TEST DRIVE MEME #7

[abraxasmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to the seventh test drive meme for Abraxas! This meme is run a little bit differently than most in that you'll be asked to choose one of the three different arrival scenarios below for your character to take. If you have any questions about this mechanic or anything else related to the TDM, please take a look at the questions below or ask one of your own under the Questions header below. For general game questions please still use the FAQ.

Our Setting pages are full of information on the world of Abraxas, and an overview of the story so far can be found on our Game History page! Anything on that page - including information about the Horizon and the Singularity - can be assumed to be told to newcomers after they arrive, no matter which faction they are received in. For more information on Ambrose and the apprentice mages, Marlo, and Rowan, please see our NPCs page.

You can also find answers to questions asked on previous TDMs in their respective questions threads.

For characters who arrive in SOLVUNN: Recently, following the events in which some of the Summoned received visions of each other's past, locals in Solvunn have begun to approach the Summoned with a sort of awe and respect. Those who arrive in Solvunn will find themselves treated much the same way and may be asked for advice or given gifts that seem like offerings such as wine, harvest bounties, or some incredibly delicious goat cheese. Your character is free to turn these down and should they turn down enough people, they will not be bothered further, out of concern of offending the Summoned.

Arrival

You awaken suspended in the abyss, silent darkness stretching out in all directions. If you try to yell, you'll find that the sound doesn't carry. If you try to move, you'll find it's impossible to tell whether or not you're actually getting anywhere. If you reach for an item you were carrying last time you remember being awake, your hand will only touch bare skin.

You're naked and floating helplessly through the void, and what little air you have in your lungs is running out.

There's a pinprick of light that almost looks like a faraway star but as it grows it becomes clear that it's actually quite close. Through the opening you can see a bright room, but it's hard to make out any individual objects, as if you're looking from beneath rippling water.

Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne

A hand plunges through and you realize water is just what it is. Whether you take hold of the hand or not it will grab you and yank you up through the surface, lifting you out until you're sprawled on solid ground. Once you catch your breath, you can get a better look at the surroundings: tall trees and even taller stone pillars surround the platform you're laying on. Behind you is an ornate fountain, the base of which is so deep and so dark you might be compelled to scramble away from it lest it suck you back in to that endless abyss. Ahead of you are the walls of a large castle with several tall towers reaching up towards the sky.

If you had any powers, they feel unusually weak. Attempts to use magic or enhanced strength or powers of any sort fizzle out without any effect, but they don't feel completely gone, either.

Set into an indent on a marble slab behind the fountain is a card bearing the image of one of the arcana.

An apprentice mage - the one whose hand lifted you out of the fountain - brushes the water off on their robes and runs back to join a group of three others, who all stare intently at a mage with highly decorated robes and a large, heavy book. He peers up at you for a moment and starts flipping through the book.

"One moment," he says, not bothering to look up from the tome. He looks tired. "I am Ambrose Rhett, the High Mage of the Kingdom of Thorne. We’ll explain everything in a moment, but for now, please calm down. You’re completely fine."

Regardless of your response, he keeps flipping through the pages, until he stops on one specific passage, stares at it for a moment, and then sighs with relief:

"Finally!"

Ambrose's expression brightens, relief visible across his features. He waves one of the apprentices over with a fine silk tunic, pants, and some basic sandals and with a wave of his hand they reshape to fit you perfectly.

"Oh, thank heavens," he says, closing the book and approaching you with a sort of worn-out relief. “I was beginning to believe we’d never get it exactly right.”

Now that he's not hunching over the book, he doesn't seem quite so stuffy and inapproachable. The apprentices all seem to visibly relax, and the one that handed you the tunic stops to take the tarot card down from the marble slab. If you show any curiosity about the card, they'll let you take a longer look, but won't let you touch it.

"Please, come with me," he says, motioning for you to follow him towards the castle. "As promised, my pupils will explain your current situation. And, ah - if you had any magic of your own, or other special abilities you can't access right now, fear not, they'll return within the week. The summoning takes a lot out of you."

One of the apprentices steps forward and rattles on and on about the castle, Thorne itself, the names of a bunch of royals and nobles, and of course, your reason for being here. The Kingdom and the world itself is in great peril, and tales of your exploits have reached far and wide across universes. If asked about these exploits, the apprentice will simply smile and shrug. The High Mage was happy to see you and that's good enough.

Once inside the castle you're taken to the North Wing, which has been set up as living quarters for you and your fellow newcomers. There are four people to a room, but each generously-sized bed has opaque curtains that can be drawn around it. You can meet your roommates here and discuss your shared situation (those who were previously brought in may have a great deal of information to tell you), or you can wander around and meet the others.

There's also a dining hall stocked with a rotating 24/7 buffet in celebration of the new honored guests. Somehow, your very favorite food is part of the rotation (or at least an attempted recreation of it given the limited technology available to the Thorneans). The town surrounding the castle is all abuzz as well, with most shops and services willing to give free samples of their wares to the new arrivals.

You may also notice that your sign is embroidered on your tunic: the same image you saw on the card from before with the name of the sign itself beneath it. If you ask the castle residents, they'll tell you a little bit about your sign (and will mostly stick to the positives, although some might point out the negatives).

Last (and, if you ask anyone else in the castle, least) there is a worn stone staircase leading underground to the dungeon. You can go there, if you wish, but all powers are restricted in the dungeons and most of the cells stand empty.

Scenario Two: Welcome to the Free Cities

You find yourself pulled from the water by a pair of strong hands. Dry warmth hits you at once as you're set on a warm hard floor. As your senses return you realize you're on dull ruddy stone and surrounded by strangers. Men and women in unfamiliar uniforms of brown and red leather stand in a semi-circle around a small pool of water. The very pool you were just pulled from. The water is still now, rimmed in pale gold tiles with odd symbols etched into them. Across it on the far side is a raised pedestal with a card propped on it. The card bears an arcana symbol.

You feel weak. Drained. Any abilities or magical powers you have seem far away and impossible to access. You're in what looks like a cave lit by dozens and dozens of torches set into the wall. There's no furniture or decoration to be seen besides the pool. It's almost uncomfortably warm and there's the sound of rushing wind somewhere in the distance. Flickering shadows obscure the faces of the guards. A robed woman stands off to the side, looking at you anxiously and then to the authoritative woman standing before you. She's grinning, dressed in a fancier uniform than the others. There's a sword at her hip. A guard covers you with a blanket and returns to their place in the semi-circle.

