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October 2018 Test Drive Meme

OCTOBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to October’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: HALLOWEEN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Wet and rotting corpses/zombies, ghosts, violence, blood, knives, possessed dolls, options for underage drinking

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

It’s not Halloween if you don’t make a trip to a cheesy haunted house. At least, that’s what everyone in Deerington likes to say. The old Victorian stands at the top of a hill, rickety and in desperate need of a new paint job. The yard and porch have been decorated with what you’d expect for your typical haunted house; fake spider webs spread across the overhang, painted foam grave markers with cheesy names like “Here lies Richard Cranium” and “BEWARE!!” in creepy letter etchings. You can see the blinking of variously timed strobe lights in some windows and the shadow of what you’re pretty sure is a full-sized doll standing in the window, meant to look like someone staring out at you. The rocking chair on the porch near the door has a skeleton with a bowl of candy in his lap, and a sign is propped up against the wall next to him.

“ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. TOUCH NOTHING AND NOTHING WILL TOUCH YOU!”

Well that sounds promising.

The first few rooms you enter are appropriately cheesy. There’s the silly burst of air that you hear just before a plastic figuring pops out of a poorly constructed coffin, the clicking sound of the machinery inside echoing in the room when it starts to pull back and the lid closes once again. There’s fog machines trying to give the appropriately spooky air, stuffed sheets shaped to look like dead bodies wrapped up laying in piles on the floor with fake blood staining the white fabric, black lighting to show off words scribbled on doors like “TURN BACK NOW” and “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.” Nothing you haven’t seen before. It might be even worse than things you’ve seen before, over the top cheesy, boring enough to give a yawn. Each door seems to open on its own so you don’t even have to touch the handles.

As you make your way through the next automatic door, the room you walk into is different than those before it. It’s a regular children’s room. A bed against the wall near the window, a dresser in the corner, a small desk with a chair. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the lights not being on, and the strange flickering light in the closet. You step towards it, figuring you’re in for another jump scare, but the door doesn’t open. Whether you’re naturally the curious sort or not, something in the back of your mind makes you want to open the door and see what’s on the inside.

If you fight it and walk towards the next automatic door, you’ll find you’ve walked out to the backyard of the house, those same foam decorations and a dozen or more jack o’ lanterns lighting your way on a path back to the town.

If you choose to pull the door open, however, it’ll take you into yet another room, with a flickering television playing nothing but static. Once you step past the doors of the closet, they slam shut behind you and whoever else dared to enter. The doors won’t lock no matter what you do, no matter how strong the person shaking the handles or pushing against the wood may be. You realize you broke the one rule; you’ve touched something. But can things now really touch you?

The only light source in the whole room is that television and it’s not lighting up much inside the room around it. If you squint when the TV is at its brightest setting, you can just make out another door. Your exit, you hope. But as you make your way towards the door, the flickering suddenly stops, the TV steadily bright, a low humming noise coming from the screen, and suddenly the door seems several more feet away from you than it was a second ago. Before you can reach the door, there’s the sound of trickling water from behind you. If you choose to look back, you’ll see something coming out from the screen - a girl with soaked clothing and pale, rotted skin. She emerges fully from the glass and starts to move towards you. You know it’s best to start running for that door. If you stay and try to fight, you’ll find that no regular weapons work on her, though special weapons and powers that are effective against spirits will definitely do the trick. For those who don’t have any of these at their disposal, however, there is one more hope besides just trying to run; two old school VHS tape sit on the table near by, a fancy machine between them that is meant to copy one to the other. Work as a team and have one distract her while the other records, and you’ll find that she disappears as quickly as she flickered on the screen and the TV will return to static.

