revivalproject | neck of the woods

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neck of the woods

WHO: Tony and his new Graq friends. Open to other absolute morons.
WHERE: Graq homeworld
WHAT: Jungle adventures! Some animal wrangling, some spelunking, more mistakes, and a date.
WHEN: Shortly after getting all of the Graq home.
WARNINGS: I cannot promise all of these alien animals are going to be treated with dignity. Edit: I don't know what either of us expected, of course it is horny. Uh, not with the animals, the animals are fine.

a. The caverns [OTA! I have no plan for this, BYO Adventure]
One of the Graq had explained on the trip over how the satellites around their planet orbited in perfect alignment to create a solar eclipse every cycle, sheering through the light reliably every morning like the moon was late to set and met the sun coming up on the horizon. They didn't explain it quite that way, of course; at first, Tony though the Graq didn't know that a solar cycle happened on any other planets and was trying to explain what night was to him, which became frustrating enough for the alien to spit a hole into the ship floor between them. So, Tony's effortless charm didn't work in Graq language. While the Graq lacked the descriptive words to convey their message to Tony, when he finally saw the phenomenon occur he paused and went, "Oh," out loud, though his erstwhile planetary guide had long since tired of him. The great shadow of the moon passed over the planet, and with it the raucous chattering of the forest around him slowed and quieted to a very queer stillness, the nocturnal animals not yet awake and the diurnal ones holding their collective breath at this early evening. It made the sound that came from inside the cave just a few feet away from where Tony stood seem loud, and close.

b. The hills [For Cayde, but you are welcome to join]
There wasn't a perfect translation into any languages that Tony knew he might share with Cayde for the giant fowl on the planet, so when the Graq tried to describe them when asked what they were eating, what Tony said to Cayde was, "Big feather," with a shrug and raised lip. They lived on steep hills, one of the Graq very intently tried to explain despite Tony definitely not asking, because they built their nests into holes they dug into them, and because of this their eggs were incredibly hard to crack without Graq spit, so do not bother. Tony did not need this warning and, again, did not ask, but now he knew and was well prepared to announce, "Big feather egg," when they came upon what looked like shards of a hollowed rock at the foot of a craggy hill. Now he was starting to sound like one of them, he was integrating to the local culture in ways he did not appreciate. The nests, as described, dotted all the way up the hill, looking like steps built into the sheerest face of it, leaving the impression of a pyramid built into this less dense part of the jungle.

'Big feather' sounded like it was going to get Tony closer to the pillow he had hoped to find for Jon than the noodles he had hoped to get for Cayde, and upon spotting one of those birds, Tony was ready to accept that this planet was not going to produce either of these gifts for him. These people didn't yet seem to have their own bread, let alone noodle, and when the Graq had said 'big' they meant enormous. More of a sword than a feather. Not pillowy down, anyway. It went stalking across the steep hill expertly, long legs fully extended and navigating the angle with sharp claws digging in to the rock to balance its fat, bobbling body, head twitching and blinking stupidly like a chicken, only approximately the size of a dinosaur.

"I don't say this often," Tony started, and it already sounded like a lie, haughty with his chin raised as he tracked the unreasonable bird, "but I am confident I am the most beautiful thing on this planet." He definitely did say that more often than he deserved to, but in this case he had sound logic. Graq were ugly, these birds were ugly, based on this sample this whole planet's evolution tended toward squashy and wrong-sized. "Present company an ongoing consideration," he was willing to allow.

c. The water [For Jon, but you are still welcome]
This was an ideal environment for plenty of very ugly bugs and grubs. Frogs, generously. Insects, in general, were not hugely upsetting for Tony, with the distinct exception of anything cockroach-like, but he did prefer a more sterile, modern, less bug-centric experience, if it were up to him, and he was realizing that he had made the wrong choice. He could have been on a spaceship right now, in space, on a ship. With the exception of the unique mineral compound of the malleable stones, there wasn't much to Tony's taste on this primitive planet.

