You have spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Perhaps you've made some friends (or maybe an enemy or two). Either way, you aren't expected to spend all of your time on the Station. El Nysa needs you, after all, and you promised you'd help the planet thrive. Are you ready?
Submit an AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 OLYMPIA REP POINTS OR 2 WYVER REP POINTS, respectively, HERE or HERE. THESA STATION
All refugees on the station are called to the hangar where a large-scale teleporter has been set up; everyone will be sent to the planet together. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait. Before they depart, all new refugees will be given a starter kit!
 You may have heard about earlier technical difficulties, but don't worry. I promise everything is in perfect working order this time. I'd say I tested it myself, but since that's not exactly possible, you'll just have to trust me! (Please.)
The older refugees will also be there to guide you to ensure no one is left confused... or behind. Make sure you wait for them — I've been detecting something odd so I'll be having them meet you at the landing site. Good luck, refugees! Not that you'll be needing it or anything...
The arrays begin to hum and glow, quickly building into a brilliant wash of light. It creates a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa. With the night sky as a canvas, the beam can be seen all the way from Olympia and Wyver — a view that has the natives whispering of blessings.
As a sudden but beautiful aurora splays across the sky, the refugees down on the planet receive a message asking them to travel to the landing site — and warning them to prepare for what may come of the strange readings Zasere's gotten from the teleport itself.
Traveling through the light leaves the impression of blinding starlight, a strange sense of weightlessness, and a disorienting moment of total sensory deprivation. The radiance of your teleport hangs bright in the sky above you, a shimmering aurora that reflects off the calm waters below, visible for miles all around.
You've landed on a peninsula to the east of the South Outpost. There's little here — scattered trees on spring-barren plains, with a few overgrown, dilapidated structures poking out of the brush. All is quiet save for the keening of animals and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. This lonely desolation is hardly the bustling cities and vibrant cultures you were promised back on the station...
BY CAMPFIRE'S GLOW. But waiting for you is a group of your predecessors, and with them, a veritable tent city, with portable stoves, coolers of food and drink, comfortable bedrolls, and cheerful rings of bonfires — all that you need to make merry of the night, courtesy of Overseer Voss, who has, thanks to his interest in blessed meteorological phenomena and refugees, decided to make a holy expedition of the affair.
Settle in, meet new comrades, and enjoy yourself, for you've safely completed your journey. But don't wander too far from the fires — the dark is closing in, and there's a strange, electric feeling in the air, the scent of ozone drifting on the breeze. And what were those odd readings Zasere mentioned?
A SHEPHERD OVER THE FLOCK. The spring sun dawns on a grey morning, already burning away the fog rolling in off the sea. It quickly becomes apparent that Voss and his entourage of acolytes have been up for hours, hard at work. They've set up a brightly-draped stage and a travel pulpit, magically enchanted to amplify his voice, and as the sun breaks over the horizon, Voss is all set to do what he does best: proselytize.
 As our Goddess has sent Her blessing once before to herald the coming of those touched by Her light, so She has done once again! Here you see them, those surrounded by the light of our Goddess, each of them bearing the mark upon their skin of Her holiest of hands! Do you not see? Do none among you bear witness to the righteousness of Her message? Perhaps this is why our people have shamed themselves in front of our Goddess—
[ He continues for another 15 minutes... ]
Nevertheless. See you them before us now! See them as they are, coming to our gates with Her reminder, that these people must be treated with the utmost respect and care. Thesa's divinity is not to be treated with such flagrant disregard! Those who She chooses are not ours to use as mindless fodder, to hurt, to torture — shame upon those who allowed such deeds to shame us under Her watchful gaze!
To those of you who have just arrived here on our doorstep, be not afraid! The Temples of Thesa welcome you to our home with hearts and minds open! Should you ever find yourself in need of solace, seek out the Temples, as there are no greater allies to you than those of us within the Temple walls. You are welcome all to Olympia!
As he steps away from the enchanted podium, he can be heard saying aside to an acolyte, "How was that? Heavy on the shame, but I think it went well!" While he will not leave the area immediately, his acolytes will politely turn away attempts to speak with him and remind anyone interested that they can leave a message at the Temples.
