abraxaslogs | [ OPEN ] i know some places and i've seen some faces

[ OPEN ] i know some places and i've seen some faces

WHO: sam wilson and anyone/everyone.
WHAT: captain america cookout.
WHERE: sam's horizon domain
WHEN: third saturday of september (aka, about 3 weeks after the jailbreak)
NOTES: see below!

HELLO ALL AND WELCOME TO SAM'S CAPTAIN AMERICA COOKOUT!!!!

Over the last week or so, Sam has been going out of his way to contact as many people as he knows to invite them to a cookout at his place in the Horizon. He knows that after the jailbreak, a lot of people were separated, and this was his first thought on how to bring people together. The purpose behind it is simply because Sam thinks that the one thing all of them have in common, opinion on the Singularity and their situations aside, is that they were all brought here and can actually access the Horizon. He sees merit and use in coming together when they can, especially in ways that don't involve the politics of the land they're now living in. So, what better way to do that than around food?

The long and short of it is - this is a peace meal. Leave your issues at the door. Sam has very few rules and there is very little he will give in terms of what this cookout will entail, but three things he will make very clear:

1.) There will be no fighting at his home. You want to duke it out? Take it somewhere else. There will not be warnings or second chances. Don't be an ass.
2.) There is no meeting or serious reason for this cookout. Literally, he just wants people to come together who may no longer be able to see each other due to the travel constraints. It's meant to be fun. Come have fun. (he knows y'all know what that is, even when some of you pretend you don't). Bring food if you want to! There is also a kitchen (if you know what that is) and places to crash. Hope you like seafood!
3.) Anyone who can come into the Horizon is welcome. He'd love it if everyone came, so spread the word.

The cookout itself is set up out front, with picnic tables and chairs and fire pits and lights abound. There are tables set up near grilles if anyone wants to do any actual cooking outside, and a table (probably multiple) set up with sides and napkins and utensils. There are a variety of different places to go and sit and hang out while you're eating. Anything and everything you can want is available - food, drinks, yard games, music playing from out in the trees that will remain consistent unless someone tries to find the speakers and hijack the playlists, etc. If you can't find something outside, you're more than welcome to check the house.

All throughout the party, too, there will be a new friend. Red, as Sam fondly calls him, is a blood-red hunting hawk with silver in between the feathers. He can be found circling around Sam quite often, or perched on his shoulders, but also if you are out and about you can often see him checking up on anyone and everyone. He's a very curious little bird, and also pretty sassy, if you want to interact with him.

If you haven't, or have, been to Sam's domain before, feel free to take a look around. Anywhere is open (save for one locked bedroom) so everyone has open access, but most of the cookout itself will be located in the front yard.

OOC: This is mean to be an OPEN LOG, so leave your TLs or closed threads below! This party will last basically as long as people want it to, but the idea is for it to be an afternoon into the evening. Y'all have free reign save for destroying Sam's home, but if you have any questions, hit me up on plurk (disarmingly or disco (dai#3757). Sam's TL is below, and he will be bouncing around like the good host he is, but lets get a little party started.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

CAKE
Life is far from perfect for Bucky right now. It hasn't been for a while even before they got scooped up and magically dropped off here. Still, he's learning how to enjoy the moment a little more and Sam's been a big part of that, so of course he's going to show up right on time with what looks like a store-bought sheet cake decorated like an American flag.

He drops it off with the food with a cheeky grin and greets any familiar faces he might see. "Didn't expect to run into you here."

BIRD BRAIN
Once he finishes quick greetings, he grabs a beer and retreats to the porch to sit. Sometimes big gatherings can be a little overwhelming, but he likes seeing all these people that Sam's brought together here. He's starting to make connections here and there, but he knows he'll never have what Sam has in that regard.

He lets himself get lost in thought, smiling absently at the growing group until Red lands right on his knee, head cocked with curiosity. Wow how does a stupid bird make Bucky feel like his soul is being looked into?

"Can I help you?"

If the bird actually answers, he's going to kill Sam.

SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
A drinking contest is a terrible idea, especially because Bucky's not sure how alcohol will even work here or how well his super-tolerance really will hold up, but he's pretty sure this is about the safest place to find out, so when the topic comes up, Bucky figures he'll join the party. Worst case scenario, he knows that that couch in the living room is comfortable.