The locals, obviously, being local and made for this environment, loved it, and appreciated being returned safely despite the awkward introductions. With a few of their rescuers on the planet with them, the Graq decided it was an ideal time to celebrate the reunion of their families, and these strange, hairless bipeds that had made that happen for them. "They want us to join them at sunset," he had translated to the camp of He-Rows, "by the waterfall, they say is over there. Follow the river, can't miss it, it's water, it's not confusing. I don't think they're going to eat us, but don't quote me on that."

Bugs on any planet, it was a universal truth, got worse the closer it was to dusk. Tony crouched by the river as the sun went down, trying to remain curious about what this planet had to offer as he felt the waxy leaf of a vibrant lilypad in a cluster that didn't seem bothered by the meandering water, only to be smacked in the face by what he would assume to be a moth on Earth, and what he didn't want to think too hard about here. "This is a nightmare," he grumbled, wiping at his cheek to make sure it hadn't left anything behind, then glanced up at the distant sound of drumming music from the direction of what must have been this waterfall site. Fashionably late, as ever.

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For a moment, it was like Tony was on this spelunking trip with the Avengers, and he grinned over his shoulder after the Soldier as he went sliding away with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. Only, someone else would have been ready to follow that up with the assurance they could leave Tony's dead body down here, and no one would be looking for him. It was a team effort. The sensation was gone with the harsh reminder that he was up here alone, and it was still dark, and it was going to keep being dark until they got out of here.

With much less grace, he came skidding down the slope in his own shower of rocks, still grabbing for handholds hopefully instead of letting them carry him down with the kind of trust in the process the Soldier seemed to have. With the light the Soldier had given him clutched against his palm the whole time, already a weak beam, it tracked him down with a faint, reddish glow, and in the last few, jerky feet, Tony was muttering, "Is this what you were doing down here before? This is what you do for fun. Not that I'm judging, I'm just partial to some Mario Kart and a nap myself."

That grin shocked him; usually such expressions weren't directed at the Soldier, and he certainly didn't inspire them in others. He pushed it from his mind. It likely wasn't for him; Tony didn't really know him, and any familiarity there was likely a result of knowing another maybe-Bucky-Barnes-maybe-Winter-Soldier. His only priority in this was getting Tony out of the caverns in one piece. That was the only thing that mattered.

To that end he did track Tony's progress down the slope — the light, however faint, made it easy to stay where Tony would end up, ready in case he actually did need to catch the man. He wasn't so much of an asshole that he would want Tony injured in this venture. "You're definitely judging me," he replied. "I welcome the challenge. Let me see your hands."

The landing wasn't completely terrible, just slightly wobbly as Tony tried to navigate around the gathered detritus at the foot of the slope, and if he reached for the Soldier's arm again it was just to make sure he was there and they were both still holding it together, obviously. "Well, yeah, constantly. You caught me," he admitted. "Have any confessions, make my life easy?"

Meanwhile, he was trying to get a better sense of this space, listening to how the sound bounced and waving the faint light around. It was damp, but it didn't sound like water had pooled anywhere, and the echo crunched through the uneven ground where the rocks had gathered, making it difficult to sense where another passage might be, either to escape or to anticipate another pursuit. "What?" he asked warily, not expecting that command, and slow to raise his arms where he kept his hands still close to his body. "I still have the--thing, look, I didn't lose it, you can have it," he guessed, wiggling the light again.

Edited (wow don't look at me) 2020-09-24 21:38 (UTC)

The landing was actually better than the Soldier expected; Tony might not have even needed to grab for his arm. But better that he did perhaps; in the smaller tunnel it was easy to stay close, but it could be trickier in the larger space, especially if they were forced to turn off the light. Fortunately though it seemed as if their presence still went largely unnoticed, which meant that for the moment he could focus on his companion as Tony got his feet firmly under him. "No," he replied simply. "I don't have to share my story."

If it had the sound of something he said a lot, well. He did in fact say it a lot, and in varying degrees of forcefulness. It still amazed him how many people continued to push even after the first simple no.

"Your hands," he repeated, rolling his eyes. "My hand can't get torn up by rocks. Yours can." He paused, then added a clarification: "I'm not asking for the light back, I'm asking if you're injured." And he didn't really trust Tony to be truthful about it.

"Sure, you don't have to..." Tony muttered, reading that tone well enough not to outright push it, but pushing was very much in his nature. Hanging around Tony was definitely going to lead to him needling or manipulating information into his hands, one way or another, and framing it as a casual unburdening would probably be the least irritating.

