[OPEN] the sun settles hard in the south

[anotheroldsoldier]

who: Bucky Barnes & You
what: Monthly catch-all, including illness, memoria, and more.
when: May
where: Around
warnings: Sickness.


i. Floating Lanterns - Memoria
[Bucky likes Memoria, in a way. It's a quiet, reflective holiday, the kind of holiday that makes sense to him, over holidays for sex or holidays for love. Mourning is easy when you've lost as much as he has. He doesn't always participate in the monthly festivals the Quarantine throws, but for this one... for this one, he takes part, buying some lanterns and a pen and some tealight candles, writing names and regrets on the thin paper walls.

Sitting by the bank of the river, he's finishing off his lanterns. The names of the Young Allies on one, the names of his family on another. A third is crowded, each name written neatly, but small, to fit them all. It's the names of every victim of the Winter Soldier that he remembers, starting with Jack Monroe.

The fourth lantern... It only has one name written on its side. James Buchanan Barnes. A death that has not quite come, but a death he is letting go of all the same. That one he's less likely to talk about than the others, but still company is not entirely unwelcome.

As night falls, he holds that lantern with his own name on it, and then leans over to set it gently into the water, the candle unlit.]

ii. First Symptoms, Perimeter Guard Training Room
[With Memoria mostly passed, and Bucky's remembrance done, he slips back into his daily life here in Riverview. Taking time off of work is an almost unknown concept; he actually enjoys his tenure with the Guard. When he isn't out past the fence on missions or patrolling the walls, he spars with the newer recruits or teaches the greenhorns hand-to-hand combat in the training gym.

He's taking sparring partners as they come, moving fluidly through maneuvers, matching his partner's skill level while giving them a challenge still, and all seems pretty normal, at least until one of the newer, less experienced recruits manages to land a kick - because Bucky has doubled over in a vicious coughing fit that makes the kid stumble back, wide eyed.

He rasps out,] Ain't your fault. Don't flatter yourself. [When it starts to subside, and then straightens, wiping his hand on his sweatpants.] I'm fine. C'mon, back on the mats.

[There is a distinct smear of blood where he wiped his palm.]

iii. Mid-Month
[Refusing to admit he's sick hasn't made it any better. Other people are showing symptoms too, some worse than others, but his stubborn streak is a mile long, and he doesn't have to admit he's feeling worse as the days pass, prone to coughing fits that he tries to hide, fever that leaves him sweaty and achy, a bone-deep exhaustion he tries to push past.

It's three in the morning when he finds himself in a corner store, shivering into a hoodie that is probably too heavy for the weather, glazed eyes scanning the shelves of over-the-counter medications and barely reading the words on the bottles and boxes of pills.] Something for fever... Come the fuck on...

iv. Wildcard!
[If you want something different, toss a prompt at me or hit me up at nekky and I'll write you one!]

Comments

iii

[buildsomething]

[Tony hasn't been feeling great himself, but he's been doing a pretty decent job of ignoring it. Constant headaches aren't exactly a new thing for him, and he's worked straight through them before, he knows what to do. He does at least occasionally go for painkillers when they get bad enough that it's hard to look at his monitors, he's not a complete idiot.

He has, however, run out, which means it's time to actually forage out into the real world for a minute. Who cares that it's the middle of the night? Genius waits for no man.

Considering the epidemic going on, Tony isn't entirely surprised to find that he's not the only one there. Nearly running straight into James Barnes, however, is slightly more unexpected. He takes one quick look at the state of him and snorts lightly.]

You too?

[anotheroldsoldier]

[The middle of the night is apparently a popular time to hit up the pharmacy aisle. Granted, any time is probably a time to hit up the pharmacy aisle at this point in the epidemic. When he's joined by a familiar face, Bucky's definitely slow to notice him, his reaction times utterly throttled by the nanites wracking his body with illness. He probably shouldn't be out at all, right now, but here he is.