The woman with the sword gives a nod of approval and smiles warmly.

"Sorry about the circumstances."

She gives you a good hard look before standing again.

"Take a minute, catch your breath, you've had quite a shock. Take it nice and easy. I'm Prime Minister Marlo Reiner and you're in The Free Cities. That nice lady over there will explain everything to you and get you settled." A nod to the robed woman off to the side.

Marlo Reiner steps back and the robed mage approaches to help you up.

"Come with me, please." She brings you out of the cave through a corridor that angles upwards until you emerge in what looks like some kind of storage facility. Shelves of wooden boxes and cloth bags line them, unidentifiable parts of what might be machines are tucked into corners and propped against shelving units. "This is one of the Free Cities' outposts," the mage explains as she leads you. "We're honored to have you with us, I'm sure you have many questions but please save them. You need to recover!"

You'll learn you're in the Cadens Desert Outpost 003, a military outpost on the outskirts of Cadens city. You're brought to a room in the barracks that's been prepared. Each barracks room is rather sparse and utilitarian. Six simple beds set against the wall, three on each side of the room, each with a trunk at the foot of it. You're told the world is in a delicate and dangerous times and you're needed to help. You're important, you're told, and they're very grateful you're here.

You're asked to stay close for the time being, but to make yourself at home. The outpost is more a proper military base than the name implies, with full facilities. The barracks have a communal bathing room at the end of the hall, with curtains that can be pulled around the individual raised round tubs for privacy. There's a mess hall that has food available from sun up till a few hours after sundown. You're even encouraged to make use of the training grounds, if you'd like, with non-lethal training weapons available for use and obstacle courses set up. And the city of Cadens is only a couple of hours away by wagon - though you're asked initially to please be back at the outpost within a few hours of the sun going down.

For your own safety.

Scenario Three: Welcome to Solvunn

The feeling of floating is the first sense that comes to you as the edges of unconsciousness start to ebb. Sunlight filters through the rippling water as you open your eyes, making you squint. Before you have the chance to panic and inhale, firm hands grasp your arms and pull you to the surface of the water. Moments later, soft warmth is wrapped around your shoulders as you're guided on unsteady legs out of a pool of water. You're lowered to the soft grass. Men and women in simple garments with lavish embroidery stand by, waiting with bated breath, glancing seriously at an old man in an ornate robe. He holds an old leather-bound book in one hand and in the other is a card bearing an arcana symbol. His eyes move quickly over the page, and he mumbles idly to himself.

Any strength you may have possessed feels as though it has slipped through your fingers. Any abilities or magical powers you have don't come to the surface no matter how hard you try. You're in a grassy clearing in the midst of a circle of large stone slabs stacked to look like doorways. In the middle is the same glimmering pool you were just pulled from. A gentle breeze blows through, carrying the scent of flowers and herbs from an ornately decorated altar set off in front of one of the stone doorways. The mage closes his book and steps out of the water, addressing a matronly old woman. Behind her are two younger people, a rough-looking man, and a meek young girl, both of whom are also watching the mage.

“I detect no ill will from the gods, it seems we've been blessed with success.” Those that had gathered all breathe a sigh of relief and now seem pleased.

The old woman smiles and steps forward, offering to take your hands and help you stand. “Any gift the gods give us is one we will happily take. I'm certain you have many questions, and they will all be answered in time. For now, rest and know you will be taken care of.”

She pats the top of your hand and steps away with a serene smile, letting one of the others come forward with some clothes that seem to fit you perfectly. Once you're dressed, someone approaches to drape a delicate-looking charm depicting a butterfly with too many wings on a thin chain over your neck. The rough-looking man from before steps forward once you're decent and motions with his head outside of the stone circle. His speech is informal, his consonants harsh.

“Hold your horses, I can see all those questions coming about! Rowan March, at your service. I'm one of the council members of Solvunn. There's a lot to discuss, but it's best talked about over a hot meal.” He leads you to a horse-drawn carriage and helps you up into the back. He talks the entire ride to the settlement.

You find out you are in the Primary Settlement, the first of three that make up Solvunn's great territory. The settlement is situated between two lakes and is humming with life. You're brought to the center of town and escorted to an apartment above one of the establishments in town. Rowan explains that the living conditions are temporary if you'd like them to be, that local families would also be happy to host you in their home. That there are others like you who have also taken up residence within the three settlements. You're told that the world hangs upon the brink of disaster and that there are those in this world that are happy to see it fall to ruin with their meddling.

You're important. The gods have graced them with your presence. They're delighted you're here. Welcome to Solvunn.

Everything you need has been provided in this humble apartment, and if it hasn't, there are shops that line the streets and a marketplace in the center of town. Owners of some establishments or stalls are more than happy to give out samples or barter with your time for their goods. Babysitting can be a very lucrative business. You're told of the other settlements, that they'd like you to stay here for now, but if you can find a family to host you, the secondary and tertiary settlements are best to get to with an escort.

There are tales of travelers visiting the secondary settlement without invitation disappearing without a trace. The gods are as hungry as they are protective, young traveler.

You’ll find that there are more than enough activities to throw yourself into to better settle into your new life in Solvunn. Work is done in the first part of the day so that families can spend the rest of it together in leisure and work on their crafts - whatever those may be. For those children who are not of school age, they need nannies or storytellers, and there’s always a gaggle of them running about unsupervised. Families with livestock can always take a spare hand, especially since farms are so spread out, they have a tendency to wander. Whatever skills you may possess can always be of use to the community or to honor the gods.

If any of these options are no good for your lifestyle, the main roads between settlements can always use a bit of monster clean-up… just make sure you don’t go alone.

---

Questions

How many slots are open?
Please check the Taken page for how many player, franchise, and canon slots are available. Activity check will be processed before applications open, so the count may change between now and then. Existing players can apply for a second character without restriction.

How do I choose a scenario for my character?
Pick whichever situation appeals to you most. Which faction your character is drawn into has nothing to do with their personal morality, beliefs, or how highly they regard themselves and their own accomplishments. Anyone can be put into any one of the situations.

Can I try out more than one scenario?
You can! But please keep in mind that only the one you eventually choose can be game canon, if you decide to keep any of your TDM threads.

