thehometree | ( open )

Entry tags:

( open )

| characters | Bucky and you.
| date/time | Thursday afternoon.
| location | Around
| rating | G.
| summary | The best way to greet your neighbours is to feed them.
| note | I wrote in prose but feel free to use brackets.

He falls asleep instantly on the moss bed, the smell of it familiar and steadying. Combat lends sleep of no restful kind but he barely dreams at all, waking up as soon as the first ray of light peers through the window. There's a moment of bewilderment, and then reality introduces itself to him all over again as he notices the wings are still there when he picks up his gem. He flattens them self-consciously, before finally deciding they take up too much space and leaves the gem carefully tucked under his pillow.

Breakfast, however, is the immediate problem. He saved some water from the rains and an edible mushroom, and it's boiling away merrily on the stove. The glow worm is unusually cooperative, but Bucky supposes that if he's now the size of a dragonfly it's not the weirdest thing in the world.

It's actually nice. He could get used to it.

Once the worm's been sent off with an appreciative scratch on the head, he picks up the large bowl of stew and starts knocking on a few doors.

'Hello?'

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's probably a good thing for Bucky that Wyrden is already awake - if not, her Accessory would have barred the door completely. The soldier had been sitting on her bed doing weapons maintenance, and counting the disposeables that she still had left. Without her facilities, she would be stranded...

The knock takes her mind slightly off the state of her supplies, and she motions for Ramiel to open it. The Accessory fumbles a little with the door (it isn't the automated sliding door of her cell) but manages to get it open after a few seconds, standing back so Wyrden could see who was outside.

Another human, interesting. She stands, as per protocol. ]

Hey. Anything I can help with?

[ ooc: permissions post! ]

Edited 2015-03-21 15:14 (UTC)

[ He eyes the Accessory curiously - just one more on the Grand List of Things That Are Part of Life Now - and nods briskly at her, straightening just as she stands. ]

I'm one of your neighbours. Just poppin' by. Would you like soup?

[ Ah, friendly people. Much more friendly than the folks back home, definitely. This she acknowledges with a nod, expression becoming less serious. ]

Thanks. [ But she isn't one to take things without paying, so: ] I don't have anything of value with me, though. Hope you're fine with that.

[ Free things is such a foreign concept to her that her mind immediately goes to bartering. ]

But if you'd need any building work, or the like, I can do that, yeah.

[ This is a language he understands and would insist on the same himself. She gets a bright smile. ]

You don't have to. Way I see it, we're all stuck here, wouldn't hurt to do a few things for free now and then.

[ But he won't stop her if she wishes to owe a debt. ]

What did you do back home? [ he eyes the Accessory, thinking maybe she built it. It's certainly fascinating. ]

[ Heh, that's true. But she has been in hardship too long to unlearn the fact that every gift must be returned.

So she just tilts her head, motioning to signal that he could come in and perhaps set the bowl down somewhere. ]

Soldier. [ Easiest way to put it. ] Field work mostly, but I have to maintain all my equipment on my own, so there's that.

[ The blade left on the bed is one indication, as is the intricate polearm leaning against one wall. Her machine gun is currently stashed in her Will'O Drive, so it isn't out. ]

Life isn't easy back home, so I'd learned to do lots of things. Think I can help out 'round here, too.

[ He checks the sole of his boots discreetly to make sure they're clean enough to enter a home with, and then walks in and places the bowl on the sturdiest wood outcrop he can find. Looking around the blade catches his eye first: he admires the craftsmanship, and whistles softly. ]

Me too. [ standing at almost parade rest next to where he put the bowl ] Which war?

[ Which war?

Wyrden looks confused for a moment, before she realizes that this man is probably from an earlier time. An time where nations could afford not to fight. ]

Uh... bit of a long story. Fighting's a normal part of life, where I come from. You could say the war's been going on for ever. As far as anyone can remember.

[ Longer than centuries, longer than millennia, even. Once humanity reached the stasis point where resource consumption equalled resource regeneration, it stagnated. ]

[ You could spontaneously freeze and shatter a flower in liquid nitrogen with the icy look that crosses his face at Wyrden's answer. A world of eternal war. He rubs his chin, and makes a derisive noise. ]

Sorry to hear that. Maybe one day it'll be over.

[ But he's not holding his breath. The world's cruel. ]

I'm from World War Two, don't suppose that means anything to you?

[ Because if that's his future, he's very glad he's dead. ]

[ It isn't her choice. No one had a choice. Not even Simeon. ]

We're working on that. There is hope, but it needs hard work to make it a reality.

[ The Casket had been one way. Now she only needed to bide her time until Simeon is ready to launch the assault for On High. What other grand plans that man had, she did not know. ]

No. sorry. [ A frown, and then: ] Which year?

