middaeg | [open] not a lot of difference between a foxhole and a grave

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[open] not a lot of difference between a foxhole and a grave

Who: Bucky Barnes & You
When: Throughout July
Where: City streets, a bar, other places as needed.
What: Bucky is still adjusting to this whole magic and monsters thing. His second full moon doesn't go great.
Warnings: A bar fight oops.

[i. Wanna Buy a Knicknack?]
[The jobs on offer right now aren't really suited to what Bucky used to do for a living, back home. You can't exactly put "defended Earth from intergalactic threats from a space station in Earth's orbit" on your resume in a world that seems stuck in a fantasy Victorian era. Still, he's got to find work eventually, because sitting around on his ass isn't sending him and Tony home, and they've got to eat at some point.

Apparently the trading guild is seeking out salesmen - it suits him as well as anything, he figures. Does he still have it in him? It's been a long time since he was fifteen and hawking dirty magazines and cigarettes on the sly to soldiers at Camp Lehigh. Maybe it's like riding a bike. He jots his name down, and they set him up with a stand and an assortment of trinkets - inexpensive jewelry, small toys, keychains - all with minor enchantments, that others couldn't manage to get sold.

It still feels like he has to slip back into a character, play a role, to act like that confident, charming kid he used to be, but it becomes easier the longer he lounges at the street-side table, flagging down potential customers.] C'mon, you want to pick up a little something for your Bonded? A lover? Gag gift for a friend? Drop a few cunes to treat yourself today? I got what you don't even know you need right here.

[ii. Full Moon: The Bar]
[Bucky feels guilty about this. He's living with someone who has been a long time sober, for fuck's sake, and he wants to be sensitive to that, but as the full moon approaches, and that unease he felt the first time around sets in, he decides he needs a drink, or four. He slips out of the apartment mostly unnoticed, bundled into a shabby second-hand coat he bought at a thrift store (snow in July, what the fuck?), and heads to the nearest, seediest bar. It happens to be a fair bit from the Haven, closer to the Harbor district, not a classy or upscale kind of place.

He feels horrible. His skin is crawling this evening, with the moons in the sky shining full above, and he feels restless in a way he can't force down. Aggressive. His canine teeth got sharper last month when this happened, he can still feel them like needles in his mouth. His hair is standing on end for some unknown reason.

He sits at the bar, orders a drink, and tries to drown his discomfort in cheap whiskey. Maybe you catch up to him when he's ordering his third drink, or maybe...

Maybe you get him around drink five, when someone else drunk jostles into his shoulder too hard, and Bucky whirls around to sock him, hard; his thin, sharp canines are bared in a hiss.] You wanna go, buddy? Let's fuckin' go!

[You wanna join in, or drag him out of the fray that kicks up on the barroom floor?]

[iii. Full Moon: Apartment Building, The Haven]
[He's not proud of himself. He's not proud at all. Bucky has no idea what's wrong with him, but he realizes now the whiskey was a mistake. He looks like he got caught in the middle of a bar fight, with a black eye and bloody lip, a tear in his shirt, missing one shoe for some reason, hair all tangled. He also smells like booze - reeks of it, actually, from drinking and from being spilled on in the fray. He's stumbling home, or at least toward the apartment building he and Tony are living in in the Haven, a massively sorry sight.

Someone jostles him on the street - or maybe that was you? - and he curses loudly, dropping into a clumsy crouch and patting along the ground.]

Fuck. Damn it, dropped my keys. Ah, hell...

[iv. Creeping Fire]
[He recognizes it a little faster when he drifts into one of those strange dreams. Like the one before, with the merrow in the lake, singing an infection's siren song, like the cave and the pools. Like the city burning. This one is worse, in a way. He can practically hear the screams in the trees, feel the vibrations of terror in the ground. His skin prickles despite the heat.

It's horrible, what's happening to these strange tree people. There isn't much else to do until he can wake up again, so he gets to work, helping as many uninfected nymphs toward safety as he can, whether it's by fighting or by running, carrying people when he has to.