Regardless of what you choose before carrying on, the next room you come to as the door slams and locks behind you is entirely different. Brightly lit and filled with what seems like hundreds of porcelain dolls, it’s almost hard to tell where there could possibly be another exit hidden among the massive shelves. You can start to wind your way through them, but before long, you start to hear the sound of running feet, the jingling of bells, the swish of satin, and most eerily the sounds of children giggling - but there’s nothing that sounds save about them. Some of the dolls you saw on the last shelf seem like they’ve moved and are sitting in the corner or laying in a new position on a new shelf. Sometimes you swear you can see their heads turn to watch you pass, but it has to be a trick of the light, doesn’t it?

That is until one of those dolls runs by you, brandishing something shiny in their hands - something sharp. A knife, you realize too late, as it tries to slice at your legs and knock you down. You can kick them away and they’ll go flying, and when the porcelain smashes, the doll will scream in agony. You notice there’s blood pouring from the hole that formed, spreading quickly across the ground. The dolls are easy to kill, but are they really just dolls? You can take your time to contemplate that later, as now you have to fight your way through the violent and armed toys to reach the door at the end of the maze of shelves. Hopefully you can get out without too many severe injuries.

When (or if) you do manage to get to the next room, you seem to have a chance to take a breath and tend to any wounds. It’s decorated like the room of a small cottage, a large pot over the fireplace that isn’t lit, and several jars full of (possibly rotting) food and herbs on the shelves. You see a book on the stand in the center, latched shut and covered in dust. You can open it, if you want, but remember the warning you ignored that got you in trouble in the first place. It’s probably better to carry on to the next room.

If you do choose to open the book, though, there will be eerily glowing text lining the pages, the light will seem to poor out and fill the room, and you’ll be transported back out in front of the house.

Those who continued through the door will find themselves out in the backyard. Just like for those who got out sooner, there are dozens of jack o lanterns, but the graves don’t look like they’re made of foam this time. They’re real stone, engraved with real names and real dates this time. And the ground underneath them seems to be moving, like someone’s trying to crawl out of there. Better not to wait around. Soon as you start to move down the path, you’ll start to hear the sounds of groans as the undead start to crawl from their own graves, pulling themselves up through the dirt, and determined to get to the only food source they see - you. The zombies seem like they’re never ending, coming from every inch of the yard, but at least they’re just like normal zombies - completely incapable of being killed unless you cut off the head. There are shovels lying next to a few graves if you need a quick weapon, but there’s also still always the option to run as fast as you can up the stone path to the front of the house and back towards the street.

When you do finally manage to get back to the front, there’s a momentary blinding flash of light, disorienting anyone near it for a few seconds. When it finally fades, any leftover zombies chasing you have disappeared and the house looks like the same, cheesy haunted house you walked up to in the first place. If for some reason you decide to go and explore the backyard again, the grass will be back to normal, and the graves will all be replaced by cheaply painted foam once more.

Was that all in your head? Who knows. But maybe it’s best to just get out of here.

WE DID THE MASH

Somehow the street lamps have all been converted to oil based flames, the Authority are in witch hats, and every where you go there is music that seems to be playing from faintly glowing bats hanging upside down from telephone wires. The bats will open their mouths in succession, seeming somehow capable of producing the sounds of instruments and singers alike of popular Halloween songs.

Yards are decorated as thoroughly as the front of stores. Maybe you haven't bothered to decorate, but your neighbor sure has! Fake gravestones are propped up in yards, giant fake spiders in trees, and no matter where you walk, the ground seems covered in thick, rolling fog from machines. Or at least you hope it's coming from machines. Hell, you can't even find it in yourself to be too worried! Everyone around you is having way too good of a time! And God, there is food everywhere! Might as well grab a bite while you're out, huh?

It's tempting to break loose and dance. Jack-O-Lanterns absolutely crowd the streets. There's more than you can even begin to count, and all of them are lit all throughout the night. Even if you accidentally trip over some, they don't seem to catch fire to anything or go out! Some neighbors have camp fires set up with marshmallows to roast, while others have...are those broomsticks? Well that's kinda cool, you guess. Correction: it's really cool since you can actually pick one up and take it for a fly! Make sure to attach a little lamp to the front though because God knows it's dangerous flying at night. The brooms only work if you wear the appropriately provided hats, of course, but you can keep both the broom and hat indefinitely and have a readily available means of flight in Deerington after! Be forewarned though: the brooms are as easily broken as regular brooms and the hats easily blown away in the wind.