What happens if my character refuses to comply with the NPCs?
They will be forgiven for their moment of panic or anger if they have one, and the faction leaders will try to calm them and persuade them further. If they put up too much of a fight and/or start actively attacking anyone, they will be warned once that everyone is willing to put them back in the well where they came from (see below), and if they continue to fight they will make good on that promise.

My character intends on causing a lot of trouble (destroying parts of the cities, murdering the NPCs, etc.), what would happen to them?
Characters who make too much trouble for the mages and other NPCs would be thrown back in the well (which will mean drowning in the void, not returning home). Brawling with other PCs and causing minor damage is fine and will be greeted with a cranky attitude and intervention from various NPC guards, and there will be plenty of opportunity for destruction and murder later, but for now the Abraxans have no desire to keep huge liabilities around.

I want to wildcard a prompt or use one of the prompts from an earlier TDM that isn't on this one (eg. the library), can I do that?
Yes, in terms of the settings. As Thorne is no longer imprisoning any newcomers, that option is no longer applicable.

Is the power loss for characters permanent?
No, but it does take a week or so for their powers to be back in full, and certain powers (determined on a case-by-case basis) may require nerfs. If your character has world-breaking powers, please discuss with the mods what modifications may be necessary.

Can my character leave the bounds of the faction?
In Thorne, characters can leave the castle but not the city. In Cadens, they can take a trip from the outpost to the city. In Solvunn, they can explore the entirety of the Primary Settlement.

Can my character eventually change factions?
Yes. While the faction borders are currently closed, there will opportunities in the future for characters to relocate. For the time being, they are stuck where they are.

How much will my choice of scenario affect my character's plot later on?
This choice will determine where your character initially lives as well as the bias of the information they receive from NPCs (although other PCs can and most likely will give it to them a bit more straight). This decision - and every other major decision you make in game! - will also be used to flavor some mod surprises that will be coming down the line.

Don't get too anxious about this choice, though; this is just one choice you'll get to make in a game that has a lot of them, and every character in every scenario can work their way towards many, many individual goals and outcomes. You're not locking yourself out of anything in the future via the choice you made on the TDM. It will primarily impact the immediate future with the far-reaching effects being up to each player.

Are TDM threads mandatory for my application?
No, you may use other samples, but we encourage you to post to the TDM and get a feel for this game and its mechanics before you join. If you do not have a TDM thread you will still need to choose one of the three scenarios on your application.

What if I haven't settled on a sign yet?
You can ignore sign-related prompts if you're undecided (or try out different signs in different threads).

Can my character go to the Horizon?
First time visitors to the Horizon must be taken there by other characters, through either shared meditation or a physical journey to the Singularity, and all first-timers experience memory loss. For the purposes of the TDM, we suggest against using the Horizon.

What about making use of the network?
Much like Horizon they would need to be introduced to it by another PC, as no NPCs would be aware of the network or be able to access it. Because of this we would advise against using this mechanic for TDM top-levels.

---

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Comments

steve rogers | mcu | the hierophant | free cities

[assembles]

i. arrival/barracks

[ It's as Tony's funeral is winding down that it happens.

Steve settles down in the living room once it's emptied out to take a breather. It's been a whirlwind of emotion, of conversation, of facing people he hasn't seen in five years and had to some extent accepted he would never see again. There's the relief of the world being saved, but also the gut-punch of what it cost.

Then everything goes dark and cold, as if he's been pulled down through the couch and into a void. What is this, he demands, but his voice makes no sound, as if he's trapped somewhere deep underwater. Is this another trick of Thanos'? No, he should be gone, this should be over, they won.

Then the burning in his lungs starts, and it's all he can do to kick his legs and swivel his arms to get to the single pinprick of light he can find in the dark. From there, hands reach down to grab him, hauling him out and finally allowing him to suck in a gasping breath. He's soaked from head to toe as he's dropped unceremoniously on the floor. His vision clears and he's met with the rank and file of men and women in uniform. Something sinks in his stomach, at how familiar and unfamiliar this is, and an interdimensional abduction is his first thought. Somehow. After literally traveling through time, anything feels possible now.

Steve's given a briefing of sorts by the one in charge, who calls herself Prime Minister and wears a sword at her hip. He hangs onto any detail he can, pushing away panic to focus on his next move, which is to fully grasp this situation and figure his way out of it.

He's told this is a "Free Cities" outpost. A military outpost. There are barracks, which is where he's deposited. His demands for answers are mainly brushed aside, and he feels strangely weak, which wouldn't be enough to stop him from making a scene — but he needs a minute to gather his thoughts, to process. They're grateful to have him here, they say, and there's no getting around the fact that this feels like a draft.

He's seated on one of the beds in the barracks, his hair still damp, but at least he's dressed. As soon as someone else comes in, his head snaps up and his body goes tense. But then he realizes that the stranger looks shellshocked too, that they're dressed similarly, and he huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh but not quite as he shakes his head. ]

You too?

ii. training grounds

[ It doesn't matter how many times Steve demands more answers from the people in charge at the outpost, they're not willing to tell him everything he needs to know. Returning back to where he came from seems to be impossible, or at least that's how they spin it. While he's had the Singularity and its power explained to him, the people here seem to view it as something that needs to be destroyed. If that's his ticket home—

When his demands get more pointed, the soldiers' responses sound more like threats, and Steve eventually exits out to the training area to cool off. To have just gotten everyone back, Bucky and Sam and Wanda, only to end up here...

If he vanished without a trace back home, what do they even think happened to him?

He's watching, more than half distracted, as people train with practice weapons — swords rather than guns in most cases. It's nothing like Camp Lehigh (1940's, not 1970's), and yet he can't help but think back to those days all the same. It doesn't seem to matter where he goes or what he does; there's always another war.

When he senses someone coming up to his side, he glances over his shoulder to meet their gaze, nodding in greeting. His expression is impassive, maybe a little tired with tightness at the edges of his eyes. ]

Not sure how they thought this was gonna work out. The draft's a pretty outdated concept, where I'm from.

iii. around cadens

[ As soon as Steve caught wind that there was a wagon that would take him away from the barracks and the mess hall and the training drills, he'd hopped on, eager to see more of this place and an actual city, if only because it might give him more answers. He's established by now that he's not the only one who's been brought here. These summoning rituals — as they call them — have been going on for a while, so he needs to find people who know more. While he's been told that he needs to ride the wagon back to the outpost at some point, he doesn't have any real intention of doing that. If they're so intent on asking for his help, they can't expect him to sit put and do whatever they say.