When he does notice Tony, he blinks at him for a moment, body still trembling with fever. He reaches out with the metal hand, which is blessedly still, to pick up a bottle of something like dayquil off the shelf.

He thinks about denying it, but... there is no denying his state anymore.] Yeah. Me too. [He rasps, voice hoarse.] How's the research going? [Bucky hates this, feeling helpless, feeling like there's nothing he can do.]

[buildsomething]

Going.

[And not really getting anywhere, which is fun for everyone. Too many variables, plus the absolute wildcard that is the magic angle. Frankly, Tony's ready to blame the headaches on that alone.

But Bucky looks like he's just barely keeping upright, and that's more than a little unsettling. Tony's seen this thing hit the most unlikely people, and none of them seem to be handling it well. It's ramped his concern up significantly, though considering most of the people he knows, Tony's been doing his best not to show it.

Maybe that's why he gives Bucky a slightly considering look.]

Feel like helping out with it some?

[anotheroldsoldier]

Better'n stalled out, I guess. [It's not exactly reassuring, but nobody has all the answers. He's working on it, at least, which is doing more than most people in the city are doing. More than Bucky himself is doing. Not for lack of desire, but definitely for lack of ability. He holds up the bottle to the tired-looking cashier, and she must have done this song and dance with him before, because she just says, 'I'll take it off the card you used last time.' and shakes her head.

With that settled, he pops the top off and takes a swig of dayquil straight from the bottle. He's reached that point of 'trying desperately to make himself better' to where he's not even reading dosages.] Yeah. Of course. What do you need me to do?

iii.

[ikols]

[ Physically, Loki has never been better. He suspects whatever strain of nano-virus that is going around is more mortal-based than not, since he feels just fine when the not-really-a-god Thor from Earth is ill, but for the first time it's distressing to watch as everyone drops like flies; when Billy had fallen into a coma, that was the worst. Loki mainly wants to ensure Stephen doesn't go anywhere now, he needs the extra help figuring out the magical half of the cure. He doesn't really care what happens to the other Avengers. Not out of distaste or hatred, but it's as if all the worry and fright has already settled around the reserve in his heart where Billy lives and it never occurs to him others among their ranks are sick, at least not until the Drunken Stark makes a network post and Loki feels Thor weaken.

Seeing Barnes shivering like a wildflower in winter (haha) at Loki's local store gives him pause. Billy would want him to try and help, although Loki personally wants to avoid getting a metal fist in his face for any attempt made and an unconscious Barnes is a much safer Barnes, as far as he's concerned. 'Ask him if he's okay, don't be selfish.' Billy's annoyed urgings are oddly strong in the back of Loki's head where their bond lies ominously dormant, the sole reason the godling creeps over and says, ]

Fatigue spurs on the comas, I believe. I would suggest rest, not these parlour-trick tablets.

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky isn't likely to be throwing any punches in this state. His reaction times are significantly slowed down from normal; he would get his ass handed to him in a fight. Despite his vicious reputation, this James Barnes is only mortal, with only his mortal immune system to try and fight the nanites inside him. He's definitely fighting it, but it's been two weeks since the symptoms started, give or take, and it's becoming a losing battle to stay conscious, to keep moving.

He doesn't want to die. No one's hearts have stopped yet, as far as he's aware, but falling comatose certainly isn't a good sign, and it's not necessarily the worst this virus has to offer.

Bucky stifles a cough into his fist, fever-bright eyes narrowing slightly. Loki certainly isn't his favorite person in the world, but he's making no move away from the shelf, turning his gaze back to the row of medications.] I'll sleep when I'm dead. [He finally says, voice rough.] Not that that ain't too far off, but it hasn't gotten me yet.

[ikols]

You'll be dead when you're dead, unless you appease my father and backflip into Valhalla. Then you'll be partying over keggers with no time for sleep at all.

