eachdraidh | second jive ⚛ video ⚛ open to both courts (backdated to approx Feb 20)

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second jive ⚛ video ⚛ open to both courts (backdated to approx Feb 20)

(Howard hadn’t been much use during the battle, and that was something he wasn’t particularly proud of. But then again, he had only just arrived when it suddenly came down on them, and he’d never been much of a fighter. Because of this he had stayed behind to assist with the evacuation of Caer Scima, choosing to help with the library, trying to save as much of the knowledge from there as possible. He remembered similar work being done during the war, the Nazis had tried to destroy so much so that the world could be shaped in their own image. Stealing art from museums and homes and those they didn’t think worthy of them, destroying books and art by artists so called “unpure” races. To this day they were still working to uncover art and relics that had been hidden away in homes of Nazi generals, or in underground or mountainous locations. And then of course there was the historical part, the burning of the great Library in Alexandria that he remembered reading about when he was a boy. How much knowledge of the world had been lost during that, and how many centuries had it set humankind back?

He didn’t know how much of the information that was found in the library would be available anywhere else. He’d only gotten to just touch the surface of what could exist within it, and already he’d found dozens of books that looked to be hand penned. Those were likely unique, and so they needed to be taken somewhere safe. So it was in the library he was when the walls started to come down. He’d been organising manageable stacks to be carried, others to be loaded onto horse drawn carts. Then there was a crash, and he remembers seeing fire begin to take a bookcase, and that he was moving to try to put it out, and blackness. The next thing he remembers is waking up with a freezing arm, it had burned and they were using some sort of cooling magic to heal it, and being told that he was in Spire 3, having been set on one of the carts he’d helped load on top of the books.

Shame wasn’t something most people thought of when they thought of Howard Stark, but for this he was ashamed that he hadn’t been able to do more. He’d try to tell them that he was in good enough shape to go out and fight, when he learned of the Jabberwock attack, he wanted to help, but they had forced him to stay put against his will. Of course, he won’t admit to any sense of shame, but it’d be noticeable around those who had fought, a reluctance to talk about what he had done, and what had happened. But he had survived, he’d saved some books, so at least he had that.

But he needed to get out of there, too. He needed some time to himself. He wanted to see if there was any way to recover some of the information that had been lost. Some sort of backup system in place, and the most likely place for that seemed to be this Station that he’d heard mentions of, which was where he had now decided to head. If nothing else, at least he’s been promised that it’s the sole place where technology works, and he wants to see what the future of it all holds.

He’s still unsure about the fairy rings, and whether or not he should trust them. He’s looked at the one here at the spire, walked around it, tried to see if there was anything secretly powering other than magic, but there doesn’t seem to be anything that he can see. So he wants to find out about other methods of transportation, if there are any. Walking would just take too long, but he’s not sure he trusts horses either.

Before he goes, however, he has some information he wants to ask about, maybe it’ll cut out some of the work for him.)

(The video feed clicks on, and while Howard looks tired and worn out, it could be a lot worse. There’s a bruise healing on his forehead, a cut on his cheek that’s almost disappeared thanks to a salve he was given to put on it, but in the right light you can see the light pink tightness of new skin. The smile that had been so easy going the first time he had come across the screen seems tighter now, more forced, but he’s always been one to try to maintain the façade of cool, calm and collected. He’s going to do that, now too.)

I have a couple of questions.

(He feels like maybe he should say more. Comment on the battles that occurred, that he hopes no one lost anyone close to them, but so much has already been said, and he still feels shame. He doesn’t want to be questioned of where he was and what he did.)

First of all: these fairy rings. How much is actually known about how they work? Have there ever been any ill effects caused by them? (Namely death, but he won’t say that out loud. Onto the next topic.) I want to go to the Station, and horseback just isn’t my style.

(Onto the next topic.)

I know that there are blacksmiths responsible for forging the weaponry here, and from what I understand, the metal they use comes from the dwarves. Is there any type of order form that’s used? Maybe a list of what kind of metals they have in their mines, and the corresponding prices? Or maybe in general just a list of what’s been found naturally in this place, I’ve been looking for information, but it’s been a bit of a struggle.

Lastly, to end on a high note: what do people do for fun around here? Does this place have a Vegas or Monaco or Riviera?

[private to Steve Rogers & James Barnes]

You guys make it through?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Another person to hold accountable if something happens to me, then. (Lame jokes are lame.

But then there's a curious brow quirk.)

Felt it? (He thoughtfully clicks his tongue, and nods.) They probably don't have a telegram system in place, if that's the case.

Don't shoot the messenger.

[ Hah. Erik just shrugs a shoulder, lifting his hands free - because he's holding up his locket with his powers - and lets a coin spin around his fingers. ]

Letters may work, or you could ask a monarch for contact, if you want to be in their debt.

You can-

(Holy guns that's neat. He stares a moment, childlike fascination on his face, though he snaps out of it relatively quickly.)

Do they go by carrier dove? (Crow? He wrinkles his nose a little.) I'm not looking to purchase anything, exactly. More to know if something exists here or not.

I can.