Once he reaches the city, he realizes that it very much is a city in terms of size and population. While it's no New York or Los Angeles, not even close, he's still forced to accept that he is very much not in Kansas anymore. He's traveled into space all of once, five years ago, and it had been to a planet that was more or less abandoned save for Thanos.

Which means that this feels a little bit like 2012 all over again, except in reverse. It's been over ten years for Steve now, but that sense of everything around you being foreign is not something he's ever truly forgotten. Much like he'd broken free of SHIELD's facility back then to wander in Times Square, he now wanders the arid, walled-in city of Cadens on foot, awed and alienated by what he finds in equal measure.

That doesn't stop him from practically walking his feet off. His serum enhancements may be muted right now (something he's been assured will eventually wear off), but that doesn't stop him from exploring the city. There are museums and academies, which he doesn't enter for now, but he does inspect any advertisements at the entry to the buildings to see what sort of exhibits are on offer. He passes by laboratories, smithies, and tanneries, taking note of how this is a place where research and innovation are paramount. It's mom and pop shops that he'll actually enter, looking around at what's on offer and addressing the people working there only if they speak up to him first.

Yet it's as he's making his way down yet another tucked-away street packed with workshops, surrounded by sounds of metal clanging against metal and the focused chatter between people working on some project or experiment, that a ghost catches up to him. One exhausting and confusing conversation later, Steve finds himself dragged to The Sarstina Inn & Tavern.

And so toward the end of a long day well after the sun's dipped behind the city walls, Steve can be found in Mag's inn. Everything about this city feels like he's stepped into the pages of a fantasy novel, and the tavern is no different. After he's left to his own devices, Steve finds an empty table to sit and rest his feet. He's more used to what the serum does for him than he thought, as he realizes they're starting to throb from overuse. ]

iv. wildcard

[ If you want to do something not covered by these prompts, that's totally fine! You can PM me to work something out or just wing it. I'm open to anything! ]

[industries]

[ Jayce wasn't wrong about one thing – pounding iron's a pretty good workout.

Not that Tony doesn't already know that, given his superhero namesake and whole box-of-scraps mythos, but to be honest, it's been a while since he's taken over any manual labor from FRIDAY's auto-fabrication systems. There was all the work he and Nebula had done on the Benatar, but that was – different. Desperate. Feverish with infection, trembling with adrenaline, on the hair's edge of life and death, and thankful for it, as a distraction from the pain worse still – the quiet nights. The regret.

So – yeah. Been nice to work on something like his life doesn't depend on it. The "something" in question being Sam's EXO-7R (the "R" stands for "Retro"), though progress has been frustratingly slow. Thing is – despite all the internet engineer worship over the years, that cave back in Iraq had been full of his own weapons, and materials advanced enough for him to easily modify and fabricate for new uses. Even the last time he found himself stripped of his resources, back on the road to Killian's Miami lair, when he'd had to build an arsenal from a Home Depot – there'd at least been the assumption of... modernity. Specific chemicals refined by known technology, and assumptions of which substances are used in standard manufacturing processes, but here?

It's the wild west, literally. Tony's been able to pick up scrap from shops, and presumed black sand, limestone, and coal from traders, but – it's all required additional work. Cleaning. Refinement. Tests for purity and structural integrity, all based on chemistry subject to the same limitations as the metals he's trying to test, so – a cycle, where he gets closer to what he needs with each step, but at a rate that makes him want to tear his hair out until he remembers–

He's Tony Stark. He's a mechanic, and this is what he does.

So he continues, and he works. Hard. Clamps down on the strip of iron in front of him and pounds on the anvil with steady clangs that echo out of the lab's open garage and into the street. The Victorian Orphans have kept to their word on letting him access their equipment, and he's been going HAM on the forge in particular as he builds out components for the frame of the EXO-7R – or, Mk. I of it, anyway, though Sam doesn't need to know that yet.

It's about midday and – Christ, it's hot. Tony inhales the smoky air and leans his neck back to catch the slight breeze blowing from the street and into the forging area of the lab. It's absolutely sweltering from the hot coals of the furnace behind him, and as he glances up at the people striding through the street, he can't help but feel a little jealous – ugh. That guy probably just drank some icewater. That woman definitely works in a nice, cool office. That incredibly buff blond dude in the newly-arrived-Summoned fatigues, with the strong nose and chiseled jaw, he's – wait.

Wait.

Tony yanks the strip of metal off the anvil, dunks it in the bucket of water next to him. It hisses, sinks to the bottom, as he drops his tongs on the anvil with a metallic clatter. His feet move forward. He yanks his goggles down to his neck. He runs into the street, in his stained blacksmith's apron, hair matted with sweat, every inch covered in dust and grime, as he stares at the broad shoulders heading away in the crowd and– ]

STEVE!

[assembles]

[ This particular part of the city is hot. The whole city is, frankly, with the outer walls only doing so much to keep the arid climate out. But all of the forges and furnaces that seem to burn here day and night certainly don't help, and it's for that reason that Steve's walking a little faster than he might otherwise as he searches out so-called greener pastures.

It isn't that he doesn't have some interest in the work being done here, and he may circle back to the workshops once he has a better lay of the land.

Or so he thinks, but then he hears his name being yelled out through the crowd by a voice that he would know instantly. He's heard it raised in anger, in disbelief, in panic, and yet he must be hearing things, because—

Steve pauses, pivots to look over his shoulder. He must be hearing things because Tony Stark is dead, he'd attended his funeral a matter of days ago, and yet...

There he stands, alive as ever, looking somehow younger, but also so very much himself. Covered in soot and grime like this, wearing the goggles and apron, how many times has Steve seen him like this? Through so many prototypes, so many projects, it all comes flooding back in a way that has him staring almost dumbly at this man who should be six feet underground. Steve had seen him gasp out his last breath; he'd watched the light leave his eyes.

The stunned look on his face probably says everything that needs to be said. This can't be possible. It can't be him, except it also very much is, and so where does that leave him? Maybe it's a trick, an illusion like what Loki or Wanda was capable of. Maybe this entire place isn't actually real, and he's been plunged into some sort of dream state that had felt so vivid that he hadn't been able to tell the difference. ]

... What is this? [ The words finally find their way off his tongue and his expression hardens, shoulders stiffening as he prepares himself for when the curtain's pulled back and he realizes how much he's been toyed with this whole time. ]

[industries]

[ The man turns, and–

It's him. It's Steve. The raw, sharp urgency that surged through Tony's body fizzles out in an instant, replaced with...

