farsickness | 001. Longing

001. Longing

WHO: Bucky Barnes & You
WHEN: 1 April
WHAT: Arriving
WHERE: Edge of the forest, Gazin
WARNINGS: An Intro thread, which is its own warning.

the forest

Plenty of things have prepared Bucky for situations like this. Both in the war and later, as HYDRA's asset, he'd been dropped into the middle of the woods and given little more than his own innate sense of direction and the stars overhead to guide him to his target or back to civilization, whichever the case may be. These woods, though, shouldn't be here.

He's been running. He's good at running. He's been running for a year, maybe more, but the land beneath his boots now isn't the land he's used to. He'd been weaving his way through city streets the last time and now he's here with a chunk of memory blank in between. Had he been conditioned? He tries to remember if he'd been activated, racks his brain to see if there's any target he'd taken out or any mission he'd accomplished, and he comes up with nothing. It's disconcerting. At least when he's under, he remembers everything even if he wishes he hadn't. The not knowing sometimes is worse the bloody memories he carries along with him of murders he'd committed as a hostage in his own mind.

He picks a direction and starts walking, deciding to stick with it until he comes out into some sort of field. Forests end, eventually, and he's good enough in the woods to survive a long hike. He keeps his tread soft and when a branch snaps, he goes stock still and slowly turns his head to see if he's been spotted.

gazin

It's a long walk until civilization but Bucky eventually finds it in the form of a small village that seems like it's been lifted from some sort of fairy tale. There's no internet, no phones, no electricity but there's what seems like a bar that has food and drink. He's aware he has literally nothing to trade with and nothing of value but he goes to the bar anyway and asks the barkeep if he can trade labor for food; he's got the strength to do anything the man wants but he's going to need food if he's going to be capable of doing it. It's a good enough prospect, apparently, because a few minutes later Bucky has dark beer and some sort of meat pie in front of him.

He's picked a table sort of in the back and while he can't hide in the shadows completely, he's far enough back that no one is behind him and he can see the door and the rest of the room from where he is. He doesn't have a knife and the food had only come with a stubby one. Bucky pockets it anyway, choosing a weapon over no weapon.

He doesn't have a glove to cover his left hand and he tries to obscure it, tries to keep candlelight from glinting on the bright metal.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I suppose I have," she said sounding a little surprised. "It seemed prudent to establish a place that I could defend if needed and here it was, waiting for me."

A flick of her wrist and the kettle began to heat as she moved to a small cabinet above the sink and brought down two cups. She had worked hard to make a proper French press and had been pleasantly surprised by her successful results.

Magic kept the cold things cold and the things she wished hot, hot. It was all based upon the laws of thermodynamics only magic fueled, which honestly was the same branch only few orders of degrees above it. No one had asked for a primer on magic, so she left go of the thought to find sugar, some cream for them - should it be wanted. Merlan took hers with both because she had a sweet tooth. Her guest might surprise her, though her first thought was black.

"Make yourself comfortable, anywhere you wish."

The chairs at the round kitchen table are cushioned, neatly handstitched in various golden hues made from several different kinds of fabric and are very soft. Little fanciful tassels hand here and there, serving to tie the cushions in place. Little touches like this adorn the small house and there is a wooden couch with a pale knotted afghan strewn over ts frame by a large fireplace. Before it is a low tea table with more cushions in emerald and saffron colours stacked two by two.

Bucky opts to sit at the table for now instead of the couch, even if it looks inviting as it is in front of that warm fireplace. He hates being cold now, after Siberia, and this place has the sort of cozy warmth that can lull you into safety. He isn't willing to go that far but he can see where it'd be easy to trust Merlan.

If she does magic as she says, though, trusting her could be a good or bad thing. Bad things sometimes come in good packages.

"Figure out I take it black, huh?"

"It seemed like a logical choice," she said with a bright laugh. "My first guesses are usually correct, at least about coffee and tea. People, well, I trust more than I don't. At least I can handle myself in a pinch if a mate decides to go full asshole."

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles and there's no tension in her body or face that might give anyone the idea she's hiding anything, thank goodness. She has yet to find something here that makes her ill at ease, even with the various magical creatures that like to sniff around.

