riverviewlogs | missing pieces

Entry tags:

missing pieces

who: Bucky Barnes (MCU), Ivar Ragnarsson, Dick Grayson, Stephen Strange, Ellie, Tony Stark, Suigetsu Houzuki, Clark Kent, Fatima Merali, Eichi Tenshouin, Shai Ebbisaryn, Steve Rogers (MCU), Líadan Ní Donnabháin, Bucky Barnes (616), and Jonathan Kent
what: Various prompts
when: April 1st/2nd
where: Abandoned city
warnings: Probable violence
note: Though this log has closed prompts, if you would like to do anything with Bucky please just send me a PM or hit me up at

bibbety and I will be more than happy to add in a prompt for you!

[i: Sparring partners; CLOSED to Ivar Ragnarsson]

[Bucky spends a lot of his time out in the abandoned city, even sleeping there some nights when the feel of people all around him becomes a bit too much to handle. He's doing better than he was when he arrived here, he's even spoken to Steve fairly courteously once, but he's got a long way to go and he still prefers to do it alone.

Which is why he's out in the city training himself, running between buildings, jumping and vaulting various debris fields, and occasionally testing his acrobatic skills with flips and kicks off one surface to catch hold of another. What he's not expecting, after jumping one particularly large gap between rooftops, is to land by a man on the ground.

At first he thinks it's someone hurt, until he recognises the man that fought him when he was recently arrived and remembers how he couldn't use his legs. It's pretty impressive that he got up this far, let alone out here to the abandoned city in the first place.]

You okay?

[He was just going to go, but maybe Ivar really is hurt and can't get down.]

[ii: Meals on wheels; CLOSED to Dick Grayson]

[There have been a couple of times while Bucky has been skulking around the city that he's seen the man he doused in yoghurt, still patrolling in that costume. He knows his name now, made sure to look it up based on the usernames and the apartment - Dick Grayson. Not that he plans on using it, he just likes to have all the information, it can be the difference between life and death.

But what he doesn't realise is that he's the one that's been spotted tonight by Dick, as he slips out into the abandoned city and turns into one of the nearby ruins. A sleeping bag and rucksack are already stashed there, along with a surprising array of weapons. He slides into his sleeping bag, sat up against the wall, completely unaware that he's not alone... for now.]

[iii: Magic and Mayhem; CLOSED to Stephen Strange]

[Bucky has very few things that he would count as personal possessions. His weapons, clothes, and sleeping bag were all just tools that could pass in and out of his ownership without him caring that much. Though he would never like to be unarmed, he could always find more weapons if he lost these.

But he had a book that was precious to him. Just a tattered little notebook which was a quarter full of news clippings of all the various Avengers, some information both bought and stolen from the Smithsonian gift shop, and several choppy paragraphs in his own handwriting. Notes on information he's found out, memories that have resurfaced, that sort of thing.

He's sitting on the rooftop of one of the buildings in the main city, riffling through the book, when a sudden gust of wind catches it and sends it out of his hands and over the side to land at either at the feet of, or directly on the head of, the poor unsuspecting person walking by.

Sorry, Stephen.]

[iv: Dance lessons; CLOSED to Ellie]

[The flower festival isn't exactly Bucky's natural habitat, but he keeps finding himself drawn to the dance lessons and performances in the various open park areas. He doesn't really remember dancing himself, it's definitely not something the Soldier has ever done even though he has the dexterity for it, but it feels familiar.

So even though spending so much time in the crowds goes against a lot of his instincts, Bucky keeps finding himself back in the throng.

It's where he is that morning, sat with his back against a tree to make it slightly harder to sneak up on him from behind, intently watching a couple perform an exhibition piece in the style of swing dancing. These are the ones he likes the best, the ones that feel the most oddly familiar, and he has an almost peaceful expression as he watches.]

[v: Running into you; CLOSED to Tony Stark]

[Bucky spends a lot of his time either hiding, skulking in the shadows, or moving at a carefully steady pace through crowds so as not to attract attention. But sometimes he just needs to blow off steam, sometimes he just needs to burn through the excess energy that the bastardised serum gives him.