What? Awkward silence? His own stupid face, blinking? He looks at Steve and – it's weird. It's so weird, and not just because he's one of the last people Tony saw, in the awful section of a timeline he calls "home", where they'd lost, and it was all Cap's fault, in every detail expounded and spat out from a mouth dry from grief – from guilt. Because the truth had been right there, in the space between Tony's words, written all over his sunken face. It was their fault. All of them. You said we'd do that together too.

It's weird, because of everything that came before, that Tony felt and suffered, and relived on dark nights. It's weird, because of everything that comes after – that Tony's had told to him, like a storybook. Like a parable. Someone will die for the world, but they won't be a god, or free of sin.

Tony swallows around a lump in his throat. Refocuses on Steve's wide eyes, as they shrink with his furrowed brow, as the line of his jaw tightens. He's learned to read Cap's microexpressions over the years, like deciphering the difference between shades of grey, stoic and subtle and guarded – annoying, just like everything else about him. But right now the words are painted on his face in neon, blinking red.

What is this?

Harder to tell, than it had been with Peter – the time between Tony's memories and someone else's. But if there's one thing he can recognize in Captain America, it's when he's seen a ghost.

Horse hooves clop on the pavement as a wagon rolls by. Tony inhales, shrugs, brushes his gloves down the front of his dusty apron. ]

Uh. Ferrous oxide, mostly. [ He squints up toward the sun, then turns to the lab's open doorway and strides toward it. ] You wanna get in the shade? Unless you're, like – looking to tan up for July on the charity pin-up calendar.

[assembles]

[ The two of them stand there for more seconds than Steve could guess, staring in mirrored disbelief, even as the rest of the world busies itself and moves around them. Tony's final moments had come and gone with the literal snap of a finger, bringing with them both the crushing relief of having won and the certainty that the world would never be the same again.

Steve still remembers how he'd once accused Tony of being selfish, of not being the sort of man who'd ever make the sacrifice play. He'd been proven wrong on that point long, long before their battle against Thanos, and yet neither of them could have ever known it would end the way it did.

Maybe they should have known. Steve's been living on borrowed time for years now, well aware that there's a grave waiting for him somewhere. He'd always imagined it would be him.

It had happened so fast, but at least they'd had their closure. At least they'd reconciled. That's what Steve had told himself as he'd stood on the docks and watched the memorial to Tony Stark's heart gently drift across the water.

Now Tony's here, and he can't be real, but he feels so real. This person in front of him is talking, breathing, gesticulating, and none of it seems like some mediocre impression or copy. Even down to the bad jokes.

And so Steve follows, in something of a daze, still not free of that look that he's seen a ghost. The promised shade comes, and with it a workspace. There's a forging table, barrels and containers of various materials, sheet metal laid out here and there. It's antiquated, sure, but the organized chaos is familiar. Steve knows Tony's messes by now. ]

Tony. [ Steve drags his gaze up to that impossible face again. ] How long have you been here? [ How are you here, is the real question, but Steve doesn't know how to tell Tony that he should be dead. ]

arrival

[espejo]

[having arrived a few hours ago, the medicine seller has found himself living in the unsettling. a world so much more advanced than the one he comes from, devoid of that energy that comes from malicious spirits and curses, replaced instead by the uncanny and what he can assume are more rudimentary means of warfare.

no prowling demons here.

he has managed to land his hands on some red paint, and is using the glass on the window to decorate the bridge of his nose just as steve rogers walks in—a steady, crisp line, undeterred by the interruption.

it is an uncomfortably long silence before he steps away, turns to the man. the decorations on his pale skin are stark in contrast; just because this world is devoid of the ghosts and demons he is familiar with doesn't mean he should leave himself devoid of defenses. better to be safe than sorry, after all.]

Welcome.

[—and he returns to finish painting the last lines under his left eye.]

[assembles]

[ Steve would never expect to be tossed into barracks and have any part of it to himself. Privacy is a low commodity when it comes to war, and so when he finds someone else in freshly pressed fatigues, there isn't much to be surprised about.

The fact that the stranger is putting on red face paint, though — that's a little more strange. To say nothing of the calm way in which Steve's received. His own mind is going a mile a minute, thoughts racing in this and that direction. He takes a moment, hands clenching and then unclenching at his sides as he works through a breath.

He doesn't know if this man was "summoned" the same way he was; he might just be a recruit who's actually from here. Which means it's a little unclear what he should say. ]

What — is that war paint or something?

[ Nailed it. ]

[espejo]

[he expects it, really, for conversation to persist despite his unhelpful welcome and his otherwise preoccupation with something else entirely. it is very human though, isn't it? to try and connect, even if that connection stems from confusion.

the brush creates a neat circle right at the end of the line he's painted atop his cheek, and it is only then when he sets it and the paint aside, studying the man who can't seem to find reason to relax by his reflection.

eyebrows raise, a smile forming as he turns around.]

Not... quite.

[in careful movements, he unfolds the sleeves of his robe, taking now an unobtrusive seat on one of the cots.]

A defense for —

[his words hang in the air, clearly not yet done with his sentence as he opts to look about in thought at the ceiling, then back at the man.]

— evil spirits.

Do you sense

— them, too?

[assembles]

[ As the stranger turns and Steve can get a closer look at the patterns he's carefully painted onto his face, it's nothing familiar. Not that anything about this place has been familiar, setting aside the fact that it's a military outpost of some kind.

It's nowhere on Earth, he's pretty damn sure of that. They say this world is called Abraxas, which means it's so far outside the galaxy he knows that he's tried not to think too hard on it (and failed).

While the other man sits, Steve doesn't mirror him, opting to stand for now. A defense for evil spirits, he says, and Steve looks around the sparsely decorated room as if he's going to see such a thing. Not that he knows what an evil spirit should look like. That's really more the area of Stephen Strange. ]

You're saying they're here? [ Other than his general sense of unease at what he's just been brought into, he doesn't feel like anything's off. It's hard to tell if this guy's just pulling his leg; he's not that easy to read. ] I can't say evil spirits are my area.

