[pounding on the door; open]

[captainredwhiteblue]

Who: Steve Rogers and anyone at the Inn.
What: Cap arrives!
Where: The arrival rooms, the Valhalla Inn.
When: afternoon into evening--I'm being flexible with time so many people can play :D
Notes: In-person log because shhhh learning a CiD is hard when you're from 1945.
Warnings: Potential for lots of aw-shucks behavior. Also eyelashes, stand back.

The frozen white ground looms up closer and closer, faster and faster. The drone of the engine has sharpened into a protesting whine, nearly drowning out the sound of Peggy’s voice in the cabin. He knows this is it, that he has mere seconds.

He’s as brave as ever, playing it up for her sake. “We’ll get the band to play something slow,” he calls out to her. “And then maybe I won’t step on your feet.”

He has no way to know those last few words were cut off, no way to know she can’t hear him any longer and she’s already calling his name into her microphone, frantic with worry and grief. All he can see out of the plane’s broken windscreens is the ground now. I’m sorry, he mouths, without really knowing who he’s addressing; before he can figure it out, the plane’s nose impacts, sending him flying forward.

He’s braced for pain, for the scrape of metal and ice over his suit and skin, for bones crunching as the hard ice stops his momentum. He slides, but it’s… odd. It’s not the slick movement of a body over ice or the tearing of his body over broken metal. It’s like skidding on a floor.

He stops with a gentle thump. Far too gentle. When he sits up he’s no longer in the plane but not out on the frozen tundra, either. He’s in a room. It’s green. His shield is propped against a table; he slings it across his back and then he studies the pamphlet he finds on the table. Twice. Carefully.

He looks over the device—a CiD?—and he pockets that. Yes, he could call for help, but he’d need time to study the device and learn what to do, and there’s a more direct way, at least he thinks so.

“Hello?”

Anyone in the vicinity of the arrival rooms will hear a thumping from behind one of the doors, and a man’s voice, calling out politely.

“Hello? Is anyone out there? Could someone open the door, please?”

Comments

hello from next door

[manyshapes.livejournal.com]

Raven can hear the thumping from the next room, where she's (mostly) patiently waiting to be let out herself. And is immediately relieved at definite proof she isn't alone in whatever strange prison facility this is.

She stands against the door to her own room and shouts through it. "Hey! Guy next door! Can you hear me?"

helloooo /waves even if you can't see it okay

[captainredwhiteblue]

"Yes, ma'am," he calls back, doffing his helmet at once (look, there's a lady somewhere in the general vicinity, even if she can't see him, manners), "I can hear you. Are you all right?"

[manyshapes.livejournal.com]

"Just nervous and kind of annoyed," she answers with a sigh, leaning against the door. So far people have been pretty helpful, but it's reassuring in a weird way to talk to someone in the same predicament she's in. "You probably don't have any better idea what's going on here than I do, do you?"

[captainredwhiteblue]

He shakes his head, jaw set. "I'm afraid not, ma'am. One minute I was in a plane, the next minute I'm tumbling across the floor in here."

He's frustrated, but not letting it show. It's not going to gain him anything and especially since the lady can't see him, he doesn't want to risk her misunderstanding and thinking he's annoyed with her for some reason.

"The brochure sure doesn't tell you much, does it?"

AT SOME POINT LATER?? SO EVERYONE CAN SAY HAY

[pinkmoon.livejournal.com]

Ruby has been getting a little tired of the Inn--she wants her own space--but she keeps up a good mindset because it's really not a bad place to be, she's fortunate that this city has this organization set up. So she tries to be helpful, and that definitely includes letting out new arrivals.

The thump actually startles her. It shouldn't, since she knows how this goes for other new people, but she still jumps. Once she realizes what's happened and hears a stranger's voice, her eyes widen.

"What--oh. One second!" Ruby calls. "Did you just get here?"

She hurries across the hall toward the arrival room's door, hoping this guy hasn't been locked in a tiny green room for hours. That can't be good for anybody.

\o/

[captainredwhiteblue]

"Yes, ma'am," Steve calls back through the door. "Well, not just, ma'am. It's been about half an hour, maybe? I read the brochure, first."

Steve. Like she cares if it's been three minutes or thirty.

"Don't suppose you could see your way clear to opening this door for me, ma'am, please?"

[pinkmoon.livejournal.com]

Almost before he's finished that sentence, the door swings open, and there Ruby is, tucking her hair behind her ear and schooling her expression to be calm in a reassuring kind of way. She's not one of the people inclined to panic if kept in a small space, and Steve doesn't seem graced with that unhappy psychological quirk, either, but that doesn't mean being trapped in there is lacking in stress.

"On it," she says, with a brief little crooked smile. "I'm sorry you were in there so long--most of us new arrivals aren't."

[im_apimp]

Ask, and ye shall recieve.

Alec doesn't come into the inn often -- it creeps him out -- but occasionally there's a few things he can pickpocket and hock later, which is actually pretty useful. So he'll make a five minute sweep, pocket whatever he can find, and then move on, more or less.