TRICK OR TREATS

At any of the events, especially the nighttime partying, you can find any number of the following treats (and their potential side effects):

Donuts (Will make you deliriously happy. Everything is amazing to you. May cause a lot of affection. A lot of affection.)
Candy Apples (You will eagerly tell someone everything you like about them. Talk about a sweet tooth.)
Candy Corn (Will make you extremely sad. Like god, you'll be wondering why you hate yourself so much.)
Pumpkin Spice Lattes (Causes suspicious amounts of obedience and a desire to do what you're told.)
Hot Chocolate (Can provide some minor healing. Best stuff to drink with a common cold!)
Hot or Cold Apple Cider (Nothing will happen. It's just really good.)
Alcoholic Cider (This isn't your grandma's apple cider. This stuff will knock you on your ass. Anyone who drinks this will get wasted regardless of whether or not they are immune to alcohol or even ingest regular food. It only takes one or two before you start to get tipsy, but any more than that and you'll be well on your way to drunk. Please drink responsibly. We don't need any FUIs.)

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

[Natasha had laughed off the sign, of course, which had turned the haunted house into something of an adventure. She's a little blood-splattered, but not too much worse for wear when she finally steps outside, and she's thinking that she's finally free, and the smiling faces of the carved pumpkins look almost welcoming. But the gravestones look vaguely foreboding, which is an instinct proved right when the ground starts to churn, and bodies are crawling out from the ground.

Zombies? You have got to be kidding.

She has her Widow's Bites but they are not exactly the best weapon against the living dead. She's seen more than her fair share of bad movies- somehow it seemed to come with the territory of the former-military that SHIELD had recruited from. A fondness for things like Evil Dead 2 and Return of the Living Dead and other movies where dead was a prominent noun. The thought leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

So, really, the shovels make for convenient armament, and she takes a swing, neatly decapitating the first zombie. But, there seem to be an awful lot of them... Anyone want to help out?]

We Did the Mash

[Natasha is still settling in, but well. She's always been a fan of Halloween. The idea of dressing up as someone you're not has always spoken to here, even if Clint had always teased her about it. It was also a holiday with few expectations; maybe a costume party on Friday night, a haunted house, or a haunted hay ride. No gift exchanges, no religion, or peace on earth, smiles and goodwill, or any other social expectations, and Laura didn't get mad if she couldn't make it that year because she had to take down a terrorist trying to get a bomb into a train station.

Flying broomsticks are not something she's ever encountered before, but it's not long at all before she has one of the hats perched neatly on her head, sitting sideways on a broomstick hovering a few feet off the ground as she looks for anyone else that seems to have taken an interest as she hooks the lantern onto the front.]

Hey. You want to race?

[Because surely that's safe.

Otherwise, she can be found mingling at the late-night parties, trying to meet new people, place names to faces, and learn more about the people that are here. She's the sort of person that likes to know what people are good at, good for, who she can rely on when bullets are flying and who to call when she needs a favor on Capitol Hill. The situations might have changed, but it's still the same game.

Of course, this goes hand-in-hand with sampling the various sweets and drinks that are laid out. Apple cider donuts, and it might not be Starbucks, but Natasha has a very definite Pumpkin Spice Latte problem, apple cider of both alcoholic (which she sips very slowly) and non-alcoholic (which she doesn't) varieties all pass through her hands at one point or another. She hates candy corn, but will nibble on the candy apples. If the music gets loud enough, she might even dance for a song or two.]

So, is this sort of thing typical?

