TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[abraxasmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to the fifth 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— 1, 2, 3, and 4.

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 Cadens

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. 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?
Currently, there are 23 slots open for new players. We will process activity check before opening applications, so we will have a better idea of the exact count 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 | justice

[veracious]

cadens; barracks & training grounds

[ Six simple beds lined up against simple walls and if Steve closes his eyes he can almost imagine he hears the crack of shells and bullets outside a chilly pup tent. It's been decades but the thrumming of war echoes in his bones and seeing the barracks, hearing the routine strike of training just beyond pulls him straight out of his body. It might have been comforting, more like home, once upon a time, but all he sees now is destruction and the raising of a gilded glove burned into the backs of his eyelids.

He stays long enough to drop what little supplies they've given him onto a tidy, made bed, before he swivels toward the training ground. He has questions, because this place? This is definitely as far from his own past, far from anywhere Lang thought he'd end up, as he could possibly be.

Not even a few steps into the training grounds and he nearly falls over a stumbling trainee, and he's so exhausted his body moves on its own, a strong hand reaching to catch them by the arm, stop them from falling. He feels drained, but it's a weariness he's used to. The woman with the sword who had no answers to any of his questions had assured him it was normal.

But what is normal in a place like this? ]

Easy, soldier. [ A breath, and he helps the person to their feet, a small, tight smile pulled across his lips. ] You alright?

thorne; library & dungeon

[ The castle corridors seem quiet, but every window he passes looks down on a small down far below full of life and noise. It's small, but he makes a mental note to explore when there's more light, more people. With night falling, he's not sure he trusts these walls, this city, enough to wander.

The library feels just as quiet but in a familiar way and he roams the shelves - he's not much for distracting himself too deeply in unfamiliar territory, but the people he's encountered thus far seem peaceful enough. Enough that he moves among them otherwise unnoticed, as if strangers arriving in a place like this is as commonplace as the sun rising.

Odd.

He's found some historical text, and there are a few spread around him at one of the shelves, each spine open to different pages and images - some of maps, some of old maritime logs, another some fictitious romance he mistook for something a little more formal. But his head feels like it's filled with fog - and even though he focuses on the words in front of him, he thinks about home, thinks about the stones, and - ]

A dead end.

[ When he's frustrated enough with the lack of information in the books, he'll be found wandering the corridors, headed straight for the dungeons. Now people look at him when he starts down the first few stairs, into the damp and dark. If the citizens won't speak, he's sure their prisoners will. ]

solvunn; the streets & market

[ Steve follows the crowd of people milling about in the markets where he dodges and weaves through the locals, trying not to step on the children and their furry friends who run underfoot. He has to pry a small boy from his leg after stopping to ask directions, listening as an old woman points him to the crossroads, where the gates lead to other settlements.

But you don't have to leave, she reminds him, the little boy whines his agreement, and Steve all but peels himself away from the conversation. He backsteps, politely excusing himself, and ends up shoulder to shoulder with a smaller group heading out to the main roads.

It's just as the noise of the market dies behind him and the main roads open in front of him that he turns to the first person beside him. ]

Where does this lead? [ He's been warned of monsters, of the creatures that lie in wait for those who pass, but monsters he can handle. ] It's safe to assume they brought us here on this route - I've walked the perimeters, this is the only way out.

ooc;

( dragging in Steve Rogers from Endgame, just before he decides to travel back in time etc. if you want to find him somewhere else in any of these settings, feel free - he's going to do a lot of investigating. you can ping me over at cyclical if you want to try something different! )

!! solvunn

[carmesi]

[it is not quite like seeing a ghost, but it comes damn near close to it. wanda knows of one man who would stand composed, shoulders straight, and head held high despite the unknown factor of this world. lost are their bearings, summoned into this branch of the multiverse (as far as wanda can understand), and what little they can cling to is the impossibility of familiar faces—of friends that had once been considered lost.

she sees him in the markets, and curiosity sparks altogether with a desperate feeling rushing the beat, beat, beating of her heart. he walks fast, past the crowd, seemingly with a mission in mind. the main roads?

no matter, wanda catches up with him before he can make it to the road.]

Steve.

