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revivalproject2020-02-27 06:59 pm
brooklyn_boy) wrote in revivalproject2020-02-27 06:59 pm
02| Steve is an idiot
WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: In a cave, in a storm, and Network. Kinda.
WHAT: Being stupid, mostly
WHEN: Once the storm starts moving
WARNINGS: Nope
Steve crouches in the cave, nursing a nasty wound he took to his side. The medical information he has from the data point is telling him how to fix it but he's lost a little bit of blood and there's no super-human healing factor that is making up for it. The wound is also in such an awkward spot that Steve can barely even look at it properly, let alone do sutures. He moves further into the cave, feeling marginally better as he does so. Maybe getting away from the storm will stop its effects on him? It is worth a chance until he can concentrate enough to stitch. Or, maybe, he will find someone there who can do it for him...
The storm is moving. Steve can barely see straight, he's so close to the center of the storm, but he can tell its moving. And, honestly, if it weren't moving toward Temba, he'd be glad to see the back of it. As it is, he knows there isn't much time. The city is still so fragile and barely back together enough for it to really take a storm like this. Not to mention the people waiting, back there. People who thought they'd be safely away from this madness and were going to be badly surprised.
Steve races back to his ship. He's not a pilot, though, so the controls are a mystery to him. He grumbles and scowls, feeling impotent before taking his comm up and hitting the network.
This is Steve Rogers of the Bishop. If there are any pilots out there, we need to get back to Temba. I'm looking for a ride and anyone else who wants to help prepare the city.
It's not the first person he's seen in the fog. Steve has been seeing these ghosts for the whole storm. People he knew. People he didn't know. People who had disappeared from here and people who had faces similar to the ones here. He'd managed mostly to ignore them all but this. This was different. This was out of his memories both from home and from before. It's enough to stop him in his tracks, storm be damned.
The Winter Soldier. Not Bucky. No. He'd refused that name. He'd refused any name at all. But there he was in his black armor, arm shining in a sun that wasn't here. He looks straight at Steve, face hard. For a second there is a moment when Steve forgets he is a ghost and almost braces for a fight. But the ghost turns and walks away. He turns, once, to glance back, and then continues walking.
And Steve, damn himself, follows.
WHERE: In a cave, in a storm, and Network. Kinda.
WHAT: Being stupid, mostly
WHEN: Once the storm starts moving
WARNINGS: Nope
Steve crouches in the cave, nursing a nasty wound he took to his side. The medical information he has from the data point is telling him how to fix it but he's lost a little bit of blood and there's no super-human healing factor that is making up for it. The wound is also in such an awkward spot that Steve can barely even look at it properly, let alone do sutures. He moves further into the cave, feeling marginally better as he does so. Maybe getting away from the storm will stop its effects on him? It is worth a chance until he can concentrate enough to stitch. Or, maybe, he will find someone there who can do it for him...
The storm is moving. Steve can barely see straight, he's so close to the center of the storm, but he can tell its moving. And, honestly, if it weren't moving toward Temba, he'd be glad to see the back of it. As it is, he knows there isn't much time. The city is still so fragile and barely back together enough for it to really take a storm like this. Not to mention the people waiting, back there. People who thought they'd be safely away from this madness and were going to be badly surprised.
Steve races back to his ship. He's not a pilot, though, so the controls are a mystery to him. He grumbles and scowls, feeling impotent before taking his comm up and hitting the network.
This is Steve Rogers of the Bishop. If there are any pilots out there, we need to get back to Temba. I'm looking for a ride and anyone else who wants to help prepare the city.
It's not the first person he's seen in the fog. Steve has been seeing these ghosts for the whole storm. People he knew. People he didn't know. People who had disappeared from here and people who had faces similar to the ones here. He'd managed mostly to ignore them all but this. This was different. This was out of his memories both from home and from before. It's enough to stop him in his tracks, storm be damned.
