rightly: (forty two.)
Captain Steven Rockwell Trevor ([personal profile] rightly) wrote in [community profile] riverviewlogs2017-10-14 11:30 am

( open ) just keeping life and soul together

who: Steve Trevor & YOU!
what: memory share + catch-all
when: month of October; 9th to 23rd for memory share things
where: all over
warnings: death, violence, some gruesome stuff, sappiness. will update if need be!


I ▹ VISIONS
[ You're a little scared, but you don't look it. You don't act like it, either. You're aware of being in enemy territory, surrounded by people who would torture or kill you without a second thought, if they knew who you were. But they don't. You're dressed like them, talk like them, and you walk among them completely unnoticed.

It's a good thing. It allows you to come into the factory, see what kind of work they're doing. You watch as the scientist you've been sent to check up on works on an experiment with a sort of poisonous gas. It fails, but frustration and anger has her killing the guinea pig anyway, a man who's as scared as he is helpless, restrained and with a mask strapped to his face.

You have no time to think. You can't let her finish her work, you have to find a way to stop it, or at least delay it for long enough that you can bring this information to the people who can actually do something with it. So, while she speaks to the General, you sneak your hand through the cracked door and you steal her notebook. You manage to walk halfway across the factory before she notices it's gone, and by the time she yells out and the alarm sounds, you're already outside.

Walking calmly isn't an option anymore. You start running, then sprinting, yanking a pilot out of his airplane and climbing in yourself, quickly taking off. You double back, though. It's risky, but you may as well cause as much damage as you can, and you shoot across the field, the other airplanes and soldiers there, and as you approach the factory, you let a bomb down through the glass ceiling, flying away as it all blows up, the scientist's work all going up in flames. There's a sense of relief and accomplishment, even as the enemy force seems intent on finding a way to chase you down and catch you. ]


II ▹ DREAMSCAPE
[ It's a peaceful scene, for a change. You find yourself standing a little to the side with Steve, while the perfect copy of him, in the memory, sits on the edge of the fountain, next to Diana. Sameer comes by, happy and chatting, offering them both drinks, and they help themselves. Both the protagonists of the dream and the rest of the people around them, singing, dancing and laughing, seem to be entirely unaware of their presence.

Steve reaches out to clink his beer against Diana's in a toast, then looks around them, a warm contented expression taking over his features. ]


You did this. [ He says to Diana, but she's prompt in correcting him, smiling as he glances at him. ] We did.

[ The other Steve, the one standing next to you, doesn't look particularly comfortable being here, but he knows there's no point trying to leave. He just looks at you awkwardly, shrugging in way of an apology. He knows what's going to happen next, after all, and... well, it's about to get very sappy. ]


III ▹ VISIONS
I have to go. [ She doesn't understand, but you know better. You can't stay now, there's no choice. But you can't leave without telling her, without at least getting it all off your chest. At least she'll know before you're gone. A small comfort (no comfort at all), but it'll have to do. ]

What are you saying? [ She asks, you shake your head. You have a feeling you're both speaking in different languages; you can't hear her, she can't hear you. ] Steve. Whatever it is... I can do it.

No, no. [ Stop her, you need to stop her. You know Ares will never let her go through with it, even if she could, and she would be able to survive it. She insists, you push back. ]

It has to be me. It has to be me. I can save today— you can save the world. [ God, he means it. He believes it. She'll save the world, and that's bigger than him, than surviving, than breakfasts and reading the newspaper and growing old together.

You smile, even if you feel miserable. You look away briefly, then back to her, shaking your head. Your heart pumps wildly in your chest. ]
I wish we had more time.

[ She stares at you; she can't hear you, you realize. ] What? What are you saying?

[ You reach down and take off your watch, pressing it to the palm of her hand. Then you start walking backwards. ] I love you.

[ You don't want to let go, but the more you linger, the surer you are you won't be able to. So you pull your hands away quickly and start running away, towards the airplane waiting for you. Your fate— your coffin.

She calls out after you, but you don't look back. You can't look back. You know a glance will be all it takes for you to hesitate, to lose your courage and not do what you have to. ]


IV ▹ VISIONS (this can be a continuation to the previous memory, if you'd like!)
Steve! [ You don't look back. You can't. You rush towards the airplane, and you jump in. You climb inside and take on the pilot, kicking him out. The adrenaline and the haste kick you into action, mask the other feelings that would freeze you to the spot.

You take the seat and you take the plane up in the air. Up, up, away, as far away as it can get. You keep looking back over your shoulder, until the flames and the factory are but a dot in the distance. You laugh, breathless. You laugh and you can't stop, exhilarated and terrified when the reality of it all sinks in.

You're going to die.

This is the hard part. Because now you can safely end it all, not hurt anyone else, but the gun is suddenly heavy in your hand, and your arm shakes, your body shakes, your head spins and your heart is tearing a hole in your chest. You try to breathe deeply but you can't calm down, you can't. Does it matter? Not really. Calm or not, you're going to die. The end result will always be the same.

You close your eyes, try very hard not to think of good things. Diana. You know the moment you remember her smile, her laugh, her eyes, you'll want to turn the plane around, and you can't.

Deep breaths. One, another. You open your eyes again. Your breathing gets calmer, you don't know how. You decide to count down the exhales. Five... four... three... two...

One.

You pull the trigger. ]



[ ooc: if you'd like any other specific memories from the movie, feel free to let me know and I can write a starter for you! ]
ikols: for the plot line (you were good)

[personal profile] ikols 2017-10-14 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's a lot easier doing this in a dream: his features dilute to something indistinguishable and shadowy, voice switching between male and female. and Loki's eyes brighten to glow green. The horns on his head are still there but it's impossible to tell if they're attached to his actual head or not. ]

I'm not really a man or a woman or a fox or an otter, only sometimes. I'm Loki. First, last, and always.
ikols: let my bed be made (o brother dear)

[personal profile] ikols 2017-10-15 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
That's not how it works, Steve. I can turn into a fox because I am one, these lips are the same pair that kissed your cheek just now. It's shapeshifting, physically changing into another iteration of my identity. No illusions.

I'm sure I'd enjoy having the appearance of a lion, but that's not possible.

[ Loki lifts a hand away from where it rests on Steve's shoulder to tug on the fur of his ruff that peeks over his collar. Very real, as much as his usual black curtains. His ears lower, whiskers twitching down as he thinks of another person who asked him about this stuff. ]

Not a lot of people see this as an authentic appearance, they think it's a trick. I don't step outside the boundaries of a man or woman often.
ikols: let my bed be made (o brother dear)

[personal profile] ikols 2017-10-15 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A toothy smile lingers, fond and then grateful, until Loki is forced to give an awkward shrug. ]

It's not as if anyone wants to have a relationship with a furry, whenever I'm like this. I don't blame them. It's hard to love what disgusts us.

[ And Loki is so desperate for positive relationships, of any sort, he would rather just look like this in his own private time. ]

It's funny, having different faces, because what my eyes see is usually very different too based on which one I wear but I never change them.
ikols: let my bed be made (o brother dear)

[personal profile] ikols 2017-10-15 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A nod of thanks is given for the comment Steve doesn't have to make but does anyway. It's nice to hear from someone, at least once in a millennia. ]

Ah, no. It's the reactions. They're always far kinder when I'm a woman, harsher when a man, and distrustful when ... anything else.