[she breathes, holding her arms crossed, but expectant of recognition. he is a friend she has dearly missed, and at a time like this it is the closest thing she'll get to a family, in this place.]

ugh yells wanda!!!

[veracious]

[ When he accepted the fact that he would be traveling back in time to replace the stones, he knew that he would quickly become an unknown face in the blur of time. It's no different here, even though this is as far from what he'd ever imagined would happen. To hear his name in the din of shuffling feet and haggling from the market stops him in his tracks.

He knows the voice, he knows his name, and when he turns? He knows the face. She's... different, somehow, but he knows the face. His expression softens, the hard determination in his eyes replaced with familiarity and he closes the distance to drop a hand to her shoulder. He will always be the caretaker, even if his bones feel weary from the weight he's carried for so, so long. ]

Wanda.

[ ... she can't be here. For a moment, he wonders if he's overlooked how benign this place seems at face value. If he's underestimated that he's simply slipped through the wrong part of time and space. ]

... how did you get here?

[carmesi]

[trust steve rogers to express nothing but warmth and familiarity in a gesture as simple as a hand over a shoulder. he's always been a caretaker—her caretaker in many an opportunity; between him and natasha, they were the older siblings that adopted her into their little family. and with a world that didn't really hold much for them outside of their circle, was it not expected to become this close?

it definitely is him, though.

wanda's heart aches, because this can't be anything but temporary, in this world. but she wants to be selfish for once, and allow herself the comfort of the company of a friend.]

Like everyone else. With the summoning.

[she is taking him in; his features, no longer lost to faraway memories, barely a farewell in sight. she raises a hand, her fingers traipsing over the line of his cheek, as if the uncertainty of his presence will be diminished with the contact. she pulls her hand away just as quickly, eyes widened.]

I thought I wouldn't ever see you again.

[with all she's been through, the disbanding of the avengers stung because she no longer had a place to call home. she misses them every day—vision, natasha, steve.]

You're — Where did you go?

[veracious]

[ The summoning. Sure, he'd listened to what he'd been told, he's heard what the people around him say when they see a new face, and yet a tiny part of him can't help but wonder if his failed attempt to travel back in time to return the stones has something to do with all of this.

Her fingers trace the line of his cheek and he breathes out a half-laugh. He'd tried his best to protect her, to protect Pietro, to protect his team and if she's wound up here, too? What sort of protector can he be? The hand on her shoulder doesn't last long, if only because he wraps one strong arm around her shoulders in a half hug. Her question, however, makes him draw back, press the line of his arm back between them again, his brow furrowed. ]

I don't think I understand, Wanda. [ There's something missing between his arrival here and her arrival here, he's sure of it. He shakes his head. ]

I was working with Lang and Banner on returning the stones. I just left when I was pulled out of the water here.

[ The sudden, urgent need to get back home licks through him strong, like an electric current, and he frowns. The creeping edge of caution, wariness, sets back in. ]

Return the stones to their places in time and space, then make my way back. That was the plan. Set things right, so Thanos had no chance of making it back.

[ So they could have a moment of peace. The fight couldn't have been for nothing. Not after everything they lost. ]

[carmesi]

[it almost breaks her heart how normal it feels, a half-hug for her troubles, the quiet way he would laugh, and the sturdy way he directs his words and actions. in retrospect, affection was never born easy between any of them, having fled from the raft together, but it was there—an understanding that comfort came from quiet company, from the far-between laughs, the quips with a jeer and a grin.

wanda almost asks that he doesn't pull away. but she's older now—past this—even if steve looks exactly the same as the day she saw him at stark's funeral.

—there are, after all, more pressing thoughts in his mind.]

...that means we've been summoned from different periods of time. [was that a possibility? it seems like the magic for the summoning was strong enough to summon people from across the multiverse, so what is to say it cannot do as it wills through time?] It's been months for me since.

You did as you describe, and then ... we all went our different ways.

[there's more to that, obviously. she studies his face, carefully, the dawning realization making her wonder if this would somehow affect the timeline branch he's come from.]

