[Open] And outside, the world slipped over the brink

[communish]

WHO: Bucky Barnes & others
WHAT: Catch-all, open & closed starters, continued TDM
WHEN: April
WHERE: Free Cities, Nocwich, maybe Horizon
WARNING: None yet, but discussion of violence seems likely with this guy.
OTHER: Brackets and prose are both fine.

ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ ɪs ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʙʀᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ʟɪɢʜᴛ
ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴍᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴡᴀʀᴍ
ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴡɴ

Comments

[earthborn]

"Well fortunately, I'm not the actual welcoming committee," Shepard, with her faceful of scars and a complete lack of intimidation, crosses her arms and returns his regard blandly. Glare all you want, buddy, you're going to have to get a lot meaner than that, "You'll have to take a walk down to Cadens proper for that. My name's Shepard."

She's stopped calling herself Commander Shepard, and she's not sure exactly when. It's an ugly thought, to realize it— but that's something to unpack later. Right now she's got a surly bastard to cope with.

"Do they actually tell you anything much these days, or was it still basically just a slap on the ass and an army-recruitment pamphlet?"

[communish]

"Barnes." Bucky regards her with a nod, sticking his hands in the pockets of his new uniform pants and blowing a slow breath through his nose. He doesn't bother to extend a hand in greeting, mostly because he doesn't get the impression that she's one to stand on ceremony, which suits him fine.

He'd heard some mention of Cadens before, though he had little idea what to expect from it. He supposed it couldn't be much less fun than here.

"Pretty much the same talk you got, from the sounds of it. Some nonsense about warring factions. A threat that if I tried to fight the guards again, they'd throw me back in the void. Otherwise, a whole lot of nothing."

[earthborn]

"'War' is pretty generous," Shepard sneers, watching him hunch in and feeling some sense of tenuous safety out of that. Stupid, of course, but hands in pockets was an explicit lack of threat— she can't help being human, "Maybe my standards are a little off, but I wouldn't call a few decades of border bandits and one covert bombing a war."

Wars have battles, and bloodshed. Wars have timelines and supply lines and lines drawn in the sand. Wars mean the destruction of cities and displacement of civilians— if they survive at all. Whatever bullshit is happening between these three stupid nations on this godforsaken planet in the back end of this nowhere part of the galaxy...

...A war ain't it.

"They're so full of shit," Shepard mutters watching a cluster of men, natives in the Free Cities uniform, go jogging by on their run. There is a conspicuous lack of eye contact, "Glad I'm not the only who threw a punch. But they'll feed and house you, at least— for a while. Could be worse."