farsickness | February: For Love & Monsters

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February: For Love & Monsters

[A CATCHALL]

Who: Merlan and YOU
What: Feb. Catchall
Where: Gazin, Merlan's Clearing
When: All of Feb.
Warnings: Language, maybe.

❅ CHOP WOOD, BUILD STUFF

The trees are thick in her clearing, some need to be removed, yielding wood for cooking or for warmth and that means lots of chopping for her to do with an axe and a thick stump Merlin had felled himself for just such a purpose. It had been a large tree once that had become part of her main house and a tool shed. She could have used magic but the labour felt good.

Swing, crack, toss.
Swing, crack, toss.
Swing, crack, toss.

Eventually, she had enough to leave piles at the front doors of her residents to make sure they were warm and cared for. If they were home, she also had a basket with a knitted blanket, a scarf, mittens, a nice mug, and a hot beverage. No sense in people being cold.

"Good morning, wood and warmth calling," Merlan sang out.

❅ ON THE HUNT

Just because it was winter didn't mean the monsters stopped calling. Trapping them wasn't always an option, which she always thought was unfortunate. This time, though, something was eating a three-eyed crow who'd done nothing to deserve it and she'd been after the stupid bog wight for ages. Chasing it down had become an irritant to sat the least. She was sodden with snow, her horse was covered in mud, and she was miserable.

She nocked an arrow.

"Put down the crow," she grumbled, "or I'll put you down."

It roared at her and she sighed, releasing the arrow aimed for an eye.

❅ WILDCARD - Find her in Gazin, at home wherever, whenever.

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"Excellent," she murmurs teasingly, laughter just under the surface of her words, "all ready so well trained by your sisters. I count myself lucky, then, to have such expertise available."

She was looking forward to it as well, truth be told, even as she teased him. Dancing was a bit like flying, just on the ground, and with someone else. Merlan gives him a long, curious look.

"Have you ever been flying before? I mean," she looks up absently, "really flying with someone who has wings? Dancing feels like that sometimes. At least to me. I've been practising with the flying lately and using my wings."

She pauses.

"Oh...have I even shown you them?"

"No, I've never been flying with wings. Jumped out of an airplane a few times, though, and that's scary as shit."

He'd done it because it's his duty and now he's indestructible but it doesn't make it any more terrifying to come crashing toward the ground at impossible speeds. He doesn't know how Steve does that without a chute on a regular basis; the man is insane.

"I haven't seen any wings. You wanna show 'em?"

"It would be scary as shit," she said with a wide-eyed nod. "Jumping off high elements was scary enough for me when I was learning to fly. I can't imagine what it must be like to do that during wartime."

She pauses and smiles.

Merlan eases out of her chair, her coffee finished and very carefully opens her wings. It would have been easier outside but too late. They bend, curving so as not to touch the ceiling, and are gold fading into a purple-blue, bright, vibrant, with a subtle glow and shimmer to them. She's careful not to hit anything as she turns so he can see the way they look from the back -- how the downy gold turns into something pink-like in shade.

"They're warm, too."

"I'm guessing that's the invitation to touch?"

Bucky extends his right hand, feeling the feathers beneath his fingers. They don't feel like feathers. They feel warm, yes, but it feels different than what he expects them to feel like. Huh. Maybe it's some of her magic or maybe it's something else entirely but it's enough for him to stroke them again just to be sure.

"They are warm. Do you ever just wrap them around to keep the snow out? I would but I guess that's a dumb use for wings."

"Mm," she closed her eyes as he touched the wings -- they were sensitive but it also felt really quite lovely.

"I do, actually. And it's definitely not dumb when the snow is coming down."

"Snow's great when you're not in the city. Got my first taste of it a long time ago and the snow's cleaner when it's not being driven over."

He doesn't remember all of it but he does remember training and fighting in snow that was pure white instead of dirty and slushy the way it is in the back alleys he's been frequenting over the years. Of course, Wakanda doesn't have snow.

"Still damn cold, though. Gotta make sure you have a coat and a scarf."