You haven't lived through that, though.

cadens ;-;

[falcony]

[ sam is kicking himself a little bit for not working out someplace to stay out in the barracks during these times. this is the - what? second? third time that the entire schedule has been derailed for weeks at a time because he has to now work out a schedule to hop on a cart and take the half-day's ride out to the barracks just to check. check for what? that's a great question that sam doesn't really have an answer to. check for newcomers, to hand out some advice, to vouch for anyone having issues getting to the city proper. they're all refugees at this point, and sam knows how vulnerable people can be when they don't know where they are and what's going on.

and with what's happening with goro, with the sentiments towards solvunn, with the members of the thorne council coming for a visit, with...god. with everything. sam can't really sit by and let anyone fall through the cracks. not when so much is at stake.

so sam is here, feeling a little ridiculous and a little like a camp counselor who just ran out of pamphlets. he's lucky he's got such a good rapport with the other soldiers and mages at the barracks, lucky in the sense that they don't really react when they see him - some say hi, some he asks after, and then sam keeps heading inside. and that's what he's doing - he's heading inside, deciding if he wants to go check out the mess hall first or look into what the training grounds might look like when-

it feels a bit like seeing a ghost. sam's, who's attention had been ahead. who had been thinking of just about anything else. who had a place to be and things to do who was immediately, wholly and fully, stopped in his tracks by the doorway into the barracks themselves. it was just a figure, just a back, just a stretch of shoulders under whatever basic-ass tunic they hand out around here, and yet-

( he knew it was possible. he had a conversation with resident dead-man tony fucking stark about it. except somehow, still, the sight of him knocks something out of his chest. )

sam's voice is steady, when he finally speaks. curious, confused, betraying none of the way the entire continent of abraxas and all the worries he'd been carrying sort of just. fall away. ]

Steve?

[ sam's first thought is god, he's young followed soon after by he might not know. he turns fully to the room, now, waiting for any kind of confirmation. anything at all. ]

[veracious]

[ Steve expects no one here to know his name, save for those when he arrived at this place. There's solitude in that thought, however brief it is - to be nameless and faceless, to try and work to get to the bottom of whatever this "problem" is. Steve hasn't guessed, yet, what the actual problem is. He can see the people who work here, who train here, he hears their mutterings and innately he feels something under the surface. But what? He doesn't know.

He's lost in his thoughts at first when he hears the name and he registers the movement in the barracks behind him, the shuffle of boots, and the voices nips in at its heels. He turns slowly, rising up from his crouch at the foot of one of the minimalistic beds. The air leaves his chest, because the voice matches the face, and hearing his name in the cadence of a friend grounds him in a way he never thought it would. ]

Wilson. [ A nod, then the huff of something perplexed, confused, even amused. ] Sam.

[ A small part of him cries out in warning, that this shouldn't be happening, that wherever he is, however he got here, Sam Wilson should not be one of those here, too. Steve took this journey on for a reason - to spare all of them the struggle of returning the stones, the weight of setting things right. For good.

Warning bedamned he crosses the distance to the man. There hadn't been much time to talk after the battle, after the funeral, before he had to go finish what they'd started. Before he had to make good on a promise to his friends, to Stark, that they'd win this thing.

And Sam had been gone those five years, and suddenly, in the distance between them in the quiet of the barracks, he feels every minute of it. Maybe this is a trick. Maybe this is something he should investigate further. Later. There will be time for that in a moment.

He offers out his hand. ]

...it's good to see you, Sam.

[falcony]

[ it's surreal, in a way that sam wasn't exactly prepared to handle. to be in these barracks in this place that sam has started to know so well. this strange, impossible country with its outdated not-technology and its magic and growing war. to have been so engrained in it and a part of it and aware, so much that it starts not to feel that weird at all, and to see something else he'd also known a lifetime before. because that's how long it feels - a lifetime. the last time he stood in front of steve rogers looking like that had genuinely felt like a lifetime.

before the passing of the shield. before bucky barned. before the flagsmashers and jon walker and -

steve stands and turns to him, and sam catches the exact moment that he sees him. clocks the very second that he recognizes him, that he puts face to voice and sees, and it hits sam square in his chest. down to the huff, down to the amusement, down to the...god. what was that? was that guilt? was that something else? sam almost calls him out on it, but steve is already moving (of course he's moving, he's always moving, and sam fights the urge to fall into step behind him). and before sam really even blinks, steve is there, hand out, caught somewhere between a breath and a heartbeat.