Which is why he's running.

He's at least chosen a time when he doesn't think anyone else will be near the outskirts of the city, and he's running down side streets and back alleys rather than the main streets, but he is pushing himself all out. Running faster than a normal human could, vaulting trash cans and practically skidding around corners.

It's probably lucky he hasn't crashed into anyone before now...]

[vi: Festival Fun; CLOSED to Suigetsu Houzuki]

[This festival, much like the last festival, is a good place to gather free food. The stall vendors are often so busy that they don't notice a little something here or there going missing, and lots of people end up buying food that they can't finish and just abandon. Which is why one suspicious hobo type is now casually wandering the picnic area, stooping as if to tie his shoe every so often when he's really stealing leftovers.

Don't mind him...]

[vii: A serious talk; CLOSED to Clark Kent]

[See the comments for starter.]

[viii: Kites and trees; SEMI-OPEN to anyone plotted with on the CR meme]

[Bucky has spent most of the flower festival skirting the main events, on the fringes of the crowds, or watching from a distance. But some things keep drawing him in deeper, like leftovers at the picnic area, or dance contests, or the smell of food.

To anyone wandering, he can be found in the following places:

i) staring into the window of a bakery as if the pies on display have the answer to life.
ii) up a tree in the park, watching a dance demonstration like a skulking creeper
iii) flying a kite that he got pressured into buying, sitting on the grass in a relatively secluded area. If this kite accidentally drops and wraps around your character, more's the pity.]

[ix: Football; CLOSED to Jonathan Kent]

[Bucky doesn't look like someone who's in the park to play a nice game of football... for one, he doesn't actually have a football. He's also skulking under the trees, wearing a long hoodie and gloves despite the warm weather, and is looking around at everyone entering the park as if they might be a threat to him.

But he said he wanted to do this, so he's here.

Even after he got the message from Clark that said he had somewhere else to be that morning, he was sorry, but hopefully Bucky could still have fun with Jonathan. Which was why Bucky was skulking out of place, waiting for a kid and hoping that said kid brought a football with him. Or they might be kind of scuppered.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fifteen.

[She was never really one for celebration. Her birthday came and went while she and Joel were on the road and she didn't bother bringing it up. Maybe they'd been together long enough for him to give a shit at that point, but she wasn't eager to find out.]

That's old enough to dance with a partner.

[He glances sidelong at her, waiting for a reply to his initial question. Has she danced?]

Edited 2017-04-06 22:08 (UTC)

[She's no stranger to lying by omission, but she finds that she doesn't really want to in this case. Riley isn't something she's ever felt she needs to hide, it's just-- she's private. Where she's from, it's sometimes the only currency you have.

So she takes a deep breath.]

Yeah. Just once. And it was a long time ago, anyway.

['A long time ago' to a teenager is a little more than a year, but still.]

[He's not going to ask her to dance again, that's a step too far even for how oddly relaxed he feels watching the demonstration going on.]

I think I used to dance a long time ago, too.

[Maybe. He doesn't really remember, just the smokey atmosphere of the dance halls, and an ever-changing parade of gals in nice dresses.]

[It's maybe the first personal thing he's told her, and she feels like... maybe it was the right choice, mentioning Riley. This guy obviously doesn't have anybody. No friends, probably no family, but he's done nothing that makes her think he deserves that. Humans are pack creatures, you know? They aren't meant to be alone.

She leans over and bumps his shoulder companionably. He won't say it, but she will.]

Wanna give it a try? When your leg's not all fucked up?

[He blinks over at her in, for once, completely naked surprise.]

You want to dance with me?

[The thought is almost laughably ludicrous. Like using a chainsaw to cut food, he's a weapon, he's not made for this kind of activity any more.]

[Oh, honey. Her expression softens, and she nudges at him a second time.]

