revivalproject | carriage

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carriage

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.

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Gracefully humble as ever, and Tony was pursing his lips, not buying what Reeve was selling. "Yeah, and Jon took that gun datapoint. Didn't make him a good shot," he pointed out, then was looking away, wishing he had a better example that Reeve wouldn't give him shit for bringing up. Quickly, Tony continued to avoid the shit, "What do you think of it now? Now that we've done a round trip and everything. Besides the weird part in the middle where everything was horrible, and every alien species wants to use us like playthings."

Humble? He had called himself gifted. Clearly he's not humble. How silly to suggest it. Reeve laughs, wondering just what he'd have to say to be conceited.

"Knowing how to use a gun doesn't mean one can use it well. But Jon is brave for trying."

There's no flinch over the name. Reeve's had time. He's moved on. The man doesn't wish to be his friend, that's Jon's problem, not Reeve's. Reeve has returned to his inner peace.

"Maybe I should have taken that one. I'm halfway decent with a gun. But only halfway I suppose. And I think we're all better off that I don't try. Still..."

He smiled at the other man.

"It was still amazing. For as traumatic and scary it was, it was still amazing, seeing the stars."

The humility persisted, only making Tony's eyebrow arch as Reeve seemed to understand the words, but not the point Tony was trying to make. It might have been that his inner wasn't so at peace.

"I don't know, the guns weren't exactly useful, more harm was done than good there. Now we've got kids running around with them, and for what? The next time the Chessmaster wants to try to goad us into killing off some other pawns in their game," Tony said, voice dropping off into an irritable mutter as he realized this was much less fun to talk about than space, gripping his elbow through his shirt anxiously and trying to put himself back on track before Reeve got annoyed with him. "I didn't think I would get to go to space, as a kid," he blurted, to keep the momentum, and had to shake his head because that wasn't quite right. "I knew I wasn't going to be an astronaut. That was pretty normal already, on Earth, by the time I blessed the timeline with my presence, you know, we had contact with other planets already, whole thing. But I had a path, whole life plan, I had a business to run with my feet on the ground, not up there.

"When that...changed--" Reeve knew there was a change at least, or this would be a very twisted tale indeed, "one of the first things I did was try to break atmosphere." Tony started to laugh, lolling his head to the side, letting Reeve infer how well that had gone from the minimal context. "I'd done really high jumps before, skydiving, not sure if I wanted to parachute to malfunction or not, you know, kids stuff, but touching the edge of space and falling is like..." Tony rolled his eyes without anything to compare it to, not a drink or an adrenaline rush, but something else.

Contact with other planets. Ah, what a thing that continues to marvel Reeve. Of course, before being kidnapped to places like this, his world had been touched by one alien. And it had nearly destroyed their world four times already. Most of that within the last five years.

Still, the story is playing out, the whole thing unwound, and Reeve watches that same rapt attention he always paid to Tony. Like he hung on every word. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he was just polite. Okay, so really it was being captivated. But at this point Reeve had finally managed to handle it, putting Tony mentally into the same category as Veld, as Tseng, as Vincent. Beautiful. Captivating. Dangerous. And to be admired as a friend with distance.

"It must be terrifying. And surviving must be the biggest high one can find. Tony, my friend," he reaches out to touch the man's uninjured arm briefly, as if trying to comfort the man through a hard truth, "you may be an adrenaline junkie."

Edited 2020-12-11 04:08 (UTC)

Solemnly, Tony managed to pat Reeve's hand in thanks for this gracious understanding of a terrible personality defect, but his smile cracked as he snorted to reveal his tongue bit between his teeth and he had to wave it away and nod a silent thanks for Reeve not taking any of that too seriously. There were plenty of stories that Tony had to tell on himself in that respect, and they were all much too fun to get bogged down in the fatal details. It was definitely a mistake to lead with, "Did I tell you about sleeping with a Hulk?," because then Tony had to wave his hand again and try to come up with a quick way to explain what a Hulk was without sounding like a total lunatic to someone who didn't live on Earth and take the concept for granted. Explaining Captain America had turned out to be unexpectedly politically fraught, and that hadn't even gotten into the science. "Angry, strong, and massive--like, her hand can fit around my hold head big. I might have made it out alive, but the bed did not." Reeve might not have had the fortitude to handle that massive lost love he had delighted Tony with when they first met, so maybe he could live vicariously through Tony's lack of self-preservation.