Despite going off without hitch, the new refugees' arrival isn't entirely without incident. It seems that the "blessed" beam of light that brought the refugees down to El Nysa brought something else along with it — a sliver of the Storm. At least the beam was short enough that only a small fraction managed to squeeze through.
But it's enough to wreak a little havoc around the landing site and along the road back toward Olympia and Wyver — and even, for a few days, in the cities themselves.
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE. The Storm is an undeniably destructive force, and that's proven with this small sliver's effect as it ripples across the continent. While there's no visible sign of its presence, strange phenomena soon begin to appear, corresponding with Zasere's odd readings.
They're innocuous little things at first. A sudden silence, animals going quiet, insects stilling. All technology, no matter how advanced, ceases working. You discover when you check with a friend, the clock on your phone is twelve minutes slow even though you'd swear only a minute had passed — time missing. Walking through the woods takes longer than it should when brushing past one bush leads to brushing past that same bush again — and again, and again, the area looping on itself. It keeps you trapped, going in circles for minutes, even hours, before finally releasing you in a random direction.
Or perhaps you'll feel a sense of deja vu, like you've walked down this road, taken this turn, seen that bird fly from this branch before. This is the second time that cat has crossed your path. The person you're meeting, you already know their name; you're certain you've already met.
WE GOT COWS. The Storm sliver also ushers in sudden, localized weather anomalies — heavy storms, blizzards, strong winds, and more. Affected areas range from just a few feet wide to nearly half a mile. One minute, the sky may be sunny and clear, but the next dark storm clouds roll in, unleashing torrential rain. Small tornadoes surge along the road, kicking up winds strong enough to knock people over and carry objects away. Hail hurtles down from the sky, but only in a ten foot radius. Temperatures fluctuate wildly between one extreme and the next, from heat waves to cold snaps. Soupy fog blankets the area, thick enough that you can barely see your hand in front of your face. Good luck finding your way!
FORGETTING IS SO LONG. The visions come on suddenly and with very little warning. One second, you're carrying on as normal — but the next, you blink and find yourself (and anyone near you) somewhere else completely. You may recognize this place as a moment from the past, one that you lived through. It's a memory, your memory, and it now replays around you in exceptional detail, unnervingly lifelike. Or you may not recognize it at all. It might belong to the person next to you, or to someone else entirely — a memory that the Storm has swallowed up.
Either way, the scene plays out just as it once did, and there's nothing you can do to stop it — or escape it. The memory surrounds you to no end: every door you open leads nowhere, every hallway you turn down continues on forever, every horizon you flee toward hangs just out of reach. And linger too long or turn the wrong corner, and you may find yourself abruptly stuck in a completely different memory. It's almost tempting, then, to give up, to let the past sweep you away...
But this isn't the full might of the Storm. Look closely, and you can see that in the walls of this trap, there are minute, hairline cracks, a facade of fractured glass. Imperfections in the memory where the real world is breaking through. It seems the only way to escape these memories is to find those cracks and break through them — by force, by will, or by some other method entirely.
The time is coming to make a choice — perhaps not a permanent choice, but unless you want to spend the rest of your nights out under the stars, you'll need to pick which city you will initially spend your time in. On the horizon, you will see that people have arrived to help you make that decision...
A FORK IN THE ROAD. Refugees and the hyper-religious wishing to hear Voss speak are not the only ones out and about under the light of the aurora. Citizens of both Olympia and Wyver have flocked to a point on the road midway between the cities and where the refugees have appeared, and they all have the same goal in mind: convincing the newcomers who have just descended in the blessed light of Thesa to come to their city and not the other.
They've come with bribes — that is, examples of what their cities have to offer. If you spent much time at the exhibition up on Thesa Station, you might recognize some of what's being shown off, though the offerings here are markedly more tangible, and shown off by hawkers wearing substantially fewer clothes.
