Sam Wilson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2018-04-15 01:57 pm
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote in driftfleet2018-04-15 01:57 pm
action | open
Who: Sam Wilson (AU) and you!
Broadcast: n/a
Action: on the SS Bishop, around the Iskaulit
When: now and throughout the week
The SS Bishop
[ Sam'd barely woken up on the Marsiva before he'd found himself whisked away again, and honestly, he's not even surprised. Figures that he wouldn't have enough time to start to get his bearings before he's inexplicably brought somewhere completely new again; that's kind of par for the course of his life the last few years.
He can't even bring himself to be mad about the implant that he can feel just behind his left ear, the one he's guessing is responsible for the sudden influx of knowledge twisting around in his head. It's not like it's the first time that's happened, and at least it's a hell of a lot less invasive than what the Capitol'd done. There's a part of him that's aware that he's probably just deflecting, trying to focus on anything else to keep himself from going down that path, but he doesn't really care right now.
It's hard to keep himself from panicking, more because he's alone and he struggles with self regulation these days than anything else, but he's doing his best.
Mostly that means he's turned all his attention to exploring the ship he's ended up on. He can be found in the armory poking at weapons he doesn't fully understand, as well as helping himself to the sidearm he can make sense of; in the kitchen rooting around in the pantry and fiddling with the machines he's pretty sure make more sense than they should; or roaming the hallways, eyes flashing red and pupils dilating as he scans the walls like they've got secrets he can discover if he only looks long enough. ]
around Iskaulit
[ Most of him doesn't really believe this is the Capitol, not after the way the war'd gone, but there's always the chance that Snow or someone else had some kind of messed up last resort plan, and this is it.
It's enough to make him paranoid about, well, just about everything. He's not sure he really expects to find any more answers on board the Iskaulit than he did on the Bishop. But at least it's bigger, and eases some of the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in addition to giving him more places to explore.
The garden... honestly just makes things worse, at the moment, and Sam isn't there very long before his wings start to itch under his skin. He'd wanted soothing, but instead he finds himself getting a little more agitated, and he takes off to the gym to get some of the violence out of his system. Sam turns his attention to one of the punching bags built for enhanced strength, going not quite full out against it, but pretty close. He'll slow down at the arrival of anyone else, clearly wary and uncertain though he musters up something like a smile and a casual "hey" in greeting.
Eventually he makes his way to both Malum and the Space Bar, less out of a desire to drink and more out of falling back on the habits he'd had while in the Capitol. It's a little different when there's not a crowd of Capitolites to disappear into, but he slides into a seat anyway with a nod in greeting for anyone who makes eye contact. ]
Broadcast: n/a
Action: on the SS Bishop, around the Iskaulit
When: now and throughout the week
The SS Bishop
[ Sam'd barely woken up on the Marsiva before he'd found himself whisked away again, and honestly, he's not even surprised. Figures that he wouldn't have enough time to start to get his bearings before he's inexplicably brought somewhere completely new again; that's kind of par for the course of his life the last few years.
He can't even bring himself to be mad about the implant that he can feel just behind his left ear, the one he's guessing is responsible for the sudden influx of knowledge twisting around in his head. It's not like it's the first time that's happened, and at least it's a hell of a lot less invasive than what the Capitol'd done. There's a part of him that's aware that he's probably just deflecting, trying to focus on anything else to keep himself from going down that path, but he doesn't really care right now.
It's hard to keep himself from panicking, more because he's alone and he struggles with self regulation these days than anything else, but he's doing his best.
Mostly that means he's turned all his attention to exploring the ship he's ended up on. He can be found in the armory poking at weapons he doesn't fully understand, as well as helping himself to the sidearm he can make sense of; in the kitchen rooting around in the pantry and fiddling with the machines he's pretty sure make more sense than they should; or roaming the hallways, eyes flashing red and pupils dilating as he scans the walls like they've got secrets he can discover if he only looks long enough. ]
around Iskaulit
[ Most of him doesn't really believe this is the Capitol, not after the way the war'd gone, but there's always the chance that Snow or someone else had some kind of messed up last resort plan, and this is it.