He's carting a terrified, sobbing child in one arm when it happens. She's hanging on to him tightly, clinging, occasionally obscuring his vision; she doesn't know any better, he can't blame her for that, she's frightened to within an inch of her life. But he skids to a halt, boots kicking up ash and dirt, barely ducking the swinging branch of an infected tree.] Oh come on-! [He could use some help.]

[v. Wildcard]
[Want a specific starter? Hit me up at

nekky!]

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[Being a Merrow, she feels better around the Docks. Her flat is closer to Haven, but especially around the full moon, the docks just feel more like 'home'. She should go back to her flat. She should go talk to Han, but it's been a busy few weeks so Qi'ra finds herself at a dive bar. It's something she's actually more used to even if the last three years she's been circling around some more upscale locales.

Ordering something strong, she doesn't even recognize Bucky at first. Her own scales are climbing up her neck and there's webbing between her fingers. But when he makes a scene, she turns behind her to see him and some guy try and shove him back. They weren't friends and had only talked once, but Qi'ra felt a part of this community here, and while she may or may not be setting things up for a more lucrative business, the last thing she needs is for this to somehow come back to her.]

Bucky-- [She tries to get his attention, ready to stand between them. Despite her physique she was skilled in martial arts, so she isn't exactly worried about getting hit.]

We should go. [She's ready to pay for both of their tabs if she has to.]

[Bucky's own changes have been much more subtle; he's still in denial that anything is even happening, resisting the changes. Maybe that's why it's so hard for him during the full moon. The first was bad, this one is worse. He can feel his insides shifting uncomfortably in his torso as if his body is trying to make room for something, and his hair stands on end, and his teeth are much sharper now.

Starting a fight in a seedy bar is something familiar, something he's used to in a world where nothing is what he's used to. It's basically a domino effect with rowdy drunks.

He stops stock still when he recognizes Qi'ra, though, expression drawn into a scowl. There is a slight slur to his words.] I've never run away from a fight in m'life.

I am sure you haven't. [It's not an insult, but she isn't at all surprised by the news. He seems the type. She isn't thrown off though.]

It isn't a fight though. He walked into you. And it's near the full moon. [In a bar she's trying to gain connections in, but she leaves that out. She can feel the underlying energy.]

Come on. I'll get you another drink at the next place.

[He is very drunk, but in that weird state between drunk and sober, where he knows he's making bad decisions but can't seem to not make them anyway.] I don't believe in that astrological bullshit. [He says, regarding the moon, shaking his head. It's not 'astrological bullshit' but this here is a man in denial about what's happening to him.]

Ah, christ. I shouldn't. My roommate's sober, he's gonna smell it on me an' I'm gonna make him feel bad.

[She doesn't need to correct him about the 'astrological bullshit'. The scales around her neck were not there the last time they had chatted, and if he is that far into denial, it won't do her any good to argue with him.]

I hate to break it to you, but he's probably going to know.

[Qi'ra raises her eyebrows. He's definitely hit the bottle a little hard.]

[It's easier to write it off as something that happens to other people, not him. He's been fucked around enough in his life, hasn't he? Is it so much to ask to remain human and non-magical in bullshit faeryland?]

Yeah, that's. That's the problem. [A groan.] I should- go get some coffee. Sober up a little. If he sees me like this it's gonna be a whole thing. He worries. He's a worrier.

[She understands the sentiments. Han is a worrier, too. Qi'ra gives him a small smile in understanding.]

There's an inn down the road. They should still be serving. [She's had some contractors stay. She's mostly working with merrow on her project, given their location, but she's trying to do something with some of the markets near the docks-- and the warehouses aren't in the state she would prefer them.]

Great. On to there, then. Coffee. [He drags a hand down his face, with an intensity as if the gesture alone will sober him up.] Think I'll be outta the doghouse if I bring coffee back? [They're not really together for there to be a 'doghouse' but he's drunk and talking a lot right now.]

[She lives her half filled glass on the bar before heading out with him. He looks like he could use someone, even if it's just for a distraction.]

Wouldn't hurt to throw in a side of hashbrowns, [She offers. She eats well, but part of her offers it as a joke and because food could be a great equalizer depending on the circumstance.

Qi'ra knows the docks fairly well, having set herself up down here quite nicely. It's perfect because of the nature of her business, and because she's a merrow.]