A herd of pegasi accompanies the Olympians, while a line of flying serpents is stabled at a tent bearing Wyver colors. Refugees are given the chance to experience solo flights and are told that if they prove their loyalty, they may have the privilege of owning such fine beasts one day themselves. The Olympians have also brought couture clothing, jewelry, and makeup to offer a taste of Olympian splendor, while the Wyver delegation has brought along fine weapons, sense-enhancing jungle plants, and small vials of diluted dragon’s blood (drinking confers a temporary boost in strength) to demonstrate their might. The Olympians speak proudly of the glory of the Temples of Thesa; the Wyverns speak of the Volkkran Pact and inform newcomers that they can make a pilgrimage to the summit of Namarak Mountain at the next full moon.
This is as good a time as any to compare your plans with others around you and exchange contact information before going your separate ways with people who are going to the city you are not. When you’re ready to go, don’t worry about safe passage — the natives of each city will gladly escort you there in luxury.
OF WHITE AND GOLD. The people of Olympia are ecstatic that you’ve come to join them... So much so that they’ve prepared a grand tour of the city for the new arrivals. You will be introduced to the major businesses in the city, including businesses that they are proud to point out were founded by refugees.
Refugees who have been here for some time already are encouraged to pair up with newcomers to introduce them to the parts of the city they like best. To facilitate this, they’ve made arrangements with many of the business owners: new refugees who visit their shops (and older refugees who escort them) are given discounts!
Just a few examples of many: the Wyvernest offers free desserts to first time visitors with the purchase of a drink, refugees who visit the Silk Wyrms can have one custom (though not exceedingly expensive) outfit made for them for free, and visitors to Shades Darker are offered a half-hour session with one of the prostitutes at half price… or access to a private room, if they seem to have taken a shine to one of their companions on the tour.
Lastly, tour guides will point out that over the course of the next week, the train to Flona Cove will allow new refugees to board for free so that they can experience the seaside for themselves. With the weather finally starting to warm, this is as good a time as any for a visit to the beach, isn’t it?
OF RED AND BLACK. Life in Wyver is typically a sink-or-swim sort of experience — but in light of the valor recently displayed by their predecessors, the natives are now more willing to assist in getting newcomers settled. The entire journey here they have been talking up the virtues of their city… and now is the time to show everything that's on offer.
The well-known businesses in the city are prepared for the influx of newcomers. Some are giving out discounted samples of their products while others are offering a more hands-on experience: in exchange for working a few hours, they will give training in whatever task is being performed.
At the Forged, newcomers can learn the basics of crafting simple weapons (and take one of their successes home), while visitors to spas near the lagoons are trained in the art of massage. Those who wander to Falmi’s Ring can learn the art of pugilism or how to keep (and fix) books if they're more inclined to the gambling that goes on. Newcomers interested in Wyver's dragons can get hands-on experience at the Fields of the Exalted's nursery. While they walk from place to place, a guide may point out a job posting from Highwind Hires, noting that refugees can make a name for themselves outside official channels.
The last stop on the tour is the Undergrowth. The guides speak of the jungle in reverent tones and caution new refugees not to wander too far in. They warn never to explore alone, but also urge refugees to take time to familiarize themselves with it; after all, the jungle is an important part of life in Wyver, and those who are going to be living here should understand it as well as they do.
You've chosen your path, refugee, but that doesn't necessarily make it a permanent one. Watch out for the strange effects of the Storm, which linger still in the two cities and everywhere in between for the next few days before dissipating just as mysteriously as they came, but otherwise enjoy the welcome and make yourself at home — after all, this is home now.
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no subject
People that grew up as they did needed to be cared about, and they had to be given an opportunity to care in some twisted capacity. Order through pain. There was no order without sacrifice in some way.
And when the scene shifted, Rumlow knew it wasn't his immediately. The voice, the scene, the girls were all wrong, which meant that they had made a transition into one of Ava's memories. She was younger and fiercer than he remembered her, practically willing to attack anything, and yet, he too saw her capacity to care that young, especially when the other girl was involved. Someone with as much combat experience as he had saw her move, and it would take her much longer to master a skill of feigning a combat slip.