sam (to his credit) looks from his hand to steve's face, one brow arching. because yes, those five years are felt. yes, the distance between them is immeasurable in ways sam doesn't think he can describe. yes, he'd not that long ago told bucky steve is gone. and yet here he is. steve rogers. captain freaking america. ]

That how it's gonna be? Really? [ sam says, unable to hold back the curl to his lips, the small smile that breaks out. he thinks back to dc, then to Europe, to safe houses and the quinjet and lifetimes worth of fighting. of working. of hope.

it's good to see you, cap sam doesn't say. instead, he just steps forward and gets his arms around steve's shoulders, pulling him into a hug. ]

[veracious]

[ There hadn't been any time to stop, to breathe. From the moment he cooked breakfast for two wayward fugitives, the countless hours of company from safe house to safe house, up until the final battle where he stood sturdy and reliable at his side. Steve will never have the words to thank him, and he'd never had the time. So if all of this is some wild fever dream, some manipulation of space-time-whatevers, he'll take this moment for himself. Just this one. This once. ]

Looks like I don't get a say in it regardless.

[ But the protest is as thin-walled as the barracks themselves and he finds his arms winding around the other man, patting his back as he leans into the hug. It's such a small gesture but he'd been so busy holding steady through the Snap, the funeral, through the aftermath of it all, he hadn't realized that Steve Rogers needed attention, masked instead by the duty of Captain America.

He lets the hug linger a fraction of a second before he draws back, broad palms settling on Sam's shoulders, giving them a soft, fond shake before he drops his hands back at his sides. ]

What are you doing here, Sam?

[ As if he had a choice, as if Steve had a choice. Summoning, as the people call it, or not, Steve isn't convinced there isn't something else going on here. Still, a part of him wonders if his mishap, if flubbing the jump back into time, is the culprit. If he's the reason Sam is here in the first place.

If he didn't get the stones back in time, if they're in limbo as much as he is, if...

Too many ifs. He lets out a slow sigh. He's tired beyond belief but he's careful to keep it out of his expression. ]

Last I checked, Lang only had enough particles for one, round-trip.

[falcony]

[ no, there hadn't been any time. sam knew that just as well as any of them. he'd met steve rogers on that run, saw him show up at the va, and then suddenly he was harboring fugitives and signing himself up for what amounted to treachry. what involved him needing to be pardoned, to be allowed back in the country, and on the run for numerous others. sam doesn't regret a single moment, not a single breath, but it's hard not to feel the weight of all those years settle somewhere in the space between them.

maybe that's why sam doesn't bother with the pleasantries. maybe that's why - upon seeing steve rogers standing before him and knowing about how weird time is and feeling a bit like something is slowly constricting around his chest - he just closes the distance. just hugs him. just lets him feel a little like maybe this is actually real.

( and of course, because it's sam, he does note the way that steve leans into it. does feel the way he hesitates, just for a fraction longer than would be expected, and it hits sam then, too. how little time they had between sam coming back from the blip and the funeral. how little time there was for them to talk, to reconnect, to see each other before everything. he wants to ask about it. he wants to shift things back to that. but he also has a sense of how well that would go and decides that maybe later - because there will actually be a later. )

he huffs a bit at the question, shaking his head. ]

Trying to Welcome Wagon as many of the newcomers as I can before the local military gets their hands on them. [ if he wanted to be that person, he could turn the question back around. what are you doing here? but he knows none of them have a choice and he knows what that answer will probably be, so he decides to move on. decides to not let that tightening get any worse.

lang. one trip. the comment catches sam more than he's willing to admit - whatever grin, whatever easy smile he'd been wearing moments before dropping quite a bit at the mention of it. it takes a moment, maybe two, before he can bring himself back - trying to figure out what he's supposed to do with this. how he's supposed to deal.

( did he already make the decision? had he already talked to bucky? does the man, standing in front of him, know what he's about to do? ) ]

This wasn't Lang. [ sam looks back around steve's shoulder, as if making sure there isn't anyone else in the room, before he's looking back. ] Grab your stuff- there's a lot to get you caught up on.

solvunn!

