revivalproject | treasure

WHO: Tony and...I don't know, there's some predetermined stuff, and some ambiguously open stuff in here. Check in at the Shenanigans plotting post if you're feeling unsure and need a formal invitation.
WHERE: The forge, the not-library
WHAT: Tony has a gift for Jon, and is trying to make a much more misguided gift for Poe. Some early speeder bike development catch all, if you like.
WHEN: Early February, Agrii Valentines Celebration
WARNINGS: Glitter?

a. The forge [OTA! If you just want to bring your own project, this is a good place]
The first shimmering fleck that caught Tony's eye fell onto his cheek, making him wink with his face twisted in surprise before carefully retrieving it with a finger pressed to the...plastic? It stuck easily to his skin, but Tony could only frown at it, baffled, and glance back toward the forge curiously, expecting the chimney to be pouring out some foreign element among the plume of dark smoke. He was on his back under the body of the vehicle that Cayde had called a sparrow, Poe had called a speeder, and was probably neither of them, really, as Tony slowly brought it together, the Iron Man kneeling in the grass next to him to Jack up the whole assembly for Tony to rework the fuel array again. Eventually, he would get this thing working.

As more of the strange precipitation began to flurry through the sky, clumping together against the seams of the Iron Man and through the bricks of the forge, Tony had to sit up and consider very seriously that this was...glitter. As he stared at the armor, he could see some of the more fanciful details--the heart shapes, the stars, making him raise a lip in confusion, then glance around again, seeking a source. It just seemed to be, warm and shimmery and catching the early light in a dancing array over the skyline.

By the time the sun had properly risen, he had disturbed Catra trying to sleep by the fire by clattering around in the forge, searching for empty vessels to collect as much of the strange glitter as possible. Impulsively, he had snatched at the bouquet of flowers he found by her head, only to have them burst in his hand and make him yelp, dancing away from the glitter bomb with his hand coated now in pink and red. He was much slower to pick up the card that had been with the bouquet, pinched carefully between two fingers until it didn't seem to be a bomb as well, the Agrii's pictures making him snort. Of course. It went up with the notes from Cayde and Jon that were clipped over his workbench, slouching against Cayde's map and funnelling more of the glitter throughout the day to gather in the folds of Jon's still designs.

By the time he was back to working on the bike, there were bowls and jars arranged against the walls and among the grass, incrementally measuring the shimmering downpour. This was going to be wreaking havoc on any meal production, Tony realized, so Tommy wasn't as likely to show up today, leaving him to grumble at the pile of tools and components that had been left around the weedy patch where he worked without the kid to find anything for him in this mess.

b. The library? [For Jon, but feel free to crash this party]
If Tony was going to try to understand the Agrii, and he would rather not, he hazarded a guess that whatever this glitter storm and gifting was about, it was something of an apology for the storm that they had come crashing into, or the giant pest problem that the Agrii had neglected to warn them about. Maybe that was just where Tony's head was, though, because he had plenty of his own apologies to make, and a misguided gift was historically how he dealt with that. Did he have something in common with the Agrii? Jesus.

Trying not to think too hard about that possibility, he came gliding slowly into the library on the Iron Man's skates, leaving rivulets in the dusting of glitter on the floor behind him. He carried what would have been a familiar shape to Jon, despite being wrapped as it was in what looked like a scrap of leather, against his armored chest; an acquisition from the replicator that he had impulsively requested just after replacing his sunglasses, then finding himself very overwhelmed with the amount of stuff he could really use at the forge. Taking the stairs down into the basement wasn't quite as smooth, producing a strange, very heavy thunk-thunk-thunk as he rolled carelessly down each step, the momentum depositing him against the desk that rattled with the lurch. He didn't really intend to stay, but had a quick look around for the Countess, hoping maybe she would display a tiny bit less annoyance upon seeing him so he could pretend Jon wasn't as annoyed with him as well. Yeah, that would totally work, Tony would feel great about that and all of his problems would be solved. He sighed into the mask when he didn't spot the animal, leaving the book on the desk and pushing himself back toward the stairs. It would be pretty obvious who it could have been from, Tony thought, even if Jon had no context for the author 'Reed Richards'--only a few pages into the forward of this physics text- cum-autobiography and it was already colourful with the caped heroes of Tony's world, and how they shaped the natural laws around them. And the library had just expanded exponentially, even if Jon wasn't particularly keen on the gesture and couldn't be convinced that Billy was clearly being very thoughtful.

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"The sauciest," Tommy agrees with a grin. But the comment earns a chuckle, a very serious one.

"Nah, this isn't B. Already checked with him. And you really need to see it. Gods get the best clothes."

Which wasn't fair. Tommy's never had a uniform upgrade before.