His arm reached out to slip around her lithe waist, offering the little comfort that he could given the situation. The murder was expected, and it was clear that the man in the uniform was looking to push Ava. That he offered her a reason and a means to kill him was just the beginning no doubt.]
Is this the Red Room?
no subject
Yes. That's Ivan.
[The answer is quiet, simple. The knife spins on the ground; a good knife, carved handle, and Ava lunges for it, grabbing it from the floor and holding it in a reverse grip. There are many things the Red Room tries to take from you, but the one thing you can never allow yourself to be is weak. And so she goes for the knife. Ivan's smile is sharp, but he's clearly pleased to some extent that she took the knife.
Ava is all sharp edges, and there's even a flash of teeth before she's crossing the distance. She's got ability, fast and agile, her frame small but lithe, and she's light on her feet as she closes the distance, but the way she moves is clearly unfinished. Fighting for her at this age is mostly survival and desperation, even if she's one the best of her class, they're all still young.
Ivan on the other hand, is larger, has a longer reach, and has decades of skill. She slashes at him and he sidesteps and hits her hard, knocking her down. But Ava's eyes are hard and hot and she gets back up to her feet. And this repeats, over and over, with Ivan growing harsher in the ways that he knocks her down, until bruises pepper her arms and her lips are split and she has a bloody nose. But she doesn't falter. She drags herself back to her feet, time and again.
She doesn't know when to stay down.]
<< An animal needs to learn to heel the hand that feeds it. >>
[Ava's smile is bloody and bitter as she meets his eyes.] << I'm not an animal. >>
[And that's when Ivan frowns, something stormy and disappointed in his eyes and he pulls out a knife, pushing the offensive, and Ava manages to avoid the first two strikes, but it's graceless. Falling and rolling off her shoulder, sliding out of the way. Then the blade cuts into her shirt, slicing the fabric and leaving thin red lines, controlling the blade, trying to make a point. He doesn't really cut her, not badly. But as she dodges the blade, he backhands her across the temple and midstrike it's not hard for him to knock the knife from her hand. He nods to the soldiers and they grab her, dragging her small body off somewhere as she struggles.
Ava holds onto Rumlow a little bit tighter, her heart racing.] It wasn't a good place.
no subject
In that way, Ivan's 'training' of Ava didn't surprise him at all. He knew that the Soviets were some of the harshest trainers, but they also produced extremely good results. They knew how to break a person down and build them back up, but this was still Ava whom he had taken an early shine to when he had met her on a private airstrip as if he were picking up a parcel for SHIELD.
She had, in essence, been trained as he had. She had suffered physical abuse to be taught skills, to be taught to avoid the knife next time. Harsh discipline was, in his mind, worthwhile. It had produced him after all, and he knew tough love better than he knew the kindness of it. It was clear that they had both learned and maybe on some level recognized that what happened to them was not entire healthy or normal.
He lifted his hand from where it rested on the floor and carded his fingers through her red hair, watching the scene play out the rest of the way. He hummed low in his throat, a sound of understanding.]
Order in pain. [It was a simple mantra. It worked for him.] You said that Romanoff put a bullet in his brain? I'm surprised it wasn't you who finished your training on that act.
warning for electrotorture
Order in pain. [It's a soft echo; not a mantra she'd ever heard before, but it was a truth. It was how the Red Room worked, and from what she'd seen, how Hydra worked too. She nods at the question, a low murmur of agreement.] Everyone thought he was dead after the night Natasha picked me up in Odessa. No way he could have survived the explosion. I would have killed him without blinking, if I had the chance. But I was supposed to disable the OPUS machine while Natasha kept his attention.
[They'd all had their roles to play. The way she describes how things had gone down in the end is short, skips some of the big pieces, her own personal tragedy, doesn't mention Alexei. Not because she doesn't trust him, but because it's a hard thing for her to talk about at all, to anyone. Even with Alexei's name carved on the wall of SHIELD agents that have lost their lives, she doesn't even talk to Natasha about it much. she'd told her team about it, once. But they'd wanted to understand her, wanted to splice her life into some hero's tale like one of the Avengers, so she gave them her story.