They are a late night favorite. [And more to what she's used to even with the airs she has on. Qi'ra knows a seedy place, but a locale hot spot nonetheless.]

[She's probably not wrong. He's antsy and still hyped up from a fight that didn't really pan out. The full moon is playing hell with him - likely because he's resisting his own changes, not that he knows that's a factor. The mention of food gets a shake of his head.] Nah, I'll puke like a rookie. Haven't drank like this since- god, since Steve died. Supposedly died.

[Boy wasn't that a fun time.]

I think just coffee right now.

You could bring them back for him? [Just a suggestion.

There's a raise to her eyebrow when he mentions this Steve and that he supposedly die. There's an interesting story to that, she is sure.]

The coffee is not bad. [She offers as she heads toward the dimly lit inn down the street. There's not much life this late at night, but she's sure the vampires are still likely out. The building itself has a few candles and lights on inside, and she eyes it for a moment before taking a step up the curb and moving toward the door.]

You could probably use it.

That's- that ain't a bad idea. [He can make amends by bringing hashbrowns and coffee back. Genius. Or it sounds genius to a drunk person. He'll sober up, he just needs a little while.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and follows her, taking in the surroundings, the very few people still up and about at this time. Vampires, sure, probably an arachne or two as well. He still doesn't know what he's becoming.

He steps up to hold the door open for her.] Even if it was bad, I could still use some. I've probably drank worse.

[She heads into the place, not many patrons in there now. It's better this way honestly. She's been here a few times to pick up food before, not quite a regular but just as good as. She takes a seat on the bar, ordering two coffees. Bucky can order more if he wants.]

Perhaps. But we're talking about now-- and you returning home smelling like a brewery.

[He sits next to her, accepts the coffee when it's brought, and takes a long drink that burns his tongue. It's a familiar taste and a familiar feeling, not the worst thing in the world. It's bracing.]

You don't gotta keep reminding me I fucked up. I'm well aware of that fact.

[She gently puts her hands up in defense.]

Not an attack. Just a statement. And you are clearly rectifying the situation. It's a start.

[She sips at her own coffee as they hand them menus. She's not hungry herself.]

Rough day today? [She's just trying to relate, keep herself on his good side.]

'Rectifying'. Doesn't really feel like it. [He's just a miserable sadsack today. He's the kind of person where, no matter how mad he might get at someone in the moment, he's probably always angrier at himself.

He curls metal fingers around his coffee mug, sensors registering the temperature.] Yeah. Feels like I want to tear my skin off. Whatever the hell is happening to me is happening too slowly.

I think you're taking it hard on yourself. [And yes, he's getting her opinion on the matter.]

We are all struggling here. Some better than others. This person, you care about him or at least his opinions. Are you bonded? [She isn't, yet. Her situation is a little complicated at the moment. But it's nice to not have to focus on her own issues.]

Someone's got to. [It's probably best not to try to unpack that statement. It's full of decades worth of self-loathing and guilt.]

No. Seems like a crock of shit, bonding. Why would I want to let somebody into my head? I've had enough of that for one lifetime.

[That does make her raise a brow, but she doesn't comment on it. He isn't the most forthcoming type of person, and she doesn't want to poke at something that isn't any of her business.]

Honestly I do not know how I feel about it. There is a man here that I grew up with, and he's a witch. [She knows it could be beneficial if she did, but would he want to? And truly she did not know what he would think of her if he knew all of what she had done back home. Usually just to survive.]

He's a good man. [The 'I'm not' goes unsaid.] So for now we dance around the subject-- never actually talking about it. He would be the only person she'd be remotely interested in it, and Han happened to be there.]

I dunno. I guess if it's somebody you know pretty well. [He takes another sip of coffee, thoughtful. Luckily he's starting to sober up a little by this point, though the itch beneath his skin still hasn't gone away.] My friend, he's a witch. We've worked together before. If I had to, guess it'd have to be him.

Maybe. [She gives a shrug. No one is forcing this choice on them which is good. There only seems like benefits in the long run.]

We have a past. It's not all entirely good. [Which can be said for her in general.]

I'm sure bringing him something to eat will go a long way then.

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[open] not a lot of difference between a foxhole and a grave

ii. full moon: the bar

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