, a brief, furtive motion. Had anyone overheard?
Diversity at its finest. And most unusually shaped.
While the Agrii had sent their He Rows on a specific mission, the Soldier also recognized the opportunity to search out some personal wants: clothing, small tools, maybe a few items for the shelter Billy wanted to build. His wants had to come second to anything that was needed for repairs to the Agrii ship but seeing what was available certainly couldn't hurt. In his time in the Fleet, the Soldier had been no stranger to taking on odd jobs at their various stops to gain funds or barter for goods; he planned on taking that approach here as well. He only had to find out what price the shop would ask for the item that had caught his eye in this particular establishment; knowing the price, he'd try to exchange labor for its cost. It was with that plan in mind that he approached what seemed to be the sales counter.
What happened when the alien standing behind the flat counterspace turned around surprised him.
"Bucky Barnes!" the clerk exclaimed, weirdly heavy, elongated accent on the long E sound, and followed by a burst of something in another language. "Bucky Barnes, from Drifty Fleet!"
The Soldier blinked, looking uncomfortable for a moment. "I used to be there, yes," he finally answered, clearly a little surprised at the recognition. He looked around, a brief, furtive motion. Had anyone overheard?
→ What's in a Name;
By the end of the first week the Soldier started to realize that to make any sort of positive progress at the spaceport, he'd have to embrace the man he was back in the Fleet, the man he'd all but abandoned since the Agrii decided to bring him into their collection of He Rows (or kidnapees to put a different and still accurate perspective on it). He'd taken care of some small personal upkeep items — a haircut, obtaining better shaving supplies, tools that would be useful in maintaining his prosthetic — and had taken to walking around with the metal arm uncovered, shiny and gleaming and very recognizable.
And he was recognized. Sometimes simply walking down the thoroughfare, sometimes perusing a shop or standing in line at an eatery; aliens of all shapes and sizes not only recognized him, but called him by the old name, the name he'd used in the Fleet and given up when another had wanted it: Bucky Barnes. After a few attempts at correcting the latest crowd — and agreeing to photos on the weirdest looking alien cell phone things he'd seen yet — he assented to the name though it felt awkward, like a jacket cut to fit someone else. He answered a few more questions before finally being able to excuse himself (not without a second coffee pressed into his hands by a winking barista, if it was even called winking in an alien with a single eye).
"For your Day of Birth!" it chirped at him; he groaned inwardly. The Soldier preferred not to celebrate it but there had been that one party in the Fleet, a shared affair that had seen a long talk with Wanda. Apparently alien cultures placed as much emphasis on celebrity birthdays as humans on earth, and he didn't want to seem rude or make a larger scene by refusing the gift. Best to make a hasty exit.
Turning away from the counter he made his way toward the entrance, having to jockey both cups into one hand to open the door. Or perhaps someone beat him to it, opening it on the way in while he was making his way out. Either way the Soldier né Bucky Barnes met the eyes of another of the Agrii's He Rows, giving a brief, tight nod. "Thanks."
And he was recognized. Sometimes simply walking down the thoroughfare, sometimes perusing a shop or standing in line at an eatery; aliens of all shapes and sizes not only recognized him, but called him by the old name, the name he'd used in the Fleet and given up when another had wanted it: Bucky Barnes. After a few attempts at correcting the latest crowd — and agreeing to photos on the weirdest looking alien cell phone things he'd seen yet — he assented to the name though it felt awkward, like a jacket cut to fit someone else. He answered a few more questions before finally being able to excuse himself (not without a second coffee pressed into his hands by a winking barista, if it was even called winking in an alien with a single eye).
"For your Day of Birth!" it chirped at him; he groaned inwardly. The Soldier preferred not to celebrate it but there had been that one party in the Fleet, a shared affair that had seen a long talk with Wanda. Apparently alien cultures placed as much emphasis on celebrity birthdays as humans on earth, and he didn't want to seem rude or make a larger scene by refusing the gift. Best to make a hasty exit.
Turning away from the counter he made his way toward the entrance, having to jockey both cups into one hand to open the door. Or perhaps someone beat him to it, opening it on the way in while he was making his way out. Either way the Soldier né Bucky Barnes met the eyes of another of the Agrii's He Rows, giving a brief, tight nod. "Thanks."