It'd mean more if she told him, so she doesn't, not yet. It'd be more than just why she pushes herself, and why she is what she is, and the fact that she's not anyone's hero.
The memory, however, continues to play out. Soldiers in uniform dragging her away, through doors to what looks like a bathroom. They handcuff her wrists around a pipe under a sink, and she struggles, alone for a few minutes until one of the soldiers comes back and douses her in cold water. They leave her there for a while, struggling against the cuffs until her small wrists bleed, small feet slipping on the slick tiles, unable to get her footing, shivering from the cold.
It's later when Ivan walks in, and she's exhausted, energy spent on her struggles, so all she can do is look up at him, and there's still anger there, but with less of the hate. Less pointed and vicious, most of that spent. He tells her than she is an animal, worthless, something for him to shape into something that can be used. And as he talks, demeaning and humiliating, he beats her, kicks her as she tries to escape, but there's nowhere for her to go.]
<< An animal that can't be broken is worthless. So it's the same. The Red Room demands loyalty. We are all good patriots, we all understand the cause. And you could be special. >>
[But the gentleness, how soft and coy his tone is, doesn't make her punishment gentle. There's a slim length of metal, and it sparks at one end with current. Her wet skin makes it conduct better, gets more coverage, and he's careful about where he stands. He presses the end to her collarbone, through thin wet fabric and her body spasms. Ivan repeats the gesture, over and over, sometimes giving her space to breathe between his tortures, and sometimes he doesn't. He repeats it until he makes her scream, and then he smiles, drawing out those cries. If Rumlow's sharp, he might pick up on the fact that Ivan had her attached to the pipe for the acoustics. So that the sounds would carry. So that the other girls would hear her screams. This is a lesson for her, but also for all the others.
He tortures her until her body gives out, until she's shaking with sobs on the floor. And that's how the scene fades out into shadows.]
I hated being kept prisoner in 7B. But, remembering what the Red Room was like-- What Ivan was like? [HYDRA might not have been good people, but they'd never treated her like Ivan did. Even if she'd clearly learned those lessons, at least in part. She'd never been perfectly loyal, perfectly obedient, never a true patriot. Maybe it was why she was the one he gave to HYDRA. Instead of finishing the thought they both understand she just sighs, leans into Rumlow softly, curls fingers in the back of his hair.]
no subject
So comforting her and viewing her memories was nothing he hadn't done before. She seemed to take to his age old mantra easily, and for people like them, it might be the only truth that they could find in the dark of their own memories.] You had your mission and I expect that you followed it. That's the most important detail here.
[The memory plodded forward without a jump, and Rumlow had seen many people beaten and electrocuted in his lifetime. Hell, he'd experienced it more than once himself, so he knew that it was often one of the most painful experiences that left a person trembling and aching all over. It blanked the mind and left only agony in its wake, and one of the few times it had ever bothered him was to watch the Asset ground to nothing with electricity for refusing an order that the Soldier shouldn't have been placed on first and foremost.
That she was tied like an animal and tormented was more a method of common torture than any exotic. It was effective if rudimentary. Ivan was clearly enjoying himself, clearly pushing Ava to be something more than what she was displaying. He also understood the lesson well, and he didn't condone it. People needed to know where they stood and what would happen if they went against orders.]
You were kept like a weapon in a drawer in 7B, under-utilized because they didn't think you were ready. They wanted you trained more, but they always seem to forget that young women can lead in other capacities. [And she would have been better off learning in the world than stuck in a little room. They had done their best, but they too were forced to follow orders. That's just the way things were, and it was a necessary evil they had all had to face.]
Seems to me that Ivan guy enjoyed breaking you, and that ain't the place of a true instructor. It just becomes torture at that point and loses the value of the lesson.
no subject
There's comfort in the contact, in being close to someone like she hasn't in a long time. Not like this. Not since that night in the burnt out lab, when she'd realized what her mother had done to her and she'd crumbled, realized how broken she was and Alexei had held her head in his lap and stroked her hair.]