[ His gaze flicks over the packaged medicines, unimpressed and neutral. If he had access to Asgardia, if such were remotely an option, he feels certain the healers would have the nanite scourge under control and his mother would direct all her energy on saving lives. Souls are often removed from flesh when the latter sickens, tied but separate, so one or the other can be treated. The drugstore is, by comparison, like a hand swatting ineffectually at a rabid dog. ]

How many of your fellows have the sickness?

ii

[tempredmental]

[Keith frowned. They'd been going pretty well, and fighting someone else for a change was upping his own game. He was always willing to learn and train to get newer skills and ideas, different ways to approach a situation. That was one of the main reason he had started training with the Blade of Marmora even while having had to step up as Paladin of the Black Lion. Training with people here only made sense.

However, when Bucky pulled back like that, Keith backed down. They were only training. This wasn't a real fight. There was no reason to take advantage of the moment. He watched the older man closely, noting the blood.

Keith shook his head.]

You're not fine.

[anotheroldsoldier]

[His lungs feel almost raw, his throat sore with it already. Bucky doesn't get sick much, if at all. He trains and works relentlessly, and sure, he's been more tired, he's almost slept in a couple mornings this week, but there's no goddamn way he could be actually sick. He has to push down the spark of frustration when Keith steps back from the fight. It had been going well, he had been thinking about how to move to give the kid some more experience against certain types of fighters, when that happened.]

I am fine. You didn't hit me that hard. [Because it's inconceivable that he's sick or even injured. This was just a sparring match, not a real fight. He must have breathed in wrong. Huffing out a breath, he reaches for his water bottle and downs half of it, the cool liquid soothing the sting in his throat.]

[tempredmental]

I know I didn't. Which is why I know you're not fine.

[Keith crossed his arms, getting stubborn. Bucky was a lot like Shiro sometimes, and Keith wasn't going to let him get away with it, either.]

We can take a break. It's okay.

[Though, in all fairness, Keith was no where near as winded as Bucky was. Another indicator in Keith's mental notes that Bucky was less than 'fine'.]

for rogue;;

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky hasn't quite gotten ill to the point of collapse yet. For as long as he can, he tries to keep up with work, go on patrol, help out. The Guard is short-handed with so many people getting sick, and he wants to do whatever little thing he can right now when he's helpless to fix the people collapsing in the streets. He's tried to hide his own symptoms, to shove them down with fever-reducers and cough syrup.

He's out with Rogue today. There's a small pack of something toothy and unpleasant headed straight for the outer wall, and it had seemed like a good idea to go intercept them, take them out before they could become a problem. The city is vulnerable right now.

Rat-like and bare of fur, with heavy jaws and spines along their backs, the pack is vicious and quick when they finally find them. Bucky hangs back, forehead already shining with sweat (though he'll chalk that up to the heat), looking through the scope on his rifle. He picks off two of them from afar, the gunshots echoing loud.

If he weren't off his game, he'd see the scout, turned around to return to its brethren, lunging at his back from behind, clawing and hissing.]

[backwaterbelle]

[In her professional opinion, Bucky had done a piss poor job of hiding the extent the nanites had debilitated him, but she held her tongue for now. Steve would take care of that later no doubt. For now, she'd try and be on her C, maybe even B game to even things out a bit.

Rogue should be resting, but the mutant's also stubbornly delinquent in following the recommendations of those who knew better. Hell, even she knew better, but as Bucky was hell bent on pushing through the pain and suffering, she was going to back him up and help where she could at the same time. She may not be on the guard officially, but the mutant could handle herself. Truth be told, she's fought in far worse conditions, so they should be fine right?

The noises of the creatures, snap her attention to an adrenaline fueled focus of the battlefield. She's taken to carrying a weapon when she patrols, mostly to keep her dry cleaning bill to a minimum, and today it's a savage looking mace staff. Bless the medieval simulations in the Danger Room. Out of habit, she takes flight to get more of a bird's eye view, but she's not two feet off the ground when she hears the cracking of a fallen branch from behind Bucky.]