Well sure. I bet you cut a real mean rug when you put your mind to it. That's the phrase, right? Cutting rugs?

[The surprise melts away and, for a second, he looks almost painfully wistful, before his expression is back to neutral and he's shaking his head.]

I don't remember how. But you should try it, I'll watch.

We can learn together.

[Seriously, does he have amnesia or something? How is that something you don't remember? She gets being hard, she gets being tough, having to ignore injury and hunger and the very natural human urge to be clean, but-- memory? That's all you've got, right there. No one's ever dead until you say their name for the last time, right?

What the hell happened to this guy?]

When you're ready. It'll be fun, I promise.

[Does he want to learn to dance?

It would be a wholly human thing to do, no weapon has ever danced, and that gives it some appeal. To use his body in a way that has nothing to do with aggression of any kind, maybe that wouldn't be so bad.]

What do you do for fun?

[He knows he's changing the subject, but he doesn't want to refuse her offer and he doesn't quite think he has it in him to accept yet either.]

[That's a complicated subject all its own. Since coming here, she's realized... not everybody follows her metric of fun. She could talk about things that happened before she was bitten. Things like water guns, and sneaking out after curfew, but all that does is take her one step closer to explaining where she's really from.

What it's really like.

So far, she's only told Clark. It's nobody else's business. She wants to be treated like a normal kid, but then... most people are quick to figure out that no normal kid carries a gun they know how to use, and it's not like she feels safe enough here to give that up.

And for all that he's basically been a brick wall, she thinks Mark might be one of the only people here who gets it in a way she understands.

She huffs an indecisive breath.]

I dunno. [That's said softly.] I kinda want to learn to play the guitar.

[He doesn't know the exact sort of situation she comes from, but he knows enough to get a good idea. The way she acts, the way she moves, the way she always has a weapon in easy reach... he's seen those behaviours before in the men he went to war with, he has those behaviours himself from a lifetime of combat.

She doesn't need to pretend to be normal, he knows that she's not. And that's okay.]

Yeah? You can get books to teach you that sort of thing these days.

[He doesn't remember ever being musical.]

Anything else?

I...

[Whew, this is entirely too close to home. She'd started out wanting to help him, not talk about her own shit. She doesn't hate her life. Doesn't even really regret all that much. But she feels so fucking ashamed and guilty for the fact that she can't just... be like everyone else. That every single thing she says about where she's from runs the risk of making people pity her, or being horrified, or sad, or scared, that it might happen to them. That it could.

She doesn't need to put that on other people. Nobody deserves to carry that weight.]

It's complicated. Um... video games, I guess. I think that'd be a lot of fun. One of my friends back home was super into them, she knew everything about this one badass fighting game. Have you ever played?

[He's pretty good at deflection, because he also doesn't want to talk about his life or issues to anyone. Video games at least suggests she's from a relatively modern time, even if her country or world has hit hard times.]

No.

[He honestly doesn't know much about them, beyond that they exist.]

Is it a war?

[The question comes after a moment, soft enough that she can pretend not to hear if she'd prefer.]

[Her mouth twitches down at one corner.]

Uh... that. Kinda depends on how you define war.

[Hoo-boy. Okay, well. She scrubs a hand over her face, tightens the ponytail at the base of her skull. Like someone getting ready for a fight.]

Okay, so... where I'm from, before I was born there was this outbreak. An infection. It wiped out like... ninety percent of the Earth's population, or something crazy like that. Only, people who get infected don't... die, they just. They sort of... lose their minds. Like a rabid animal. If they see a normal person, or hear them, they'll go after them. They'll tear you apart if you get close enough or can't fight them off. Annnd there's no cure.

[She's not subtle enough as a person to refrain from wrapping the fingers of her left hand around her right forearm, just over the scar. Lucky her, being immune, right?]

It's pretty shitty. But it's what we've got, so... you make the best of it.

Edited 2017-04-08 17:48 (UTC)

[Sounds like the plot of one of the old dime novels he used to buy as a teenager, all aliens and zombies and monsters from the black lagoon. But he's not about to disrespect her by saying that, not when it's obvious that she's telling the truth and that it's a horrific thing to live through.