[ But with how his life has gone over the past ten or so years, he's not about to outright deny it either. ]

[espejo]

The world is never without.

[he says, sounding a little too disappointed at the fact that the man here is unable to fathom their existence nor is capable of removing himself from his alarmed state of arrival.

besides, this man looks like his area would be punching people in the face.

the medicine seller motions towards another cot nearby, trying to present the man with the possibility of respite.]

Much has unraveled. In any world, spiritual attacks are to be expected. These seals, [and steve may notice now, weirdly painted eyes on the frame of the door and windows.] give us control.

Would you want it, too?

[control.]

[assembles]

[ His area may or may not be punching people in the face. Among other things.

At that gesture, Steve gives out a low sigh and then relents, moving to sit down on the cot. It creaks a little under him, these clearly aren't the most high quality beds, but it's not like he would have expected much different.

He has to admit that on his list of concerns right now, the potential of evil spirits and their attacks is pretty low. He's heard no other talk like this since arriving (which, to be fair, hasn't been very long), so he wonders if this guy is just projecting what he knows from his own world.

That offer throws him for a loop. It might be rude to decline, but he's probably going to attract enough attention already without having paint on his face. ]

I think I'm all right. [ He smiles over at the stranger; a little strained, but polite. ] But if we end up with a spirit infestation, I'll know who to talk to.

barracks. gestures vaguely around the 'not canon' sign.

[falcony]

[ sam should know better.

that's the thought that catches him first, as he steps through one set of doors into the barracks where some of the guards have pointed him. he's a familiar enough face, a welcome enough presence - when there are new summoned, sam wilson will generally make his way out twice, possibly three times, just to get around the barracks a bit. and it's worked for him so far, finding faces and people he recognizes and quite a few he didn't. he was pointed this direction because they said some new faces did get pulled through, that they'd be right through there, and side, easily thrown comment of good luck. sam had shrugged it off, comments and tones and jokes were usually thrown around soldiers faster than anything else, if only to break up the monotony of the job. and sam knows that the sorts of people pulled through could range from...well. all over the place.

he knows. he's done this enough. he's got the experience. but here's the thing about experience - as much as you think it'll help you, as much as you want it to firm up the foundation beneath your feet, all it takes is one moment, one word, one...

well. one set of blue eyes.

here's the thing, too - beyond just the fact that sam knows how this place works. beyond the fact that he knows at least the basics of these rules. beyond all of that, he's lived it. bucky's come through twice now, stephen and tony too, and sam just chalks it all up to the multiverse. to whatever fucked up reality they now all live in - at any moment, he might be faced with infinite versions of the people he always thought he knew. of people he does know, down to their very bones. and just as quickly as they will appear, there is the chance for them to disappear once again. to leave him here, month after month, over a year, now, swallowing back just how screwed up this all is to know and expect that it might happen again.

and yes, okay, sam is being dramatic. there are worse things and have been worse things than his current situation. than watching the few people he thought he knew best come and go, to lose track of how long it's been, how long they've known each other. to keep track of when this happened and that, who knew what, when. to look tony stark in the eyes and in no uncertain terms tell him he doesn't survive the next five years. there are worse things, and there are more important things, wars and battles and lives and deaths that he needs to be responsible for. account for. keep on his mind.

except that sam steps through that doorway and slides on an easy smile and is ready (because he is, he's ready) to give a welcome speech he's still working out the kinks to, and then he just. stops.

because steve rogers lifts his head from the barrack beds to look at him, and all it takes is the connection of those blue eyes for sam to freeze to the spot.

it hasn't been long, relatively, since he caught sight of steve in these very barracks. not that long ago that he gave him the whole (or at least, most of the) rundown. when he'd taken him back to the inn and got him a room and thought oh, okay, i can do this. steve's been gone for months and this steve doesn't remember anything, but i can do this. and then weeks, barely a handful of days, later he was gone again and that was that. the feeling at that time had been familiar (sam's already lost steve once, hasn't he? what's once more?), the dark hole in his chest he still found himself learning to breathe around. a truth he had forced himself to come to terms with, alongside every other lost he's swallowed back and pushed through over the last few years.

but this? this?

sam's chest is tight, but he's not sure if that is because he hasn't really taken a breath over the last couple of second or if it's because he is simply coming to terms with just how much he should have known better and yet he doesn't. hasn't. isn't prepared.

it's one moment, and then another. he's sure steve gets up, pushes off the mattress to stand, and sam feels a rush of relief and pain and something a lot more complicated that he's not entirely sure he has the words for washes over him. ]

Took you long enough.

[ sam does manage to say, his tone and voice a lot cooler than he feels, his smile too easy given the weight of this moment. of this exchange. ]

doesn't have to be canon for us to have a good time 👀

[assembles]

[ It's not long that Steve's left on his own, and yet that doesn't seem to matter. A few minutes may as well be an hour with how he's trapped in his thoughts, a sensation not so different from the way the water had closed in around him as he'd been brought here. He's already tallying up a mental list of what he needs to do to learn more about this place and how to get them to undo whatever they did, while also not getting himself thrown into a jail cell in the process.

They insist that his lack of strength is just a side effect of being brought here, and that it will return within a few days, but he's not convinced. It could just as easily be another way to control him, to keep him under their thumb as they decide what to do with him. While they insist that they know about his triumphs from back home and want him to put his talents toward helping their world now, he's not sure he buys it.

If they know anything about him, they would have known it won't be that easy.

He does think of Carol, of her insistence that there were plenty of other planets out there who were suffering just as much, if not more, than Earth. She'd felt a duty to them as well, and truthfully, Steve can't begin to imagine how she managed all that weight. It's not that he doesn't believe that these other worlds might need help, but it isn't right to just abduct someone and expect them to be okay with you putting a gun (or sword) in their hands.

It's as he's thinking through all this that he hears the door open and glances up, half-ready to start in on another barrage of questions for his captors, until someone walks through—

And inexplicably, it's Sam Wilson.

There's a moment (or maybe multiple moments) of shocked silence between them, both of them trying to configure what they're seeing: a good friend standing in a place so foreign, so unexpected. Steve's only just seen Sam again after five long years, years when he'd not known whether he'd ever be able to get him back despite all of their efforts. With the fight, with the funeral, with everything else, they'd barely had time to really talk.

Yet now, here they are.

