sam wilson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wingedman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-04-24 08:10 pm
wingedman) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-04-24 08:10 pm
(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.]
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.]
no subject
So, Tony follows Sam outside, half a brownie in his mouth (hot damn they are good, he is stealing some to squirrel away thank you) as he watches Sam strip down, wings flaring to life. And, well, they are fucking impressive wings, Tony can already tell that the engineering of them is incredible, and the fact that they are seamlessly integrated with Sam's biology is also impressive.
Moving to kneel next to him, Tony finishes his brownie and puts the plate within reach of Sam, eyes alight with amusement.
"I'm not going to break anything, wow, have you met me? I only make things better and--- oooh, I can totally get behind the projection field that these are giving off. Hell, it could be used as a jumping point to expandable shielding for you and a few others."
no subject
Sam snags a brownie and munches on it while Tony talks, listening to the genius's enthusiasm. It's endearing, really, and he finds himself smiling. "I could get behind that," he agrees. "They don't work quite the same way as the jetpack - those wings I can fold in front of me and use as shielding, but these aren't hinged like that. So anything you can do with that would be great." Sure, he's got tactical gear to protect him, but that isn't as bulletproof as he'd like.