He held his hands up in front of his own face, squinting in the dark like that did anything and he couldn't outright feel that he had done plenty of scratching and scraping on the way down, but reported quickly, "Great, all good, thanks for asking, very sweet of you." How injured Tony was didn't really rank on their list of problems to solve, as far as he was concerned, but did use their time to say, careless with the context, "But you can feel it." Just a guess, and he wasn't just going to ignore an opportunity to find out more about the arm.

"You're right." He could tell that Tony wasn't pleased, but at least he didn't start outwardly arguing the point either. That was how this conversation usually went, after all; the Soldier said no, and the person to whom he was talking immediately argued his choice, as if his own free will meant nothing. As if they had to know, and didn't understand the line between need and want.

The Soldier was allowed to want things now. It was a novel concept.

"You know how dark it is down here," he said, taking one of Tony's hands in his left, running the fingertips of his right hand over the palm. "No real significant light source at all. The creatures here probably don't hunt by sight, they'd have to hunt by sound and smell." He dropped the hand, moved on to examine the other one. "And blood has a very distinct smell."

But Tony hadn't been lying, as his hands were a little battered but the skin wasn't broken.

"Always am. You know, if we're going to keep having these great little vacations together, and, you know, we should make this a regular thing, like a scheduled shared nightmare, that's something you should keep in--ah." One of them had to be talkative, and Tony was happy to shoulder that burden and listen to his own voice, until the Soldier taking his hand effectively shut him down. Right. No one had to talk. Tony pressed his lips together, then blew out a heavy breath, trying to release the anxiety that would make him start talking again, head tilting in the dark like he could sense better what the Soldier was doing if he listened. Either he was right handed, very likely, or the metal arm didn't have the kind of sensory feedback that Tony had guessed at, to make a close examination. His fingers twitched, ticklish, making it more difficult to concentrate on what the Soldier did have to say, so for a moment Tony only had a dismissive, "Uh-huh," for him when he seemed to be done.

Processing more effectively with his hands back, Tony dropped his voice to play back, "Don't bleed, got it," as he cradled his own hands against his chest, then turned back to consider their options. Slippery hill with a worm on top on one side, darkness on the other. "C'mon," he muttered, swinging in the light in the direction he chose to follow the slope along, hoping they would encounter a wall to follow shortly. Tony knew how to find his way out of a maze, this couldn't be that different.

"Doubtful," he shot back, though with little heat. Tony was welcome to all the conjecture he wanted about their association outside of the present situation; the Soldier was pretty certain that it was just talk. "You know other people who are better vacation company than I am."

Or better company for pretty much everything; he got the impression that they didn't have much in common at all. Case in point: Tony's tendency to talk. Though his talking seemed impaired by the temporary capture of his hands, and the Soldier wondered briefly at the adage about people who talked with their hands could be silenced simply by holding the appendages. Perhaps there was some truth in it.

"Advice you should probably follow even outside these caves." Generally speaking, bleeding was bad; blood belonged inside the body.

He fell into step with Tony though, walking a little closer than before — hopefully, should Tony slip again, the Soldier would catch him this time. He drew the line at holding onto the other man though, not unless they deemed it necessary. "I was in a cavern like this earlier," he eventually offered. "There were some stalagmites clustered on the floor, they looked like five fingers, with the middle one sticking above the others. If we see it, then this might be the same cavern and I could find my way out again."

That sounded enough like a setup for a bad joke that Tony laughed anyway at the idea of this being the Soldier's sense of humour, rude rock formations. "I'll keep an eye out," he accepted, since the Soldier was handing out such life-changing advice, he was on a roll. He stepped more confidently as they reached the cavern wall, and he could keep a light hand on it as they followed it along, searching for the next path to nowhere great. The silent companionship thing made him less confident, though, and very soon he was talking again, not necessarily to the Soldier, "Hey, is your New York the Ice Age or whatever, or did you get to spend some time there? I'm telling you, this smell, this dampness that's been here too long and there's probably cockroaches dead in it, it smells exactly like that one leaky freezer in every bodega, I'm, honestly, having flashbacks. I can practically taste the coffee. I'd fight that worm for a bodega coffee."

