multiversallogs | [pounding on the door; open]

Entry tags:

[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?”

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"Not my thing, love potions, you know? I can do 'em, sure, but I mostly uncross and repair." Njoki pauses, running for a little bit before deciding whether or not she should continue to share. Tonight she won't be confrontational and tell him about her work, daring him to disapprove.

Steve nods. He's more or less following what Ki means; he's not familiar but he's guessing uncross and repair means putting things right, and that's something he can get behind.

"You're doing the same work here? That's good, that you can do something to help other people."

"It's not charity, but it's not bad." There are some rootworkers that believe it's not bad for them to perform hexes and crosses, but Njoki has never had the stomach for most of the nastier stuff. "Most of what I've been doing is sleep-work: dreamless nights, no nightmares, things like that. S'not really what I'm best at, but people are calling for it, so..."

"Nightmares?" He glances over at Ki. That's surprising, that there's such a specific request being made over and over.

"People get those a lot around here?"

"So it seems." She's not going to get into the nitty gritty of fog-eels and other creatures that seem to be able to infect people with bad dreams. "I listen, a lot. S'not all herbs and hands, eh?"

He nods; that makes sense. Even doctors talk to people, and listen--good ones, anyway.

He thinks of Dr. Erskine for a moment, a bit of sadness settling over his features. But then he shakes it off, refocusing his attention on the road ahead. "Can't imagine this is an easy place to be, for everyone here. Being kidnapped and having to stay."

"It's hard on a lot of people. Folks who've left family or jobs back home and, yeah, I'd rather have been given the choice to come or not." But what can you do except accept the hand you've been given and do your best with it. "Would I've come if I didn't have to? I don't know. Probably not. Do I like how accepting this place is about some things? Hell yes."

"That's good, at least." He smiles a little; he's a glass-half-full kind of guy himself, it's heartening to hear this, both the information and the outlook. "It's gonna be hard but it doesn't have to be all bad. Not if you don't let it, if you find the good stuff about the place."

"Like being able to go for a run without hiding that you can outpace most people?" She's not really about to talk details about how and why she's able to move this way, but she'd like to know just what Steve is.

He's quiet for a long moment, thoughtful.

"I didn't even think about it," he admits, glancing over at Ki. "Back home everyone knew who I was, what I was. I didn't have to hide it. I'm used to being able to do things like this. Guess I never really thought about how good I had it, or how much better off I was compared to others."

"That's what I get for assuming your world lines up with mine, eh?" To burn off energy, Njoki used to take long, tortuous runs in the local nature parks far from the popular trails. "And, hey, don't feel bad about it or I'll get sad and then have to tip you into a canal to get over it."

Threats of mild violence are a sign that she's accepted him as a reasonable person.

He glances over at Ki, with a faint smile. "No, sir. I hear you. I don't want to be tipped into a canal."

He sighs. "Your world might still line up with mine. I think I was so accepted because I was a war time hero. I don't think everyone would have the same chances I would have and that makes me sad."

"Good man." Even when she's trying to just be friendly, Njoki's smile can be a bit sharp. "And, well, sometimes that's just the way things shake out, you know? That you're thinking and talking about it is good, if you don't mind me offering opinions. "

"Thank you." He shrugs without breaking stride. "And yeah, it is. Things just... happen a certain way. But maybe that's not enough, to just accept that. Instead of trying to make them better."

"I'm not really ready to stick my neck out until I know this city better, eh? If it all goes wrong, there's nowhere else to go." While she is cautious, Njoki remains a vocal supporter of crurovore tolerance.

It's all right, I'll stick my neck out for everyone.

Steve does, at least, manage to avoid saying that out loud. But it's what he's thinking, feeling. Who he is, really--standing up for everyone else.

"I understand."

"Yeah? Well, you be damned careful. Just because you run so well, doesn't mean you'll run well enough." Speaking of, their meandering path has brought them close up to the edges of Mafaton, which is (ironically) lively at this hour, but in a different way than, say, Howl Barrow might be. There are visibly non-human folks walking by, haranguing landlords and hanging laundry out windows.

"Duly noted. Oh, and slowing down," he cautions.

Steve slows his pace, down to a jog--he's got quick reaction times but he still doesn't want to run the risk of mowing someone down at full speed, just in case. The non-humans are a bit of a surprise to him, but not in a bad way. He nods and murmurs polite greetings to the ones who make eye contact.

Njoki chuffs, content to slow down to a jog, and see how Steve interacts with the locals of her canton. One woman smiles and waves at them both, her hand looking slightly out of place on her body -- perhaps the skin tone is subtly wrong or the shape just a tad off. Looking pleased, Ki smiles back at her and continues jogging along.

"If you keep up night running, going through Mafaton is one of the safer areas, because it's so busy at night. Along the river is great for a straight-away, but it's a bit abandoned in parts."

The waving lady gets a bright, polite smile in return. He notices the hand of course, but he says nothing. He's not bothered; more than that, he remembers what it was like to be different, in a bad way, and remembers that having it pointed out only made him feel worse. He won't do that to anyone else.

"That's good to know. Thank you."

"And, hell, faint heart never won fair lady, right? If you need a running partner, I'm up for it." Ki is not usually quite so forward, but she doesn't often get the opportunity really push herself when running with a partner.

Steve beams. He never gets that chance either. "I would like that a lot. I really would. Thank you."

Njoki motions to Steve that she needs to stop for a moment so that she can write out her number and hand it over. "That's me on the network. Give me a shout, eh?"

Steve smiles as he takes her number, glancing down at it before securing it in a pocket. "Thanks. I'll have to--" Insert sheepish back-of-the-neck rub. "Send you mine when I call, I haven't figured it out yet. But I will."

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[pounding on the door; open]

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