He sees the way her hand goes to her arm, and it doesn't exactly take a genius to figure out why.]

You were bitten, but you didn't change.

[It's a quiet statement rather than a question. There's no pity in it, just understanding, he knows what it's like to be marked as dangerous.]

That must be hard.

[She smooths her sleeve down against her arm. She doesn't really like that he pulled that out of nowhere, she'd only told Clark when he mentioned he was an alien. Fuck people being perceptive, really.]

It doesn't even fucking matter, so who cares.

[That's defensive. A little angry. The other stuff she keeps secret is about her world, but that one's just her.

But he didn't say it to be cruel. She knows by now: he isn't. So she. Takes a deep, wobbly breath.]

Sorry. I'm being a jerk. I just. For a long time I thought that I could be the key to some... cure, and then it turned out that was bullshit. Sore spot I guess.

[He doesn't react at all to her sudden anger, it's not like he's not used to that sort of reaction even in himself, he knows it covers fear and hurt and a multitude of other things.

He considers his words carefully. He's still not good at social interactions, even worse at advice, but he has to say something.]

This place has a whole lot of worlds to plunder, maybe you can still be the key to finding a cure even if it doesn't come from you.

[She hadn't really thought of that. But she does consider it now, drawing both her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She's still holding the cotton candy, a fluffy blue cloud that obscures her view on her right side. She finds she trusts this guy enough to warn her if anything comes from that direction anyway.]

Maybe.

[She's not sure she's ready to talk about it that openly. She can be selfish for a while, can't she? She spent so long trying to justify her survival as a means to an end, she doesn't even remember what it's like to feel like a real person, with real thoughts and fears and wants of their own. She's trying to... give that back to herself now. So she can't save the world. It doesn't mean she doesn't deserve to live in it.

Things would have been so much fucking simpler if she'd died with Riley. Sometimes she wishes she would have. Instead, she watched her turn while she stayed the same, and reached for that fucking gun.

She drops her head against her knees.]

We don't even know if we can take things back. If any of this even matters.

[He doesn't push her on it.

It's not his world, and it's her choice ultimately whether she wants to research into that or just forge a new life for herself. He won't judge, she's the only one that will have to live with the consequences of her decisions, just like all of them.]

Then maybe just start with the guitar.

[She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to here. And maybe she's right, maybe it doesn't matter in the end.]

[She can't help it, she laughs. It's a weird, fluttery, watery-sounding thing but it's genuine enough. She straightens up enough to rub her sleeve across her face.]

Sorry. You aren't gonna tell anybody about this, right?

[Knowing that he made someone laugh is nice, it makes the corner of his lips twitch upwards into an almost smile that looks strange on his face.]

Who would I tell?

[In case she hasn't noticed, he's sort of a loner hobo.]

[It's a good look on him, and she resolves to try to get him to make it more often. Poor guy. He didn't even bat an eye at her sad, fucked up history. His has to be worse.

'Who would I tell' indeed. Ellie chews on her lip.]

Hey, this may be a weird question, but do you do hugs?

[Apparently she's good at getting him to emote, because she gets another surprised expression, as if she's asked him something utterly foreign.]

I don't remember.

[Isn't that stupid? He knows he must have had hugs once, he's even seen photographs of him arm-in-arm with Steve at the Smithsonian exhibit. But he doesn't remember it, he doesn't really remember being touched in a way that didn't lead to pain or a fight.]

[Hugging people sitting down is sort of awkward, and she doesn't want to make him stand with a busted up ankle, so she just drops her legs against the ground, angles her torso and holds out her arms.]

You wanna c'mere and give it a try?

[She could use one too, honestly, as much as she thinks this dude probably needs one way more. Joel isn't really a touchy sort of guy, but she is. He only held her the once that she remembers, and her memories of that time are... not the best, or clearest thing in the world.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject