Glimmer, glitter, shine...

[thecanopycrew]

| characters | Everyone!

| date/time | March 15, all day

| location | First Floor

| rating | Currently G

| summary | A flash of light, and a new adventure.


LIGHT

Warmth, love and kindness.
The Life Stream glimmers and glitters with joy, swirls of shimmering dust dancing around the ray of life.
It was time for new ones to test their wings.


One by one, new adventurers now arrive in the Tree. As one gain wings and rises to the second floor, another light brings in the next person. Soon, a steady stream of people from all kinds of worlds, times and realities come to join the others. Whether confused, angry, excited or scared, your arrival is welcomed with nothing but joy as the fireflies and glow worms descend to greet their new friends.

The Tree offers no explanation and no reason, but the truth is undeniable.

As you will soon realize, it isn't easy to be tiny.

Comments

[dissemblance]

[It figures, she'd have to be the one to explain it to a man out of time. She wonders who told Rogers, or if he found out on the internet. Given what baseball meant to those boys--]

Oh, don't tell me you're a man with a grudge. My deda still brings that up like it was yesterday.

[redactions]

Only a [ he brings his thumb and index finger very close together. ] little one.

[ Another beat, and he holds out his hand. ]

James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky. Pleasure to meet you, Anna.

[dissemblance]

Well, I am Switzerland in this age-old Yankees-versus-Dodgers debate, all right? Don't even think about dragging me into it. [With a bit of good-natured grumbling,] I don't even like baseball.

[But she allows herself a visible hesitation when he mentions his name. Schoolchildren know the story of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, there's no strategic value to her denying having ever heard of him. Not when there are a million ways that could go wrong down the line and her cover could end up well and truly blown.

Her brow furrows, and she tucks her arms around herself as if she's suddenly cold.]

Wait-- did you say Bucky? Bucky Barnes? Parents must've been big Howling Commandos fans, huh?

[She hates doing it this way. There's obviously a temporal warp involved here, or this is some absurd pastiche of Dante's Inferno, but if he's not yet the Winter Soldier, that means that what she has to say is going to hurt him. And she's not in the business of hurting people when it's unnecessary.]

[redactions]

[ The humor's lost on him as his hand drops to the side and he tilts his head slightly, frowning in confusion. There's kids named after them? But that means... the War's over? Well duh, it was always going to. They were winning. Even without him, Steve would get the job done and keep everyone - keep them safe. Without him. ]

Excuse me?

[dissemblance]

[Her expression flickers, too fast by far too seem anything but honest - though it isn't. Surprise, something like shock, and then a quiet sort of sympathy. She draws a breath that isn't quite steady.]

What's-- what's the last thing you remember?

[redactions]

It's April, 1945.

[ It's early May. He puts away the shock, shuts it behind a door and snows it in, eyes narrowing at her. ]

[dissemblance]

[Softly,]

From the war. Guess-- that makes you the real McCoy.

[She exhales slowly, wraps her arms around herself. Anna's logical conclusion is that she's dead. Natasha doesn't think it's quite so simple, but-- one step at a time.]

I'm from 2014. May. You're... probably going to have a lot of questions, huh? Would you like to sit down somewhere?

[redactions]

[ He affects a mildly amused smile, and gestures at a nearby table, pulling out a chair for her. The gum, untouched, he pockets. Seventy years in the future. It should rattle him somewhat, but he feels settled, and centred. Dead men feared little - and maybe she knows that he's dead too and is too polite to mention it. ]

Just one. What happened to Captain Rogers?

[dissemblance]

[She sits, but waits until he takes a chair as well to start. Her wings flutter a bit against the chairback, and she folds her hands in her lap.

She knows he's not from April. The only man not even remotely interested in his own fate is one that thinks he's dead. So-- he's from after he fell. Maybe before the Soviets got their hands on him, and she thinks-- she thinks about winter, the way that snow hides the grime, and the fact that when you're so cold that you're near death, all you feel is warm.

Softly, she clears her throat.]

He's alive.

[It's easy to lead off with the good news.]

Do you... want the specifics? I don't know how much I should tell you, for all I know we could be creating a time paradox right now.

[redactions]

[ Or one who cares about another's fate more than his own - life isn't unbearable without Steve, but it's darker and meaner. He doesn't want to consider the kind of man he'd be without his best friend. And - he's alive, seventy years on. Did he marry Peggy? Does he have children? Is he still in Brooklyn or somewhere else? Every road leads back to Steve. ]

If you could tell me what you know, please.

[ He never begs, and he's calm enough that it sounds like a quietly firm request. But it's a plea all the same. ]

[dissemblance]

['Anna' fidgets, fussing with a stray thread at the hem of her hoodie. She doesn't hear the plea, has no reason to suspect it might be there, but Natasha does, and she's the one that reaches out to cover his hand with her own.