Fore! [She yells sharply as she swings the staff up hard and sharp, just like Remy had taught her, catching the creature square in the ribs with a wet, sickening crunch. Angry at the close call, she continues with the momentum of the swing and arcs the rat right at the rest of the pack with a grunt.]

How we doin'? [Because one glance his way and she's more concerned for him than the pack of monster rats.]

[anotheroldsoldier]

[He begs to differ about being debilitated. He's still out doing his job, after all, since it's about the only way he actually feels useful around here. It's not like he can help much with the cure research. Besides, Rogue is one to talk, she's out here too. They're all just doing the best they can to get the city through this epidemic as safely as they possibly can.

Bucky startles when Rogue is batting away a creature from behind him, knocking it into the pack, and he curses, firing off another head-shot to take it out for good. The rest are not too happy with this turn of events, and he keeps shooting, left hand keeping his rifle blessedly steady and his aim mostly on track.]

Shit. I'm fine, I just didn't hear that one. [He admits irritably, trying to ignore how his head feels like it's filled with cotton.] We've almost got them taken out, just- a few more-

ii

[breqintopieces]

[Breq has been watching the sparring from the sidelines, tracking the movements of the younger recruits, sizing people up, evaluating. Every training room has a familiar rhythm, and this one is no different. There's always a heart to the movement, an experienced fighter serving as a fulcrum, a teacher. It's not hard to spot the person in that role here. Even despite the coughing fit, Bucky has stood out among the more clumsy, more hesitant people in the room.

She waits until he's finished dealing with this particular recruit before approaching, pausing with a polite meter of space open between them.]

May I ask a round? I need to get back into practice. [She gestures toward one of the mats, a hospital admission bracelet still wrapped around one wrist.]

fun fact i actually had your memoria top level open to tag before i saw this lmao

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky doesn't always serve as the teaching figure here, but some of the recruits recognize him, are eager to have another go with him in the ring. Right now they're wary, because landing hits on the old soldier isn't common in this group, so when someone new approaches the mats, they start to pick up their things and make their excuses.

He glances to Breq, sharp eyes sizing her up like a soldier would, build and posture, the way she holds herself. He does notice the hospital admission bracelet, and takes that into account; he'll have to be careful not to aggravate whatever had her in the hospital in the first place, assuming it's a lingering injury. Or maybe it's nothing, it's hard to say.

Bucky takes a drink from his water bottle and then steps back onto the mats, barefoot and rolling out his shoulders. The left arm is glaringly bright under the fluorescent lights, shining silver from shoulder down.] Of course. Any recent injuries I should know about?

I wouldn't complain if you still do, lol

[breqintopieces]

[Breq returns his measuring stare frankly, as she does a few final stretches and sets aside her own boots to step out onto the mats. She moves with economy, storing her gear to the side of the mat with a military neatness.

The question she waves off with a brief gesture, shifting her weight as she stretches out her legs.]

Decompression sickness. It's as healed as it will be. Just have to work back into shape.

[She eyes the metal arm, even as she settles into a ready stance.]

If you're concerned I'll raise my armor.

i.

[whatarethose]

[She knows that there are two Bucky's here but she hasn't had many encounters with either of them. In fact, one of them, the one she remembers, feels like a ghost. Shuri knows that he's around but has yet to run into him. This Bucky looks different and yet similar.

What draws her dark eyes is the name on his lantern.]

I don't think we're supposed to put our own names on there.

[Shuri looks up at him, a frown touching her lips in place of her usual smile.]

[anotheroldsoldier]

[The other Barnes keeps to himself more, is warier still. This Bucky has had plenty of time to get used to his un-brainwashed state of being, plenty of time to ease back into the world, comparatively speaking. He glances over to Shuri when she speaks, subtly turning the written-on face of his lantern away, as if to hide it, or to protect it. It's a silly, useless gesture, but this particular thing feels a little raw, like an open wound still healing.]

