acatalepsy_logs | (no subject)

Who: Bucky Barnes and you, probably.
Where: Around the temple
When: A few days after his arrival.
Rating G, probably
What: Exploring and getting used to people?

This place is new. That in itself is not surprising, most places he's seen these days are new, at least to him -- save for perhaps certain eastern European or Asian nations. It doesn't look new, but that doesn't bother Bucky any. He's laid low since arriving a few days ago, on the lookout for anyone he might know, or that might know him. He is less of a target, here, his magic serving to helpfully cover up that silver left arm of his, but he is still clearly recognizable as a soldier. Or ex-military, depending on the clothes he's wearing that day.

Thankfully, this new place doesn't seem to have any HYDRA operatives or other enemies that he's been able to see, so he has ventured out to look around the temple. He can be found wandering throughout the day, either poking around the temple or kitchens -- but generally he's somewhere around the fighting ring. It's familiar, even if it's not entirely necessary at the moment. (He has come to appreciate lying low, the past few months. It's a luxury rarely afforded to him.) After watching some people spar, he steps up to the ring himself, setting in to fight one or more of the dummies.

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"Help people from what I can tell. It's not that different from what I do back home or what we did back in the day. The problem is I don't remember signing up. Do you?" That was the rub. The issues keep piling up for Steve, of course. It's not enough she messed with their bodies or won't allow them to leave at will. She doesn't even respect them enough to give them the choice to go to the places that need their help. She just dumps them there. It's an awful thing to do in his opinion.

"No." He doesn't remember much, these days. But being 'volunteered' for such an experience tends to rub him the wrong way, too, and his expression deepens into a frown.

"I don't like it," he offers. "Maybe other people don't, either." If it's the kind of help Steve offers, he might be convinced to somewhat trust this place. If it's more alum the lines of HYDRA's 'help', then....well, words would be had. He also doesn't like that you're sick, Steve, and he steps a bit closer.

"How long have you been sick?"

He shakes his head. "I wish I knew they didn't. This place makes me feel crazy for being angry at her." Steve honestly doesn't know if anyone shares these feelings. Maybe he should be polling people to see what the public actually thinks about what is going on here. That's a crazy thought for another time. Bucky is getting closer and while his guard is raised so are his hopes. Steve misses his best friend.

"A couple days. It's not so bad compared to how sick I used to get. I guess I'm just out of practice." He can really feel it rather than power his way through.

He's still getting closer. If he doesn't see any reason to retreat, he likely won't. Steve, he knows, has a lot of the answers he's been looking for.

"Yeah, but you're still sick." He crosses his arms, obstinate. "Whatever this is, it's gotta be strong if it's got you feelin' it." He knows that much. If he's anything along the lines of Steve's level of super-soldier, he knows exactly how much it takes to get him sick. (What he doesn't realize, of course, is that his own abilities have been limited here as well.)

Steve frowns deeply. He never could get anything past Buck. He starts elaborating. "Akira mentioned something about darkness on us. We came in with something from that world. That might be what's messing with me." The kind of thing no one can protect him from. If this is the man he loved and called brother that is not going to go over well.

That frown gets a little more pronounced. “Well, can ya get it off?” Or does he have to take drastic measures? He won’t hesitate to punch a goddess if he has to. “I don’t—“ he hesitates a little, finally stepping forward enough to gingerly set a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Nothing’s supposed to happen to you.”

"I don't know, Buck. I'm in over my head." Steve confesses frankly. He might have left it there if not for Bucky laying a hand on his shoulder. That breaks something in him along with that line. Nothing is supposed to happen to him, huh? God he wishes that were true.

His eyes well up with tears. He doesn't cry as always. It still hurts. "Things have already happened. I can't... I can't change them. I can't change what they made you do." He wants to apologize for it, but that seems hollow. It won't undo anyone's pain.

“I’m not asking you to.” He gives a brief, lopsided shrug. “I still did them.” He’s not asking for any apologies; though maybe he should be looking for forgiveness from himself. That’s a long time coming, it’s doubtful it’ll happen any time soon.

“Don’t blame yourself, huh? It’s not your fault.” If anything, Bucky considers it his own fault. He’s not about to say that out loud, though Steve can probably guess it.

"I don't see how." Steve confesses frankly. It's time to finally say out loud to his best friend what he's been hurting about since the day he fell. "I didn't kill my guy. If I had done my job, we wouldn't be in this mess." Because he's the bad guy for not wanting to murder every man working for Schmidt obviously.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he replies again, firmly. “I coulda fallen off anyway. I was prepared to not come back, you know everyone was.” Even Steve, clearly. It was a war, they knew what they were in for. It just hadn’t ended the way either of them expected.

"I know that." He does. Steve has spent every waking moment since the fall blaming himself. He doesn't know how to let go of the guilt. He definitely is struggling with the fact Bucky doesn't blame him. He swallows thickly as he explains, "I want it to be different. I want to take it back."