faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

[Steve has lived in a variety of places ranging from the barren to the opulent; Tony hadn't skimped on the Avengers headquarters, to say the least. But these days he doesn't stay in one place for long, and the places he does stay don't have much. Steve Rogers has as much money as he needs and then some, though old childhood and wartime habits of making a little go a long way die hard. He still keeps it simple, getting by with a minimum. It's a protective camoflauge that Bucky will understand all too well.

It's also probably unnecessary. Numerous governments are after him, sure, not least his own. But without help--very specific help--they probably can't find him. And while Steve does live somewhat on the run, he knows very well that if Tony really wanted to find him, he'd already be found. Which is...a whole 'nother mare's nest of its own, really. That Steve lies low is more a matter of courtesy than paranoia, frankly. They've hurt each other enough.

So while he has bolt holes and safe houses all over, for himself and Sam and Wanda, he's never as comfortable in any of them as he is here. Not because Wakanda is probably the one place on Earth where Tony Stark can't trace him, but because of the company.

No surprises there. He's always been happiest when Bucky is nearby.

Before he comes properly in, Steve picks up a medium-ish box he'd left by the door before that hug. It gets placed on the table next to Bucky's coffee as Steve takes a seat and makes a show out of leaning back and crossing his legs. The smile he gives Bucky when he's handed coffee of his own could power a hundred light bulbs.]

You're a lifesaver.

Haleth nods slowly, taking this in, still watching the fire. She does look older than she did, but stronger, more hale. Three years of peace and regrowth has given her much that she lacked, and the Haladin also. A relative prosperity. Her hair is decorated with beads and feathers, tightly braided against her head to the shoulder, where it flows more loose.

She is not wearing the dress he once gave her, though she has it still. But the clothes she wears were cut from cloth of his making, and the embroidery at the edges is his.

"A thing impossible has happened," she says, suddenly looking at him, her gaze clear and forthright as ever. "Impossible enough that I do not expect you to believe me when I tell you of it, which is no slur to either of our honors. A woman came to the Haladin some months ago, brought by the winds and Higher Powers from a time long beyond this one. Her name is Canien. She has my features, my hair, the look of the Haladin. But she is also clearly elfborn, and has your eyes, and names herself Caranthiriel."

She falters suddenly, looking away, and her next words are much quieter. "She smiles as you do." Or as he used to, at least. Which he mostly only did when looking upon Haleth.

[Bucky has lived in a lot of places, too, some of which are a complete blur, which in reality is probably for the best, considering. Brooklyn will always be his favorite, but his odds of ever getting to return there are slim to none. It's another thing he tries not to think about. Wakanda is his home now, the place where he'll probably remain until they either kick him out or he dies. He hopes to endear himself enough, to make himself useful enough, to people there that the former won't happen. The latter is inevitable and not something he worries about.

He hates thinking about Steve being unable to return to his home, to his life, hell to his own country because he'd chosen to help Bucky. He knows he isn't worth that, that the price had been far too high but he also knows Steve had gladly paid it. He also knows if their situations were reversed, he'd have made the same choices. It doesn't mean it's a weightless guilt. It's certainly not. It never will be.

Of all the people in the world who deserve nothing but good things, Steve makes the top of his list. He might be biased, but he also firmly believes he's right. He eyes the box curiously as he hands Steve the coffee, unable not to beam back at him when he's faced with the wattage of that smile.]

It's just coffee. [There's humor in his voice as he drops down in the chair across from him.]

Strange looking luggage.

It pleases him, to know his gifts are being used, even as it hurts, that she accepted his gifts but turned him away in turn.

"An impossible thing?" He raises the other eyebrow, only to stare at her.

Haleth doesn't lie. And even if she would, why would she tell a lie of such absurdity.

"But... you cannot have children." he stammers.

"So I have thought." Haleth looks back, serious and certain. "But even so, I believe she is all she claims to be."

"But... but that's impossible!" Caranthir stammers. "I... I have had no other... feelings... for any. And you have no sister in any case."

"You have misunderstood." She meets his gaze without faltering. "She is our daughter, Caranthir. Yours and mine."

"Ours?!?" Is about all he can manage.

"Yes. I have no doubt of it."

He drops his head into his hands and shakes his head, taking a few deep breaths before he lifts his head and looks at Haleth again.

"What... what did our daughter..." And Eru but that's so strange to say. "What did she want of us?"

He is taking this more calmly than Haleth had expected, in truth. She shrugs. "Nothing. She does not know why she was brought, not how, nor for what purpose. So far she has been content to remain with the Haladin, spending time with...with the mother she had lost."

Her eyes lower for a moment. It is not knowledge of her own eventual death that troubles Haleth, but speaking of it to Caranthir. She pokes at the fire, unnecessarily. "There is no way to return to her own time that she knows of, save for the long road. She is inclined to view this impossibility as a blessing of sorts." Her eyes flicker back to him. "She does wish to meet with you, if you are willing."

He is taking this calmly because the alternative is to run away screaming.

He flinches a little at the reminder that Haleth is mortal. He has more sympathy for Aegnor, these days, not that he would ever say that to his cousin - besides, Aegnor didn't even try.

"I...." He says helplessly and then nods. "I ... I would like that. But. The reasons you gave... still hold. For me."

The Oath, the Doom.

Haleth, in contrast, has always been calm about Canien's appearance and existence. Impossible or not, it is a fact; she had only to decide what to do about it. And that, in the end, was not difficult.

Much more difficult to decide how Canien's existence changes her relationship--or lack of it--with Caranthir. If it does.