"Should I go easy on you?" He's pouring shots and musing if his glass shouldn't be a little more full on each one to make it fair.

WILDCARD
[ Bucky will be eating a lot, drinking, and wandering, so if there's something else you'd like to incorporate, please feel free! ]

A small handful of individuals, Geralt came here with a vague thought of keeping an eye out for them. People he's not seen since the chaos broke out, people he wouldn't mind quietly looking in on.

And people who simply have his curiosity. He's met Bucky, briefly, and when Sam described him as they were searching, what stood out was that it isn't a description that altogether fits the picture of the man who'd climbed his mountain. There's more. So he wants to know who Bucky really is, with all of his past intact. Common soldiers do not learn to vanish without a trace.

He spots Bucky early on, but waits until people are settled. By the time he walks over, Bucky's found a friend. Geralt tilts his head. He's seen it hovering around Sam. Something about the bird—it's familiar. It isn't until he draws closer that he recognizes the magic, the scent around it. One not unlike the birds Jaskier created in the castle at Thorne, the birds now sent through the windows of the inn room each morning. Hm. Interesting.

Geralt leans against the railing by the porch, where Bucky's made himself at home. Aside from the medallion that now bears the head of a wolf instead of the Sign of this world, Geralt looks just about the same as he had the day they spoke. "Am I interrupting a special moment?"

Edited 2021-09-22 09:58 (UTC)

Bucky hears Geralt's approach, but he's not worried about anyone Sam invited to a barbeque getting the drop on him in a real way, so he just smiles at the bird and looks up.

"Nah, I can propose to my new girlfriend later." A wider grin breaks out on his face. "But we've got to stop meeting like this."

It's not surprising that Sam found a quiet mountain man and immediately invited him to a party. Sam's got that way about him and Bucky thinks maybe it comes from being a PJ. He figures Sam gets into triage mode even when he doesn't need to and when there isn't a physical injury, he starts to see what people need elsewhere. Sometimes it's friends or support or in Bucky's case it's occasionally a swift kick to the ass.

He gestures to the rest of the porch. "Join me at the real party."

His lips tilt in return. Yeah. They do. It’s becoming a theme, though not one he especially minds. He can find common ground with a man who prefers the company of animals.

He comes around and sits on the step next to Bucky. This is what the real party looks like, is it? He can manage that. He didn’t promise Sam he’d be amongst the guests. Only that he’d show and stay until the end.

Geralt tips his bottle of beer toward the crowd at the center of the yard. “Should we tell them they’re missing out?”

Clearly, all of the excitement is concentrated around this porch.

Bucky looks out at people chatting and smiling. It's nice. He likes that sometimes, too, but there are times when he needs a little barrier between himself and others. Or right now when he needs to acclimate a little to the change in surroundings and the fact that this place is real but also isn't real. Or something. He doesn't really understand what makes this possible.

"They're having their own fun." He pets the bird gently on the head with two fingers. "Besides if it gets too popular over here it won't be cool anymore. I think that's what the kids would say."

The kids would say is not a turn of phrase Geralt is familiar with, but which he understands, and it draws a soft snort out of him. He watches the bird tolerate Bucky's patting. They are having their own fun. He supposes, after all the tension that'd gathered in the castle, this is the first time anyone's been able to breathe.

He lets the silence settle for awhile before he finally approaches what he isn't sure if Bucky is aware of: that he knows Bucky's ended up someplace he hadn't meant to, that he was there the night Sam realized his friend had not shown up. And also that he knows Bucky means something more to Sam than most do, which is saying a lot. Sam holds nearly everyone he meets with some importance.

"How do you know him?" He doesn't need to specify who. He imagines it's clear enough.

It's a loaded question for Bucky and it could have a lot of flippant answers from I tried to kill him to He inherited me. The energy here isn't quite pulling his more flippant answers out, though, so he has to think about the answer for a moment.

"We fought on the same side of enough fights that we're stuck together."

That sums it up. Sort of. Bucky's not unhappy to be stuck with Sam and he imagines at this point it is mutual, but he can't picture himself not factoring Sam into things or walking away. They're not-quite-partners or whatever it is they've settled on.