It's enough to make him paranoid about, well, just about everything. He's not sure he really expects to find any more answers on board the Iskaulit than he did on the Bishop. But at least it's bigger, and eases some of the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in addition to giving him more places to explore.
The garden... honestly just makes things worse, at the moment, and Sam isn't there very long before his wings start to itch under his skin. He'd wanted soothing, but instead he finds himself getting a little more agitated, and he takes off to the gym to get some of the violence out of his system. Sam turns his attention to one of the punching bags built for enhanced strength, going not quite full out against it, but pretty close. He'll slow down at the arrival of anyone else, clearly wary and uncertain though he musters up something like a smile and a casual "hey" in greeting.
Eventually he makes his way to both Malum and the Space Bar, less out of a desire to drink and more out of falling back on the habits he'd had while in the Capitol. It's a little different when there's not a crowd of Capitolites to disappear into, but he slides into a seat anyway with a nod in greeting for anyone who makes eye contact. ]
no subject
There's a sharp inhale and a ragged exhale when Sam mentions Riley. For a moment, he thinks about telling Sam that he saw Riley again. That he was in Panem, however briefly, that he'd made it clear no version of Riley would ever have blamed any version of Sam for what happened. But he can't quite get it out. Maybe because even he doesn't believe that sometimes, maybe because unpacking Riley and everything that lingers there after what'd gone down in Panem isn't something he's up for right now.
Later, it'll have to be later.
He doesn't directly answer the question, because he's not sure he even knows what'll set him off. It's not like Bucky - either of them - but it's not unlike it, either. How do you explain having your loyalties twisted to the point that you can't tell who you can trust and what your place is in anything, that everything you thought was wrong and what you were fighting against became what you were willing to die for, to kill for?
After a moment, he settles for trying to explain how it'd gone down. ]
It happened again. Flying a mission with my brother, and this time I went after him and we both ended up caught. They took everything we had and used it to make us better ab- [ He cuts off midword, abrupt and forceful like he's trying to slam his jaw shut before the rest of that thought can make its way out. ] There was a war. I got real damn good at being on one side of it, and the other side - changed that.
no subject
So he just reaches out slowly and grips Sam's shoulder for a moment to reassure him of his presence and his support. Maybe he's just met the guy, but he feels a kinship with him - which, okay, might be because they're the same person sent down different paths, but Sam doesn't have a problem with that.]
Look, if there's anything I can do to help you, just let me know, okay? I mean, I probably can't do much, but- [Sam shrugs. They both know that even the smallest thing can make all the difference in the world.]
no subject
But he leans into the contact while it's happening, unable to pull himself away no matter how stupid he tells himself it is. It's only been a handful of days being alone, but it's - he's backsliding and he knows it, in an unfamiliar, dangerous environment without the only people who can keep him sane. He hates how close he is to when he first got out of the Capitol, unable to stand people in his space but craving personal contact. If he needed a wake up call for how dependent he's become on grounding himself in the handful of people he trusts, well, here it is.
It's gonna get him killed one day, and he doesn't know if that's the Capitol talking or his own experience, but there's not much he can do about it. ]
You did a lot just by offering. [ By not running or attacking or telling him to get the hell out, though part of him is still waiting for Sam to point out that all he's ever gonna be is someone who can't stop hurting people. ] You're an engineer here? I... can't really go to a regular medic anymore. If something comes up with me or the wings, can you take a look?
no subject
Medic- [Sam looks confused for a moment before he works it out.] The wings are in your back?
no subject
And he waits, trying not to be too on edge about Sam’s response, or about making the request in the first place. ]
Cybernetics. Might be easier to show you.
[ Which is something he wouldn’t normally do, but this is one thing that’s actually easier while he’s less grounded. It’s easier to accept them as part of him when he’s like this. ]
no subject
[Because, hell, now his interest is sort of piqued, or as much as it can be while he's also a little sick at the thought of Sam being captured and experimented on. It's a weird dichotomy.]