[privatizes]

[ tony has explored what this city has to offer thrice over and has decided that focusing his attentions on what he's capable of doing seems to be the safest bet. so he's en route to pick up more supplies to continue his quest to grant electricity to this farm town when he sees a familiar figure.

the reaction is a mess of emotions. anxiety, for one. aggravation, for another. a staggering relief that someone, someone who will figure something out and lead people out of this mess is here. but as with all things, steve is complicated. though they had ended things on a good note. thankfully, seeing as it was tony's last chance, though he had no idea at the time.

that thought wars with him, a bit, before he decides to stop being a baby and clears his throat, falling into step next to steve, tone nonchalant. ]

Have you considered none of this shit makes any sense, and you're looking for a logical explanation when there probably isn't one to be found? [ and, before steve can answer, tony keeps going: ] I have, and I came to the conclusion that the rules of time, space, et cetera are thrown out the window until I can figure out how to tear it apart and put it back together again.

[ he pauses before he shoves his hands into his pockets. ]

And yeah, I know. Dead, here. Alive, not a ghost. Skip the sentimentalities, I've done this sixteen times today, and I'm not medicated enough to do it again.

weeps

[veracious]

[ Steve knows that whatever this place is, it's just a crossroads. That once he solves this problem, he'll be onto the next: finding his way back to the stones, replacing them all, making everything right. It beats in the back of his mind like a war drum, a quiet battle cry, the push to make every heavy step forward if only so his friends, his family can find some peace.

It all stays carefully buttoned behind a neutral, curious face - eyes memorizing the shops, the faces of people, the paths in and out of the market. He's been in the trenches too long, and it's become part of him now, that much he knows. And yet, he's blindsided by a passerby sidling up beside him, falling into step. Blindsided by the rush of sharp commentary and technical babblings. Blindsided by the fact that Tony Stark falls into line beside him as though this walk is one they've made dozens of times before.

They'd reconciled, for all that they could, before the whole world went to hell and back, but Steve feels keenly aware of the very complicated, very difficult invisible line drawn between them. There was never enough time.

And so Steve, tired and worn from the arrival, stares stupidly at first, marveling at the fact that the man across from him is whole and sharp and just as damn infuriating as he had been before that final snap. ​]

Tony.

[ Quiet, on a rush of a breath, though Tony speaks so quickly that Steve all but laughs, the sound loud and sudden. Relief, maybe? Grief? Definitely. And how does he turn around to the man who saved the world and tell him that he hasn't finished any of it yet, that the stones aren't safe, that Steve wound up here and - ]

I have considered all of that, but I've never been one to throw my hand in too early. [ You're alive is what he wants to say, yes, but he doesn't. Finally, quietly: ]

You did it, you know.

buckle up for the pain train

[privatizes]

[ asking steve to skip the sentimentalities is a useless endeavor, and tony lets out a soft noise of frustration in the form of a sigh as he goes through the motions of grief that tony has seen on the face of every single person he's met thusfar. the you're alive! followed by you're dead! is almost more painful than the initial realization that he was gone when he first got here.

but with a slight roll of his eyes to look at steve properly, a sidelong glance, tony responds blithely: ]

Of course I did.

[ he doesn't quite have the heart to sound as arrogant and confident as he wants to be, but there's enough of tony in the statement to make clear that he's made his peace. of sorts, anyway. grief is a weird thing, especially when you're grieving yourself. ]

I know I'm the resident problem child of our happy little family, but I do know what I'm doing. Occasionally. [ the caveat is needed, given how much he's utterly fucked up. but with another huff of breath, tony shrugs his shoulders. ] I figured when you, Thor, Wanda, and whatever Danvers is supposed to be couldn't beat him, there was only one more shot left. So I took it.

[ he weighs that for a moment before he refocuses his attention on the crossroads ahead of them. ]

Kind of disappointed in being trapped in Farmville with no cell phone service for the rest of eternity, but better than wherever Thanos is, I guess.

[veracious]

Knowing you, you'll have this place on the network in no time.