[ He nods. Hope is scarce, and sometimes it's all people have, but they can still walk for miles and dream. It's powerful. ]

1945...?

[ 1945, 1945.... uhh.... ]

Are you using the old calendar? It'd be about a million years, maybe even more.

[ It was 1002014, the last time she remembered. ]

Holy cow.

[ It's out before he can stop it, and then he remembers to close his jaw. ]

Wow.

[ A million years. That's one way to meet the future. ]

[ If he truly was from her world's past, then she supposes she'd need to give him a run-down of the whole situation. ]

Yeah. It's... not easy, honestly. [ She tilts her head, examining something on her hand for a moment before continuing. ] America, Asia, those names - they're of the old world, right? It's almost been forgotten completely.

[ The old world, when resources were still plentiful... It's something that her people can only envision in dreams. ]

I'm from Tokyo. It's the one name that's left, I think. [ Simeon skipped that part while telling her about the past, and the databases only had Japanese names. ] We don't live in nations anymore, only Panopticons. There aren't enough resources to go around anymore, so all the fighting's involved in taking them.

[ It's a dog eat dog world. ]

We get by, but once in a while Abductors from On High come to steal and pillage. That's when most of the fighting is. [ And most of the casualties, too. ]

[ He nods when she names the continents. Still a lot to wrap his head around, and he's outdated in more ways than one. His expression darkens as she continues: it's a harsh world, and it seems to have made people who'd survive in it, viciously. Can't blame 'em, if killing's what keeps you and yours alive. Had a few of those folks during the War. It led some men down desperate paths, and while he and Steve had gone without enough to know the pain of hunger, they'd never truly starved. ]

Nobody besides a few folks are fighting 'em?

Well... not really. [ The harsh conditions of the future led to the development of the Panopticons' harsh rules. And it's all they will ever know, unless she did something to change it all. ]

See, there are two classes of people. The Citizens, people with brains, and the Sinners, who are the brawn. Sinners fight to protect Citizens, and Citizens work to keep our Panopticon running.

[ Citizens are valuable resources, after all. She imagines their life can't be easy either. ]

I'm one of the latter. Usually we can wreck a good part of their raider machines, but not all of them. [ And it's a sort of counter-current thing, given that they did make use of whatever ruined parts they could salvage. ]

They've been coming less often, though. [ Maybe that's a good thing... but it also meant that the Dionae would be razing some other poor Panopticon more often. It's just how things are. ]

[ It's a good thing if it means their forces are being weakened, bad if it means they're withdrawing and planning to mount a larger attack. He nods, filing this away to think about later. Compartmentalise. When nothing can be done, plan, and wait. ]

If you want, you could share what them raiders look like and we'll figure somethin' out.

[ Tech a million years in the future can still be broken or compromised. That's one thing he's sure will never change. ]

Anyway. You want some soup?

[ It's a thought she certainly appreciates, but she isn't sure if it'll do much. ] They're like... giant machines, really. Non-organic and powered by Will'O. We've been fighting against them for ages, so all their weak points are well-documented. The only determining factors here are the size of their forces, the size of ours, and how skilled each soldier is.

[ Ah yes, soup. ]

Well... if you'd insist, then I have some bread to contribute.

[ It's wrapped up in a leaf by the bedside table. Wyrden had been lucky enough to get a whole room to herself... but only by virtue of no one being comfortable enough to sleep under Ramiel's constant scruitinity. ]

Thanks.

[ Dryly amused, ] All right, I give, that one might take a while.

[ 1945 is a long way from her time, after all. ]

Bread would be great, thanks. When's the last time you had anything that wasn't rations?

[ That is... actually a very good question. ]

I can't remember. [ Though it isn't quite due to the reason she had in mind. ] Sorry. I lost my memory about a year ago. [ And she says it as if it isn't a big deal at all.

But anyway. She goes over to retrieve the bread, setting it on the shelf where the soup was. ]

D'you eat bread in small or large pieces?

Small pieces, please.

[ He only masks his alarm because she seems nonchalant about it. Bucky's never been able to look at a wound and not want to stitch it shut, but it'd feel.. imposing when the other person doesn't even think of it that way. So instead he stands and pulls out a chair for her. ]

There's a way to get your memories back, or they're all gone?

[ Small pieces, sure, she can do that. She goes off to wash her hands in one of the windowsill basins before coming back and working at it with a small knife. ]

All gone. [ Still the same flat tone as ever. ] Even if they'd develop some sort of medication for that, it'd be for the Citizens. I'm not eligible yet.

[ Only about five hundred thousand years left to go. ]

... I'm not sure if it would even be good to remember it, anyway. I don't know what it is anymore.

[ It'd better not be something that gets in the way of her work. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( open )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject