carriage

[in_extremis]

WHO: Tony and open!
WHERE: Around Temba (hangar, fountain, ???)
WHAT: Doing some personal cleanup since the storm, and running into a floral distraction
WHEN: End of November/beginning of December
WARNINGS: It's a Tony post, we all should have expected it would get horny. It did.


a.The city had felt imposingly massive since the storm. Then, it was because of its depths and shadows, harbouring fears that only gave way to complex secrets as the clouds cleared, but today it was purely a problem of traversal. The hangar, looking slightly battered from the weather itself but not nearly as poorly treated as the ships finally returned inside, most of them still caked with mud and brought limping to roost, was approximately eight lightyears from the forge.

At least it was a fairly straight shot, but Tony felt half crazy by the time he came shuffling into the echoing space, the wheels of his cart dragged through the cracked roads rattling with a cohort of pebbles caught in their works, and abandoned the thing which felt like it had grown steadily heavier on this trek with a drop of his good arm and heave of a sigh. Gathering his energy again, he straightened to hug is arm cradled under the other, still wrapped and immobile against his chest, leaving his sleeve hanging empty, and headed for the Bloodsport to collect what remained of his onboard from their journey. There were tools there that had been sorely missed at the forge, and a variety of acquisitions from the Agrii cargo bay under Sundance's guidance, and a silky quilt that had Tony sitting in the doorway of the ship with it pulled up over his head, eyes closed and legs kicking idly, looking bruised and exhausted and trying not to look at the cart for just a minute while he meditated on his next move and definitely wasn't just stalling.

b. Most of the D.A.T.A. points had gone dark some time during their venture out to space, or, more likely, the storm that had seeped into all of their works. With the forge back to working order, it was time for Tony to address this problem, which it turned out he had made a rather large one for himself. The closest camera was installed near the fountain, though, and might have been the most important, to alert Tony to any new arrivals, so that would have to be his first stop to see what damage was done. They were all going to have to be upgraded; Tony wasn't going to be able to spread himself across the city to repair every one of them every time one of those storms hit. With his cartload of tools from the hangar, he would have to investigate the generator, surely flooded from the rain, and likely dismantle the watchful orb to find out what exactly had been burnt out in the overload from the storm's energy.

c. It definitely wasn't only the storm that had changed the charge of the city, though. As the skies cleared, it became obvious that the air had grown colder and crisper, and in the days that followed, the chill seemed to settle and harden the ground. Tony would have said it felt like autumn, but the alien plants didn't quite change the way they would have on Earth, growing brittle in the cold but without the warm oranges and yellows of a fall in New York. Instead, new plantlife seemed to have sprung up for him to notice on his long haul with his cart, giving him the good excuse to abandon it occasionally to crouch carefully at the side of the road, stiff in his bandages, and pluck up the young, frosty cyan buds that had started growing there. A few had flowered already, their petals petite but vibrantly blue, and smelling sharply spicy like cloves. He kept stopping to collect another, telling himself to deliver them to someone like Tommy to confirm that the smell didn't mean they were poisonous, maybe they were edible, and maybe this new growth meant that feeling that creep of ice on the air wasn't as much to worry about as Tony was starting to think. A winter couldn't be too harsh if these flowers were flourishing here.

Comments

C

[kree_soldieress]

Lauri-Ell did like the world out here. The slight chill was bracing for her, mostly because it was not something she had experienced before. It was also good to know the way the city was set up for if she must ever move the Emperor through it quickly.

The woman moved through the streets with her hammer at her side, one hand on it as she used it almost as a walking stick.

When she saw the man stopped in the road, she came to a stop too, intending to ask a question. But then she saw the flowers. And Lauri-Ell gasped in delight.

"They are beautiful!"

[in_extremis]

There was already a generous bouquet of the wintry flowers piled in the cart Tony hauled, but this one was almost white, with ice-coloured buds dotting all the way down its slim stem. They were plucked easily, but Tony was slow to crouch and slower still to draw himself back up again, so by the time he was standing with the flower hanging limply from his one hand, the woman was very close and very...tall. He had to clear his throat before he nodded down to the patch he had been foraging in, clearly as enchanted by them, and approached to offer his latest acquisition and greet with a disarming smile, "They must have come out for you."