"It's different for me now, being an angel," she murmurs. "Cold isn't so cold, heat isn't so hot. Working the forge is pleasant." She settles back into her seat, her wings folding and disappearing somewhere else. "But I'm more drawn to sharing the heat these days. I assume, with the heat, my feathers will be cooling. Kinda strange. But I can still wear coats and scarves like everyone else."

"Is that an invitation or something?"

Bucky isn't sure if it's a line or not, inviting someone to share heat, and he's not sure if he's ready for that. He gauges it, tries to decide if he's ready to be spending close contact snuggled up to someone else. He doesn't come up with an answer.

"Only if you want it to be," she says quietly, a small smile washing across her face as she rises to make more coffee, her long hair swinging around her shoulders as she moves. "I like spending time with you and, be it strange or not, you do make me smile. I also don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way."

She pauses and tilts her head slightly and there's a gentle merriment that lights up her face.

"Do you need a refill on your coffee?"

"I like to spend time with you," Bucky says, working it out by speaking aloud instead of mulling it over in his brain. "But, Merlan, I'm in no place to be a boyfriend. My memory is full of holes and I have nightmares every night where I get so violent that I scare myself, much less anyone else."

He has an awkward smile and he taps the table. "I'd like some more coffee though, if you're offering. I'm not running away."

She returns with coffee and pours it into his cup, then pours the rest into hers before regarding him for a long moment.

"I wouldn't know what a boyfriend was, never have had one. I was into science and magic more than anything," she offers gently. "Mostly, I think, we're alright and I'd like more of that. It doesn't need a definition. No one is perfect, holes or no holes. And we don't have to share a bed, half because I never really sleep, half because of my own nightmares. Memories. It's why the forge is always going, I guess."

She lets out a soft sigh and sips her coffee for a while before speaking again. It's a little awkward but that's alright.

"I'm here for you when you need me, if you need me, that's all. Sharing warmth is on the table but optional and that is something you control."

It's good, having a friend. Bucky has Steve and always will but having another friend, trusting another person with himself - that's progress he thought he'd never make. It's a good thing for him, he thinks, and he gives her a bit of a smile. It's awkward but it's good stuff to put on the table and talk about and not leave vague.

"Boyfriends take you on dates and have sex with you if you want it," Bucky elaborates. "That's what a boyfriend is. At least in my definition of it and I don't know if I'm ready to have sex with anyone. Makes me vulnerable and I don't like being vulnerable."

He drinks his coffee. "This went real awkward real fast, didn't it?"

Oh, right sex. The other thing she hasn't had and flushes a little. She studies him for a very, very long moment and goes back to her coffee for a bit, thinking.

"A little awkward, yes, and that's alright." Merlan pauses for another few moments.

"Bucky," she says very gently, "if you're not ready for sex then there doesn't have to be any. I've," she waves a little, "never had any, myself. I figure it'll be worth it one day -- if I can get over my own insecurities."

Well, that's a revelation she hadn't planned to share. Oh well, they're being frank about things, aren't they?

"Besides, there's just sharing without the sex and dates that involve dancing and having fun together. Honestly, I don't like being vulnerable either, I think I get that part of it at least."

Edited 2021-03-03 22:24 (UTC)

"Physical stuff is just gonna be hard," Bucky says, tracing his right fingertip around the rim of his coffee cup. "One of my hands can't feel anything but pressure. I'm grateful to have it, I guess, but it's not what I'd want. But if you're fine with no sex, I think that'd be better. We should just keep hanging out like we already do."

This whole thing makes him want to leave and not come out of his room for about three weeks but facing it head on is what a normal man would do and he's supposed to be one of those again.

"Sorry for ruining...this. I like when we hang out and I pretty much crash and burned it."

"You haven't ruined anything, hush," she says. her expression turns thoughtful. "Do you need me to tinker with the sensitivity on your other arm? I'm perfectly willing to make adjustments. You should be able to feel more than just pressure."

She waves him off with a soft huff.