Really, Reeve needs to thank Tony for saving him from the need to ask the man just what a Hulk is. Very interesting, and not quite like anything he had heard of before. Truly, Tony's world was the disturbing one, no matter what he said of Reeve's.

"Oh dear. Sounds like quite the encounter," Reeve chuckles, shaking his head.

Though he had handled Bull quite well, thank you very much.

"I've heard a gentleman never tells, Tony. Are you truly not a gentleman?"

That was a little hard to read, because the laugh could have been genuine or uncomfortable, and it kind of sounded like Reeve was asking him to not talk about this kind of thing, which Tony wouldn't be surprised by if Reeve hadn't already shared so much of his romantic history so comfortably. Making Reeve more uncomfortable was obviously the only solution, until he was visibly irritated with Tony enough to snap at him, Tony could work with that. He tipped his head slowly to the side, eyes rolling up to the vaulted ceiling of the hangar like he was seriously considering this question, then leaned closer to Reeve where he didn't quite touch his shoulder to drop his voice low, hand up like he might wrap it around Reeve's arm, and purred, "Did you want me to be gentle?," with a slow, fangy smirk.

Oh Tony, don't play chicken with a far more experienced man who knows he can get away with it and knows he'll come out of it better.

"Quite the contrary. Then again, I don't think you could have been nearly so rough with me as I would have desired."

Tony's smirk hardened, eyes narrowing slightly as Reeve took the teasing as a challenge instead of brushing him off, remembering all at once how difficult Reeve had been to work up before just having Tony around had him on edge. The revelation broke Tony's game instantly, making him snort with a delighted grin that bit against Reeve's cheek as Tony rushed a grateful kiss there, only managing to compose himself as he drew away again. "Come on now, you've got to be more careful than that. Maybe you could take a hulk at my age, but I wouldn't want to be responsible for breaking your hip," he pointed out very tenderly, giving Reeve an innocent flutter of his lashes.

Games, Reeve knew, were easier to play when they had no point to them beyond the game itself. And he'd moved to that point by now. Playing merely for the play.

"Tony, young as you are, you haven't the strength to break my hip. It's just not on your level. Come back to me when you have the strength to warrant such a concern.'

With a delicate hand to his chest and a gasp as though Reeve had just insulted his most basic dignity, Tony said, "We can take this outside right now, old man, I will flatten you. You're lucky I've got one arm right now, the only thing that's doing is buying you time, but, trust me, you're on seconds."

On seconds? Reeve chuckles and shakes his head.

"No, Tony. I don't fight the infirm."

Oh yes, he's happy to keep going. Step up to his level, Tony. Reeve's ready for a good verbal wrestle.

Infirm, please. Tony's eyebrows shot up, then he was glaring again with a wry smile to insist, "You can just say you're scared. No judgment here, look, we're alone, there's no shame in admitting you're no match for me, even like this. I won't tell anyone. Unless they ask."

"Come now, young man, one does not reach my age in my line of work without being willy enough to survive. I have outlived no small number of assassination attempts. You think I fear you?"

Yes, without his magic he would likely lose. But the game is about the talk now.

"You've been playing in the kiddie pool this whole time. Please. Ten minutes in New York is a harder life than your 80 years, the rats are assassins. You have no idea what I'm capable of, I'll fight a mother of four for a parking spot, I'll throw down. You should be terrified, you don't even have the concept." There was a laugh in Tony's voice, but now that he said it, he was pretty sure that New York City would genuinely be overwhelming to Reeve. As magnificent as his city appeared to be in the glimpse Tony had of it, it definitely couldn't compare. That in mind, he said, "You're going to need me to look out for you, you better have something nice to say, all of this doesn't come cheap."

"Rats."

Reeve can't help but laugh. Tony didn't understand at all. His city may have been larger, might well be overwhelming for what it was. But Midgar...

"Your rats likely would have nothing to a hedgehog pie," Reeve counters, "Which I'm certain of because basically rendered Midgar's rat problem null. But they were an issue, with their fire magic."

Tony, you've no concept of the monsters Reeve has seen and fought.