Steve's up and off the mattress before he even realizes it, halfway to Sam before he's extended that greeting. Took you long enough.

What? How long could it have been? ]

What do you mean? [ He takes a few more steps. ] Sam, when did you get here?

[ Sam had been dust barely a week ago. Is time playing tricks on them again? Did it not like the fact that they'd messed with it, and now it was messing back? There's so many possibilities that Steve feels his head spinning, but Sam also doesn't have that usual smirk on his face, the tell for when he's joking. No, there's something sad and tired in his eyes instead.

(Had Sam seen something similar in Steve's eyes, when they'd reunited?) ]

YOU GOT ME THERE 👀

[falcony]

[ it is in those moments of shocked silence that sam tries to parse through what it is he's trying to do. tries to remember all that stephen's told him about the multiverse, about how they are different versions entirely, that there's no way of telling when or how someone could get pulled through the well. sam's had enough experience of it himself, too - of repeating conversations, of looking someone in the eyes and knowing they haven't lived it.

there is a small part of him that tries to see if it's written in the way steve stands. if there is something in his steps, his movements, that will give him some sort of clue as to the last thing he remembers, the last thing he did. except...would it matter? would it change anything, even if steve didn't know?

when did you get here?

at least that strikes down one possibility. he doesn't remember. ]

That's...a complicated question.

[ no matter how many times he's faced with this moment, sam's still not sure what to do. the first time steve was here, sam had told him all that he's asked, but hadn't gotten to everything. he'd figured there was something to say about the future, about what you have or haven't left lived through. but the issue with that is as soon as steve had left, sam had only felt guilty. like he'd lied (which, by omission, he had) and lost the only opportunity he was going to have and that the moment he'd let slip would be it.

with tony, the second time he'd showed up, he told him everything. all of it. dumped in a short span of time in the best way sam knew how to say it because what good did keeping secrets do? for anyone? but now sam knows he's never going to be able to forget the way tony had looked at those realizations. those moments. his death, his daughter, his life that he now knew had a much shorter limit.

with stephen it had been easier. bucky even more so. peter and wanda both already knew, when peter re-arrived and when wanda showed up. but now? now that he doesn't even know what steve is coming back from? where the last moment they might have seen each other? for sam, he's edging on a year and a half, though some of that is hazy. but there's no telling where steve is from. or if they even have the same memories to share at all.

( but yes, if steve did want to wonder if that's what sam saw, himself, when they'd been reunited...the answer is yes. something similar, something probably a lot closer than either of them would feel comfortable it. )

sam hangs onto that semi-tired smile and chooses, then, to take a few steps of his own. to close the rest of the distance and - as long as steve is on the same page with this, too - go in for the hug. because for all the things that might be different, there are quite a few that remain the same. ]

It is good to see you, man.

[assembles]

[ It's disconcerting, the way that Sam hedges around answering Steve's direct question. There's very little in the way of secrets between them by now, not after all the time they spent together as fugitives. They hadn't been able to afford secrets at that time, even though neither of them were much for hiding things in the first place.

Well, Tony Stark would have begged to differ on that point, but Steve shoves that thought away. It's over, they made their peace with each other while they still had the chance, and he can't go down rabbit holes like that right now.

The point is, he's pretty sure that Sam will get around to answering properly once the initial shock of all this has worn off. Steve will do his best to be patient, even if he feels the exact opposite right now. He's already clocked the tiredness, not just on Sam's face but in the set of his shoulders. There's more going on here than he knows — a lot more.

For Steve, it wasn't so long ago that the two of them shared a hug, but he isn't going to turn this one down. He spreads his arms to either side of him, the silent indication that he's open to what Sam's bringing in. As they hug and he's suddenly got Sam's warm, solid presence so close, Steve lets out a breath he'd only half-realized he was holding.

There's still a whole lot he doesn't understand. There's still a host of questions he needs answered. But Sam is here, and knowing that much already has him feeling a lot better than he did a minute ago. He knows it isn't good that they're both here, but all of his greatest triumphs he's pulled off with the help of others — of his people. And Sam tops the list by this point. ]

Yeah, same to you.

[ Steve steps away from the hug, holding Sam at arm's length for a moment before he releases him. ]

So... how complicated are we talking?

[ He glances to the barracks beds, indicating that they can sit here and talk if need be. Not that it's the most comfortable place, but he isn't convinced this outpost is going to have anything better. Maybe Sam knows a better place. ]

[falcony]

[ it does feel weird - that hesitation to steve's question. to the fact he knows there is so much more to get through, so much more to say, and he will get it too. whereas with tony, sam had questioned what to say- how much of it to give away, what to do with the information, if it would cause more harm than good- but with steve... sam's already messed this up once. already screwed up whatever chance he had. he's not going to do it again.

but he's also not going to talk about it all here - regardless of the good terms he's on with the guards. living life on the run taught sam at least that, and while he can tell that steve is confused at the fact sam avoids a direct answer, he knows steve can wait a minute longer.

he goes in for the hug, and while it's only been a few months for sam since he last lived through this exact moment - in the barracks, that confused expression, a moment where sam almost isn't sure of himself and what he'll find going in for the hug...and then, just like before, and again now, the tight embrace. the feeling of breathing for the first time in some time. of steve, solid and whole and as sam remembers, squeezing back. if the embrace lingers for a moment or two longer, well, sam has a good feeling steve won't call him out on it.

sam sees the glance steve backs back to the beds, to the room they're both standing in. soldiers, back in the depths of it all, back into war. sam supposes in many ways it's almost poetic, how he and steve had initially bonded as soldiers without a war, and how they've - against all odds - found themselves back in one, together. sam gestures to the door. ]

Let's take a walk. [ not here is what that means. and while there isn't exactly a safer place to talk around the barracks themselves, outside near the stables, out of the building itself, is at least better. sam won't feel entirely safe until they're back in the city, in his own apartment, but that's a day's ride and he doesn't think he or steve have the patience for that.

so, when steve does follow him (because he will, he knows the man well enough to know that), sam does start talking. eases into the answers he knows steve will want.

as they pass guards, sam will wave, might make a small comment, and they will call back. he's well known around here, on friendly terms, and each time one of the guards passes by sam will lower his voice just enough until they're gone again. ]

I've been here about a year now- in Abraxas, this...world, I guess you could call it. When they brought the first of us here, it was in another country - Thorne - on the other side of the continent, but the last six months or so the different countries have started summoning us themselves. This- [ he gestures around them, to the hallway they've just about made it down, the doorway they pass through to make it out into the grounds. ] Is how the Free Cities are bringing people through. Did they mention a war to you?