"And it's fine, whatever is comfortable for you is just fine. You worry too much. Let's just take this with little steps, mn? Nothing big. We hang out, you come to dinner or flit by for coffee, we have fun, and you're welcome to have one of the houses to stay in overnight if you want. I've got plenty of space."

Merlan very gently touches his arm.

"You're safe with me, always. Don't worry about crashing and burning or ruining things because you can't. I'm your friend above anything else and I'm one of those friends you can't shake."

"I guess you should mess with it. I just want to feel...what people are supposed to feel. It's difficult to go through life knowing you're half a person, in some ways, and I do feel like that sometimes."

He takes another swallow of coffee, draining the cup. "And a half a person isn't going to be good for someone else. Not the way a boyfriend ought to be."

"Bucky, that's absolute shite," she says. "You're not half a person, you're making new memories every day you're here and with that you're making progress into who you want to be, who you are now. Just because you're missing some pieces here and there doesn't mean you're not...compatible with someone else. Much less me. Take it easy on yourself. Right now, you have an arm that needs tinkering with, but its an arm with a hand that works, and a chance with someone who interested in you and who's gonna not let you get hung up on stupid shit."

Merlan gives him a look that says he's better than he thinks he is and drains her coffee like it's a competition.

"I think you're plenty good, which is really all that needs to be said. Even for a possible, would-be boyfriend."

Edited 2021-03-03 23:25 (UTC)

"I don't want to disappoint anyone, is all. Because I let people down. I'm not going to be good for you," he warns. "And I want that said up front because when I hurt you, even if it's not my intention, I want you to know that you knew that going in."

Self-sabotage is the thing he does best.

"Can we take a look at my arm now?"

"Even if you do hurt me, you won't lose me. Shit happens, we forgive, we move on," she says with a bit of a long-suffering sigh. That whole thing says enough about his insecurities that she just grumbles softly at him and starts working on his arm.

Her eyes close as she concentrates, adjusting the settings to make it so his hand feels more like a hand instead of a blunt instrument of destruction.

"You make things so difficult."

It's not said with any animosity, just simple fact. And then with a slight movement of her fingers, Blowin' Up A Storm by Woody Herman and his orchestra starts playing softly.

"Good music choice," Bucky says, glad to shift the conversation off himself for a little while. God, anything but talking about himself. He flexes his hand a little and looks at Merlan expectantly.

"All right. Let's see how it works. Touch my palm?" he asks, turning his hand over and showing his open palm to her.

She ran her thumb across the surface of his palm, the touch light as she watched his face for a reaction. It was always fascinating to see how her work, specifically with artificial limbs, directly impacted the people who used it on a day-to-day basis.

Her hand and his were worlds apart in size. But she was pretty proportionate, against his, she looked like a child.

"How's that? A little more sensation? Too much? Too little?"

"A little more, I think," Bucky says. It feels good to have the touch of skin on skin again and it's been way too long since he's had that. It's kind of intoxicating to have the feeling again and to pretend, at least for a little while, that he hasn't been mangled up.

"I can feel your touch but it feels like I'm wearing a glove or something," he explains. "It doesn't feel like if you were actually touching my hand."

She concentrated, fine-tuning the way the nerves attached to the prosthesis using his sensitivity feedback. It was a different sort of magic meeting machinery but it served its purpose to help her help him.

"And now?" Her eyes found his as she ran a fingertip across his palm. "We can still go up as many levels as it takes. The only limit is your mind."

"The real answer would be to tell you the truth but I think I'm supposed to lie so I can keep hanging around," Bucky says, laughing a little. It does feel more like his hand, though, and he can feel the subtlety of her fingertips against his palm.

"So which do you want? Real answer or fake answer?"

"Real answer and you can keep hanging around anyway." She says this with a soft smile and a slight nod. "If the hand is feeling good, that doesn't mean we're done with it. What other tests do we want to run to see if its sensitivity is high enough?"

She brushes her thumb over his palm, the motion absently done as she thinks, her gaze a little off into the distance as she works on potential problems or solutions or just trial runs at normal things.

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