Occasionally, he'll pay attention to the arrival room, but usually it's not anybody worth his time. This time though, the guy seems ... too nice about the whole thing, which has him a lot more curious than he should be. And well, the guy did say please.

He makes his way over to the door, before pulling it open and flashing him a smile. "How ya doin'?" he says, before gesturing for him to exit. "Welcome to Baedal."

[captainredwhiteblue]

Steve steps out into the corridor, quickly glancing around and making sure the area's safe. He glances at the man who let him out, and he offers a smile, taking off his helmet.

"Thank you. Baedal, huh? Don't suppose you could tell me why I'm here and who's responsible?"

His tone seems easygoing enough but his eyes are alert. And, well. The red-white-and-blue uniform and the helmet tucked under his arm couldn't scream soldier any louder if they had a bullhorn.

[im_apimp]

Oh, Alec got that. He got that loud and clear. Something in him straightened, and he shrugs. "Sorry, soldier. Not so clear on the why, or the who for that matter. All the answers we have are in that pamphlet."

His tone shifts easily from that of a street kid to that of a soldier. It's instinct, more than anything else, but he thinks that the guy might be comfortable with something a little more familiar.

Some time after Steve is out. Day, night, dusk, you name it, lady.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

Njoki schedule has always been variable and since arriving in Baedal it's become even more so; current and potential clients know her regular hours and that if she's a sign in the window, that she'll take on any work so long as she's home. When she's not working or searching for reputable suppliers, Ki tends to go running.

While she can pass it off as a good way to get to know the city or a good form of exercise, she really just loves to run. The steady action helps her to focus on something other than being trapped in a foreign city in some tiny pocket of nowhere normal.

\o/

[captainredwhiteblue]

Steve has much the same idea, with a bit of reconnaissance thrown in. He rarely sleeps as it is; he knows he won't tonight but he's got to do something with himself. It was an eventful day, his head is still trying to wrap itself around everything that's happened, and his body is restless.

He takes off from the inn in the lower half of his uniform and a t-shirt, and he waits until he's on side streets to work up to full speed. There's something about the steady rhythm of arms, legs, breaths that soothes him and lets his mind take a step back.

A few miles in he hears... well. Something he shouldn't, normally. The sound of someone catching up to him. He's been running at a dead sprint, no one should be able to match him let alone catch up to him. This city's full of surprises.

He slows his pace--which isn't saying much--glancing back over his shoulder to see who's approaching.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

Njoki is used to seeing all sorts of things while out on one of her runs: carts pulled by all manner of beasts of burden, bicycles and delicate solar powered craft, or one of Baedal's rare cars, but she doesn't expect to see someone else out and running at a speed she needs to push herself a bit to keep up with. If he doesn't complain about her approach or move to take a different path, Njoki will nod politely and (once she's caught up) do her best to keep pace with him.

Her preferred routes tend to criss-cross over the Gross Tar and weave through some of the smaller, safer parks -- well-lit areas that offer variety in terrain and a low chance of being nabbed by something that's crawled out of a sewer.

also sometime after steve is out, whenever is convenient!

[pushfall.livejournal.com]

Claire has been getting her things together over the past several days. Despite not having much by way of possessions, she's still finding that it's taking her longer to move in with Kate than expected. It isn't that she's become accustomed to and comfortable with staying at the Inn, but there's something permanent about finding an apartment in a place like this.

Still, she's bought what she can with the little bit of money that she has left, and there are two bags dangling from her wrists as she makes her way back to the Valhalla Inn's front door with a quick and steady step. She looks up, catching her messenger bag in the crook of her elbow as it slips down from her shoulder. Squinting into the evening twilight, from several paces away Claire isn't sure what she sees, and while she isn't always necessarily so forward, some questions just beg to be asked.

"'Scuse me, but... is that a shield?"

\o/

[captainredwhiteblue]

Steve realizes he's being addressed; the voice must be coming from the woman he spotted down the block as he stepped out of the Inn. He turns, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his arm (there's a lady present, keeping it on would be rude).

"Ma'am? Oh. You mean--" he turns again, trying to look at the shield over his shoulder, and he winds up turning completely around, one full revolution. The effect is rather like a kitten who's just discovered he has a tail.

"That's-- yes, ma'am. It's a shield. Comes in handy sometimes."

[pushfall.livejournal.com]

Hearing 'ma'am' doesn't surprise her - this is a girl who grew up in Texas with parents who expected her manners to be as impeccable as her room and brought her up as such - but it does leave her feeling a bit displaced, causes a grin to stretch across her face that only grows into something she has to press her lips together in order to hide. She's only just come across this person, and regardless of how funny it is to watch a grown man turn in circles like an overgrown puppy, it just doesn't seem polite to go laughing at him in the same breath. The intention might be there, obviously there, but there's something to be said for trying.

"For what?" she asks, once he's done that about-face. "Obviously it's for shielding you from things, but do you make a habit out of getting shot at or something?" Maybe that's a bit forward, too, but she's gotten so used to making conversation with total strangers over the past three years that asking something other than the standard 'how are you?' or 'are you new around here?' just seems weird. Claire gets to those things eventually, but it's her curiosity she pays more attention to.