Wildcard

[Hit me up with whatever, or hit me up at

natalia_vdova if you want to plot something specific or have questions!]

Edited 2018-10-03 03:54 (UTC)

[ It's been a rough couple of weeks. John Blake, who has been in town for about three months now, hasn't caught much of a break, particularly in the past two weeks. He's in town in the evening because he can't sleep — hasn't slept but a few hours in way, way too long — and while he's a wreck during the day, he's a ball of energy at night. ]

Uh, not too typical, no, but it's been happening a coupla weeks now...

[ Was she talking to him? Blake seems to think so. He's average height, toned under many layers, and he's sporting the history of a recent black eye and a shoulder wound on his left side that's hidden under his clothes but clearly not bein' kept secret.

He makes a face. ]

What did you try?

[To be honest, Natasha hasn't exactly caught a break recently either. The destruction of the life she'd built for herself, and then ending up here- well, things have been a little rough. So she's enjoying the festivities, such as they are. She always liked Halloween anyway, so it's enough to put a smile on her face.]

Well, good to know what to keep an eye out for.

[And it was certainly aimed at him. He's attractive, and with a certain sharpness about him, a few fading injuries. All of which are things that catch her eyes. Her gaze slides over the evidence, but doesn't linger. Something in how she looks at him says that she's used to that sort of thing.]

The cider for grown ups. Unless you have any other suggestions?

[ Something in the way he takes it says he gets her meaning. ]

The donuts are pretty great. They're like gettin' high without the high part. Kinda happy, carefree — not so guarded, I think. Just watch your comp'ny or it might end up gettin' silly.

[ The giggles are a real thing that a man like John Blake would like to pretend looks good on him, but we all know better than that. And truthfully, he doesn't appreciate being forced off guard like that, or that it was a gamble to try something like this in the first place. Today the donuts give them the giggles, tomorrow they'll give everyone TB for all he knows. ]

[She listens as he talks about the donuts, and she's honestly glad she got the warning before she'd tried one on her own. She's not a fan of being forced into such a place herself, but going into it forewarned wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Drugs were frequent interrogation tools, which meant she had a good sense of how most of them affected her. In her line of work it had been good information to have, since you couldn't build up a tolerance to everything.]

Well. You up for splitting one? Silly is always better with company.

[She's trying to make connections here, after all, and she's not adverse to a certain amount of risk in the process. Everything tells you something.]

[ He hesitates, if only momentarily, reminded of the last time someone offered to split a donut with him. It had ended a little friendlier than expected, hadn't it? Then again, he'd started in company he was already pretty comfortable with.

John weighs the pros and cons and figures that the worst that could happen is about that, so he finally nods and shrugs and grabs up a tray for her to choose from. ]

Sure, why not. But I make horrible puns, so donut be alarmed...

[ Seriously, it doesn't get better than that. Worse, in fact, if they stack more than one donut on. ]

[She catches that momentary hesitation, but doesn't particularly question it much. After all, they're talking about splitting what seems to be almost like a drug-laced brownie with a total stranger, so there's plenty of reason for hesitation.

But he shrugs, grabs the tray and she picks one out. She breaks it in half, and then offers it to him, letting him choose which half he wants. A bit of a double-blind, in that it keeps either of them from knowing which they're getting. Would be harder to poison.

She laughs a little at the pun, a slight shake of her head.]

It's okay, I promise I wont hold it against you. I had friends that were worse.

Y'know, I am just gettin' started.

[ Is he possibly boasting that his humor will get worse? Of course he is. But already he's wracking his brain trying to think of another donut pun that doesn't involve holes, even as early as this moment, when he picks his poison (heh) between the two offerings. ]

Hey, you like Jeopardy?

[ He figures he's met very few people who aren't familiar with that gameshow that were born on Earth. The helps him narrow down some stuff, like whether she's Terran or Terran-adjacent. This is something he has to think about because non-Terran humans or aliens are still considered nonexistent where he's original from.

