driftfleet | 003 ;;

Who: Winter & You
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Iskaulit
When: 3/20

[ Text ]

How does everyone deal with loss? How much of an impact is it meant to have?

Similar. Unrelated. Is anyone familiar with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? I would like to know more.

[ Action >> Iskaulit ]

[ If you happen to be on the Iskaulit at any time in the wee hours of the morning, between two and six, you may run into Winter utilizing the gym. There aren't really posted hours, and that's usually when no one else is around.

The poor sandbags that he helped Jim hang all those months ago are getting a beating. Winter's focus is zeroed in on the same worn spot, but apparently something gives. Winter reels his left arm back, a high metallic whine the only warning before he lands a blow. It's enough force that not only does it knock the sandbag from its hook, but it goes flying across the room like it's nothing.

Emotional? Who's emotional? Nobody here. Mind your business! ]

[ Action >> Heron ]

[ Winter may have been restless before, but without Jim, this is something new entirely. Crew have been coming and going regularly over the past few months, but this is different. The Atroma decided that he should be captain? Over someone who would probably be more capable at it. He sees what you did there. You just couldn't pass up the chance to not have to change names in the roster, huh?

He's trying to wrap his head around it. Sure, he led teams on missions as the Winter Soldier, but that was different. He wasn't really calling the shots. Being Captain is new and scary and leaves room for so much to go wrong.

If anyone wants to bother him, or happens to be visiting, he is more than likely roaming the halls trying to burn off the nervous energy. He's comfortable with the ship, but now he wants to know it inside and out. ~~As if he hadn't already done that.~~ Honestly, he is distraught without Jim and doesn't know how to handle it. It's not as if he can talk to Natasha about it, either. Or Steve.

The message is more than clear- don't get attached. ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I try to do something in that person's honour. Something that would make them proud.

What's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? I haven't heard of it. But maybe it goes by something different in my universe.

[Erik is in the kitchen when Winter begins his pacing, trying to cobble something edible together. He can hear the footsteps going back and forth, back and forth. The vibrations reach him too. Something is clearly bothering the man, to be circling around like this.

The next time Winter veers back in the direction of the kitchen, Erik doesn't wait for him to reach the doorway. He simply speaks in that direction when he's nearly there, idly slicing some banana solid with his fork.]

Are you looking for something?

[And because she's a child, she's awfully blunt.]

Did you lose someone?

[ hmm. ]

Look, I don't know much about PTSD. Not personally. But I know loss? And if you want to talk, I'm all ears.

[ We are more than okay sticking with girls who phase. ]

Winter. I get that a lot.

[ Oh, the man of many words. ]

At least the name's different. There was another Kitty Pryde at the last place. People kept calling me the older Kitty.

[She steps in a little further with no further projectiles.] So what'd the sandbag do?

Thank you for the information.

Is it a common thing in this place?

[ Well, it's not really different, but he's not quite ready to acknowledge that yet. He looks briefly to the fallen sandbag. ]

It was never about the sandbag, but it didn't help, either.

What worked for you?

If I'm completely honest I might have already guessed it wasn't actually the sandbag's fault.

Want to talk to a complete stranger about it? [It might sound a little ridiculous or dismissive, but she's perfectly serious. Why not have a late night/early morning conversation with a stranger. It can be less loaded than talking to people you're close to especially if they are the problem. Then again, a "no" isn't going to surprise or upset her.]

[ It's been a while since he's seen Nova. Some of the tension eases, but there's almost always something there anyway. He shakes his head. ]

Thought it might help. It didn't.

[ He scrutinizes her for a moment before completely turning his back on her and moving to the sandbag. The damn thing is done for. Winter looks over his shoulder at Kitty after a long silence settles in the room. He does weigh his options. It's safer talking to a complete stranger here than anywhere else. ]

Why do you care?

Officially medically speaking, I don't know. An official diagnosis for PTSD requires a certified mental health professional, not just a doctor. Currently, we don't have anyone like that.

Unofficially, if I had to give a guess... [...] Yeah, I'd wager it's bloody common enough in places like this. [He's seen it enough times not to believe otherwise]

I'm tired of losing people.

I don't know what either of things are.

A few someones. It happened quickly.

The diagnosis doesn't matter so much as dealing with potential symptoms of it.

I'm trying to figure out what that would be.

From my understanding, it's something common in soldiers or people who have experienced terrible things. I think it used to be called... battle fatigue?

Well I can't tell you the answer to that for obvious reasons, but you can tell me about them? If you want. Maybe it'll help you figure it out.

Oh. Hmmm. Nope, it's not ringing any bells. Common in soldiers, you say? That's weird.

when my little brothers turtle died we put the body in a little boat and sent the boat down the river
and we lit the boat on fire
we all talked about good memories we had of the turtle until we couldnt c the boat anymore
thats a viking funeral
i saw it on pbs

I'm sorry.

[Does he mean just now, like people went home? Or are these people that died or went away before? She considers over which one it could be, and decides ultimately it doesn't matter.]

Loss carves big holes in you. It's very horrid. But they fill in again over time.

You know him, too. Or I thought you did. I could be wrong.

[ It's a few minutes before the second text comes through. ]

Jim is gone.

[ howard is in no shape at all to work out, vision a little hazy as he stumbles down the corridors. he turns his head too fast when he sees the sandbag skitter across the floor at his feet. oops. he swallows, eyes tracking slowly to the source. oh, it's bucky. that's a better answer than he could have come up with on his own just now.

struggling with his own version of loss and acceptance, he slowly makes his approach, making as much noise as possible though he knows he'd be tracked even if he didn't. he feels a little soberer just seeing the look on the other man's face. ]

What did that bag ever do to you, huh, pal? [ but his tone is commiserative, understanding even. eyes soft. sorry buddy ♥ ]

Wait-- Jim is?

As in James Barnes?

[Text does not convey the upset that would be present in her voice if they were talking.]

[ Why does he feel more at ease talking to a child than anyone else right now? ]

I'm not so sure about that. I think there might be too many holes.

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