I did. I didn't-- save anyone. But we got rid of the machine, Natasha shot Ivan and I watched him die before the gunfire started.
[There are people with whom this would be an uncomfortable admittance, where Alexei would hang heavy on the air, like a ghost that still whispered her name, but with Rumlow it's easier, simpler. Just his warmth, the solid feeling of him, his fingers in her hair, how he's something tangible she can hold onto, and that's good. Maybe someone else would see it as fucked up- and maybe it is- but in a way he's safer than even Natasha. He tried, at least, cared enough to try, and that's more than just about anyone else in her life, but especially from those days.]
Yeah, Ivan deserved to die. But to be honest, if they hadn't kept the leash so tight around my throat, I might not have run. But I felt like I was choking on it. I couldn't stay. It wasn't you, I just... I felt like I was going to die in that place. And I wanted more than that.
no subject
His hand slid around from her hair and cupped her cheek, his thumb dropping to force her chin up a bit. He might not be able to see her express with only flickering embers of their dying fire, but he could tell that the very idea of saving was extremely important to her.]
If the basis of your success is if you shot a man or his goons in the head, you need to reality check, Ava. Team success is based on the objective, and if the objective was to shut down that OPUS machine, you won the prize. And if I hear you say you didn't save anyone, I'm to charlie-horse you.
[So much of their society was based on who would be the best, the fastest, the smartest, the most stand out performances. The problem with the age of super heroes was that the normal Joe's were left feeling like they didn't measure up when it was likely their jobs were just as important. He was the Commander of STRIKE, but against Captain America, he had his ass handed to him. Did that make him less of a hero of his own story? No, he understood his limitation, pushed at them but in the end, he had a job to do.
And Ava was special. She could likely be on the level of Cap and Romanoff and all those other super people, but he was still care-taker of her enough now to understand that she had to grow into the role and not expect it all to come to her.]
I wasn't around much in the later years, and you know it. I had my own job to do, but I never agreed with how they kept you. I ain't mad you escaped or ran amok; I know how that goes. The more rules you put on a kid, the more likely they are to rebel. But what you were back then isn't what you are even now.
no subject
There were three of us when we went to stop Ivan. Three people against Ivan and his personal army were never particularly good odds, and we all knew it. His name was Alexei. He died because I wasn't fast enough.
[It's not the whole story, of course. Maybe not even entirely true, aside from how it plays in her memory. But Ava's not a good person; if Alexei had just been some random SHIELD agent his death wouldn't have affected her like this, with the guilt that got under her skin. He meant something to her, and the uncomfortable truth is that it wouldn't entirely surprise her if even in the dark Rumlow could see through her.
It's easy both to keep and to tell secrets in the dark.
She nods, sighs softly as she curls fingers tight against his shoulder, leans into the way his thumb holds her chin steady. She hasn't really told many people about Alexei. She told her team, but not Sana. Not that she could really talk to Sana after everything that had happened, fully aware that SHIELD was monitoring all her communications with everyone. It was why they'd started just sending each other songs. Because there was no code there, no secrets, just knowing her best-friend well enough to understand what it meant. She'd like to say it was why she'd never replied to Dante, but no, that just hurt too much. He'd told her to her face that Alexei's death was her fault, and even his letter hadn't really erased that, as if it could.]
I know, I'm different. I try to think that's mostly a good thing, though. Not like I can go back.
no subject
That was the abridged version it seemed, but even in the dark with only the glow of her eyes identifying where she was looking, it was clear that Alexei was a sore subject. She hadn't mentioned the person before this and there had been plenty of opportunities.]
He died because you weren't fast enough? As in, the machine you were deactivating exploded and killed him or...?
[He needed more facts to make an actual assessment, even if it might be painful for her to recount even to him. He respected that she might not want to kiss and tell, that the more she said could reveal other aspects of their relationship which could put her under further scrutiny. Not that he would use any of this against her, but it was an insight she might not want from him.
His thumb stroked her chin affectionately while still holding it up so he could look into the aspects of her face he could see in the dark.]