"Not that Sam's hurting for backup." And then Bucky gestures in front of them to the party and all the people Sam's gathered here. Some are familiar faces for Bucky, others aren't.

Not a complicated answer, but one that says enough, both in its brevity and the time Bucky spends considering it. It feels not unlike when he tells people, even now, that he and Jaskier sometimes travel together.

He doesn’t press further. He gets it.

“He managed to drag me here,” he replies drily. “I had plans to sit alone in the woods.”

That may or may not be true. The constant bustle of the city is getting to him. He isn’t unused to it, exactly, but nor does he often spend so much of his days in a crowd. More and more, he finds it hard to swallow the urge to take off.

"I can't believe you passed that up. Think about all the things you could be brooding about."

Which is the kind of thing Bucky might actually have done with his day if he hadn't come here. At least now he can brood with company. It might even be good company.

"Personally, I'm just happy to be somewhere that doesn't smell like fish for a few hours."

"Mm. I even had a list."

It's not bad company. Despite his words, he's finding the whole thing all right, and he knows the value of having everyone in one place. He can get a headcount, for one. Find faces he might've missed and faces that might be missing.

He looks back over. Right. By the sea. That's where Nott is, isn't it? If he recalls the map Jaskier pulled out for him back at the castle correctly.

"I'm told Nott runs its own ship." In that statement is a question, an implication: it's unusual. Kingdoms as tightly controlled as Thorne don't often let their territories operate outside of the crown's influence. There's a reason for why Nott seems to be almost altogether independent, if what Nadine's said is true. He just doesn't know what it is yet.

"Yeah, I'm not sure what they have on the castle to keep themselves so independent. I've basically been promised I'm safe there."

Not that Bucky's entirely convinced of it. He doesn't hide the skepticism in his voice and most of the time, he plays things low-key and keeps his metal arm hidden so he can fly under the radar. Just because they tell him he's safe or even intend for him to be, it doesn't mean that he is.

"If I can figure it out, I'll let you know, but I'm not sure how long I'm sticking around. Sam's going to kill me if I take too long to meet up with him."

That is a hell of a promise. Geralt acknowledges the offer with a noncommittal noise. This continent is more spread out than what he's used to and, as far as he can tell, with a startling range of wilderness disrupting connections between towns. If there are smaller villages and settlements in between each larger nation-state, he can't find them marked on any map. Which doesn't mean they aren't there, but it remains unchartered territory regardless. Territory even Geralt has been hesitant to consider travelling through without knowing more.

It's possible he may have been charting possible routes to Thorne. If needed. (If Yennefer ever needs him.)

He takes a sip of his beer. "Likely. He nearly ran off into the desert that night."

First time, really, he'd seen Sam not think with a clear head. Geralt offers no elaboration on how he knows this or why he'd have been there that night in the first place.

"If you do, I'll punch you, and you won't like that."

Ciri is never one to shy away from a challenge. Having already partaken of a fair bit of beer and eaten her fill of various unfamiliar foods, she's feeling buzzed and pleased, somewhere between relaxed and humming with energy at the same time. A drinking contest is right up her alley. She doesn't even ask what's in the tiny glass cups (or why they are so small).

"Do we bet on how many, or just until one of us gives up?"

"A number's probably safer." Because Bucky wants to be a little stupid, not make anyone actually sick.

He leans his elbows on the table, edging a little closer. There's mirth shining in his eyes, because he's already feeling a little something and honestly it's nice.

"And I'll have you know I'm a hundred and six. You can't just go around punching grandpas just because they're cute."

"Ha! Who says I think you're cute, old man?" Ciri counters with a snort, while she does take the time now to give him a good, long look down her nose. She cocks a fist on her hip, lips pursed as though thinking very thoroughly about this.

"I've crossed swords with men decades older than you, and I wouldn't dare go easy on them. Don't embarrass yourself."

Whether she means not to embarrass himself with pleas for mercy against being punched (?) or not to lose to her in the drinking contest even though she seems determined to win (??) is extremely unclear.

But Ciri has accepted the challenge. She sits with a soft thump on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over to grab one of the tiny cups and give it a sniff. It's not that she hasn't had hard liquor, though it is less common and far more expensive on the Continent -- but in a world where everyone drinks alcohol pretty much all of the time instead of water (considering the quality of water in many places, for one thing), the concept of taking shots is a foreign one.

