Mermay!!

[pursuitofcappiness]

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: all around
WHAT: MERMAY
WHEN: MERMAY
WARNINGS: ....MERMAY

darling it's better

Steve can be found on his now early-morning swim around town, zipping past anyone. He'll happily deliver anything to anyone within the confines of Temba, for any reason, in the early morning, since he makes a whole loop around. He's faster than a shark, but he's got a rather ostentatious blue tail, with red and white striped fins.

He seems to be in a decent mood, if only because he's having trouble with a lot of his memories of the past that don't reconcile with his ones of being a merman. Anytime he tries too hard to wonder why there's a lack of water if he thinks too hard, the memory disappears like seafoam.

He's having one of those such moments, paused mid-fin flip, eyes in concentration as he starts to sink, but then, he shakes his head, and keeps swimming. That was weird!

down where it's wetter

Sitting on a rock somewhere, Steve's drawing things into the sand. If you ask, he could make a whole series of drawings, each of them replacing the last, ephemeral in nature, washed away by the waves.

"I can try drawing you next," he offers. He's not sure how portraits will work out in the sand, but he'll give it a good college try.

take it from me!

[ cw: injury ]

Having swum through a whole nest of sea urchins in order to grab one, somehow Steve'd accidentally loosened a whole bunch of them, and they'd fallen, mostly on his tail.

He swims out of there quickly, but he has lots of barbs sticking out. He pauses to pull one out, only to manage to accidentally shatter a few of the ones in a cluster and leave them further embedded into his tail. Trying to violently flip it doesn't really help, either. He needs to swim somewhere he can sit down and address this as best as he can.

"Tell me you have tweezers on you," he requests of the nearest He-Row that he finds.

Comments

2

[faceguy]

Leo's on his way past said rock, when he hears Steve speak up. He swims over to take a look, all four flippers propelling him as he swims. He's still a turtle, just a sea turtle now instead of a slider. It doesn't stop him from being as colorful as usual, though.

The offer immediately gets him lighting up, settling onto a rock across from Steve and posing dramatically.

"Get my good side."

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve smiles at him and starts, poking his stick around the sand. "They're all your good sides, Leo."

But he's glad that Leo's feeling good, because he knows Tony was worried about that. So he asks: "Did you like the gameboy?"

[faceguy]

Leo’s not doing that well, but he does what he always does with unpleasant emotions: shoves them down as far as he can so no one knows they’re even there. He can plaster on his face-man smile just fine.

His smile gets wider when Steve says that - he catches on quick! And is absolutely right.

Though the question manages to make his smile droop, turning to confusion.

“Huh? What gameboy?”

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve keeps drawing, every so often looking up at Leo, but he's also slightly confused. "What do you mean?" he asks. "Didn't Tony come over with the gameboy?"

And then, realization settles on his face.

Only. It's the wrong kind.

"Is that not what it's called? It's like a, handheld. Videogame, I think he said."

[faceguy]

“Uh yeah, that’s what a gameboy is.” They’re old, from Leo’s perspective (he was born after the Gameboy Advance released), but his family uses a lot of old tech so he’s familiar. “But uh, why was Tony supposed to bring me one?”

Leo hasn’t seen that guy since the whole pod fiasco.

3!!

[in_extremis]

Someone coming clattering into the hangar wasn't completely unexpected, the ships had the most generous accommodations, after all, but it was rare enough that Tony startled with a final sharp twang as his claw snapped a guitar string in his surprise. The second one already, which was a brief distraction that had him glaring at his hand like it was an unfamiliar enemy, definitely not used to being so accident prone. That did at least leave him laying very still, and when he was able to put aside his frustration with himself he kept the hand suspended like that, cautiously listening for movement. Of course, he wasn't lucky enough that they hadn't heard him, the music must have been audible outside. He only relaxed slightly, letting his hand drop onto his chest, by the second word as he recognized the voice.

"Usually," he answered before he was rolling up from his back on the top of the Glitter Food and came slithering far enough to peer over the edge with the headstock of the guitar tucked under his chin, down at Steve. "Jesus, what happened to you?" he was startled again, not prepared for Steve's new fashion statement.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve had, in fact, heard the music. He had thought it was quite nice, except for the snapped string, which he's sure that he'd caused. It's a shame, really, because on any other day, he would've liked to hear Tony play.

Despite his entrance, Steve crosses his arms over his chest and tries to ignore the pain, plenty of spines sticking out of his tail making him look like a porcupine, some others just snapped close to the skin, and some others making black bumps underneath his beautiful tail.