"While you do, I'll keep an eye out for more worms." Since Tony had been so kind as to find the first one. Privately he hoped it'd be their only one, because he didn't know Tony's fighting style and the caverns seemed far from the best place to learn.

Or maybe they were the best place to learn, and these were just bad circumstances. In any event, he'd be happy enough to not run into a worm and have to worry about protecting someone else at the same time.

"I don't really know New York," he admits. "Not... not as a local, I guess." He knew it for other reasons, ones he didn't like thinking about and others that he really didn't like thinking about. Best not to dwell upon it but rather to steer Tony toward other thoughts, if possible. "I wonder if the Graq have something similar to coffee...?"

It wasn't going to be that easy to steer Tony, because he had already muttered a surprised, "Oh," in the dark, then eventually explained, "Sorry, I always assumed that was where you were from, I guess--" Because that was where Tony grew up, and where Cap was from, he had filled in those blanks in the curated image of the Kid Commando sold to him. "I didn't really think about it." It was possible, Tony realized as he said this, that the Bucky Barnes from his Earth and any of the others from the multiverse were very different people with very different upbringings, but he wasn't sure he would really know the difference. The comics about Iron Man weren't exactly first hand sources, either. Suddenly embarrassed by this, Tony was happy to latch onto the Graq coffee concept, too, talking just too loud, "If they have anything like coffee, we're going to have to set up an official trade route. I've got a lucrative business offer for them. You should get in on this, ground floor investor, we're going to put the first Starbucks in Temba."

And there again reared the ugly head of others' expectations, the once-again not what someone wanted. He wondered how it was going to be used to sharpen its blade on his skin this time.

"Guess I am, technically," he replied, not even sure why he was telling Tony any of this. Something about the dark maybe, the fact that the little light wasn't much at all. "Don't remember it." If anything, he was more Russian by association than anything else. Not that he felt Russian at all; really, there probably wasn't a category for it.

Well, whatever. At least they could both agree on the topic change. "Sure. Starbucks. I refuse to be a barista."

"But you'd look so cute in the apron," Tony replied, and stopped abruptly there. For a moment, it seemed like this was just to turn and flash the Soldier his fangy grin again, but then he tipped his head to where his free hand was feeling along the wall, and a sharp cut into the rock's surface, fingers working along a familiar rifling. "Another wormhole," he said, grin gone and replaced by an inquisitive pout, making the announcement an offer. They could try their luck with the passage definitely made by the giant worm, or keep looking for a more natural formation. Before the Soldier could even make a call, though, Tony was asking, "Because of the ice, or...?" because he wasn't just going to let that go. Bucky and Steve didn't come out of the deepfreeze with any neurological damage, as far as Tony knew, but that was the kind of side effect he would have expected under any normal circumstances, if hibernating for 70 years could have normal circumstances.

"No," he replied again, ready to follow it up with something more when Tony discovered the new tunnel. He slipped by the man, reaching out to feel the sides of it for himself. "It's cool," he murmured, "which probably means that nothing has been down it too recently, no friction to heat the rock."

Looking back at the slope and recalling their path through the narrow crack, he tried to estimate their position. "It may hook into the area where we were initially. If we could get back there, I'd want to attempt the climb." If he could get out, he could pull Tony out with the aid of the sapling he'd left by the opening in the ground.

He deliberately ignored the question about the ice, not wanting to talk about it or about what really caused the memory loss. HYDRA had preferred a certain amount of brutality in their training of the Winter Soldier.

That pattern was starting to reveal itself, if Tony looked closely and really picked up all of these subtle hints that the Soldier was giving him; if ever in doubt, the answer was going to be 'no'. He frowned after the Soldier, not really appreciating being left guessing in this case, but maybe Bucky could shed some light on the situation for Tony. If he ever woke up. Was that more likely than Tony charming his way into the Soldier's good graces?