You can't go back. You have to master your skills and use them as you see fit. That's all anyone can do.
no subject
I'm doing my best. [There's a slight smile, and she breathes a little easier. Fingers curling against the side of his neck. Always tactile, always easier when there was contact, something to touch, hold onto. Rumlow was probably the only person alive that knew that about her. She sighs softly, and then she slowly starts talking, recounting not the details, but at least the events, the important ones.]
Ivan had set up a lab in the cisterns under the Sultan Ahmet mosque in Istanbul. He had over a hundred people with guns. People like me, except the ones he'd kept. Snipers on the scaffolding, just- bullets everywhere. Alexei was trying to draw their fire so I had enough time to deactivate the machine. He got hit right as I got it to work. And then it exploded.
[She quiets for a moment, a blink of her eyes as that vague feeling of the loss curls in her just from talking about it. She hasn't really talked about losing him, about how she felt. With her team she was pragmatic, facts-only, pretending that anger was the only thing there. Rumlow could probably tell that wasn't the case, and so she wasn't pretending.]
The machine had eight power sources feeding into the central unit. [Like an octopus, like a skull with tentacles.] If we'd just tried to blow it up, it would have leveled the mosque and a not insignificant portion of the surrounding area. So you're right. I saved people, I just didn't save Alexei.
no subject
And the problem was the location as well. It was prime for maximum destruction, as HYDRA often was. Hiding in plain sight it was often called, even if it was tucked in some underground place. Even without the potential damage to the population, that many guns against three people?]
So, did all three of you know and understand what you were getting yourself into when you entered that mosque, or was he in the dark to what was happening? I mean, I can think of only two reasons a boy goes into a situation like that without a debriefing.
[He understood the complications of blowing up a machine with power in a sensitive area like the Sultan Ahmet mosque. That was the whole point, after all. Force other people to hesitate because the loss of potential life was too much to consider and the international incident would have been catastrophic. That hesitation might mean the plan works.]
I mean, you saved people, but now you're just belittling his death. Sounds like he had a choice, and he chose to draw fire. So, you thinking it's all about you having to save him and failing in that means his death isn't as heroic as it is. You trusted him to do a job, and it seems like he did it with the ultimate sacrifice. Now it's up to you to honour him in what you do from here on out.
no subject
[Ava sighs in the dark in a way that's pretty clear confirmation on that point. And probably part of why she feels so guilty about the whole thing. Although she's notably vague on whether or not she'd liked him back. It's a... complicated issue, one she's never really worked through because that would require talking to someone about it, and this conversation with Rumlow is just about the closest she's gotten to it.]
If you want to be technical, none of us really knew what we were getting into. Natasha's last intel put Ivan in New Jersey, though we knew there was a chance he'd be there. We expected mercenaries, but Stark was trying to track the rest of the project. They thought they were still embedded, no one expected Ivan to pull them back like some personal army. And Alexei was just a civ--
[She cuts herself off, shakes her head and sighs into his chest because that's not quite right, is it? There's a pause as she tries to rephrase it.] All Alexei really remembered was being a civilian. [She shrugs her shoulders a little, but there's a slight smile as she looks up at him in the dim light. Her eyes a little brighter with the emotion, the feelings.]
Maybe you're right. But he shouldn't have had to be a martyr. I dragged him into all of that. Even his best friend told me it was my fault he was dead after they had the funeral service.
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[Her words and the sigh was rather telling that Ava and this Alexei had clearly liked each other, so much so as to enter into a suicide mission with no clear facts and no team to back them up. It was likely a testament to their own skills that they hadn't been killed along with Alexei.
And the idea that the dead kid was just another brainwashed servant to the Soviets didn't pass his notice either. Likely, like so many others, the kid had been planted and it might have actually saved everyone a lot of heartache that he had died when he did, but he wasn't about to point that out. Alexei was a sore subject.]
He wasn't a martyr; he was a soldier. And sometimes soldiers have the make the hard calls for the greater good of the mission.
