driftfleet | i know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

Entry tags:

i know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

Before you post your toplevel comment, please:
1. Check the first letter of your character's name as its written in our tags. N-Z names comment here, and A-M names go to the other post.
2. Make a note in your comment if anything especially triggering or graphic might show up in the Calibration. If you're not sure if something's worth noting or not, we suggest listing it anyway, just to err on the side of caution.
3. Put your character's name (it can be shortened or different from the tag, this time) in the subject of your comment. This will help visitors find you easily, and help us update the list below.
4. Post your comment! It's fine if everyone's Calibrations end up looking and reading very different from one another. As long as you're having fun and following our guidelines, you're good to go. :)
5. If you have any questions or concerns during Calibrations, you are welcome to send them towards the mod team at any time, as always.

ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - P

Nami

Natalie Goodman

Natasha Romanoff

Noctis Lucis Caelum

Nono

Okita Souji

Otono-Tachibana Makie

Pavel Chekov

Prompto

Q - S

Riona Cousland Theirin

Rip Hunter

Sokka

Sorey

T - V

Takeshi

W - Z

Yuan Ka-Fai

Zaveid

Zelda

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Always a gentleman.

[One corner of her mouth tightens a little as she says it, not really a smile or a grimace, but something a little sad. She doesn't like this. And she doesn't like how aloof he seems.

She goes to investigate the computer chip. Strange as it is, the fact it's the most modern thing in the room makes it seem the most out of place.]

Is it really worth putting all these things out like this?

[She doesn't really expect an answer. She just says it as she picks up the chip]

Edited 2017-06-09 21:05 (UTC)

[ when the door closes behind them, the same blast of music can be heard from the room they just left. the scene seems to replay itself. steve looks a little sad for it. ]

I won't be there for that dance.

[ not if he's here in the 21st century with her. that door is shut now, the music is muted, the figure in blue will have to twirl into someone else's arms. ]

They never really asked me about those.

[ the moment she touches the chip, the same automated voice will remind the visitors touching the items is not permitted, as if trying to warn her of it. but it'll be too late.

a memory will take over. a computer chip is held firmly in steve's hand and he must place it in the right place, otherwise, project insight will launch itself and so many would die, so many and all his fault -

but there is a man standing between him and his destination, long hair and a metal arm and steve implores him, people are gonna die, Buck. I can't let that happen, don't make do this.

what comes later is a nasty fight. an enraged man against a determined steve, an angry shut up! against a whispered I'm not gonna fight you, you're my friend.

one is fighting, the other is not, i'm with you until the end of the line and he falls, falls, falls - and it ends. ]

It's their decision.

[ he looks at her, looks at the little chip with a sigh. ]

[Natasha wasn't there for that. She knew, in broad strokes, what had happened. Knew they would have fought. She knew Steve had completed the mission.

If she could look away, she would, for both of their sakes.

She sets the chip down and, instead of going to investigate his other memories, or trying to riddle together how they fit in his psychology, she goes to sit beside him. She can always continue rummaging through his head later if this doesn't work.]

Whose decision is that? Seems like it's your life.

[ his gaze is still drawn towards the previous room. to the party and the music and the woman in blue who spoke of home. but when she sits, he turns to her, places both his hands in his jacket's pockets. his fingers seem to search for something and once he finds it, he lets out a breath.

whatever it is, it's a light weight just inside his right pocket. touching it seems to help him focus on the moment and on her question. ]

I don't know.

[ he confesses, seems just as lost as she's feeling. ]

Maybe at the end of the tour.

[ they'll get answers. ]

Is there anything in here you want to look at in here?

[She can take a hint, but the question is why. Why should she have to? He's not paying attention to her. She's not even sure he's really paying attention to Peggy, at least not in a way that isn't rooted in his general pre-occupation.

She shakes her head.]

Not much of a tour if we don't look at anything, right?

I'm only here to hold the doors open.

[ he says it with a bit of a smile. for all that this is about captain america, he isn't the center of this world. instead, he's almost like her, almost a guest in his own life, watching scenes of it, parts of it, trying to put those pieces together. [

I'm not the one calling the shots.

[ she is. she has more control of the room than he does. ]

[It really doesn't seem that way. She studies his face another moment, then shakes her head when she stands again.]

You know, I'm perfectly capable of opening doors for myself.

[But she steels herself to play along.]

Let's take a look around.

[She goes to the flowers next with the intention of examining them.]

Every museum needs a guide.