[ Steve huffs a laugh even if the Tony Stark standing across from him lacks the bite, lacks some of the arrogance he's come to find so familiar over the years. There's little peace to be had in what happened, in everything they had to lose to get here, where they are, standing across from one another.

He turns his eyes to the road as well, resisting the urge to look back, make sure that the man he's seeing is real. He goes quiet, pensive, but there's fatigue in his features, a weariness that eats at his very bones. He's not sure who came back from the battle with Thanos - Steve Rogers or the soldier he tried to be. ]

I never doubted you, Tony.

[ Even when they stood at opposing sides of the airport tarmac, when they circled conference tables, when they fought to the death in the deep of a bunker, when stared one another down across the grassy lawn of a lake house at the end of everything - Steve would have trusted Tony to do what had to be done, in the end. And here they are. ]

There wasn't time to tell you that. Wasn't time for much of anything, really.

[ Count on Steve Rogers and Tony Stark to go roaring full speed ahead to save the world, after all. ]

taking the main roads

[yeshou]

[ Wen Kexing is stalking his way down the main roads as well, unconcerned about the warnings of danger or if they are properly armed or not. It's probably good fortune that he ends up walking beside Steve. Not necessarily choosing to at first, but merely moving together by degrees because they happen to be taking the same route. ]

Supposedly it leads to one of their other villages.

[ Settlement was the word, but he's not entirely sure what that entails yet. It looks like a farming town to him. Looking down the road ahead, he frowns, before turning to actually take in the stranger. ]

They could have taken a fork somewhere. It's different when you're in a a wagon. Maybe they hid their trail.

[veracious]

Have you been? To the other villages.

[ Settlements, villages. Steve doesn't know the difference and frankly, he doesn't seem to care what terminology is used for this strange, new place. He has a million questions, and ask they walk the roads in spite the warnings, he keeps his eyes on the landscape, mapping it out and making mental notes. As many as he can. ]

I wondered that - hiding their trail. Though then we'd have to ask why. I doubt anyone will give us an answer but it's a good point. [ A frown, and he rakes one hand back through his hair. ]

Sorry. Steve. Rogers. A little preoccupied, didn't mean to be rude. [ His mind feels like it's spinning in a thousand different directions, but he offers his hand out all the same. ] You new here, too?

[yeshou]

I haven't. I was- I needed to find something first.

[ He struggles a little with that explanation, unused to having the option to give his thoughts. Outside of a precious few people, Wen Kexing has rarely been seen as a human. Walking alongside anyone as an equal, just a fellow traveler caught by strange fortune, is still a new feeling for him. He's used to being on guard from even strangers. ]

But they said there were other homes they had built. I want to see if they are the same as this one, all farms.

[ Because it is definitely unusual for a mere farming village to have the power to summon people from entirely different worlds. That much he does understand. It's eerie. ]

They're quick to praise us and wary of letting us go too far. That means they want something.

[ And if they managed to pick up him, it must have been an accident. No one would actually want a dangerous outcast in their ranks. He finds himself surprised at Steve's introduction--once again too fair and polite for him. He's not quite sure what the extended hand is about, but after some thought, he pulls an apple he managed to earn earlier from his pocket and offers it gently over. ]

Wen Kexing. I just arrived through their weird ghost pool earlier. It left all my money behind.

[ But he managed to at least give something in answer to what he assumes was a request. Good deed accomplished? Wen Kexing raises his hands together in a salute of respect. ]

You think this is a game they are playing with us?

Cadens; training grounds

[ofwovenstone]

[Cassandra is far less graceful than she usually is; she’s still drained, still weak from the summoning and she has spent… enough time on the training grounds as to lose track of just how long she’s been there, pushing herself. Harder, and harder, desperate to keep herself busy. Keep herself out of her own head. Away from the memories of dying. Of dying at the hands of her sister-in-law.

She’s graceless enough that she stumbles and is only kept on her feet by the grace of someone else, his hand catching her by the arm, keeping her from going completely sprawling.

His question catches her off-guard. She’s not used to concern. From anyone at all, friend or stranger. Particularly when it’s aimed at her. The answer to his question is, of course, a resounding no, but the lie falls easily from her lips.]

