riverviewlogs | (no subject)

who: Sam & others
what: late April/early May catch-all
when: see above
where: around the city
warnings: none yet, will edit if applicable

Getting superpowers is the last thing Sam expects, but early one morning, he's woken up not by a noise, but by a feeling in his mind. (And, okay, by the sound of wings beating against his window.) Outside is the largest damn bird he's ever seen, a white gyrfalcon easily the size of a hawk. It cocks its head, looking quizzically at him before hopping in through the open window.

:You.:

Yep, Sam definitely hears that in his head. And while he knows the other Sam has a psychic bird, he's never shown the first sign of any sort of a rapport with his feathered friends. "Me?"

:Everything else, quiet. I hear you, come find bondmate. Strange place, not-home, need mind-friend to hunt with.: Images come along with the words, images and feelings - the confusion of being in a city, a familiarity with wilds and deep forests, the desire for someone to share his mind with.

(Does everything talk around here? Sam wonders for a moment.)

"Do you have a name?"

:Name? Hatched outside the Vale, never had a name.:

He thinks about calling him Redwing, but that would just be confusing, not to mention inaccurate. "Right. Well, we'll have to think about that, then." Not that he has any idea what to name a talking bird. Or how to feed him - although he's probably capable of hunting for himself. Sam's seen enough wildlife here, not to mention past the Perimeter, that it's pretty safe to assume there's plenty of food for a bird. (Maybe he can ask Bucky to bring in some smaller game.)

Right now, Sam just sinks back in bed with a sigh. He really doesn't know how to cope with this kind of thing.

--

open prompts:

i
It's early in the morning, and instead of jogging, Sam finds himself at one of the city's open markets. The bird (still unnamed) can hunt for himself, but he likes to have meat around for him, just in case. And he knows damn well he can't just go to a butcher's and buy it; it's got to be fresh. Which is why he's got a couple of packages under one arm; one of them happens to be leaking animal blood through the white paper and onto the sidewalk as he heads back home.

Sam pauses at a stall with fresh baked goods - he's not passing up the opportunity for cooking ingredients, either - and leans in to look at some pastries. "What do you think?" He asks the opinion of a fellow shopper; maybe they've tried the food before, or maybe they've got a thing for pastries. It never hurts to get a second opinion.

ii
Sam's alone in the gym - or so he thinks - when he tugs off his tank top and lets a pair of wings slide out of his back. There's a metal frame at the top of the wings, made from a light alloy; the wings themselves appear to be made of light, a rich, transparent ruby red. Sam's not flying with them at the moment; instead, he continues his sparring routine. It's important to get a feel for them even on the ground, to know how having them extended affects his combat - same way he'd practiced with the jetpack. (Which he hasn't abandoned completely; the harness is in a corner, and the discarded tank top appears to be sweaty enough that it should be obvious that he's worked out with the extra weight on his back, too.)

He hears a noise and swivels on the balls of his feet mid-strike, and the wings fold into his back again. "Sorry, I thought I was alone in here."

[ooc: Character-specific closed starters to come in the comments! In case you're curious, Sam has acquired a Tayledras bondbird (basically a psychic bird) and bird telepathy, plus a nifty new pair of bionic wings.

I'm also totally open to firefly prompts, but would like to discuss them first! Drop me a pm or a plurk if you're interested.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wanda is awake. Sort of. The mice had been celebrating long into the evening, marking the occasion during which they had killed a vicious snake a block down from the house. Wanda had been surprised to see them methodically skinning the snake and roasting chunks of the meat on a tiny fire on the back porch while others had begun dividing the skin.

Their celebrations and cheering and singing hadn't really finished until two in the morning.

She comes to the door, bed head and all, wrapped up in a robe.

"Sam, what's wrong?" she asks, brows drawn together. She can feel the stress coming off of him but she can't for the life of her guess what's happening.

Sam opens his mouth, almost starts to speak, then realizes he can't actually put what's going on right now into words. "It's a long story," he says instead.

(A long story that encompasses about five minutes of his life.)

"I'll explain everything, just bring her to my room, okay?"

"Okay, I'll be there soon," she says, then closes the door.

Wanda slips on a pair of slippers (they're bunny slippers which amuses Sam to no end) and then ducks down to the closet to get the attention of the mice. Politely, she requests the presence of the Mouse Priestess, letting her climb onto her hand before taking her with her.

The other mice, at Wanda's request, stay behind while she heads downstairs to Sam's room.

She comes to his door and knocks, brows furrowed.

"Sam, what's going on?"

Sam opens the door, revealing a large white bird perched on the back of a chair. "This guy showed up and started talking in my head." Okay, so maybe it's not as long of a story as he thought. "We have- some sort of psychic bond...thing now. I guess. So we gotta make sure that there aren't any mistakes, you know?"

Because the last thing he wants is for any of the mice to get eaten - or for the mice to attack the bird, especially if Tony starts arming them for self-defense.

It's hard to bite back a comment about how Sam is taking this bird/falcon theme too far, but she manages mainly because Sam is clearly trying to cope. He never had Wanda in his head but now he has a bird who...must possess some level of sentience. At least, she would hope.

Holding the mouse in her hands carefully, drawing it close to her chest just in case the bird gets any ideas, she looks between Sam and his new companion.

"Mistakes like your bird seeing the mice as an all-you-can-eat buffet?" she asks, not liking where this is going. "Sam, the mice may have shown up on their own and I realize we've made room for them here and you've been very good about that, but I'm not linked to them mentally. Are you okay with this?" Does he want her to try to break the bond?

"Yeah, I'm- I'm fine." Probably. Honestly, Sam's not sure yet, but he can feel that the bird is a little uneasy - not because of the mouse, but because he can sense his emotions through their bond. He's still a young bird, alone in a strange world, and he needs Sam - who, in his mind, is something like a nestmate.

"He understands English - or at least, he understands me when I talk. So we just have to make sure he understands that he can't eat any of the mice." Sam glances at the bird, resting a couple of fingers at the back of his head.

:No mice.: Sam gets the feeling that he'd rather have larger prey, anyway. :I understand.: Even if he doesn't know why, the feelings that come with his speech imply.

To be certain, Wanda opens her awareness to the bird. She's not connected to it the way that Sam is but she can at least get the sense that there is some intelligence in the bird's mind. A comprehension.

She looks down to the mouse in her hands who looks back up at Wanda curiously. Then to the bird. It doesn't seem particularly afraid, but rather respectful of the animal which could treat one of her colony like an appetizer. Not holding the mouse out, she does open her hands somewhat to show the bird her mouse.

"This is one of mine," she tells the bird. "The Aeslin mice live here, this is their home. They wear clothing, unlike other mice. Mice inside our home are to be left alone. Mice with clothes should be left alone."

Her brows knit together as she looks at Sam, questioning without a word if he thinks the bird understood that.