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Captain Steve Rogers ([personal profile] captainredwhiteblue) wrote in [community profile] multiversallogs2011-08-23 10:16 am

[pounding on the door; open]

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?”

[identity profile] joiedeviolet.livejournal.com 2011-08-26 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, he did die. Just not wherever he was and not in that way either. And man, would Kate would lose it if Howard Stark showed up. She's heard stories about that man and really, it would take everything she's got to not tell him what his son's been up to in his absence.

"Yeah. I know it sounds kinda crazy and absolutely weird, but it's the truth. We really do know each other." Kate went to his funeral. That's the part that keeps wigging her out. "In places like these--"and at home--"timestreams get crossed over and messed with a lot. And call me Kate. I'm only eighteen now and even now I'm still younger than you."

[identity profile] joiedeviolet.livejournal.com 2011-08-28 02:57 pm (UTC)(link)
She certainly does act older than eighteen sometimes, and maybe looks it too, but really, deep down inside, Kate's still very much a teenager. Dawn can attest to this.

"Something like that," she nods with a twist to her mouth. "About a couple weeks ago, but I came from another place that I had gotten kidnapped to." Not like this place is any better than the City, but at least she still has a roof over her head.

[identity profile] joiedeviolet.livejournal.com 2011-08-29 03:47 am (UTC)(link)
Kate just shrugs. It could have been worse. Kang could always come back and destroy everything again. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

And she hasn't figured out who's fault is it either. That's a question for the ages. "Anyway, don't worry about me. Worry about you. Did you find someplace to stay yet?"