[closed] [mission log]

[anotheroldsoldier]

who: Bucky Barnes [616], Steve Rogers [616], Steve Rogers [MCU], Michael Scofield, Stephen Strange, Loki, Sam Wilson, and Yuri Plisetsky. Feat. Tony Stark as remote consultant.
what: Mission: Healing Spring
when: Forward-dated to the week of April 23rd-29th
where: Out in the wilds beyond the wall
warnings: Possible (definite) violence/monster attacks. Will update.

[ooc: Headers below for each 'stage' of the mission. This is going down mingle-style fast and loose. If you don't want threadjacks in a particular thread, just say so in your header, else it's all fair game. It might get chaotic, so if/when anything major happens I'll summarize up here.]

• Much bickering is to be had.


• Sam has cool wings.


• Michael puked out a window.


• Steve needs laser safety classes.


• ROCK LOBSTER- I mean, golems.


• Michael and Sam actually find the place.

Comments

weird camping things.

[ikols]

[ Once, a decent amount of time ago, Verity took Loki to an art museum. She found him cross-legged as he stared up at a painting and when she asked him what he was looking at so intently he replied, There's so much to see. The eyes of the godling observed everything her mortal pair couldn't; twists in direction from a paintbrush that emoted through the picture's design, a story written without words about the artist and their temperament. The heart that moved paint from palette to easel. Arthritis reshaped and shaped again, forgotten shapes remastered by a dying, determined mind.

He read the lives of the men and women and felt full.

The forest around the Avenge-party is noisy at night and tells a story too, one from animals to stars and back again, every shift in the weather affecting the mood of the night from the bugs to the behemoth snoozing far away. Magic beats in the breast of the dirt and boles, a second heartbeat thumping somewhere ahead in the hidden hills that tells him the spring is here, this way, but it's part of the land and Loki is not.

Unless he chooses to be.

This is a tale of beasts and men so he chooses the former, the dominant, and slinks off each evening to keep watch, letting the lay of the moon and its allure shape his form into something more natural at the time; a fox sits on a pile of boulders in the silver light, whiskers twitching as perky ears swivel. Green eyes reflect the flecked sky overhead as he keeps watch over the party from a small distance, horns glinting golden, sharp.

The land has so much to say, it's safer if someone is listening. ]