James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (
anotheroldsoldier) wrote in
riverviewlogs2018-05-08 01:21 am
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[OPEN] the sun settles hard in the south
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!]
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
for rogue;;
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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-
no subject
That is, if they had the bench to support such a strategic move. Their bench looks a bit barren lately, which brought them to their current situation.
The fact that he startles doesn't go unnoticed, and he receives a bit of a Look as she's slinging rat monster across the field.] We clear 'em and we're headin' back. [Have another pointed look Bucky. She'll drag him in kicking and cursing if necessary.
Her attention returned to the fight at hand and she flies forward towards the group to hopefully make quick work of the rest with his assistance. There's a bit of flair in her staff work that doesn't quite fit with her usual brawler style, but it's definitely productive as she hooks a particularly nasty opponent into a nearby tree.]
no subject
I call the shots out here. I got another five miles to sweep. [He's the one with 'Squad Captain Barnes' embroidered on his uniform jacket, a title he wears more readily than Captain America or Winter Soldier these days.
They manage to take out the pack, and the jungle falls quiet again, other than the sounds of birds and distant small animals going about their days. Straightening, Bucky takes a breath. He's a little pale, sweaty from the heat and from his illness.] Give me a sec to radio in our coordinates. I'll have to double back here in a few days and make sure the scavengers that'll come for the corpses have moved on.
no subject
She's no longer one to fall blindly into line with a leader if they're making dumb decisions, and Bucky, from her perspective, is doing just that.]
We got another five miles, which we can do more effectively from the air. [Regardless of her differences in opinion, Rogue's still there to make sure he got back behind the wall safe.
He receives a nod of agreement to acknowledge his plan, making a gesture to the sky to let him know she's going to snag a bird's eye view of their surroundings, and once she knows he understands, she takes flight, hovering high above him as she peers around them.]
no subject
How do you know you won't miss stuff on the ground through the treeline? [Letting out an irritable breath, he lets her take off, determined to at least finish his patrol route before he heads home to fall into bed. He takes the moment to radio in their coordinates and have them marked down as a spot to check in a few days.]
no subject
He has a point, but she's just as stubborn.]
The things worth worryin' about ain't exactly quiet. [And that gave her an idea as she scans said treeline.] What if we flushed 'em out where we want them?