Training Yard

[fourarmedandangerous]

Aside from the Mess Hall, when Goro returns to the military base, the other place he spends much of his time is the training yard, since it too will be the place new Summoned a seem to gravitate towards.

Many of the soldiers are sympathetic towards Goro, appreciative of his efforts. It's from some of them that he learns about Steve's...disagreements. It's enough for Goro to go seek the man out himself.

"Allow me to apologize on behalf of the men you spoke to." He replies. "They are sometimes...overzealous in their duties. Rest assured, you are a guest, not a conscript."

[assembles]

It's true that Steve had not exactly been subtle when it came to explaining his reservations about all of this or demanding that he be released. He's more or less expecting some higher-ranked officer to come and have a talk with him after all that, and so he turns toward the voice with little hesitation.

It's when he sees who's addressing him that there's a flash of shock across his face, but it's not like anyone could blame him. Thus far most everyone he's seen here has appeared human, but this massive figure with his four arms and his exaggerated facial features feels more alien than anything — a little too similar to one of Thanos' underlings for comfort.

What doesn't help is that Steve's fed assurances, told he's a guest when everything that he's seen and heard so far has indicated the opposite. You sure about that? he almost asks, but opts for something slightly more neutral.

He tilts his jaw up to meet the stranger's gaze, clenches it. "And who are you?"

[fourarmedandangerous]

"Forgive me." Goro bows slightly as Steve tilts his head up up at the Shokan. "I am Goro. My people are the Shokan. And like you, I am not a native of this Realm. The Fee Cities have performed several summonings before this one. I was part of the first group, so understand that I know your frustrations. The situation here has...changed in the time since my arrival. The soldiers sometimes forget themselves."

He gestures to the side. "I would be happy to address your concerns, as one Summoned to another...may I ask your name?"

[assembles]

Goro, the Shokan, none of that means anything to Steve. Maybe it was tucked away in a dossier somewhere back Avengers HQ if Goro really is from an alien race, but that won't do him much good right now.

The first group, he says. How many times have they done this? How many people have been recruited into a war that they knew nothing about, while not even getting a say in the matter?

This Goro seems to be fashioning himself as some sort of spokesperson for the "Summoned," and Steve is eager enough for information that he isn't going to brush it off immediately. "Steve Rogers," he introduces himself with a nod, but doesn't reach out for a handshake. He's not really in the mood for it, and wouldn't know which hand to reach for anyway. It's just easier to forgo it.

"Changed how?" He watches as the soldiers Goro referred to train in the space up ahead. For all that he's been in their shoes before, it's hard to feel any sort of closeness to the young recruits from where he's standing.

cadens baybe

[techmaturgy]

[Somehow, miraculously (almost coincidentally, like some unseen force at a keyboard has decided to make certain things happen or not happen based on circumstances heretofore unknown to the characters being puppeted by said unseen forces), Viktor is out of the lab when Tony and Steve have their slightly fraught reunion right in front of his salad workspace. He spots him later, on his continued adventures through the shops of various engineers and artisans, and the aimless way he peruses marks him as recently arrived. Viktor watches for a short time, until they end up looking over the materials at the same workshop--then he speaks up.]

Are you looking for something in particular?

[This is not his lab--Viktor is currently sourcing tinted glass for a certain project, but he knows the area well enough that he thinks he could direct this guy anywhere he needs to go. If he's looking for a craftsman, well. He thinks he can fill that niche, too.]

[assembles]

[ It's the day after Steve and Tony's fraught reunion that he returns to the workshop district, still intent on learning the general layout of a city it sounds like he'll be living in for some unknown period of time. Apparently Sam's been here for a year, and that would be insane to think about if it weren't for the fact that Steve's had time take its toll on him in a few different instances by now.

So he's mainly window shopping, trying to get an idea of the general level of technological advancement in this place. Sure, Tony told him some of it, but Steve prefers to just see for himself (and there's a point where trying to pick through Tony's babble just isn't worth all the effort). This is even further back than 1945, he can see that much.

When he's addressed by a man with an accent that sounds vaguely Slavic, Steve glances over and shakes his head. ]

No, just looking around. Do you work here?

[ It's hard to imagine why else the stranger would have offered help like this. ]

[techmaturgy]

Nearby.

[So, familiar with the neighborhood but not actively trying to sell Steve something, as many of these craftsmen might. Viktor is technically shopping, but if something or someone more interesting catches his eye, it's no real issue for him to take a moment. The tinted glass for Gideon's order will still be here when he's done.

For now, he gives Steve a little bit of a once-over.]

You looked overwhelmed, that's all.

[assembles]

[ While it's hard to imagine this stranger undertaking any of the harsh manual labor that's required in a lot of these workshops, Steve doesn't question the answer that he's given. Cadens also seems to have a strong interest in scientific research and plenty of that doesn't require a robust physical form.

Which, yeah, this guy doesn't have, to say the least. Steve doesn't actually stare, but he's able to take in the man's general physical state with a brief glance. It's been years now, but there was a time when he'd seen something pretty similar in the mirror.

At that observation, Steve huffs out a breath and lifts both hands for a moment, then lets them fall back to his sides. ]

That obvious? [ He'd like to think he's good at not looking overwhelmed, but when you're new to a place it can be difficult to not stick out like a sore thumb. ] I guess you could say I'm new to the area. I appreciate the offer, though.

[ He definitely didn't have to do that. ]

[techmaturgy]

[Viktor knows there’s some humor in asking a stranger if he’s overwhelmed, given his own (somewhat distressing) physical condition, but he’s nothing if not self-assured. He hadn’t wasted much time browsing, when he’d first arrived in Cadens proper, getting right down to picking fights with the local scientists and workshop owners. Still, he understands why some might need more time to get their bearings.]

Only a little. I was disappointed in the level of technology when I first arrived here, as well. [That’s what. That’s what this is about, right? Viktor spares a glance to the collection of materials on the table, eyebrows furrowing a little.] He’s overcharging, anyway.

[Because Steve is also out here shopping. That’s what this is about. Viktor turns away from the stall and starts making his way down the street—he’s not at all difficult to keep up with, and he seems to expect Steve to follow along.]