As he pushed through the door, Tony threw a look over his shoulder with pursed lips, unconvinced by this thesis. "Hardly. I didn't make it," he corrected, then considered that it was possible he might have, he didn't know who was on the Avengers team in the future and both of the kids had been somewhat cagey about it. "Did I?" No, that didn't sound like the kind of thing he would make. More confidently, "Hardly."

Most of the area around the forge was long, tall grass and a flourishing, gnarled weed system than only gave way to mushrooms and vines the closer they got to the shadier edge of the forest a few feet away. Where the fire was closest to the wall, though, meltingly hot even at its lowest embers, the growth had shied away since Tony had fixed the forge. It left the hard patch where only the most resilient of weeds grew, and now an array of glitter-collecting jars, where the vehicle they had been working on was still propped up by Iron Man, looking rather like it was cradling the project lovingly in the sparkling shimmer.

"No, Billy did. With magic. Sorry, Tony, no screen you can make compares to literal magic dressing you. I don't make the rules, I just observe."

"Why do you want the glitter?"

Tommy's been looking around, and the gars are weird. Really weird. And bothers him a bit. Damn but he's just confused by what all is going on there. But no, wait.

"You making a ship of your own? Is it fueled by glitter?"

"But my taste is impeccable," Tony pointed out, letting Tommy decide how much he agreed with how it compared to Billy's and if he was willing to defend his twin on that front. That would be embarrassing.

"Definitely not. Did you see what the fire was doing? I have an image to maintain," he answered, as though this was the only hurdle to a glitter-based propulsion system. "At first, it felt important to record the total precipitation," he continued, gesturing vaguely around at the jars that could have reasonably been measured at the end of the day. "And then I realized, I can't just leave the Iron Man grey, that's terrifying, and we're not often just handed all of these materials to work with."

"I don't know, Tony. I feel like I'm really pecking it here. Because, you know, you're limited by scientific possibility and physics. Billy isn't."

What the fire was doing? no, not really. But he's soon laughing at Tony's explanation of what he's doing.

"You've not only made the damn armor, but you're going to cover it with glitter? Fuck, man, I need pictures."

So many pictures. Tommy hopes he can take them home.

And yet, somehow, Tony was the one standing next to this hoverbike he had never heard of so was trying to build, and Billy's conjurations at their most elaborate involved stuffed animals. Tony frowned back at Tommy for that argument, hand on his cocked hip, waiting for Tommy to figure out for himself that Billy's limitations were far narrower. "Good thing I'm not the one making your clothes then, huh?" was Tony's only push, because apparently Billy wasn't, either.

Wait, Tommy hadn't even seen the Iron Man yet? Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but that wasn't totally unreasonable--it was typically in disparate pieces, spread across the workshop and looking more like a bunch of coasters than a suit of armor. It was together then, at least, to assist with the speeder bike, kneeling in the grass as they approached the work area, so Tony could gesture vaguely to it and say, "Done and done." It was even accumulating glitter fairly liberally by then. "Catra's even already made her mark," he added with a dismissively waving hand for the deadly tear up the back of the suit. "But, please, it's always been covered with glitter. It really is that shiny, it's not just my dazzling personality, I've got to put some work into that."

Come on, Tony, Billy did plenty of things, like get you a date with Jon. Was a speeder going to do that?

"No one is making my clothes here, Tony. Or back home. Mostly I have to reply on Reed Richard's designs for that."

Yep, there are other smart people, Tony. Accept it. But he follows along and looks at where Tony's gesturing and he has to sigh.

"Dr. Stark, you might have a problem."

Tony nodded slowly, okay, fine, he could accept that Tommy didn't want his help for cooler clothes, that wasn't a personal blow pointedly telling him that Tommy would rather Reed was here or anything. Tony would rather Reed was here, too, this was the exact sort of situation he knew how to deal with, so Tony couldn't really blame Tommy for that one.

He was only sulkily pouting a little bit when Tommy made his accusation, making him cross his arms defensively, looking between the Iron Man and the speeder. "Uh, a few. I usually prefer to keep that discussion behind closed doors, though. Are we sharing, should I get the donuts?"

No one said he'd rather Reed Richards here. Just that Reed made things that stood up to Tommy and how he moved. That mattered, Tony. But he would prefer, on a personal level, Stark.

"Oh man, closed doors? I think I'll pass. I prefer just standing around and listening while you spout science and stuff."

"In that case," Tony allowed, waving across the the disparate sheets of metal and glitter-doused bowls of bolts, "we should get this thing's body together and you can try to argue with me about the best aerodynamic solutions." There wasn't much left to the speeder, and Tony had already hammered most of the nose to bolt into place, but most of the undercarriage had changed enough over time that they would be back at the fire before long.

We. Tommy can't help the smile when Tony says 'we'. Because it means he wants the help, that Tommy's welcome. The rest of it just makes Tommy feel needed, like he wasn't an idiot.

"Aerodynamics," Tommy grins as he moves forward. "See, now there's something I've got an instinctive feel for. Mind if I look it over while we work?"

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