The Winter Soldier. Not Bucky. No. He'd refused that name. He'd refused any name at all. But there he was in his black armor, arm shining in a sun that wasn't here. He looks straight at Steve, face hard. For a second there is a moment when Steve forgets he is a ghost and almost braces for a fight. But the ghost turns and walks away. He turns, once, to glance back, and then continues walking.
And Steve, damn himself, follows.
no subject
The words echo in her mind and she remembers all the time she spent with James learning to fight, learning to protect herself, learning to be a person again. James, even more than Tyrion in some ways, never expected anything of her and loved her (even if he never said love) unconditionally.
She'd loved him unconditionally and never cared about the murders or the unconscionable acts. Just as the things Ramsay did to her body weren't her fault (and he'd told her that, convinced her of her worth and preciousness), the things he'd been forced to do weren't his fault. He was a good person degraded into just an object, same as she, and it'd scarred them both.
"He would never leave me," Sansa says, beginning to cry. She'd told herself she was no longer subject to tears and that she'd be a mask in the face of adversity, a steel countenance to the world instead of a weak little girl who knew nothing but James was worth crying for even if he might not think that of himself.
"I loved him so much. It...it hurts to know he went back to that horrible place. That he'd be hurt and used again. He doesn't deserve it, Steve. He deserves to be loved. He is loved."
no subject
He moves closer and wraps his arms around Sansa.
"He is loved," he agrees. "San. Listen to me: James--the one who was here-- was taken halfway through his story. Okay? I was there. I saw what comes next. And it's not all pretty... But he gets out. He reclaims himself and he knows he's loved. Okay? He knows..."
no subject
Sansa has never known anyone who understood her and what happened to her as well as James. He didn't think her weak for not fighting back every time it happened. He didn't think of her as soiled or unworthy of anything but pity. He helped her realize it wasn't her fault and it was wrong. He helped her learn how to defend herself so it never happened again. If James hadn't taught her how to use a knife, would she have even lived through the Battle of Winterfell? Could she have defended her people in the crypts? Sansa doesn't think so.
Still, she presses her face against Steve's shoulder and takes solace in his embrace for a moment longer. She'd only really gotten to know him well after losing James and she'd wanted to know him and Bucky (James, Bucky - the same person, yet time had turned Bucky too from ivory to steel, same as she.) so she could have something of the man she'd cared so deeply for in her life. Bucky wasn't her James but he was James. His heart was the same, deep down. Sansa believes this whole-heartedly.
"I knighted him. Had...had he come to Winterfell, I would have named him Captain of my Wolfguard. I would have given him the honor afforded to a knight in personal service to the Queen in the North. He didn't think he was worthy of it and didn't give his part of the oath back but if he reclaims himself as you say, perhaps one day he would have. I like to think he would have, anyway."
no subject
"Bucky. He was my best friend. He was everything for me, growing up. I was weak and sick and no one wanted to give me the time of day. We took care of each other but he... He could have done so much more if he let me go. And he never did."
Steve hasn't thought about this since Calibrations. So long ago... So, so long ago when his memories were laid out for all to see. He's not even sure if Sansa had ever learned the full history of him and Bucky, then or ever.
He scrubs a hand over his face.
"He followed me into battle. Over and over again until, one day, someone got the best of us both. He fell off that damn train and I lost... I lost everything, San. And even when that wasn't the case, when I saw him again... I still knew that loss was never gonna go away."
He puts his hands on her shoulders and lightly holds them.
"We both got to love him and had to lose him. And nothing about it is fair. Not to us and damn well not to him. But...we got to love him. And wherever he is, I'm sure he's carrying that with him. Just like we carry him."
no subject
"He used to let me do that, you know. I think that might surprise you, that he'd let me touch him, but he did. He never minded it from me. One day I would like to tell you and Bucky both what he saw and why I felt so connected to him. I cannot tell James' story, that's his alone, but I can tell you mine and tell you what he did for me and how very much it meant. We had times when we laughed together, certainly, but there were things...he had a way of speaking to me that soothed me and made me feel worth love."
She cannot see the ghost any longer but he's on her heart all the same. Sansa thinks he always will be.