He mimics reading the half-donut like a cue card, not even trying for an Alex Trebek impersonation. ]

"This adventurous redhead, known for gettin' high with local troublemakers, became a recent resident of Deerington after waking into a really messed up dream."

[ This isn't usually how people ask for a name, but even before the donut, he's got a quirky enough personality. ]

Edited 2018-10-08 01:11 (UTC)

Oh, I can't wait.

[She says it with a smile, a touch of amusement. Not quite flirtation, but a certain sort of charm, either way. He takes his half and she keeps the other, nibbling on it a little, and she will admit that the donuts are good, at least. At the question about jeopardy she hums thoughtfully with a slight shrug of her shoulders.]

When there's nothing else on.

[Which is... maybe not quite true, but the honest answer is more that the line of work she's done for most of her life didn't leave a lot of time for watching game shows. But she at least knows of its existence well enough to play along, and appreciate the reference.

Her smile is almost coy, curving her lips as he mimes reading his half of the donut, a soft laugh and a slight shake of her head.]

Natasha. And what about the local troublemaker?

John Blake. But most everyone just calls me Blake.

[ And he will admit, he's less a troublemaker than he's letting on, and arguably harmless compared to some of the people in Deerington. But what he lacks in power (or super powers), he typically makes up for in tenacity. Also, he's a naggy pain in the butt.

Munching happily on his half of the donut, John immediately feels the familiar effects taking over. ]

Nice to meet you Natasha. You like coffee? Seems a shame to have a donut and no coffee.

Well, it's a pleasure to meet you then, Blake.

[The fact that he seems more playful than someone who causes too much trouble isn't entirely lost on her. But fact is that she knows troublemakers come in all shapes and sizes-- was there ever a worse troublemaker than Steve Rogers? So she's holding off on making any determinations too quickly. Not that such careful thoughts last for long.

She eats the rest of her donut, and he was right about the effects. Somehow, standing here by the table of treats, with people on brooms and wearing witches hats and everything else, it just seems like a good thing, like maybe the most pleasing turn of events there's been in a very long time. Despite the strange dream that hadn't seemed entirely like a dream, this place somehow felt more like a fresh start than a kidnapping in the moment.

She steps in a little closer as she smiles, bright and pleased.] I love coffee. I'll admit to being a bit of an addict back home.

[Because who needed sleep?]

[ Funny you should mention it because Blake actually doesn't need sleep right now. Or, more accurately, he can't sleep and needs it desperately, but he's coping. That's one of those Deerington things, unfortunately, and there's really nothing to be done for it besides bearing it. ]

Just so happens I work at the coffee shop. How 'bout I made you a... cappuccino?

[ Just a guess, mostly because he thinks cappuccinos — real cappuccinos — are a bit more sophisticated than lattes. (But also, watch as he... grabs another donut. For the road. Just in case.) ]

[Natasha understands that. Isn't like she's been sleeping particularly well since putting herself on a global most-wanted list. Isn't like she sleeps particularly well to begin with. So Deerington might not have worked its particular brand of horror on her just yet, but she knows what it means to be coping without it.]

Oh really? I think that might make you my new favorite people.

[She doesn't get cappuccinos at Starbucks because they don't make them right, but Blake has the look of someone that knows what he's talking about. Or maybe it's just her particularly pleasant outlook at the moment that has her so optimistic. So he grabs another donut, and she'll just hook her arm with his, smiling up at him with a lift of one slender eyebrow.]

Well then, lead on.

It's not far, at least.

[ It's really only the donuts that stop him from questioning the contact, but he would have been easy enough to fall into it. Back in Gotham, he'd done some "training" in surviving polite society (a ridiculous notion for a guy who spent most of his time on the streets in one capacity or another) so at least he knows how to hold himself. ]

Someone told me the hot chocolate's got healin' properties. Pretty awesome, right? Nothing everything in this place is awful.