"Why the dainty little vessels, though? So you can feel better about yourself when you tell your friends you downed twenty cups of drink?"

Bucky just laughs, head thrown back and fully letting it shake his chest. God, he hasn't laughed like this in a while and he doesn't know if it's the atmosphere or the extended company here, but he's needed this so much more than he'd realized.

"Oh, I like you." There's something about a cocky and threatening woman that absolutely hits Bucky right in the heart. He likes to see it, even if he knows that he'd probably still win in a fight. It's not for any sort of merit of his own. It's because of the serum and frankly there's at least a few women out there who can absolutely go toe-to-toe with him without anything like the serum. For all he knows, she could be one of them.

"They're shot glasses. No one pretends they're full drinks. It's for measuring stronger things."

"Is that so? What a relief! I don't know what I would have done with myself if you said you didn't like me."

She grins, teasing, but she has to admit it kind of feels good to see someone -- a stranger, even -- laughing and enjoying her company so thoroughly. Sam's house is very strange to her eyes, the look of it unfamiliar, but the gathering itself is a warm and enthusiastic affair and that is nice. Drink and laughter and company can soothe most of life's troubles, if only temporarily. Here it is aplenty, feeling no less real for being in this halfway plane on the edges of reality.

Well. She's about to find out how much drinking can be done here and if it'll give her a sour stomach tomorrow when it was all, kind of, in her head.

"Shot glasses for stronger things. How cryptic. All right, then. Name the number."

She might be slightly more careful in the outside world, but the Horizon is a place molded by their whims. Anything goes.

Bucky doesn't want to go too easy on her, but he also doesn't want to be a complete asshole in the other direction.

"Let's start with four. I have no idea how alcohol will even work in this place." He could either be stone cold sober after this or smashed to hell and he has no idea what to expect from her tolerance other than hoping her confidence is founded in actual drinking experience.

He picks up a bottle and starts to pour.

"If it doesn't work at all, I'm going to be a little sad."

Ciri cocks her head at him slightly, the look in her eyes dubious. Four, considering how tiny the cups are, seems like it's not very much.

"I think it'll work," she supplies encouragingly, leaning forward with an elbow on her knee as she watches him pour. "I had some wine earlier and felt... something. I think."

The bottle doesn't seem to have a label, at least not one she can see from this angle. She tilts her head closer.

"What are we drinking?"

"I think it's Vodka."

Bucky glances at the label, squints and then takes a swig straight from the bottle, wincing as the burn hits the back of his throat. Definitely Vodka or close enough to it. The burn honestly doesn't bother him much, but the warmth it leaves him with afterwards is something he hasn't felt too often since before the war.

"Could be worse. Ready?"

Vodka, at least, she knows. It doesn't have a distinct scent besides alcoholic, and she's not had it often, but it could have been something entirely unfamiliar. Not that it probably matters too much, in the Horizon. She could probably even change it if she wanted to -- but that'd be cheating, and this is a fair drinking contest.

Mostly.

"Hey! If you do that, I'm already behind." She pouts, and reaches out to grab the bottle from his hands to do the same. "We must start on even footing. Ready when you are."

Bucky laughs. It's unlikely they're on even footing, but he'd love to meet someone who is.

"Okay. On three. One... two..."

And then he slams the shot back on three. It burns and it reminds him of hot nights in Brooklyn and cold evenings camping during the war. They say that memory is tied to senses like smell and taste and even if Bucky doesn't easily get drunk anymore, the taste is still there, unpleasant and yet somehow warm and familiar. Maybe that's why he keeps drinking, even when he knows it won't do much. Back home, anyway. He's not sure about here at all. He's already managed to get drunk in Thorne once before.

The tiny cup is a little annoying to navigate. Ciri's used to drinking out of something more substantial, in big gulps if needed, not pouring thimblefuls of liquid down her throat. But she manages, though it lingers too much on her tongue, and she grunts and makes a face as she slams the little glass down, swallowing the burning sensation.

She reaches for the bottle to refill them, assuming there's no break meant in between.

"You really should've just gotten bigger cups."

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[ OPEN ] i know some places and i've seen some faces

Bucky Barnes | open

birb.

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shots shots shots!

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