Of course

[she tells him, managing a slight, exhausted smile that doesn’t quite reach her haunted blue-grey eyes, although it’s still genuine. Still friendly. She tucks a few white-streaked dark curls that have slipped loose behind her ear.]

My apologies. I didn’t mean to trip you up. It seems the Summoning takes quite a lot out of those being Summoned.

[It’s the truth, of course. It’s just not all of it.]

[veracious]

[ Steve keeps a hand on her arm as she rights herself to make sure she's steady, then drops it back to his side. The exhaustion on her face mirrors his own, though he's had plenty of practice in hiding his. Battle after battle after battle and he's kept up the careful, calm, and collected facade he's known best for.

It's not dishonest, either, because the smile he offers her is warm, even if it's not quite as bright as it might have once been. ]

The Summoning, right. I have to admit, it's taken it out of me too.

[ His very strength seems to be drained, but they'd warned him of that when he arrived sputtering and confused. It doesn't change the eerie mistrust that's settled deep in his gut. He has too many questions and too few answers, with too little time to connect the dots. ]

You just arrive here, too? I'm still trying to get the lay of the land.

[ He's scoping it out, mapping it out, checking any door that's unlocked, making sure no stone is left unturned as subtly as one can. ] Steve Rogers, ma'am. [ He offers a hand. ]

[ofwovenstone]

[Normally Cassandra is far better at hiding what she’s truly feeling, used to wrapping the façade of being fine, of nothing being wrong whatsoever, around herself like a cloak. Never letting anyone see just how badly she might be shaken, or how exhausted she is. But she’s been torn apart, tormented, taken and laid in the path of her family and they’d not even realised it; on top of the Summoning and however long she’d been flinging herself into physical exertion on the training ground the ability to pretend all is well is almost beyond her fingertips, the façade of being fine ragged and tattered.

And at least it seems there’s some truth to their words, that the Summoning is draining to everyone to be brought here. That’s… something, she supposes.

She nods.]

I’ve been doing much the same. Seeing what I can learn about this place. [And I think there’s more to this than what they’ve told us. But she doesn’t say it aloud. At least not in so many words.] It’s certainly… interesting.

[And there is a wealth of layers to the word interesting, carried in her voice.

He introduces himself, offers a hand, and this time her smile is brighter as she takes his offered hand.]

Cassandra de Rolo. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve, although I wish it was under less… unusual circumstances.

ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴅᴇɴs

[freightcars]

( He shows up sometime after Steve. Could be hours, could be a day. In either case, he manages to piss somebody off almost immediately. They brought him out of the well, sluggish and disoriented, and the lady in charge didn't make it halfway through her greeting before he had a metal hand wrapped around somebody's throat. Turns out, you don't have to be in top form to almost choke somebody out with a vibranium fist. Steve might catch rumblings of it — some salty guard with a bruised throat complaining hoarsely to anybody that'll listen about the crazy man with the metal hand.

They show him the barracks and the mess, and while nostalgia eats at him, it's taken a back seat to wariness. The first place he really goes for any significant amount of time is the training yard. Not because he's suddenly in the mood for a pleasant, meditative workout, but because apparently they're just handing out weapons to any idiot that happens to wander through.

He's pretty sure they're loaners.

Take bets on whether or not he cares. Three guesses, and the first two don't count.

He's already squirreled away a knife into his boot, and he's half-way through eyeballing a crossbow when the guard with the bruised throat spots him and comes over with a couple more buddies in tow. The scene looks a little something like this:

One salty, overcompensating guy pretending he's not a little scared. Three less uncertain people behind him, hands casually resting on their blades. Hoarse guy's saying something along the lines of, "You're not taking any of this outside of the yard. You still feel like a tough guy?"

And then there's Bucky, standing deadpan and unruffled, who drawls back a dry — )

Do I know you?

( The guard bristles and bites back a frustrated, "Funny. It's been five hours, I'm sure you can take a guess."

His flat, monotone reply isn't doing much to de-escalate the situation. )

Doesn't ring a bell.

( New phone, who dis. )

yells

[veracious]

[ The crazy man with the metal hand.