[kree_soldieress]

Lauri-Ell, while aware of human courtship rituals, was not yet proficient at the language of flirtation. That, mixed with the fact that this was an unknown alien planet meant she took the comment at face value as she accepted the flower Tony offered with a smile.

“Thank you, Mister Stark. I was not aware this world had flora that was reactive to others. Is it a reaction perhaps to body heat?”

[in_extremis]

This literal acceptance of his declaration, unclear if it was genuine or her way of tempering his approach, combined with casually knowing his name almost had Tony speechless again, eyebrows shooting up but with a well worn, "Tony, please," to fall into. It couldn't be that she was reading his mind (though, body heat might have made for a well evidenced hypothesis in that case), so the most reasonable conclusion Tony came to was, "You're from Earth."

After being continuously frustrated by not being able to fall back on his public persona here, Tony suddenly found he felt rather exposed by it now that he might have been confronted by it again, and hugged under his arm protectively. It had been kind of nice, he realized, navigating who he was without it.

B

[doubled_speed]

See, the best part of repairing any highly technical system was that when you needed speed, you had it. He had it. He was here.

Speaking of here, there's Tony alone one second, and with a gust of wind having a companion walking beside him the next. And even better, it's older, calmer, happier Tommy.

"So, Dr. Stark, what you doing today?"

[in_extremis]

This was immediately a challenging question, because the cart that Tony trundled along behind him carried, by then, an array that had Tony turning to look at it for a cohesive answer only to be faced by a completely out of control assortment of tools, fabric, flowers and scrap metal. "Losing credibility," he answered with a frown at this display, and took the opportunity to drop his hold on his charge and hug his arm around himself instead. At least the dismantled pieces of the last D.A.T.A. installation he had come across were still on top of the pile, and Tony could nod to them to offer more usefully, "Cleaning up some projects that got damaged in the storm. If this is going to be an ongoing character investigation thing you're doing, that's the version I'll sign off on. I expect royalties."

[doubled_speed]

"I'm not here to investigate your character," Tommy rolls his eyes as he leans in to look at the electronics. Intriguing.

"Not sure what royalties you're expecting to get when we have no money here. Just finding myself bored. A lot of the plants in the greenhouse are past their growing seasons, so they're hunkering down for winter. Thought I'd go around to people, see if anyone needs mindlessly repetitive tasks done quickly."

[in_extremis]

"Someone should," Tony pouted, as though journalists asking invasive questions could have been one of the things he missed about home. It was an easy outlet for a quick dose of camera lights. He tilted his head, though, because that wasn't a terrible offer from Tommy, and could be how Tony saved himself from causing some fresh internal bleeding by limping his way all over the city.

"We're going to have to talk about that 'bored' thing, but check your phone," he said, just before Tommy's communicator indicated an incoming message. It was a map of the city, with several highlighted points throughout it indicating where the rest of Tony's D.A.T.A. installations could be found. "Most of these are broken," he continued, gesturing to the orb in his cart again, "and need to get back to the garage for some maintenance."

A - /Submits to your greed

[plate_builder]

At least Tony might be able to find some help at the hangar, as meager as the help might seem at first. As one of the few engineers and thus those responsible for maintaining the ships when they were in such a shape, Reeve had taken to splitting his time between his work at the power plant and at the hangar. Which was keeping the man far more trim and physically fit than he had been upon arriving in Temba the first time, given the two places were in such disparate corners of the city and he made the trek to both at least once a day.

Reeve was of course occupied most often with the First Breath given it was the ship to which he had the best access, and it was outside of this, inspecting a support strut, that he stood when he heard the cart approaching. Reeve took the cloth offered by Mini to clean his hands as he turned his head to the source of the disturbance, and he spared a concerned smile for his friend.

"Need help, Tony?"

but do you have any MORE characters?

[in_extremis]

There tended to always be someone found in the hangar, but Reeve always seemed to have his hands full enough that it was a surprise to Tony to hear his voice here, making Tony press his shoulders back and rapidly produce a smile to offer back. "Good morning, Reeve," he greeted before giving a cool shrug and toss of his head to promise, as though he had proven particularly capable of this so far, "I'll let you know."

Abandoning his cart, he wandered closer toward Reeve and his ship, glancing up to consider the state the First Breath curiously. "She's looking healthier than the last time I saw her."

[plate_builder]

Reeve absolutely trusts that Tony will seek him out if assistance is needed. Had they not worked together well when dealing with the Agrii ship? Of course he also trusted that Tony likely would not need his assistance, so he didn't bother pushing.