He looks like a pathetic morningstar.

"Swam through a nest of sea urchin," is what he says, as he takes a bag off his shoulder and lets it fall to the floor, full of the stuff. "Thought maybe we could have some uni."

[in_extremis]

A foraging misadventure was a much funnier answer than Tony had braced himself for, surprising him again with a bubble of a laugh that still ended with a pitying sigh. He was already on his way down when he cautioned, "Don't move around too much, Winghead," so those spines couldn't get embedded even further before Tony could deal with them. The guitar hit the ground carelessly with a hollow thunk next to the bag of urchins as Tony threw it aside to wrap an arm around Steve instead and drift him over to the light spilling down the steps of the waiting transport shuttle. "Your romantic evening can still be salvaged," he promised, "But maybe bring a big bouquet, or something really shiny, too."

[pursuitofcappiness]

His ear fins deflate a little when Tony laughs at him, but he supposes he deserves it, as he floats on over and lets Tony carry him the rest of the way. "Wasn't a romantic evening," he says. "I was gonna deliver some. Thought maybe you'd want one. You and Jan."

Only because they were the fanciest people he knows, so maybe they'd actually like the taste, or know what to do with it.

[in_extremis]

That first part must not have stuck, because Tony purred, "At the same time? Ambitious," as he directed Steve onto the stairs where he could see best. His tools weren't too far, but the same deft claws that sliced easily through metal guitar strings made for fine tweezers, at least for the moment and enough that suited Tony's impatience. He'd hardly made sure Steve was settled before he was sinking down into the coil of his own tail to coax Steve's fin into his lap and start meticulously searching there first for any delicate spines that he might miss without the feathery sweep over Steve's brilliant stripes. The water fizzed as his currents sought out any iron that Tony couldn't see dispersed in the water.

Take It From Me (I guess this implies it happened to him twice. Silly fish)

[butterfly_kiss]

And isn't he a lucky little boy, coming right up on Tae with her delicate fingers and doctor coat and pockets full of medical instruments. Got to say a lot of how she has come to feel about the sensibility of everyone in this damn place if she was going to just swim around with first aid kits, right?

At least she seems rather comfortable in her body, with a tail as long as she used to be tall, striped in black and dark teal, and settling around herself in a graceful coil almost like a serpent as she settles before him. Immediately she's taking a small plastic kit out and opening it up.

"Did you lose a fight with a reef, Mister Rogers? I would expect that of some of the children, but I would think you would be more sensible."

Apparently being a mer had not changed who she was and how she acted in the slightest.

[pursuitofcappiness]

No, being a mer had not made him more sensible. In fact, it makes him even worse, because there's just something happy and freeing about being in the water, and having that feeling on his skin. He's got a speckling of freckles from the constant sun exposure filtering in from the water, swimming up by the top of the bubble.

"You should see the reef," he responds, smiling. But yes, he did in fact, lose the fight. "Got a whole bunch of sea urchin though, if you'd like a few."

Hopefully, they wouldn't go to waste, considering the lengths he went through to get them.

[butterfly_kiss]

"I'm a large fan of properly prepared urchin. Of course, we first have to deal with this."

What a foolish man. But she's got the tweezers out, she's settled just short of curled around him, and she's immediately turning her attention to the work. Which she's quick and skilled with.

"You know there are better ways to collect them that don't involve such a mess of your flesh.":

[pursuitofcappiness]

"Yes," he responds, feeling properly chastised. "But I've never gone see urchin diving before." Though, that feels very strange too, because surely, since he's always been a merman, that can't be the case? He must've been taught at some point, and he must have had memories of how not to do it to get caught by a whole cluster of them.

"I'll be more careful next time."

[butterfly_kiss]

"Different reefs have different ways to pass the time I suppose."

But more careful earns an approving noise from the back of her throat. Sort of a trill. Did mermaids trill? Apparently this one does.

"I would advise it. These are rather dangerous. You don't want an infection to set in."

..---

[buildingitsir]

York's managed to shake off Reeve for the moment, and has gone exploring on the floor again. Thankfully there's enough spots for him to bury himself if he feels too threatened - and has only had to do that twice so far.

But this time he comes across one of the bigger mers doing something in the sand. Getting closer... he was drawing?

Weirdo.

The small cephalomer swims upward and arcs over to get a better look. Until Steve addresses him after all. "No point, the waves are just going to wash it away, aren't they?

[pursuitofcappiness]

"Well, yeah," he admits, but then he brightens up, saying: "But you'll remember what it looks like. And so will I." The waves are kind of part of the process, they just transform the canvas.

