open rp post;

[thelegacy]

+ Leave me a starter, an idea, a picture, whatever you like! I'll work something out.
+ I ship pretty much whatever, but also very gen friendly.

+ Talk to me about smut first because: underage.
+ Hit me up on Plurk natalia_vdova or Discord (natalia_vdova#0150) or PM if you want to plot something.

+ Open to canonmates, crosscanon, whatever. But note his world is very Bad End

Comments

[thelegacy]

2023? Wow.

[He repeats the date after her, and there's shock there, because well. He hadn't known the time surges were this bad. The Earth part is at least reassuring. And she's here and she's alive, and that's-- he doesn't even know. His eyes are sharp for only a moment, settling fairly quickly, but it reminds him of home-- Of the base Tony had setup under the Arctic.

But the question about the shield brings his other hand up to touch the outer edge, and there's something vulnerable in the gesture. If her eyes are sharp, she might notice that it's more worn than Steve's shield. Scorched paint and chips in places. Tony had offered a new paint job, to do what he could when James had come back with it, but he didn't want to change it. It was the closest he'd get to ever touching his father.]

Ultron had it. And the shield generator Tony built me had shorted out during a fight, so I decided it was time to take it back.

[His words are careful. Honest, and with just a touch of that Rogers sass in how the words slide off his tongue. Not directly saying that it was his father's shield but trying to communicate something there, in the space between them. So he looks at her, a slight tilt to his head and it's just-- he wants to hug her, but he also doesn't want to make it awkward, when he can see that it is. So he scuffs his feet a little and there's a slight curl to broad shoulders.]

This is not where I'm supposed to be. But I think I'm okay with that.

[vdova]

[ Her eyes are sharp. She narrows them just a little when she realizes, and there's no denying that it's the same shield, just older. She resists the urge to press her lips together — he's lost, here, somewhere he doesn't technically belong, and she's not just going to leave him in the lurch. Not if he's really—

There's a lot to unpack in his statement, but while they have the time for that (probably), this isn't the place. She relaxes a little, nods towards the hall behind her, giving him a soft smile. ]

C'mon. I prefer to interrogate people in the dining room. We've got snacks in there, and cookies tend to make for loose lips.