But there was a smile of something like pride on Reeve's face as he pat the support strut.

"I'm doing my best. There aren't many of us with engineering, so it's important to split the time I have between this and the power plant. But I suppose I always did enjoy keeping busy."

Read that he was obsessive about working himself to the bone.

[in_extremis]

While Reeve's smile was definitely reassuring, the pain in Tony's shoulder had them both easily dragging down with guilt for not helping the few engineers hold this whole place together, it felt like, when he could easily touch the datapoint and double their productivity. Even that guilt couldn't override the gnawing dread at the idea of losing the connection to the network, though. It was fine, that connection was also important, or Tony wouldn't feel so attached to it, obviously, it was fine.

"You didn't really do space back home," Tony recalled, hoping he didn't look too pale and could easily keep the conversation. "That's a big leap to be the spacecraft engineer. Hey, has anyone ever told you that you might be gifted?"

C

[hadthehighground]

Coming from the sweltering deserts of Tatooine to this briskly cool climate had been a bit of a shock. That on top of everything else involved in suddenly being whisked away to an entirely new planet. It had left this Jedi more than a little bit disoriented.

The lack of life in the city was a bit bleak, except there wasn’t as much of a lack as there seemed at first glance. Obi-Wan could feel the plants and animals that resided here, and it was teeming compared to the sparse landscape of the desert. Though in his wanderings he came across few sentiments. There were not many here, and he had only met a fraction of them thus far.

However, he noticed someone nearby as he walked the streets, still exploring this newfound prison. Obi-Wan hesitated as he caught sight of the man picking plants of some sort. Noticing the way he moved stiffly. A sign that he was perhaps injured in some way. After a few moments, he stepped forward to quietly announce his presence.

[in_extremis]

Which was weird. Much less sensitive to his surroundings, Tony only noticed the man once he was on his feet again and turned carefully to deposit the flowers he had gathered with the rest piled in the cart he hauled, making him freeze and raise his eyebrows before giving a glance up and down the road for perhaps more of these robed spectres come to haunt him. Still brandishing the flower in his good hand, he wagged a finger to dissuade the man from doing anything too much weirder, and suggested, "If you're here to convert me, listen, I get it, I've heard the whole speech, I'm just not a joiner, I've got stuff going on, my Sunday mornings are booked. I do appreciate the pageantry, though, that's a nice...dress."

[hadthehighground]

As soon as the other man noticed him and started wagging his finger at him, Obi-Wan paused and raised his brows at the speech.

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking I’m here for, but I certainly have no intention of converting you to anything.”

He rightly had no idea what this man was even talking about. There was tell of hallucinations from the storms that plagued this planet, perhaps he thought he was one of them? That might explain it, and now Obi-Wan has to wonder if it causes those here to slowly lose their sanity. Though he puts that aside and brushes the hem of his robe to the side.

“And I will have you know, I am wearing pants.”

Which he certainly is, and with boots too.

[in_extremis]

This particular insanity was deeper rooted than any storms, letting Tony accept easily, "Great, we already have so much in common. My place or yours?" If Tony actually expected an answer to that, he didn't leave much room for it, closing the distance between them with his hand out and more open, not dissuading the man on the road anymore. "We haven't met," really didn't need to be said, but that was true of most of what had come out of Tony's mouth so far, and he tipped his head in a way that made it sound slightly accusatory, as though a defence should have been prepared for slipping by his notice. Meanwhile, he offered the flowered, and said, "Call me Tony."

B for Bwah

[on_repeat]

The fountain was an area Echo never had a chance to survey properly. Now that he had the time and there was no real sign of a threat anywhere to be found within the city limits, he found out quickly that he needed something to do to fill that empty gaps in his now-open schedule.

So patrolling perimeters it was. He figured out a temporary system: different days got different sections and this time it was within the vicinity of what was considered the Town Center.

The ARC Trooper had almost gone all the way around, but he stopped to look at the water. Eventually, his visored gaze lifted to spot the camera nearby, staring at it for a while before his brow arched. "...Hold on now..." Mildly suspicious of its existence, he began to make his way closer to where it was placed.

