Voices from Heaven (
thespaceopera) wrote in
driftfleet2015-06-11 10:46 pm
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Entry tags:
- !event,
- !mingle,
- allen walker,
- anders,
- asteffiel,
- aveline vallen,
- belthazar spellscry,
- beverly crusher,
- bobbin threadbare,
- clay terran,
- coil lenn,
- cole,
- cullen rutherford,
- elize lutus,
- eugene ben woods,
- gaignun kukai jr,
- garrett hawke,
- isabela,
- james buchanan barnes (au),
- jennifer keller,
- jinx halcomb,
- jove lavellan,
- megaman.exe,
- nelkeila tarid,
- r. daneel olivaw,
- robin redbreast,
- sheena fujibayashi,
- shirley fennes,
- simon tam,
- sokka,
- stanley raymond kowalski,
- syeira,
- tekhetsio,
- vash the stampede,
- wanda maximoff,
- yamanaka ino,
- yuya sakaki,
- zelos wilder (bad end),
- zhas
A cry for help
[a distress call has been tracked across the void, finally leading back to the source. a hulking crippled ship, teeming with hostile alien life, now lies before you.
what do you do? do you dive in or hang back? are you here to learn, play, build, or observe?
however you choose to proceed, your audience is out there somewhere, watching.]
ooc: here is a good ol' themed mingle to get you all started! and don't feel limited by the prompts and what they describe--they're just there as idea-starters, so feel free to go anywhere and do anything.
have fun!
info post→ here
what do you do? do you dive in or hang back? are you here to learn, play, build, or observe?
however you choose to proceed, your audience is out there somewhere, watching.]
ooc: here is a good ol' themed mingle to get you all started! and don't feel limited by the prompts and what they describe--they're just there as idea-starters, so feel free to go anywhere and do anything.
have fun!
info post→ here
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[ As she explores further, she'll find that's not completely true. Here and there it's melted through, or shatters under her feet. The first thing there is the War, the grime of it spread across the ground like living vines, in red, brown, and black. The smell of gun-smoke; the crackle of falling mortars. Someone screaming. A blond man with a red, white, and blue uniform, a silver star set in the centre of the shield he carries on his back, walking confidently at the head of a unit. The image of him flickers. Sometimes he's six feet two and charging towards the guns, and other times when he's still he's five feet and glaring fiercely back, fists clenched, lip bloodied. The two don't fit, in Bucky's mind, and shift in and out of each other in his memory. But they are unequivocally the same man, because when he turns to smile at Bucky, the chill around Wanda immediately dissipates. ]
[ Where the darker colours fade to neon, there's new scents, too many, overpowering. Voices. He's in a gym, where the colours are sepia and the leather smell of his jacket is strong in his nostrils, better than what's out there in the world. His left hand is metal, and he's pulling a sleeve on it that changes its appearance to normal flesh. A woman with red hair and a dark black SHIELD uniform is chewing bubblegum, watching him. You shouldn't, Natasha says, voice distant. It helps, he answers, and she looks away. 2013 is barely there. 1945 swims back into it. When Wanda reaches the very heart of the landscape, the wind picks up. The sound of a train, on full throttle. The world is now loud, screeching. Remember when you made me ride the Cyclone at Coney Island? Yeah, and I threw up? This isn't payback, is it? ]
[ Steve falls, and the world comes to a stop. It's not healed, only been packed with ice until it's covered completely, and crumbles away at Wanda's touch. Grief devours, and unkindly. His brother is gone — his whole heart and half of his very soul turn to ash in his mouth. There's no wind, only a howl of despair when he finds the blood at the bottom of the ravine, and no body. ]
[ It's 2012 and there's an empty grave at Arlington inscribed with the name Steven G. Rogers. The place smells like whiskey, and the sun is getting low, and nothing moves. ]
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[As Wanda opens her eyes, she's gasping. Crying. The anguish of feeling exactly what Sgt. Barnes' had felt. It was crashing over her, like a massive title wave. Yet, the magnitude of it all wasn't an unfamiliar pain to her. It was the feeling of losing someone... someone who means more to you than even yourself. The loss that leaves a gaping hole, the likes of which will likely never be truly filled ever again. Yes... Wanda has felt this before. Nonetheless, it doesn't stop the tears from falling down her face. Nor does it calm the storm of emotion playing out on her face.]
[She can't bring herself to speak. She doesn't know what to say. Instead, she just cries. She reaches out to him, grasping the sleeve of his uniform. The sleeve covering his cybernetic arm. She doesn't pull it, she doesn't push it. She just holds onto it... and the rain continues to fall.]
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Miss? Did you — [ feel that? Where did it come from? but he stops dead at the sight of her tears, and twists his arm out of her grip to rest his hand gently on hers. Soft: ] Hey, sweetheart, what's the matter? You all right?
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[Wanda can barely bring her mouth to form words, or her throat to voice them. Nothing in her head sounds right. What can she say? What could she possibly say? The only thing that comes to mind is:]
I am sorry.
[She looks up at Sgt. Barnes. Her eyes staring straight into his own, trying to convey as much sincere empathy as she can offer. Tears continue to trickle down her cheeks.]
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Sorry for...?
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[Once she feels she has control enough over herself again, she finally speaks. Her tone is quiet, unsure of the words that find their way out of her mouth.]
So... you are Captain America... That must have been a very hard burden for you to bear.
[She says it like she doesn't already know just how hard it was for him. However, it's the only thing she can think to say.]
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How did — oh, never mind. [ it's probably the uniform, even with the lack of shield ] Nah. S'mostly publicity these days.
[ A pause, then, ]
We're from the same world, huh?
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No. We are not.
[A pause. Her mouth opens, closes. Attempting to form words.]
But I do know... a Captain America.
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[ He frowns. She knew the name. This is Natasha all over again. ]
[ Quietly, ] It's Steve, isn't it?
[ The better world, where Bucky's the dead one. ]
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Yes.
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The Avengers, they exist? The Chitauri? We won, didn't we?
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Yes, the Avengers do exist, and they are strong. Very strong. They were able to drive back the Chitauri's invasion of New York.
[She almost goes on to tell him about Ultron, but... that would mean revealing her own part in that story. And it's a part that she's not especially proud of. Least not all of it. There's a pause before she simply adds:]
They have done a great amount of good in a world that desperately needs it.
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That's good. Thank you for being honest with me.
[ It's entirely possible she isn't, but very unlikely. Instead he stands and shifts awkwardly. ]
I'm sorry Miss, I forgot my manners in all this. [ holding out his hand for her to shake ] James Barnes.
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Wanda Maximoff.
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Call me Jim.
[ Bucky belongs to another man, of another time. ]
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Okay, Jim.
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You promise to keep your weight off your leg, hey?
[ He's still a little worried about the weird red earlier, but it's dissipated now and he feels a lot calmer. ]
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Yes. I will be careful.
Are you going back in there?
[She gestures towards the corridor that leads further into the infested ship.]
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[ He thinks it's amusing. Always did like tinkering with things. ]
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You do not look like an engineer, but then I know better than to judge someone by how they appear on the surface.
[Bit of a nudge, nudge wink, wink there.]
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What did they give you?
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[The words she used to say with a sort of bemused curiosity now come out with a slight tang of bitterness. After all, what kind of support can she be here? Especially now with the injury to her leg.]
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Not a lot of experience with it?
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