No one needs to know that she's double-checking her initial analysis as to whether or not it's flesh or a vibranium alloy.]

He crashed a plane.

[It's odd, to be telling this story. After all, she learned it in Russia, where it wasn't nearly as revered as it was Stateside. She hated the name 'Captain America' on principle once upon a time.]

The war ends on May 8th. This happened a few days before, there were... bombs, I think, on a plane headed to America. It crashed while he was somewhere above the arctic circle, and he was lost for seventy years. But he survived - the serum, you know? And a couple years ago, for me, an expedition found him and brought him home. He's working with the army now, I think.

[Quietly,]

I'm sorry. I wish I knew more, but he's a pretty private guy. He doesn't really do interviews or anything.

[redactions]

[ That fucking idiot. Crashes a plane - how about it. He suddenly, viciously hates being dead, because Steve is getting the chewing out of a lifetime. His right hand tightens over the back of the chair, the knuckles white for brief moments, and slackens as he blinks, covers her hand with his own, and glances away. ]

No, thank you, that's all I needed.

[ It answers an unstated second question: they won the war. In less than a week, too, did he pick an auspicious hour to bite the bullet. ]

Don't tell me what else happens in the future. We wouldn't want to change history accidentally, hey?

[dissemblance]

Well, James-- my lips are sealed.

[She's trying to sound light-hearted, but whether it's Anna's or Natasha's failure that she doesn't quite manage it remains to be seen. She does, however, squeeze his hand.]

I'm sorry. Do you... need a minute?

[redactions]

No, thanks, I'm fine.

[ He smiles cheekily at her as he withdraws his hands, shifting so he sits a little more jauntily. But he forgets to correct her calling him James. ]

How're you handling all this, Anna?

[dissemblance]

[It's the same sort of compartmentalization and deflection she got used to from Rogers, and she has to wonder - who learned from whom? Or was it simply the product of shared life experience?

She drums her fingers along the wood of the table in an off-beat tune and gives him a look that's a little lost and a lot chagrined.]

I don't know if I am. How does anyone handle something like this? All I can think of is that I hope to God someone feeds my cat. I woke up this morning and took the subway. Now I've got wings. I'm-- [a long, unsteady exhalation.] surviving, I guess. So far.

[For the last few words, she'd been studying the whorls of the table's grain, now her attention flickers up to him.]

What about you? I mean... you're the one that was just in a war. When was the last time you ate?

[redactions]

[ He smiles back, just worn enough at the edges to make Anna think he's sympathising even if he isn't talking. ]

You're doin' all right. [ He squashes the little twist in his gut that tells him she was on a train too. Coincidence. ]

I ain't hungry. [ Lie, old one, he hasn't stopped feeling hungry and he's sure his ribs are nearly visible. But he's not even thinking about food right now; his mind is swirling with questions about what Steve is doing in the future. ] C'mon. Let's get you somethin' to drink. You'll feel better.

[dissemblance]

I don't know if I want to try anything they have on tap here. You know the myth about Persephone and Hades?

[She's learned several things about him now she never had cause to know previously, the most recent of which is that he is, in fact, a terrible liar. Anna has no reason to suspect him, but Natasha-- she thinks that, given the choice, he'd do anything to take care of the people around him before he ever looked to himself.

Is that something that survived the Winter Soldier? The reason he pulled Rogers out of the Potomac? Or is there something else there she's not seeing? Hm.]

[redactions]

[ Thoughtfully, ] That was pomegranate seeds. [ but she has a point, he frowns, and hunts for his canteen automatically before it registers that he didn't have it with him when he fell. ] Hm. I've got a chocolate bar. S'pose that's one way o'living history, huh?

[dissemblance]

[She frowns faintly.]

James, I'm not going to take that from you. What if it's all you've got? You should look after yourself, too.

[redactions]

Hey, I knew what I was gettin' into with the army. [ his eyebrows are raised, looking at her intently, a kind of don't try to fool me ] You were just ridin' the subway.

[dissemblance]

Well, you've never ridden the modern subway.

[That's a joke.]

I'll be all right. They still raise 'em tough in the Bronx, I promise. But you're very sweet.

[redactions]

Ha ha. That's very funny. I'd be what... [ he makes a show of counting ] ninety six? [ fingerpoint ] Respect your elders. Now keep it.

[dissemblance]

[She does some (obvious) math of her own, and--]

But physically you're only twenty-eight. So, I've got you beat.

[A shy little smile.]

You know, I probably shouldn't be admitting my age to a total stranger. In... hindsight. Can we forget I did that?

[redactions]

[ hands in the air ]

The lady never stated her age. Stricken from the record.

[dissemblance]

[That smile turns a bit sharp, settles into something pleasantly flirtatious.]

You're a real gentleman, huh?

[It's gentle, a bit wistful, but warm.]