"Most people wouldn't trust me," Bucky says softly, blowing on his coffee a bit and taking a sip of it. It's really good, actually, and he's glad he agreed to come to this house in the woods in what seems like the good ending of Hansel and Gretl. Merlan seems a bit too loquacious to make him truly comfortable as he likes his quiet but he doesn't think she has ill intent.

"Thank you, though, for the vote of confidence."

"I have never been most people," Merlan says gently as she fixes her own with cream and sweetener. She's at ease now and the flood of words seems to have died down some.

"Though I do I ramble on a fair bit when I'm a little nervous," her smile is a touch rueful, the Irish/Australian lilt of her voice apologetic. "Feel free to tell me to hush."

There's something about the quiet that demands to be filled sometimes. It's why interrogation with silence and staring is so good of a method. For Merlan, she thinks it's because she'd been alone so much that having someone sat across from her is just so novel that she can't shut her gob. The coffee is hot and good and helps her relax more, which in turn, makes her less prone to words. She'll just enjoy the company without that need to put words everywhere.

"Well, it's not really polite to tell someone to just stop talking when they're having a good time," Bucky says, half-smiling over his cup of coffee. "And I didn't really know what to say anyway. There's a lot of things you know that I've never heard of."

Magic, for one. Bucky thinks there's a form of it in his world but it's more powered people like him and Steve and Wanda, not dragons and fairies like Merlan described.

"Besides, I'm usually too quiet. It's easier for someone else to fill in the gaps."

"This is why I gave you permission," Merlan said with a slight gesture. "I just sais you could. Just remind me if I'm rambling on. I've not really been social in ages. Not properly, anyway. I just...would like to be polite and not rude."

She offers him a slightly crooked smile.

"Silence wishes to be filled," she said a beat later and laughed, the sound throaty and rich. "I have been here for a tick, that's true."

"My own company has been it for a while," Bucky admits. He's still figuring out his head, what's real and what's not, and this place has thrown a wrench into it. In one way, it's easier because he hasn't seen anyone who knows him and has expectations. In another, it's difficult to reveal personal information.

"It's nice to fill it, I guess. I don't know if I'm too useful to this place, though. I don't know anything about the stuff you seem like an expert in."

"You don't have to be useful," she says a moment later. "You can just be who and what you wish to be here. Hunt monsters, help out the locals, work on a farm, whatever you want. Reinventing yourself is just as fine an option as not. I did. I'm a smith and mage, here."

"Is it what you always did? Or is it something you've just grown into while you've been here?"

The idea of getting to be a new person appeals. He barely knows what person he is on any given day but a new person has a new story, a new life. He doesn't have to know what comes next because no one knows.

"I was always a mage but kinda a different sort of smith." She looked amused. "I've been able to join magic and technology in addition to helping solve supernatural crimes. It's a bit different here. More primitive, arguably better than where I came from. So far, no one's tried to end the world. I hope they don't as it's rather nice here."

"I'm going to show you something. I don't show it to people if I don't have to, not usually, but I want to see if you can...work with it if I needed it worked with."

Bucky doesn't know what will happen if his arm gets destroyed here because there isn't the tech to repair it but from the way Merlan talks, she might know how to do what he needs. He slides off his glove and jacket, showing her his left arm.

"It's automated - technological. I haven't broken it but if I do, I'm screwed."

"It's really quite beautiful," she murmurs, her voice hushed as she leans to look at it. "It would mean some study if you'd allow me but if it does break, I'll definitely do my best to fix it. May I?"

Merlan stretched out her hand questioningly so that she could get a feel on a psychic and magical level to see what she was dealing with. She was extraordinarily gentle with things like this and she could see the problem if something did happen. His arm would essentially be useless.

"It's a full prosthetic," Bucky says. "I can take it off if you want to really look at it but it's gonna leave me at a disadvantage. You gotta promise you're not going to steal it or something."

It's something he's incredibly worried about, strangely enough, and he never thought he'd get attached to this foreign piece of metal.

"But feel free to touch it all you want."

"...steal your arm? Goodness no. Keep your arm on, it's fine. Incredible metal, not one I've seen before but," her fingers are delicate against the metal as she determined if it could be magically manipulated and then nodded after a few moments. "I'm fairly sure I can fix it if something goes wrong. You've nothing to worry about with me."

Her smile is soft as she lays a hand against the prosthesis, looking up at him for a moment.

"I promise I shan't steal your arm, not now or ever," she says quietly like it's some sort of oath of fealty. "In any case," her voice drops into something gently teasing, "I think there's some sort of rule against arm-snatching after one shares coffee."

"I sure hope so. If I don't have it, I'm at a big disadvantage," Bucky says, managing a smile. It's hard to smile these days and he has to work at it like he'd have to work at using a muscle that's atrophied. He's just a ghost of what he used to be but he wants to get better.

"If you do need to work on it for an extended period of time and I can't wear it, just let me know. I guess I'll be stuck here for a lot of coffee and conversation while my shoulder's getting a rest."

She gently nodded to the first bit and gave him a reassuring smile. Yeah, she understood. You take away one arm and it's gotta be tough, you take away this arm, hell...who knows what would happen. It was too strange a metal, she thought, to be normal. She didn't want him separated with it for too long anyway.

"Mm," Merlan said softly, "If I do need to work on it longer than usual, yes, I'd want to have you around so, agreed. Lots of coffee, lots of conversation."

"Sometimes things get stuck in the plates when I'm fighting," he says, pressing where the metal slides over itself like scales. "Blood, dirt - it can get dangerous because I don't know if I'm ever going to end up frying the motor in it or however it works."

He doesn't know nearly enough about how his arm works and while he loathes it, he also recognizes it as a necessary tool.

"So if we could figure out an easier way to keep it clean, that might be helpful."

"Are you opposed to me using magic?" she asks, tilting her chin. "I can put a cleaning subroutine via magic in. I've done it before on other things - machines. It's easier for me but usually magic and machines hate each other. I sort of bridge the gap somehow. I'm thinking we can probably do with what you need with an anti-debris coating and a little microkinesis to get it where it needs to go."

She swirled her coffee around for a moment.

"You want me to work something up for anti-theft, too?"

Bucky nods along when she talks about cleaning and anti-debris but when she mentions anti-theft, the laugh he lets out is stilted because he hasn't laughed in so goddamn long. He shakes his head and takes another sip of his coffee before answering.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the anti-theft," he points out. "Would you try to steal anything from me? I sure as shit wouldn't. I don't take it off unless it has to be worked on and I don't let it out of my sight. But if you wanna put anti-theft on it, I guess it means nobody can steal me either?"

"Well, you got me there," she says, laughing. The sound is bright, musical, and a bit throaty. He laughed, though, so she counted that as a win. Not that she'd been intending to charge jack on that. Or anything.

Sometimes she didn't need or want to charge. Merlan was already thinking about compounds to use in his arm's coating. There were a few options, one of them required a little hunting, the rest required knowing where things were in the forest.

"I just have to make sure I'm not getting too many bells and whistles. Still want to be able to use this thing when you get done upgrading it," Bucky says. "I'll wake up and have an attachment to make toast or something if I'm not careful."

In a way, Merlan seems like a more beautiful, magical Tony Stark. He'd rather put up with her than Stark, that's for damn sure. He's only seen the man on TV and that's more than enough for him.

"Toast on the go, mmm. Needs jam dispenser," she pretended to consider it and then laughed again, her fingers resting on his prosthesis as she winked. "We'll clean it, coat it, and test it." Her hair shifted in the breeze and jasmine and blackberry scent caught the air. She debates for a moment. "I can cloth it in illusion, make it look like an arm again, if you want me to do so. Easier if you don't want folks staring. A simple trigger word will decloak it for you."

She noticed how he had been covering it before as if he didn't want it to catch the light and offered the simple enchantment.

That's something he's never thought about before. There's prostheses now that do look indistinguishable from normal limbs but his had been grafted on by HYDRA and he'd turned it into a weapon - replacing it with something that would shatter the second he punched with super strength would be useless.

Disguising it, though, is an appealing thought. He could feel more normal in a crowd without long sleeves and a glove. He could wear short sleeves without eyes, could blend.

"I think I'd like that."

"Good. Do you have a word you'd like to use for it?" she asked, tilting her chin a little. It's a good idea, having a word to trigger magic, well, triggering it with the proper intent.

"It'll be proper intent, so think carefully."

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