Steve knows the story as well as the hoarse guard can tell it, by the way it's traveled throughout the trainees and newcomers. Here only a day and he begins to get the feeling that nothing can be kept secret in a place like this. It's why he made friends with the guards overlooking the training grounds, clocked where they wore their blades and how they moved when they sparred. A soldier marking another soldier, a silent sort of sizing up that, to anyone else, would look only like a mildly curious onlooker.

But a metal hand - he hadn't seen anyone like that here, even though the words alone strike a very real and very sharp image. A man dropping from a freight car, the strike of metal unrelentless and ruthless on a falling helicarrier, the firm hug on a battlefield, a friend, turning to dust. It makes his stomach flip sickly in his gut.

Not here. It can't be.

But a few trainees scurry by, abandoning their section of the training grounds, and when Steve looks up, he's sure he's hallucinating. Maybe it's the exhaustion, but he recognizes the cut of the shoulders, the deadpan drawl, and his body moves long before his brain catches up with it. He shoulders his way into the conversation, smiling all easy but there's something tired and tight behind his eyes. ]

Gotta say I don't think any of us are feeling tough these days, fellas.

[ A hand stretches out toward the three guards, disarming, his posture straight but commanding attention. Steve can't look behind him yet, just in case its some trick of the light. But he knows better.

The guard still seems tense, but takes a half step backward when Steve injects himself into the conversation. ]

Summoning's got some of us wound tight. [ A glance back, and that's all it takes. He looks different than he remembers, and for a moment he sort of stutterstops, blinking dumbly for a fraction of a second before he turns back to the guard, whose hand still remains at his blade. ]

We don't want any trouble here, do we, Buck?

fingerguns

[freightcars]

( For a split second, he expected the sudden presence in the corner of his eye to be another guard coming in to join the party. The tension never made itself visible, but a little twitch of vibranium fingers is just about all that gives away how ready he'd been to react to something less than diplomatic.

Frankly, it feels a little bit like he's been sucker-punched when he processes who it actually is.

He legitimately does forget about the guard for a second there — fortunately that one's a little less obvious, what with this whole de-escalation effort happening right now. )

Right. ( A toneless, careful agreement. ) Hate for things to get out of hand.

( Through some miracle herculean effort, he manages to drag his eyes back to the guards. Inflectionless, affectless, so utterly level it's near-impossible to tell whether or not he's being sarcastic when he addresses them; )

You guys've been great. Thank you for your service. Have a nice day.

( There's a pregnant, awkward pause like the guards don't know how to respond. Apparently getting outright dismissed isn't a common reaction they're used to being levelled with. One of them's doing some pretty obvious intense math trying to figure out whether or not he's joking. )

sorry work got me but - slams into this etc

[veracious]

[ For as much as Steve is focused on the guard, hand still amiably outstretched, his attention is doubly on the man standing behind him. Bucky. How he managed to get here, how they both wound up in a place like this, he doesn't know. He's struck, too, by the dull, monotony timbre of the man's voice.

He's not he man from the war, from the freight car, from DC and Wakanda. Every time they meet they're both so different, and Steve feels the weight of that, of the time missed between each stopping point on the journey. What has he missed now, he wonders, as he glances back again to a man that doesn't look like the friend he'd left behind.

There was never enough time. ]

See? No trouble here.

[ Calculated, careful, and a doctored smile, Steve lowers his hand between himself and the offended guard. The man stares between them, suspicious, his jaw working and Steve is only halfway prepared to fight. He's tired, above anything else, and he hadn't exactly come out here looking for a fight. ]

I'll keep an eye on him, make sure he stays out of trouble.

[ And the guard seems to accept that for what it is, if only because the frightened one behind gives his friend an elbow to the side. Bucky and Steve at looks alone could take them, after all. So the round-bellied guard gives a huff, a derisive we'll be watching you two, and creates some space. Not quite out of earshot, and the eyes on his back makes Steve's skin prickle.

He turns, meeting his friend face to face for the first time, and the bravado, the serious mask of Captain America dissolves, revealing tired Steve Rogers deep beneath. ]

... the crazy man with the metal hand. It has a ring to it, I'll give you that.

[ Because he can't seem to find the words for everything else he wants to say. ]