[ and maybe that's what he's here for. to make a few comments that the male narrator can't provide her with. she moves towards the flowers and steve reaches out a hand, says wait, as if he didn't quite intent for her to touch those.

but he's too slow, too distracted by the scene outside. a little screen flickers to life, almost as if to show a short film.

it isn't a film, per se. it's a memory. the vase is present in it. no flowers in it during that time. it's to the right of a bed. the room is well lit. just beneath the vase are a few bottle of pills. to the left books, reading glasses and photos. steve rogers is in the chair, the woman in front of him is far older. it seems to pick up in the middle of a conversation, low-voiced and gentle and familiar. the woman laughs, blames him for being dramatic and the man in the uniform, he smiles as well.

but then something changes, it flickers in the woman's eyes as she eyes him. suddenly, his presence doesn't seem so obvious to her. you came back, she says and he nods, he reaches for her hand, couldn't leave my best girl, not while she owes me a dance.

he smiles, pained and barely there and reaches for her hand and then, it's over. ]

I brought these the first time I came.

[ he looks at the flowers. they're peonies. outside, the music comes on again. ]

I was really late for that dance.

[One more thing to hate: the fact that the guide doesn't actually seem able to direct her away from what Steve wouldn't want her to see, but they were capable of reacting when she saw them.

That's adding insult to injury.

Most of Natasha's attention is taken up by the memory though.

She will try to touch this Steve's shoulder comfortingly, though she doesn't know if it will help.]

Something came up. I'm sure she understands.

[Her brows come together a little.]

You did get each other back for a while. Don't knock that.

She was so sad.

[ he looks at the blank screen, almost as if he could make it better from over here though they both know that's entirely beyond him. ]

So strong, too.

[ and he does smile. there's something about the woman's strength that gives him a rare sort of joy and pride. he looks towards the door. ]

She's still waiting.

[ but if they go backwards, it'll all be the same. a scene of terror that will end in a single twirl and then -- nothing. still. he seems keen on trying to be there for that one twirl. ]

I can still - [ but no. she's here. he should stay here with her. he looks at her ] -- what's next?

She'll be waiting for you when we get out of here. Promise.

[That, at least, she can say with some real conviction. When this dream was over and they were back in the waking world, Peggy would be waiting for Steve. He got his second chance.

They could have their dance.]

And the dance will only be a little late.

[Can she leave now? Tour over? Natasha hesitates, giving one last look around the room, and heads for the tuxedo jacket. Last stop on the way out.]

[ he watches her, doesn't offer any resistance this time. he seems to realize he can't and shouldn't stop her. her tour can only be done after she moves between enough items. his eyes shift from her to the screen, where another memory appears. this one if of a funeral. a pale london morning, the burial of peggy carter, the sudden, terrible sting in steve's eyes and the heaviness in his heart. this one includes her, too, a quiet conversation in the empty church hall, a quiet embrace. ]

Never said thank you for that.

[ quietly. ]

Didn't have to thank me I knew.

[She knew him well enough to know he was grateful she'd come, what it meant to him to have a friend just then. She gives him a soft, sad look.]

You know it's still true, right? I don't want you to be alone. Whatever you're dealing with in here...

[His calibration, or in his head.]

You need to finish the tour.

[ or else, she'd be trapped here, much like him. maybe without the constant need to go and see the scene in the other room but still trapped under the neon lights, with the constant narrative in the background. suddenly, he does seem to want to see her through this. ]

Then you could go back home.

[ he looks at the door. ]

Maybe I could, too.

Home, huh? [Was that how he thought of Drift Fleet? Or was it just an idiom.]

I get it. On with the tour.

[Let's check out that radio. Hopefully Steve will feel the same about finishing the tour when they wake up.]

[ it takes a moment for the screen to show anything but darkness. after a moment, a room comes to view. the radio in the room starts working but there's nothing but static. in the memory, however, there's a ball game. steve rogers, wearing a simple pair of pants and a t-shirt with the emblem of the SSR, sits up in bed, stares at the little outdated radio.

the rushes forward, betraying suspicion and anxiety. a woman walks in, her entire appearance speaks of another era in time. Her voice is soft, assuring but steve isn't buying it.

he game, it's from May, nineteen forty one. I know, cause I was there. Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Where am I?

and then it's a rush, steve bursts out of a faux room, staged in a much bigger one, the woman's voice carries out, all agents, code 13.

When he finally makes it out, it turns out she wasn't lying about New York city, but it's hardly the city he remembers. he looks around time square and knows nothing.

nick fury is there, too; their conversation is short and to the point.

-- to break it to you slowly. you've been asleep, Cap, for almost seventy years. you gonna be okay?

yeah, steve rogers says, takes in the city around him. yeah, I just. I had a date.

and just like that, it's over. ]

[Natasha has to wonder if that was intentional—the slip ups in Fury's wake up for Steve. He could have easily used a game from after Steve went in the ice—the date wasn't a secret. There were other flaws as well. The agent who met Steve when I woke up might have looked period accurate at a glance, but there were problems with her hair, her shoes, her bra.

Could all have been oversight, of course. Especially if they were putting it together last minute.

But the game, in particular, seemed like an unforced error.

Fury trying to test Rogers' facilities, coming out of the ice? Would there have been more and more inaccuracies until Steve cottoned on?

Speculation. Natasha pushes it aside.]

Seems like I've had a pretty good look at what's in here. Let's see what's in the next room.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

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