[He had a feeling that Alexei would have something to say about Ava dragging the guy into much of anything. People didn't wander into those situations without having some clue how it was about to go and very few would also run around to draw fire if they didn't understand the implications of the choice.]
People in grief need to blame someone or something in order to process. They tend to lash out at the closest thing to an answer that they have. Don't take it personally because in the end, drawing fire was Alexei's choice. We can only respect those choices.
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[There's something a little bit like humor at that, a slight quirk of her lips. She doesn't even bother claiming that he hadn't had a shot with her. They'd had sex in a shitty motel in Odessa, with Ava caught between the emotions from realizing what her mother had done to her and the sinking reality of how grim the path forward was starting to look. She'd needed to feel something. Nat had been off talking to Tony about algorithms for tracking down the other quantums. It was almost inevitable, really.]
He was still an idiot.
[But her voice is a little bit softer as she says it, and it's not really a criticism or an insult. It's hard to argue with Rumlow's idea that the only real choice here is to acknowledge his sacrifice, and grant him the respect of allowing him that. Coulson had his name put on the Wall they had at the SHIELD Academy, the names of people lost in the line of duty. Alexei would have liked that, she thinks.]
Maybe you're right. He sent me a letter later, trying to apologize and saying that he didn't believe it was my fault, but that if Alexei had never left with me that day he'd still be alive. And sometimes-- I wonder if Alexei really had a choice in that.
[These are questions she doesn't usually say outloud. They're things that come to her in the dark, and keep her awake. Finding out the truth of her origins leaves her with uncomfortable feelings, and the questions she can never entirely let herself push too deep, of how much of what she felt for Alexei was her own?]
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[He might not approve of her choice of places for sex, but what he didn't know, couldn't meet his disapproval. Of course, he wasn't about to judge her either. She was an adult and could make decisions for herself, so he was only here to make certain she didn't electrocute someone apparently and to make certain she was around so he didn't freeze to death in the storm.]
No, I know I'm right. Trust me, you think I haven't lost men and women under my command over the years? The guilt will eat you alive if you don't learn to let it go. Sure, you can feel bad for the loss and grieve them, but in the end, respecting their choice is the only real honour you'll ever give their memory.
[And her wondering at his choice because of... whatever circumstances made the kid believe he only was a civilian would complicate the issue. Alexei was dead, and questioning the level of choice was just going to lead down a dark road that would detract from the kid's sacrifice. No point doing that either.]
If you always question what motivates people, you'll go mad. It makes you paranoid.
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It was a very Romanoff thing to do, she supposed.]
Yeah, they are. Idiots.
[It's a little playful, though, which if nothing else says he managed to keep her thoughts from going too deep or dark. And it's a little fond, and with that underlying understanding that sometimes she's an idiot too. So she nods, breathes, and she curls in a little bit closer.] No wonder Natasha's always so edgy, then.
[It's not quite a joke, but it's a touch of mirth, a little piece of amusement, and making an attempt at letting it go, for the moment anyway. There was truth to it, though, of course- Natasha was always questioning what motivated people. It was why she was so good at what she did. But Rumlow was right in that it came with a certain degree of paranoia.
Ava couldn't say she escaped it entirely, but she was a little bit more willing to try, anyway. Even if she understood better than just about anyone where that came from for Nat.]
You want me to take first watch?
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He snorted at her comment about Romanoff, thinking she knew better than most of them about that. Romanoff was good about appearing casual in most situations, but they always had an eye out for her since she could sniff out details with little prompting from them. It would have been a pity to have to try to kill her; he didn't think she would have the same kind of mercy as Rogers when push came to shove.]
It might have also been because she never allowed herself to build personal connections because she's been suspicious of everyone. That's not a way to live.
[He shrugged and settled down, aware that the evening was only going to get colder. There was also no point arguing on who took which watch. They would even out the time anyway, so he wasn't concerned.]
Sure, it's yours. Wake me if something shows up or the storm blows itself out.
[He nestled a little closer to be aware of any movements she might make, and he closed his eyes. When he set his mind to it, it wasn't difficult to fall asleep. He knew she would wake him after all.]