Captain Steven Rockwell Trevor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rightly) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-08-21 09:42 pm
rightly) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-08-21 09:42 pm
( open ) I knew the waiting had begun
who: Steve Trevor & YOU!
what: Steve's arrival at the Quarantine.
when: August 20th-30th
where: all around
warnings: none expected
note: feel free to poke me @![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
extreminator or PM if you'd like a more specific starter or have another idea for a thread!
I ▹ ARRIVAL & RECOVERY ▹ HOSPITAL
II ▹ EXPLORING ▹ STREETS
III ▹ GETTING LOST ▹ STREETS
IV ▹ WILDCARD ▹ ANYWHERE ELSE
what: Steve's arrival at the Quarantine.
when: August 20th-30th
where: all around
warnings: none expected
note: feel free to poke me @
I ▹ ARRIVAL & RECOVERY ▹ HOSPITAL
[ It's a sudden feeling to him, like being pulled violently by a rope tied around his neck. Steve finds himself gasping for air and choking on the first breath that fills his lungs. Feels like a very first breath too, it hurts and makes his throat and lungs burn, his vision blurring as if confronted by light for the first time too.
It's not heaven, he reckons that much. No sort of afterlife, period. Everything here is far too overwhelming, confusing and painful for this to be supposedly what comes after death, and after he's revived and tended to, put back to sleep again so he can have some rest, only to wake up later on, mostly alone on a bed in a communal room, he soon realizes where he is.
A hospital. He's not a stranger to them, even if everything in here is completely foreign to him. The furniture is strange, the windows and the sight beyond them boggling, the various machinery and wiring too confusing and overwhelming. There's a box by the corner with moving pictures, with the very faint sound of voices and music filtering through, but it's nothing he understands.
Honestly, he doesn't understand anything at all, ranging from what this place is, to how did he even get here. But it's not like he can do much more than just lie and wait for the doctors to let him leave— well, he could leave, but at least for the first few hours, any attempts to even get up aren't very successful, and he ends up stumbling until he's leaning against the bed, finding himself forced to sit back down on it. ]
... crying out loud...
It's not heaven, he reckons that much. No sort of afterlife, period. Everything here is far too overwhelming, confusing and painful for this to be supposedly what comes after death, and after he's revived and tended to, put back to sleep again so he can have some rest, only to wake up later on, mostly alone on a bed in a communal room, he soon realizes where he is.
A hospital. He's not a stranger to them, even if everything in here is completely foreign to him. The furniture is strange, the windows and the sight beyond them boggling, the various machinery and wiring too confusing and overwhelming. There's a box by the corner with moving pictures, with the very faint sound of voices and music filtering through, but it's nothing he understands.
Honestly, he doesn't understand anything at all, ranging from what this place is, to how did he even get here. But it's not like he can do much more than just lie and wait for the doctors to let him leave— well, he could leave, but at least for the first few hours, any attempts to even get up aren't very successful, and he ends up stumbling until he's leaning against the bed, finding himself forced to sit back down on it. ]
... crying out loud...
II ▹ EXPLORING ▹ STREETS
[ To say that the city's foreign to him is putting it very mildly. Once he's released from the hospital, and is actually capable of standing on his own two feet, he immediately decides to explore the Quarantine, as if that alone will suffice to learn everything he must about the city.
He's soon proven wrong, of course. Between the cars and bikes driving by too fast, the overload of information at every corner, and the odd fashion choices of almost everyone walking up and down the streets, it's not long until Steve looks like a headless chicken walking about, looking this way and that, stopping every so often and just standing in the middle of the street, staring at a screen playing out some moving picture on a store window, or a woman's skirt that just happens to be a little too short.
It's not particularly difficult to bump into him when he's out and about, and he'll immediately turn to face the person who's just walked into him, lifting up his hands to help just in case they lose their balance. ]
Sorry— sorry, my fault. Are you alright?
He's soon proven wrong, of course. Between the cars and bikes driving by too fast, the overload of information at every corner, and the odd fashion choices of almost everyone walking up and down the streets, it's not long until Steve looks like a headless chicken walking about, looking this way and that, stopping every so often and just standing in the middle of the street, staring at a screen playing out some moving picture on a store window, or a woman's skirt that just happens to be a little too short.