Ain't just about memorializing the dead. It's also about letting go of regrets. [He's purposely vague, purposely deflecting a little. Talking to strangers about his own impending death is... terrifying, in a way. Like that'll make it more real.]

[whatarethose]

[Shuri considers his stance but she honestly doesn't understand. It isn't that she doesn't have regrets but she's spent her life fixing or improving the things around her. She doesn't understand the view point that's so far stuck in the past that it might have trouble moving forward.]

Why not just fix the things you regret. You might not be able to fix everything but it's better than ignoring them or remaining so focused on the things behind you that you can't see the future.

[Her voice is gentle, she realizes that this is a sensitive subject, but she really doesn't understand what he's trying to do.]

You're alive, maybe not in your world but there are things you can do here too, and now is as good a time as any to start accepting your regrets instead of letting them go. There is a difference.

I. aww shit runaway lantern!!!

[physioneural]

[ Several yards down by the bank comes a short distressed sound. Steve sees the unlit lantern float by among others dark as the river waters below it, hands hesitant to pick up a stranger's lantern. But if he can help fix a mistake, relight the small candle to respect Memoria's tradition, he figures a little manhandling won't hurt anything, right?

So he pulls it out of the water, careful not to read any names found on it. Funny enough, though, resting unlit between his hands, the red glow coming through Steve's shirt from his chest plate mirrors the warm light that should've enveloped the lantern. However, it's only then that Steve realizes he has nothing on him to light it with. ]

Anyone have a light?

[ There's a handful of onlookers; one's got to have a lighter. ]

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky's eyes track the unlit lantern as it bobs and floats down the river lazily, occasionally bumping into others with their candles burning bright. Sending it dark wasn't a mistake, really; it feels different, to memorialize your own future death, and anyway, he has only returned to walk in the light very recently in his long career. It seemed more fitting for the death of James Buchanan Barnes to go unnoticed again.

Except it doesn't go unnoticed, because a guy is wading out into the river to pick it up, and asking for a light. Bucky frowns for a moment, debating internally if he should speak up or if he should just disappear into the crowd, let the man light his lantern and leave it be. It would be easier to disappear. Who is he, to take the easy way out?

He jogs down the bank, shaking his head and reaching for the simple paper shade.] No, it- leave it. It's okay.

[physioneural]

[ Ah well, it was a 50/50 chance picking it up. Got this one wrong looks like. Steve hands it over immediately with a slight repentant smile on his face. ]

Ah, sorry, son. I, uh, have a hard time leaving well enough alone.

[ It's a curse. ]

ii

[livingsymbol]

[Steve is trying not to say anything. He's been putting more conscious effort into the idea that if Bucky needs him he'll say something first. But when he sees his friend break into a fit of coughing he finally decides enough is enough. He walks over, breaking from his private exercising and patting the younger recruit on the shoulder.]

How about you take five minutes to hydrate?

[After the recruit just agrees quietly, Steve steps onto the mat and holds out a towel.]

You sure you're doing okay?

[anotheroldsoldier]

[The younger recruits are happy to disperse and leave things to the more senior soldiers. Bucky frowns a little sourly at Steve as he takes the towel, mopping sweat from his face and the back of his neck. It's too much sweat, considering he hadn't gotten much of a work-out, but he chalks it up to the damp, May heat. Maybe they haven't turned the air-conditioning on in the training rooms yet. Maybe.]

Yeah, it's nothing. Just a cough. I'll get some lozenges on the way home. [Something is going around, and he knows it at this point, but he doesn't want to admit that he might have caught that. Just a summer cold, maybe that's all it is, from the weather changing. (Never mind that he never gets those. He rarely gets sick, was like that even when he was younger.)] They have you on patrol later?

[livingsymbol]

[Steve makes note of how the younger recruits retreat. It's not just relief that they don't have to train that spurs them, it's something else. He can see the way Bucky seems to be struggling more than usual, showing signs of more than just fatigue.]

That was the idea. I might request to change shifts.

[Because something just came up.]

Maybe they aren't the only ones who need a break.