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Open event log!
Who: Bucky Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
godwins) & open!
What: Event log, Bucky is sick, &c.
When: The week or so after the bombing.
Where: Around Olympia, and in the clinic.
Warning(s): Illness?
I.
[ Bucky was right up close to the bomb, when it went off. He dove behind a cart of oranges, or something that looked like oranges, shoving someone else . He hadn't seen it coming, of course, but he wasn't surprised either— at least, his reflexes weren't. He'd been in London, during the Blitz, and most of him still wasn't used to peacetime. After his ears stopped ringing and his fingers stopped shaking, it was a sense of duty that filled him up. He was a member of the guard. He was gonna go catch whoever did this.
And so, he's spent the better part of an afternoon running across the city, chasing rumor to rumor. If his hands feel a little more clammy than usual, he ignores that like the soreness in his limbs. Bucky is sure he's got one of the Shady Man's associates cornered at the end of this alleyway, and he's about to move in when he hears someone behind him. He turns his head around, to see who's standing there.
It makes him a bit dizzy. ]
II.
[ The fevers give him bright dreams, all in technicolor— an ferris wheel at an Indiana county fair, a fire in the Bavarian woods, hands reaching out to him, covered with ash. They leave a taste in his mouth when he wakes up, like cotton balls, but he doesn't remember them otherwise. Bucky's never been sick before, not that he can remember, and he decides he doesn't like it.
He might be in bed in his apartment or in bed at the clinic. It all runs together. If someone comes to visit Bucky during his convalescence, he'll be doodling in a notebook, mapping out the dimensions of the clinic so that he can make an escape. What he says, though, is always the same. ]
Cripes, this is boring.
godwins) & open!What: Event log, Bucky is sick, &c.
When: The week or so after the bombing.
Where: Around Olympia, and in the clinic.
Warning(s): Illness?
I.
[ Bucky was right up close to the bomb, when it went off. He dove behind a cart of oranges, or something that looked like oranges, shoving someone else . He hadn't seen it coming, of course, but he wasn't surprised either— at least, his reflexes weren't. He'd been in London, during the Blitz, and most of him still wasn't used to peacetime. After his ears stopped ringing and his fingers stopped shaking, it was a sense of duty that filled him up. He was a member of the guard. He was gonna go catch whoever did this.
And so, he's spent the better part of an afternoon running across the city, chasing rumor to rumor. If his hands feel a little more clammy than usual, he ignores that like the soreness in his limbs. Bucky is sure he's got one of the Shady Man's associates cornered at the end of this alleyway, and he's about to move in when he hears someone behind him. He turns his head around, to see who's standing there.
It makes him a bit dizzy. ]
II.
[ The fevers give him bright dreams, all in technicolor— an ferris wheel at an Indiana county fair, a fire in the Bavarian woods, hands reaching out to him, covered with ash. They leave a taste in his mouth when he wakes up, like cotton balls, but he doesn't remember them otherwise. Bucky's never been sick before, not that he can remember, and he decides he doesn't like it.
He might be in bed in his apartment or in bed at the clinic. It all runs together. If someone comes to visit Bucky during his convalescence, he'll be doodling in a notebook, mapping out the dimensions of the clinic so that he can make an escape. What he says, though, is always the same. ]
Cripes, this is boring.
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Tastes funny, doesn't it? Like licorice that's caught a cold.
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I wouldn't know. I'm not sure licorice... can catch a cold. Or can it even go bad...? But it's supposed to help.
[and it looks syrupy enough that it surely can at least provide some relief...?]
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[ Of course, he doesn't have a cold. ]
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[taking the little thimble-cup for the medicine from him]
My name is Linneus, by the way. You are...?
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[ He almost adds his military rank, as a reflex, but stops himself. ]
Bucky Barnes, at your service.
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Mr Barnes, then.
[unless told otherwise, better to be polite]
Have you been here long. Here, I mean, not the Sanctuary...
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[ Talking about small things is helping to keep his mind off of being sick and tired of being sick and tired. ]
What about you?
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[and it feels like he shall be adjusting for some time. He can't trust the feeling, every time he feels like he might have settled there is always something else.]
Technologies used here are unfamiliar and there are so many things that seem odd or strange that are... apparently commonplace. Someone said that there are dragons in one of the cafes...!
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[ His face lights up— it's clear he's getting ideas. ]
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[he didn't think of that...]
Would you want to? I imagine it might be frightening...!
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[ Bucky's afraid of heights. ]
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[Linneus is fine with heights - but heights and things that move, not so much.
Flight might be different, though. He has secretly always wanted to fly...]
I would try to once. I think it's too good of an experience to miss.
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"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." [ The last bit he says differently, in an impression that might not be recognizable as FDR even to someone who knew who FDR was. Still, it's at least clear he's quoting someone or something. ]
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[the change in tone catches his ear - it certainly sounds like a motto or a quote]
I haven't heard it before, but I think my home had a similar sentiment - "The cowardly man dies a thousand deaths".
But in short, there's no point talking myself out of a good experience.
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Funny how there's so many ways to say the same thing.
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Yeah, Shakespeare-who?]It's a good sentiment, I think. Interesting, how it's common amongst different places.
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[a moment's thought - what about one that might be less familiar...?]
This one may be obscure, or perhaps it's quite old - "don't open the door to hail the thief".
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[ Another pause, as he thinks. ]
Do you got "loose lips sink ships"? [ Seems appropriate, with the current attitude in Olympia. ]
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[a little shake of his head]
I don't believe I have. But I come from a landlocked country - I have never seen a ship.
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It means, "don't talk too much while the enemy might be watching." They put it on posters. [ He pantomimes a shushing gesture. ]
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