"They do," Haleth agrees, her voice quiet. "But Canien escaped those fates. That much she has told me." She closes her eyes briefly. "There are many things about her life I have refused knowledge of, for they are not mine to know. But that, I did ask. The Doom of the Valar perhaps weighs on her as it does on all the Firstborn, but the Oath at least did not ensnare her."

Haleth is nearly unflappable; her temper is hard to rouse outside of battle, and she can face tempests without upset. But there is relief underlying her words, and to one who knows her there will be something else obvious: she loves this impossible daughter. There are very few whom Haleth loves, by any measure, but Canien is among them.

He sags, visibly relieved.

"That is good." He breathes, throwing a hand over his eyes. "That is very, very good."

Of all the arguments Haleth gave, that one was the cruelest, for it was the truest, as well, that Oath and Doom followed hard at his heels, and to bind to him would be to bring It's attention to those he most loved, and it was that argument that has kept him away.

The way he sags tugs at her heart, and she feels the pangs of guilt. "The cruelest thing I did was to use your fear of the Void against you," Haleth says, her voice even more quiet than it was. "I am sorry. I should not have done it."

[Steve hasn't given up hope that he and Bucky will go back to Brooklyn someday. Maybe not to stay, and he knows it's not the place either of them remembers, but he'd still like to go. Someday. Wakanda's not the end, not for either of them.

In the meantime Steve's not uncontent. All the choices he's made are the only ones he could have made, given the circumstances at the time. He has regrets, scores of them. But he couldn't have done other than he did, and that gives him a measure of peace.

Besides, he has Bucky back. And frankly, that's worth anything. Everything. Which is part of why he grins the way he does.]

Maybe to you it's just coffee. To me it's choirs of angels singing in cup form.

[All right, so he doesn't get the caffiene buzz he used to. The nostalgia is still there. He takes a long drink.]

And it's not luggage. It's a present.

[He loves Steve for so many reasons, not the least of which is his optimism. He used to be optimistic, too, but the war and HYDRA had ground it out of him almost entirely. He's so far away from being that guy from Brooklyn that sometimes he doesn't even recognize his reflection in the mirror. He's not sure how Steve does, either, but he does. Somehow.

He finds himself studying Steve intently, gaze scanning him for signs of injuries or even stress, but the bright smile that's directed at him sums up that for now, at least, he's okay.

Bucky huffs out a laugh and takes a drink of his own coffee. The coffee in Wakanda is homegrown, and it's richer than any other kind he's ever had before. He actually likes it more than he used to, and he'd been addicted to the stuff back in the war.

Steve's words give him pause, though and he cocks his head to the side.]

It's not wrapped, though. [He smirks at Steve, raising his eyebrows.]

[Wakanda has the best coffee. There's no question about it. Which is part of Steve's enthusiasm. It's been a week or two since he had time for coffee that didn't taste like caffeinated dirt.

And drinking it with a friend, particularly this one? That definitely elevates it to something special.]

Sure it is. It's wrapped in cardboard.

[He eyes the package with unbridled curiosity and then reaches out to pick it up, tempted to shake it like he's a kid at Christmas, but he manages to restrain himself. It feels light, which only serves to make him more curious. He flicks a glance at Steve, watches him take another drink of the coffee and then carefully tucks his thumb underneath the folds, pulling it open.

Pressing the box between his torso and the table so he can hold onto it and still reach inside, Bucky pauses when he realizes there's an iPod inside. He tilts his head, small smile on his lips. He's always loved music, since their childhood days. He studies the device in his hand, turning it over and recognizing the stamp on the back. It's an iPod, but it's been modified by Wakanda's very own genius herself, and that makes his face break out into a full grin.]

Thank you. Been thinking about getting one of these. [Sometimes it's too quiet here and he misses listening to music. He also hadn't been able to convince himself to ask about borrowing a radio from anyone. He still has some amount of pride, however small it might be.]

This is great, Steve.

"It was only cruel because it is true." He says and scrubs at his eyes before letting the arm fall.

"It is still true, Haleth."

Haleth forces herself to meet his gaze, even though his reddened eyes make her ache. "That you fear the Void--or that you fear I and mine would be pulled to it, by your Oath?"

"Both." He admits hoarsely.

"Haleth, the noose grows ever tighter, I can see it in my brothers, and doubtless they can see it in me. Sooner or later, we are going to lose."

Haleth looks pained; she likes the fact of his Doom as little as he likes the fact of her mortality. "But if Canien speaks truly, she escapes that fate, when the time for it closes around you," she says finally. "As do I and all the other Haladin."

They have been sitting several feet apart, but now Haleth stands and moves closer, kneels on her haunches next to him. Slowly, giving him plenty of time to rebuff her if he chooses, she reaches for his hand, the one he used to cover his eyes. "I do not know if you ever realized that when I drove you away, there was one argument I did not make."

The one that above all others would have ended the matter: she has never said she does not love him. It would have been by far the easiest way, and it would have been a lie.

"That is a blessing unlooked for." He says quietly, and looks back at her, allowing her to take his hand.

"Was there?" He says quietly, still angry enough to want her to say it.

Haleth exhales a short, sharp breath. Her eyes drop, and a rueful smile flits across her face. She deserved that rebuke. She knows it. She kneels there looking at their joined hands for a moment longer. She should not have spoken this far--she had not intended to--but his obvious fear and grief of his future could not be ignored.

"I do love you," she says finally. "I always did. I do not know if that will bring you any comfort, after all this time."

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

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keywords XD

hehee

he's like: what no this is not logical

He's not wrong!

XD

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that Bucky icon is just unfair

Hee

Short phone tags are short

I like tags of various lengths! :D

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