→ It's Only Popularity;
In a way, being in the spaceport was easier than being on the Peanut Party or on the Agrii ship. There were many, many more aliens about in the spaceport, and the Soldier knew how to get lost in a crowd. Even if he didn't have the most anonymity given the apparent popularity of the Drift Fleet broadcasts, it felt easier to be among strangers than among the people from Temba or Sh'Ka. And given that popularity seemed to give him certain advantages, he'd started to cast off some of the reclusive nature he'd adopted over the past years. While he would never have the tolerance to be a social butterfly he had certainly been more approachable, back on the Starduck. Pulling on that attitude was like pulling an old leather jacket out of storage: stiff and uncomfortable at first, becoming more comfortable with a little wearing in.
He had caught a transport close to where the Peanut Party and Glitter Food were docked; the ride passed uneventfully. Disembarking however proved to be interesting; he hadn't anticipated the approach of a gaggle of aliens who were either giggling, or communicating in a way that his own Atroma-given implant couldn't translate. He shook his head and tried a few words in English, then again in Russian and in German, but nothing came close to any of the sounds these particular aliens made. From the point of view of an onlooker though, the encounter looked like exactly what it was: a group of fangirls who had just run into their celebrity crush.
Save him? Mock him? Something else?
He had caught a transport close to where the Peanut Party and Glitter Food were docked; the ride passed uneventfully. Disembarking however proved to be interesting; he hadn't anticipated the approach of a gaggle of aliens who were either giggling, or communicating in a way that his own Atroma-given implant couldn't translate. He shook his head and tried a few words in English, then again in Russian and in German, but nothing came close to any of the sounds these particular aliens made. From the point of view of an onlooker though, the encounter looked like exactly what it was: a group of fangirls who had just run into their celebrity crush.
Save him? Mock him? Something else?
STUDIO
→ Before Class;
The Soldier — Bucky, he had to be Bucky here — could have easily just stayed aboard his ship and avoided the whole popularity thing entirely. But they — the Agrii and their "He Rows" — needed the supplies that could be bought on the station, and his popularity put him in a good position to capitalize on it. Really, he could do exactly what he did in the Fleet: teach self defense classes. Finding several facilities willing not only to let him use the space but pay him to instruct said classes had been surprisingly easy.
Almost too easy, but he refused to allow himself to dwell on that.
Mats filled this particular space, the kind found in martial arts of gymnastics facilities and meant to cushion against falls to prevent injury. Various other pieces of equipment could be found at the perimeter of the room, though the Soldier didn't plan to make use of any of it in his classes. He stood near the front of the room as students filtered in, dressed simply in black tactical pants and a maroon tee; the shiny silver of his prosthetic arm practically gleamed in contrast, a deliberate choice. Looking up, he saw a fellow He Row at the door and waved the person over.
"Here as a student or to observe?" he asked, when the other person came within conversational range.
Almost too easy, but he refused to allow himself to dwell on that.
Mats filled this particular space, the kind found in martial arts of gymnastics facilities and meant to cushion against falls to prevent injury. Various other pieces of equipment could be found at the perimeter of the room, though the Soldier didn't plan to make use of any of it in his classes. He stood near the front of the room as students filtered in, dressed simply in black tactical pants and a maroon tee; the shiny silver of his prosthetic arm practically gleamed in contrast, a deliberate choice. Looking up, he saw a fellow He Row at the door and waved the person over.
"Here as a student or to observe?" he asked, when the other person came within conversational range.
→ After Class;
With class ended the Soldier stayed long enough to answer questions from the various students, sometimes demonstrating a move again and sometimes having to promise to visit one establishment or another. It took him a few moments before he could extract himself from the last conversation, looking up to see a fellow He Row near the entrance and using their presence to move the encounter to its close.
"I didn't notice you in the class," he said as he approached. "Were you looking for me?"
"I didn't notice you in the class," he said as he approached. "Were you looking for me?"
ELSEWHERE
→ Those Are Great Starters, But...;
You'd prefer a scene leading up to one of the situations above? Your character saw an interaction and would rather approach a few hours later? Make some tweaks and leave me a starter and I'll roll with it.
→ Wildcard;
Have another idea entirely? Come at me here, plot with me here, or hit me up at ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
sometimesamuse or via PM. Want a more specific starter for your character? Let me know, I got you. Want to handwave something? I'm fine with that as well, let's hash it out; there's a lot this guy can get up to given his Drift Fleet past and I am all about the shenanigans. And as always, while I write starters in prose I'm happy to match brackets if that's your preference.
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