[ He smiles mellowly and takes a bite of the additional donut, suddenly not so concerned about those extra calories. ]

Well, that's good to hear.

[If not for the donuts, Natasha would not be quite so touchy either. She was all but created to exist in polite spaces with crystal chandeliers and silk-satin tuxes, but it wasn't a sort of gesture she typically made with people she didn't know well unless she was playing that part.

But right now, well- she's just having a really great time, and he's offering her cappuccinos, and the contact seems pleasant more than hitting those walls she uses to keep people at a distance.]

Healing properties? I'll definitely keep that in mind if I get into any scrapes.

[As if that might be a concern for a charming redhead. She's not quite sure what to make of this food that seems to have magic properties, or at least ones that she's used to being from more familiar sources. But she stays close to his side as they walk, letting him lead toward the coffee shop.

She does, however, make a point of mapping the directions they're taking, even if it's with much less intention than usually, some habits can't be overwritten just by some very potent happy pills.]

It's bound to here.

[ Said with kind of a half-full mouth, how rude. But Blake's just so damn excited to disclose some information about this place, he can't help himself. ]

Just sorta happens sometimes. Found myself fightin' a twin I didn't know I had in a cornfield filled with killer kids. [ He gestures to the shoulder, that wound from before. ] S'where I got this.

[ He laughs, like that's something funny to chat about, but it's not. It's really not. Even if it feels like every day is like this now. ]

But you know what? The kids were adorable — like suuuper cute— [ He has a soft spot. ] and that's 'bout all I remember thinkin' before stabbin' the shit outta the other dude.

[Somewhere in Deerington, Arthur sneezes into his coffee. Gross.]

[She can't resist the chuckle as he talks with a mouth half-full, and really, the suggestion that scrapes and the like are bound to happen doesn't seem to even phase her. And then he's talking about fighting his twin, but it's the line about killer kids that catches her, having some familiarity with the concept.]

Well, glad you made it out in one piece, at least. How bad's your shoulder?

[She isn't flustered by any of what he's telling her, though there's a certain sharpness to her gaze. Doesn't seem surprised by the fact that he laughs about it. She can remember the feeling. You laugh when you can't do anything else, though the cast of his tone seems more like a joke.]

Sometimes that's the idea. Pick the cute ones so that the enemy hesitates. No one wants to kill a child.

[She seems notably unbothered by the fact that he'd just essentially admitted to murder.]

(no subject)

oversight - 2018-10-08 20:03 (UTC) - Expand

GOD they're gonna need to rehash that conversation when they'd not high xD

natalia_vdova - 2018-10-08 20:51 (UTC) - Expand

I KNOW - it's a date!!

oversight - 2018-10-08 22:15 (UTC) - Expand

yessss excellent :>

natalia_vdova - 2018-10-08 23:20 (UTC) - Expand

❤u❤

oversight - 2018-10-09 00:26 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

natalia_vdova - 2018-10-09 01:56 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

oversight - 2018-10-09 03:58 (UTC) - Expand

About as typical as a familiar face popping in and out of your life.

[ There's a little smile on his face as he turns fully to face her, pushing back the hood on his sweatshirt. He doesn't get that cold, usually, but he's barely getting over whatever that weird flu was and he's found an extra layer really helps against the evening wind. ]

You wouldn't happen to have Steve around here somewhere, too, would you?

[Natasha is a little cautious at the sound of his voice, but she's not defensive, and there's no fear in her eyes as she watches him. Instead, there's a slight curve of her lips, a touch of almost-amusement at his words as she sips at her drink. She hadn't recognized him under the sweatshirt, but to be honest, she'd thought she was here alone.]

No, but it'd be nice, wouldn't it? Could use the company.

[He hasn't shot her yet, so she's taking things as off to a good start. He might be getting over the flu, though he still looks better than the last time they'd crossed paths. The ease with which he says Steve's name makes her think he's been here a while.]