But if York doesn't want a portrait, then, that's alright too. He won't be offended. Still, he has a really nice tail. Steve doesn't look at a lot of cephalomers up close, so, it would be nice to study how his tail even functions.

[buildingitsir]

A cephalomer and he was small, too, compared to others who were far bigger than him roaming the city waters. York doesn't look really convinced, or impressed, and crosses his arms over the LED still in his chest. Bioluminescence around it glows in the matching teal color. His tentacles fidget here and there to keep him in place.

He shifts until he's in front of Steve, with the drawing between them for space. "You're not too bad of an artist at least. Think you can capture me with your skills then?" York looks a little smug, like it'd be a challenge of some kind.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve nods, taking a once-over at York. The tentacles might actually be easier to draw with the moving sand - the way the muscles expand and contract is so different to how they do on fins and tails, and it's something that Steve thinks the energy and ephemeralness of the sand might be able to capture better.

He picks up a stick which is his current stylus of choice, and starts on a little drawing for York. If nothing else, the likeness of his face is surprisingly good for something made in sand.

[buildingitsir]

His tentacles only have a little movement, curling and uncurling a little as he bobs in the water with the current. York doesn't mind that he's different from everyone else. He's always been different and he knows it. It's always been like that.

There's patience, apparently, as York holds as still as he can and keep in one place, while Steve draws. The drawing is easy to follow along with, those teal eyes watching the movements easily. "That's definitely my face. At least you were nice enough to keep the scars off," he gestures with a couple of waves towards the sand to indicate what he was referring to. "Maybe you do have a talent. Look really buff to be an artist though."

2;

[sinistral]

"You don't want to draw me," comes the reply from behind a rocky outcropping. The voice probably tells Steve enough about who it is, even if he's not appearing right away. He hasn't appeared a lot lately at all, too visibly damaged to want to let people see, too unwilling to deal with the inevitable questions.

But Steve isn't so bad, not really. He doesn't ask out loud at least, which helps.

"Draw something nice instead. Something like—" a park, his brain wants to say, but that doesn't make sense. The image he had clearly just a second ago slips away faster than a changing current, crowds and pavilions and music and not a drop of water in sight and it doesn't make sense at all.

"Something nice," he finishes, the words sounding lame to his ears.

[pursuitofcappiness]

"What makes you say I don't wanna draw you?" he asks, eyebrow raised. For the first thing, Steve doesn't mind drawing anything, regardless of what he personally feels about how something looks or how nice it is. He'd be happy studying the lights and shadows on a rock as he would figuring out the color shift on a peacock tail.

But the other thing is: he does want to draw Soldier, and he refrains whenever he gets the chance because he always finds portrait drawing has a certain level of intimacy in looking at someone enough to put their face to paper. So he wants to ask - and it's okay if the answer's no, but it's definitely not on account of him not being nice, whatever that means.

And on the other hand, Steve'd drawn Bucky so many times before that he didn't actually need to look to draw him, in sand or clay, pen or paint.

[sinistral]

He doesn't really answer the question, because what answer can he give? He can't tell Steve what he should or shouldn't draw. He can't tell Steve what he should or shouldn't find a good subject, or interesting, or pretty, or whatever.

"Got nothing better to draw?" It's not a challenge, more an idle question as he comes out from behind the rocks, finally. It's not a straight path to Steve's side but more of a meandering thing, flesh-and-blood tentacles shifting from their rock-colored camouflage back to deep red, metal appendages moving a little more stiffly. Like this he's very visible against the pale sand, but he doesn't exactly need to hide from Steve, does he?

Finally making it to Steve's side, he looks at the sand but the previous picture is largely washed away. "What were you drawing?"

[pursuitofcappiness]

The previous drawing has already washed away from the sand, and so too will the portrait of Soldier. Though Steve hasn't seen him, and though he can't remember all the other metal limbs he has, he isn't surprised for some reason. But he is confused how he'd forget that detail.

"Why don't you guess what it was, while I draw you?" he suggests, swimming around him to check out the lighting. When he's satisfied, he takes the stick, and starts up his drawing.

[sinistral]

He gives Steve a flat look at the suggestion of guessing. How is he supposed to know what catches Steve's fancy at any given moment? But at least he stays relatively still while Steve studies him, though the tips of two tentacles sort and shift through the sand, always moving. Textures are curious to him like this, and he doesn't know why that should be such a novelty.

"A fish," he replies, deliberately vague. Something tells him it's a little bit normal to be obstinate with Steve, at least in a joking way.