That, and the helmet that he's tucked under his arm and his presence in general. Most men she's met don't behave this way.

after steve gets out;

[joiedeviolet.livejournal.com]

Say what? Is this who she really thinks it is? No. No way. This is not the person Kate expected to see when she stopped by the inn to see if Claire needed help with her stuff. He's supposed to be dead. Then again, the last place where Kate was, dead people came in walking on their own two feet all the time. But still, she can't believe her eyes. Yeah, those same blue eyes of her that are currently open wide at the man in front of her.

That, and like Professor X, he looks young...er.

"...Cap?"

[captainredwhiteblue]

Steve realizes the young woman is watching him--staring up at him, really--as she approaches. He figures it's the uniform; everyone else he's seen in the inn's halls are casually dressed. But he's being watched, by a lady, so off comes his helmet.

She speaks and she's met with clear confusion. There's no one else in this part of the lobby so she must be addressing him. But... how does she know his rank? And why does she say it like his team members do, like she... knows him?

"Yes, ma'am? Is there something I can do to help you?"

[joiedeviolet.livejournal.com]

The ma'am causes her to jerk back in confusion and furrow her brow. Of course she knows him. Hi, hello, Captain America (along with Tony Stark, that jerk) took her first makeshift uniform away and told her and the rest of the Young Avengers to go home and behave themselves. Well, not exactly, but that was the basic gist.

"You could act like you remember me? It hasn't been that long..." ...since you died. How long has it been for her? A couple of years, tops. But still, she can't believe it and she has to touch his arm, looking for proof of death. Cold skin, lack of a pulse, anything, but Kate gets none of those. This is Steve Rogers in front her, still alive, still kicking, and still wearing his old uniform.

Kate pulls her hand back before asking, "Wait. What's the date?"

after steve is out, in the evening-ish?

[mightyfallen]

Jack is getting a little high on the totem pole to be refreshing the common room's IF pamphlets in person. He likes to stop by the Inn when he has the time, though, which isn't so often these days, but it's worthwhile to keep an eye on the growing cohort. Not everyone hops on the network, after all, and he can't always respond when they do.

So he's here, still dressed to impress from his dinner meeting (shirt, suit, tie discarded into the box by now), filling the appropriate pamphlet slot with information on the political party. If anyone is wandering around, he's keeping an eye out, hoping it's not too late to make a few introductions.

\o/

[captainredwhiteblue]

And in strides Captain America, shield slung over his back, helmet tucked under one arm, looking completely out of place in his red-white-and-blue uniform. The look on his face shows he knows that, clearly conveying that this is not where he hoped to be, neither in the specific sense (this doesn't look like where you check in) nor in the more general (this isn't home).

He spies Jack and he approaches, a faint, polite smile turning his lips. "Beg your pardon, sir. I just got here and I guess I need to check in? Don't suppose you could tell me where I can find the front desk?"

[mightyfallen]

"Hm?" He turns from his work to glance over the newcomer. New arrivals often have that particular look to them, but the uniform certainly enhances the effect on this one. He smiles, kindly if a little amused. (Only a little.) "It's straight that direction, actually," he nods toward one of the room doors, "But it's one of those hallways you have to make a few turns to go straight. I can show you if you'd like."

Just let him put these pamphlets down.

[andbreathes]

Every now and again, Mrs Norrington makes an appearance at the inn - sometimes it's obligatory, when her sheriff has to be there and she shows up like the dutiful wife she isn't exactly, but more often she's putting up various small notices for bake sales, family days at parks and (today) laundry and mending done for a generously small fee.

Spying Steve's shoulders as she pins up one notice and spies the other she needs to pin an amendment to up too high for her to reach, she half-turns, smiling. Her aesthetic is pretty modern, all told, but she doesn't sound a bit of it when she speaks. "Well, you are tall as anything. Would you come over here and give me a hand? Folks keep telling me I just can't go around climbing the furniture when it gives me trouble."

[captainredwhiteblue]

He's doffing his helmet again as he turns--gosh, but this place is full of ladies--and he's got his mouth open to speak, but when he's facing her he just. Stops.

As does his heart, just for a moment.

It's not. It can't be, she doesn't recognize him.

He swallows hard and he summons a smile, nodding as he moves closer. "Yes, ma'am, of course. What do you need me to do?"

[andbreathes]

The face is right, but everything else is wrong, the longer he keeps looking; the way she carries herself, the way she moves, her American drawl, her wedding ring. It's not and it can't be, but she registers that moment where he thinks she might be someone else and softens around the edges, like she does. She's a nurturer, despite the body count, and while she tends to think men can fend for themselves just fine, she's got a soft spot for the good boys.

"I went and got the date wrong on one of these," she says, deprecatingly, pointing at the poster out of her reach. "Could you just pin this little amendment up over there?" It's an advertisement for a friend of hers who only operates at the market so many times a year, evidently, selling jams, preserves and handmade jewellery.