You look like you're doing better.

Compared to what?

[ He laughs, a private joke to himself because unless she's been lurking around here silently, she'd have no way of knowing that he's just barely back from the dead. Or Steve was right all those months ago and this is already the afterlife. He's not entirely sold either way quite yet. ]

I'm alright all thing considered. You dye your hair again or are we missing some time?

[ So many people miss so many things, from their memories of Reims to things back home. So far, he's been the one with all the answers for once. It's not really any more refreshing than having none of them. Mostly, it just frightens him, if he's honest. ]

[She arches an eyebrow at the question, a touch of faint amusement.]

Well, things were a bit rough the last time I saw you.

[The way she keeps it vague is more habit than anything. That tendency to play things close to her chest, to not lay the pieces out. And this place has her more than a little outside of her comfort zone, her walls up, even if she's trying to pretend otherwise, because that's how Natasha works.

But then he mentions dying her hair and she frowns, looks at him a little bit oddly. She almost says something about the casual way he says missing time, but the very words seem wrong on her tongue, and the concept of it worse, so instead it's just:] I was going to dye it blonde.

[It's a statement, but it's also a question: is that what you remember? Her red hair was too easy a flag for someone trying to find her. Her hair was always red. And the sentimentality of it, well. A little past, now. But here her hair is still red as it settles around her shoulders. But he doesn't remember her as a redhead.]

I know.

[ He lets the words hang. Maybe he doesn't have to be vague with her, but he's always felt like he had to be cautious with her, even if she has Steve's back when he can't. His trust has limits when it comes to her, because he knows enough about her to know that her loyalty is mercurial. She's too pragmatic to be loyal the way Steve is, even if she cares. It's something he can respect, but it leaves him feeling like he never knows quite where he stands with her and he doesn't like that. ]

I was missing an arm, right? Someone here made this one for me.

[ When he finally rolls his left sleeve up, it shows a different and somewhat less solid design and it's more apparent that the arm is more bronze in color. A truly keen observer of technology might suspect it was made by Tony Stark. ]

It's a downgrade, but it's the best we could manage with the resources here.

[She wouldn't judge him for the fact that he doesn't quite trust her if she knew. In truth, it's her assumption about most people, that people don't trust her, don't see her as someone that deserves it. Who she was sticks, is what people remember. It's why it had meant so much to her when Steve had told her that he'd trust her to save his life. Because so few people would.

It takes her a moment to process the ease with which he says that. Leaves it vague, but there's a weight to it anyway. He knew. She'd been a blonde the last time they'd met, which takes her back to what he'd said before about missing time. Someone else might have asked the question, but it's a sharp discomfort that she can't quite bring herself to put words to just yet.]

Yeah. Though I didn't quite get the full story.

[She's from just after the Raft, after Steve had picked her up and they'd headed to Wakanda. It's only been a few days since the fight at Leipzig from her perspective.]

Well, it might not be the same, but for a replacement you could definitely do worse.

[It's not Wakandan tech, of that she's sure of, confirmed when he mentions that it was something he got here. She has sharp eyes, and knows her way around Stark's technical know-how better than most people assume. But she doesn't put his name to it, doesn't ask the question, even if she wonders a little. The question she asks is worse.]

So missing time- is that common here?

[There's a flicker of discomfort in the blue of her eyes, but she hides it well.]

It's not the first time. Steve was here for a little while. I was missing things, but he wouldn't really tell me much.

[ Natasha had been here, too, but he doesn't think that's important. She hadn't remembered Reims. Neither of them had, even though Bucky and Wanda had remembered the place like they'd only just been there. With Wanda gone, Bucky's given up on anyone remembering that odd, silent world. Not remembering this place seems less jarring in comparison. ]

They tell us we're asleep, right? Maybe we only remember what we want to.

[ It's half-joke, half deep-rooted fear. If it's true, then Bucky has no idea how anything works anymore. ]

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