"We could make you a black one, stay on brand," he insisted, doing some ignoring himself as long as that was on the table, and encouraging the Soldier on with his plan with a lift of his chin and following close behind. "Very powerful, by the way, very slimming, always a fashionable choice." The friction science wasn't exactly correct, especially not if the worms were reusing the tunnels and these ones were already old, but if that kept them moving quickly, Tony wasn't going to dispute it. Maybe later, if they ran into one of the beasts and Tony had the chance to explain all of the ways this had gone wrong before they were swallowed. "Lots of pockets for all of your...emotional range," he continued idly.

If Tony was hoping for some big, revelatory conversation into the Winter Soldier's motivations, he was going to wait a long while. The Soldier didn't really do long, meaningful talks about himself. He knew that people only asked out of morbid fascination for a broken thing; he had no desire to lay bare the fragments of his self.

"No," he said again, and followed it up with, "I don't make good coffee." Actually he hadn't made coffee in years, partly an effect of being away from Earth for that time. But he definitely appreciated good coffee more than he excelled at making it himself.

He shrugged off the comment about his emotions as he moved to take the lead. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it; it likely wouldn't be the last. "I think you're just looking for free labor. That's not the kind of work I do best."

"Something else you don't remember?" Tony asked, smile in his voice, evidently amused by this new dynamic. "Don't worry, the coffee doesn't have to be good for you to draw a crowd." The tunnel did appear to be curving back upward, the incline graciously steep enough to make Tony concentrate on finding his footing in the dark instead of teasing any further for at least a short while. Very little could really make him stop, though, so as the terrain evened again, he continued as though there hadn't been an interruption at all, "Name your price, then. Don't worry, you can't shock me. One time, not even that long ago, I had a guy ask me to pay him in Pogs. Pogs! It was a 90's thing--little cardboard discs. Practically gold bullion, if you were in boarding school."

He shrugged. Maybe Tony was right. But he couldn't really remember enough to know it. In his mind it didn't matter anyway; it wasn't like the Agrii provided them with coffee. "I don't like crowds." A blatant lie that; crowds were good when one wanted to hide in plain site. But he had little need of the skill here considering the limited size of the population. And he was pretty sure he wouldn't like the kind of crowd to which Tony referred.

At least the climb came with something of silence from the man. The Soldier offered a hand at a particularly step point, though he didn't expect Tony to take it. "I meant," he said carefully, "that I'm not suited to be what you want. The price is irrelevant."

That wasn't a lie that Tony could pick up on. As far as he could tell, the Soldier lurked in caves for the isolation, which didn't have great market potential, unfortunately. He did gladly take the Soldier's offered hand once he spotted it in the dark, scrambling up the rocks then making sure they were both steady with a sweep of the light up the path, before taking advantage of this hold to slide his hand up to the Soldier's elbow and purr with a wry grin, "And what is it that I want?" He didn't wait to make the Soldier answer that heated question, taking mercy with a chuckle and pat to his arm to urge him on ahead.

The question, partnered as it was by such overt action, had him tensing and automatically reaching for one of his knives. He aborted the motion before his hand could complete it, at least, though there was no hiding the look of discomfort on his face. Fortunately Tony seemingly did have something akin to mercy with the way he moved away; the Soldier quickly took the opportunity to step away, resuming their trek through the tunnel and putting a little distance between themselves.

The truth was that he didn't really know what Tony wanted but was pretty certain regardless that he couldn't be it.

All Tony was thinking that he wanted at the moment was getting out of this black cave without being eaten by a worm, and maybe a drink, which was already asking plenty, he was sure. That the Soldier reacted to flirting with stricken panic was a fun consolation prize, and might have been what Sansa meant when she insisted he wasn't like that. At least, Tony hoped so, and it wasn't just him that incurred that kind of reaction.

This revelation only kept him from shivering at the dark for so long, and by his calculation by now they might have come about even to where Tony had found the lip of the slope. Starting slowly, like he was testing the air, but soon talking rapidly again, Tony filled the blank space anxiously, "Is it a short term memory thing, too?" Not that he expected a straight answer. "Because, listen, if you have to relearn a bunch of stuff, that's fantastic. You get to discover that all over again, nothing's ever as good as your first time. If you have to do that every day, though, I don't know, I've got a dodgy heart, I don't know if I could take that."

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neck of the woods

ice cold...

almost like being frozen for 70 years...

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i saw nothing~

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