That was such a nonsensical phrase to Tony that he couldn't even needle Reeve for not saying something nice to him, laughing, "What, magical pies?," and forced to squeeze himself around the ribs to keep them all in place. "You're right, I'll give you that one, I've never been threatened by a pie, you've survived a treacherous life. I've had some bad reactions to shitty pizza, is that the same thing? There's no public bathrooms in my city, that's a potent combination, some people never recover."

Really? Reeve stares at the man through his laughter for a moment. Then produces a small pad of paper he had clearly been taking notes on, and a pen. His hands are quick, just aiming to draw the impression of the creature, rather than the full thing.

Soon enough he was offering Tony the hasty image.

"They are amphibians, approximately two feet in height. The spines on their backs are sharp, and they attack by throwing themselves bodily into people. They are also capable of fire spells, burning people. They like to steal things. They like eating rats, and aren't very strong in the grand scale of things."

"Oh, come on, I know you can draw a better one of me than that," Tony was muttering as he leaned over Reeve to decipher the impression, lip raising slightly as he had no way to anticipate what Reeve might produce and thus not prepared for this fat frogman. As unpleasant looking as it was, Tony had to continue, "That's the worst you've got? We just call those landlords. They usually get the spines removed, though." It did kind of look like Morgan, the more Tony stared at it.

"Get me colored pencils, and you'll have a more detailed picture," Reeve countered. "And I didn't say this was the worst we have. After all, these aren't anything compared to dragons, of course."

And Reeve just says it because of course dragons are worse than anything else. It's just obvious.

He tucked the picture away after that. It's good.

"You don't have a lot in the way of monsters, I expect."

That was a bold assumption to make about other planets, and made Tony reconsider his general presumption that everyone else's home must have been a lot like his Earth until proven otherwise. It was mostly otherwise so far, to be fair. "I thought you met Tommy," he replied, then rolled his eyes with a smirk and wave of his hand, don't tell him I said that. "There's not a lot of things we call monsters, as a general rule. That's kind of, uh...judgmental. A lot of people will call a Hulk a monster, though, or a dragon. Dragons are the worst, but some of them have jobs, you know, you can't not accept the application just because the last three you met were such assholes. You just avoid them in the breakroom and hope you don't pull them for Secret Santa."

Really? They had sentient dragons?

"Dragons aren't sentient where I'm from. They're large, angry reptiles, talented in many forms of magic, highly territorial, and humans are about three mouthfuls to them. Which they will happily take when they can."

How interesting. That they could be sentient. But he supposes he shouldn't be racist. It would be very bad.

"Though if you have sapient ones, that would be interesting. I'm sorry if what I said was offensive."

"Don't worry about it," Tony dismissed, waving his hand again, "I hate dragons." He had yet to meet one he liked, anyway, and it didn't sound to him like Reeve's dragons were all that different than the ones on Earth, which were all magical and tried to eat Tony at least once.

"I think, if I ever got to show you around home, give you the grand tour, that you'd see a lot of what you'd call monsters," he said after some consideration, sorting through the daily encounters he had for anyone he would consider a baseline human and finding a considerable minority. "It's just, even the really nasty ones, the literal demons or the nightmare creatures or the symbiotes, even out of those that make you think, there's no way these can even understand morality, there's always at least one that's, just...that ends up making your morning coffee, or whatever. So--so you can't just call things monsters."

Well, all dragons on Reeve's world were also magical, and tended to try and eat people. They just didn't, you know, have language.

"I do not think I would, Tony. Many of the people I've spoken to before, who were from Earth of some persuasion or another were mystified by the creates that live in my world."

Because on his world, that's all they are. Monsters. They aren't people. They don't think. They're animals but worse. A lot worse. So very, very much worse.

"You presume a lot. Perhaps it would be as you say. Or perhaps I would look a your world and consider it quaint."

"Are you sure they weren't just trying to get you to talk to them?" Tony smiled, head cocked innocently against the teasing peek of a fangy smirk. Everyone here from Tony's Earth knew what dragons were, surely. The flirting was gone again for Tony to be offended once more, though, echoing, "Quaint," with a disappointed shake of his head for this tactic. "Maybe you would, and doesn't that make it so much more embarrassing for you that I wouldn't even break a sweat dealing with you."

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