[in_extremis]

The camera, as it was, didn't quite fit in with its surroundings. It had none of the signs of the city's neglect, for starters, but most of all, a very different aesthetic approach the set it apart from the wooden overhang it was bolted into. It was round, like the data point, but the similarities stopped there, no glowing or hovering about it, and an array of wiring sprung from its casing like an optic nerve, disappearing through a hole drilled into the facade of the building it clung to.

Meanwhile, Tony's approach was not a particularly stealthy one. His cart trundled along behind him, rattling with the loose collection of tools gathered from the hangar, and he stopped some feet away with some surprise at seeing someone approach one of his devices. "Hey," he called, then impulsively, "I wouldn't touch that if I were you." Obviously, this watchful orb had some kind of security measures, like deadly needles or shocking bolts. The kind of freak that installed them would have thought of that.

[on_repeat]

Probably a good thing Echo didn't try prodding the camera with the tip of his blaster. Its obvious aesthetic clash with the scenery and its apparent brokenness read as something he should leave well enough alone, but still interesting to look at.

Tony's noisy arrival at least informed the clone he wasn't being ambushed. Although the blaster lowered, it was used to point at the camera. "This is yours, then? I'm more curious as to why it's out here," he replied as he turned, the words grainy through the helmet's vocabulator.

tagging my own post for Jon, don't look at me

[in_extremis]

With the tools back in place on his bench, hammock hung and cart reorganized with a carefully ordered array to deliver to Cal, Tony was left staring at the bundle of flowers he had gathered on his way, not entirely sure what he had meant to do with them now that the sun was setting. They smelled even stronger now that they were brought in from the cold, the icing over the Forge's doorway held viciously at bay by the steady heat of the fire at Tony's back that brought out the toasty, spice scent of the petals that seemed to tickle the roof of Tony's mouth. He knew what he should have done with them.

It was deeply dark outside Tony's door by the time he stepped out of the bathroom, still holding a cloth to the fresh burns on his knuckles that continued to sting through washing up and despite the vase cooling enough to touch in the time it took him to return. By the end of the walk from the Forge to the (not anymore) library, the irritation was long gone, leaving Tony doubting himself slightly now that he wasn't out to prove the sting was worth it anymore, and slower to make his way down to the basement, hoping to slip in and out unseen. He wasn't just going to leave the flowers, exactly, for Jon to try to figure out who might have been leaving him gifts, he just didn't really want to talk about it, and, luckily, Jon always seemed to have paper somewhere. Leaning over Jon's desk, Tony ripped a corner from a scribbled note of equations he found there to scrawl,

You were supposed to give me yours.
T

Folded, it didn't quite want to sit easily in the bouquet, slouching into the petals and making Tony frown as he tried valiantly to arrange it, irritated enough to be fully occupied and thus entirely off guard when something very heavy and very furry dropped from the ceiling, growling, onto his fussing hand. Tony went stumbling backwards with a curse of surprise, eyes wide and arm flailing away and behind himself, as far from this ambush as he could get it, as the animal sent a spray of petals, water and paper across the desk. The vase hit the ground with a melodic ring, and the stems of molested flowers were left scattered across Jon's drowned notes as the animal went leaping up and away from the water with another hiss, throwing the delicate remains of the flowers back up into the air in the beat of its wings.

And I will tag this now even if the other log isn't finished!

[beholding_archivist]

Jon hasn't always lived in the library. In fact, he originally used a different building to retreat into until he found the rather spacious basement under the old structure that used to house the Agrii's knowledge. And while it has been dark down there, it has also been dry, comparably clean and most importantly: Free of any structural damage. This basement has been withstanding the storms remarkably and Jon is certain if the Agrii had stored any of their spheres down here, they would not have been broken.

Still. The basement is far too large as for one person to occupy all of it. So Jon has settled with a few rooms close to the stairs to store his belongings and to rest. He has been doing the latter when Tony decided to sneak by for an unannounced visit, lying in a small assortment of blankets in what Jon has decided is sufficient for him to serve as a bed.

Maybe he has slept, maybe he hasn't, but whatever the case, Jon jumps to his feet and nearly trips at the sudden noise generated MUCH TOO CLOSE for his liking. He has darted out of his room and towards the source of the tumult, not caring that he is missing his glasses and dressed in little more than an unflatteringly wide pair of what may be considered sleeping pants and a certain oversized red robe.

It's the mothcat Jon spots first, and he stops short, wincing visibly at the animal fluttering over his workspace. "C-Countess! What are you doing down here?!" Jon calls out, stepping forward hastily and properly into the room, remaining blind to Tony's presence.

[in_extremis]

In the moment that Tony was left alone to consider this beast, glaring at him from above the desk in what felt like a personally meaningful way, he had very rapidly become convinced that some new horrible thing had happened to Jon and was entirely unprepared then for Jon to appear. The sound of his voice made Tony hiss another curse of surprise, jumping back again onto the stairs he had descended just a moment ago when everything was still normal. "Thank god," he moaned as he slouched against the wall with relief, "I was emotionally preparing to take you on walks, get your tea ready in a little saucer, I was really worried I was going to have to get you fixed, I had a six month plan and I did not like it." Which was to say, he was definitely not in the kind of space that prepared him to process the fact that Jon had taken on a pet, of all things, and also that he had named it 'Countess'.

Slowly, Tony leaned back into the room to turn a narrow eyed look on Jon for this development, but it didn't last long, breaking easily with a lopsided smile at this costume Jon had on, then generally at the domestic life he had decided to craft for himself between this and the animal. "Wait, don't move," Tony demanded abruptly, patting at his pocket with his free hand to produce his communicator and quickly immortalize this dishevelled appearance for himself.

A, and LOOKING at you

[sinistral]

Tony isn't the only one traveling between ships in the hangar, and other locations in the city. The Soldier has taken it upon himself to do some sort of patrol, not trusting that the ships, almost all injured in the return to the planet, will stay as they are; that is, will not be further damaged. It seems to him a perfect opportunity for their captors to hide some sort of disabling of the vehicles, disguised as damages from their landing.

He's being paranoid. He knows it and acknowledges it, while simultaneously trying not to rail against the idea that the Agrii are no more than pawns of another, unknown, power. Of course it hadn't been as simple as going on that rescue mission, but that doesn't mean he's not annoyed by the whole thing.

Whatever.

Still the intervening weeks between landfall and now have been less than fun, and the less said about it, the better. The Soldier has kept largely to himself because of it (and that is the only reason). But the city is only so big, and in frequenting places where others gather, he's bound to run into others.

And then, of course, there's one Tony Stark. Wrapped in a blanket-turned-cape he makes quite the picture sitting at the entry to the ship — what kind of a picture the Soldier won't say, but a unique one certainly. He studies the man silently for a moment, idly noting how he looks worse for the wear, before deciding to speak.

"You look like hell."

this is harassment

[in_extremis]

Tony did not have the energy to keep his guard up for lurking assassins. He hardly had the energy to bring himself any further than this step, despite a warm drink and an arguably comfortable bed to settle in for this recharge just a few feet away in the ship. More comfortable than the cold of the metal seeping into his ass, anyway. So it was once again that he was startled by the Soldier's appearance, which was already embarrassing enough to happen once, and now it was becoming a pattern. He sucked in a sharp breath and bit his cheek to stop himself from jumping, eyes squeezing closed to regain equilibrium before he complained, "Have you been there this whole time?"

Not that he expected an answer to that, he was pretty sure he hadn't unlocked access to the Soldier's mysterious whereabouts. It should have been difficult to disappear when the population was this minuscule, and yet. Tony tugged the blanket further forward over his head, not sure how much of this hell he looked like he could hide, immediately regretting it and trying to blow the dangling fold out of his eyeline to study the Soldier, and said, "You should see the other guy."

harass harass harass

[sinistral]

In Tony's defense, how many people truly have the energy to keep their guard up for lurking assassins? Especially given that the population of lurking assassins is rather low. But then again, maybe those lurking assassins, in the absence of anyone in need of assassination, have their own favorite sorts of targets to torment.

"No," he replies simply, then points to a spot two feet to his left. "I've been there this whole time."

Tony probably doesn't deserve this kind of abuse, honestly.

And one of the more useful skills of a former assassin is the ability to simply disappear; he's rather good at it, and had a lot of motivation to do so in the past weeks. While he hadn't come out just to harass the man, that might have been a part of the motivation to strike up a conversation. The other part is an attempt to figure out exactly how poorly the other man looks; judging from his posture and behavior, bad enough to feel a need to hide it.

"Oh," he says, and looks over his shoulder. "Is that what that smear of grease near the entrance is? The other guy?" Former HYDRA assassin humor, apparently.