It's not particularly difficult to bump into him when he's out and about, and he'll immediately turn to face the person who's just walked into him, lifting up his hands to help just in case they lose their balance. ]
Sorry— sorry, my fault. Are you alright?
III ▹ GETTING LOST ▹ STREETS
[ It's also not too terribly surprising that, after long periods spent roaming the streets and parks outside, Steve finds himself losing his way on more than one occasion. As the days go on, he starts to memorize some paths and is able to place himself a little more easily, but he still realizes he needs some help to find his way back a few times, and although his pride keeps him from reaching out immediately, he eventually accepts defeat.
Approaching anyone who seems at least vaguely friendly, he smiles, tipping his head slightly. ]
Excuse me. I was wondering... could you point me in the direction of the community housing?
Approaching anyone who seems at least vaguely friendly, he smiles, tipping his head slightly. ]
Excuse me. I was wondering... could you point me in the direction of the community housing?
IV ▹ WILDCARD ▹ ANYWHERE ELSE
[ Between looking around various places for a job, having to look for shops where he can buy a few new clothes, or simply relaxing or settling in for a quiet night reading at the balcony of the 7th floor, feel free to bump into Steve or cross paths with him just about anywhere! ]
no subject
Well, wherever you're from, they probably raise their pinkies when they do it, too. Or something weird.
[ Because, seriously, how weird is this guy? WEIRD. ]
Yeah, well, you normals probably don't know much about them. You know, giant alien robots and everything.
no subject
Can't say I've ever met any aliens. Or giant robots for that matter, although I have seen some pretty impressive... things. [ Which he most likely better not bring up. Even here. ] But we do still speak English, and I'm pretty sure I haven't hit my head hard enough to forget any of it.
no subject
Yeah, well, you're probably not supposed to admit when you've seen strange shit, anyway, right?
[She wasn't supposed to, but after Prowl pulled that shit? She officially DGAF.]
So, what kind of freaky sheltered life do you lead where people only speak like, you know, school English? [ Weirdo. ]
no subject
[ Well she's not wrong, but Steve can't help the trace of paranoia that rises. She couldn't possibly know why Steve has to keep some things a secret, after all. Can she? ]
Right, because we have it so easy where I come from, only because we speak proper English. [ Well, proper to her anyway. ] I'm from 1918. We do have turns of phrase, for the record. Just... different ones.
no subject
[The Machination was bad enough. Last thing she needed was like, the CIA or something getting on her tail. ]
Really? 1918? [ SQUINT.]I thought you guys all had like, you know, weird mustaches and hats and stuff. [ So, dude, that was Charlie Chaplin she was thinking of. Close enough. ] So, I mean, all this is new to you, huh? You should check out the indoor plumbing. [ No outhouses! Welcome to *~the future~*! ]
no subject
[ If anything he'd be the one getting into trouble for sharing classified information. Not that it matters one way or the other here. The war is over, anyway. Or so he's been told. ]
Well, I do like hats, for what it's worth, but I've never had a moustache. [ He gives her something of a flat stare, if also amused. ] It may be hard to believe, but I'm no stranger to indoor plumbing. [ Well, it is pretty nice that it's just about everywhere here. At least he won't have to pick and choose where to live so he can have a bath whenever he wants to. ]
no subject
[ You'll never get her, coppers! Or, well, whoever is gonna try to kill her next. Take a fraggin' number! ]
Yeah, well, keep it that way. Mustaches are freakin' weird, man.
[ Okay, fine, so you had plumbing. She wasn't some kind of history nerd!] Yeah, but we in the future have stuff like, ya know, antibiotics! [What? Spend enough time with Ratchet, learn the entire history of how 'backwards' Earth medicine is.]
no subject
[ In his case, death itself. Feels a little bit like cheating, maybe, but he's certainly not about to complain. It may be a second chance, or it's simply borrowed time he has here, but he'll welcome it one way or the other. ]
That so? And what's your expert opinion on beards? [ Not that he's asking with the intent of growing one, obviously.
He narrows his eyes slightly, confused by the word. He almost doesn't want to relent, but he can't help his curiosity. ] What's an antibiotic?