[ Showing off his mutation has always been rather fun, and it's the best way to find other people like himself. ]

If it exists there should be a record, somewhere. If not then you can ask for it if you please Morla.

(Howard hasn't seen anything quite like it before, but he's seen a lot of odd stuff as of late, both in this place and from HYDRA, mostly he assumes it's some magic he would like to learn.)

Wow.

(A pause.)

You said you'd felt their metal. Have you felt all of it? Can you...identify what's around you? (Does that even make sense.)

I can feel the difference. It's not as detailed as I might like, but I've been practising.

[ He looks rather pleased with himself, actually. ]

Sensing, moving, lifting, bending and heating metal. I can do it all.

But you can identify them through the way they feel? With, whatever it is you do.

(From afar? It's more than Howard can do, anyway. He thoughtfully clicks his tongue.)

[private]

Have you ever heard of a metal called Vibranium?

Mutation. Genetic mutation.

[ That should be enough, he thinks, but he will go into it if he needs to. ]

I haven't. If I felt it, though, I could presumably sense any more of it.

[ He'd like to think he could, anyway. ]

Is that the norm where you're from? (Because he's gathered that there are different worlds people come from, along with different times. Some where magic is part of every day life. He hasn't experienced mutations himself, at least not that he's aware of, but he may have yet.)

I only ever found a small amount back where I'm from, and I had to use it. I'd like more, it holds great promise.

Not so 'normal' that humans don't slaughter us for existing. [ Something he will get across quickly enough. People need to know what his people suffer, they need to see how dangerous and strong his brothers and sisters are - to fear the day they come out of hiding.

It's important. ]

Promise for what, exactly?

(He makes a face at that. The slaughter of people just because they're different still hits close to home, and even more than he's ever going to be willing to admit.) People always try to destroy what they don't understand.

(His lip twitches, and he considers it for a moment.) A lot, really. When I first came across it, my original thought was that it'd be great for aviation. It's both lighter and stronger than steel, and has complete vibration absorption. The lighter an aircraft is, the less fuel it needs to propel itself, or alternatively it could carry more for the same amount of fuel across the same distance. But what I found was just over ten pounds. Not nearly enough for anything like that.

And what they fear. They tear us apart and perform experiments on us for fear of what we are - greater than them, the next step, the development of their race. [ His frustration and anger is clear, though it's more restrained than it might have been some months before. It's an old wound, one that he isn't going to let go of.

Still, it sounds - incredible. A lithe, practical metal, perhaps one he could use himself... ] Then you should ask for more, as much as you can, until you have enough for what you need.

And what they fear. (Howard agrees with him, with a sad note.) I've only skimmed the surface of genetic manipulation. (Because that was, essentially, what had been done with Steve, after all.) I've seen the results of it going terribly wrong. (He may never have met the Red Skull in person, but he's seen what came of it.) But I've seen what happens when it goes right, too. Were you created, or born with it?

(It is. And Howard quirks a brow at the mention of asking for it.) If the dwarves have it, I'm sure it's for a price beyond what I have here. Hell, it might even be beyond what I had at home, depending on how much they have of it. I couldn't even place a value on it back there, since all there was, was what I found.

Edited 2015-03-02 20:04 (UTC)

[ Erik's jaw goes tense at the words - genetic manipulation. It steels him, as if he buries his information, his knowledge, behind a wall as thick and as metallic as his nature, hand clenching around the coin he had so idly been playing with. ]

I was born with it. Genetic development through birth, mutation, not through science or human experimentation.

[ He's certainly more clipped with his replies, now, a little less inclined to be helpful. ]

The monarchs can bring things from our worlds. They might give you it as a gift if you ask politely.

(Howard notices it, it's such a visible change, including the coin suddenly being gripped in his hand, and he scrambles to explain.) I didn't hurt anyone, with it. I guess you don't have Project Rebirth where you're from?

(He nods, it's slow. A little hesitant.) We don't have it naturally.

I don't think I've done anything that deserves rewarding just yet.

You might not, but that doesn't stop others from starting where you might choose to finish. [ His eyebrow lifts, leaning forward. ] Not that I've heard of. No.

[ At least the man is honest, which is more than he can say for some people. ]

Then do something.

I'm trying to make sure that doesn't happen. (Which is why he was working so hard to retrieve his stolen goods, back home. Alright, here we go.) Project Rebirth was a government military project, intending to create a super solider, based off a serum created by Doctor Abraham Erskine. The serum, along with something called Vita Radiation made it possible to unlock the potential of a man, but we only ever got to run one test. Erskine was killed shortly after, and the formula for the serum went with him. But our test subject, he became almost a foot taller, gained muscle all over his body, all medical ailments were gone. There was an increase in speed, stamina, strength. Everything we could have hoped for.

(He looks a little wistful then, like there's something he's not saying, there is, after all, but enough on that.)

I'm trying.

I'm sure all Government funded projects are successful and have no room for error. [ The sarcasm is heavy with this one, and Erik's expression hardens. He's worked for the CIA, he's worked for himself, and he's seen the corruption. It's not just moral. ] You inject a man with a serum that mutates him and expect people to simply accept and celebrate it?

[ It's disgusting. Making a pocket serum of his people, shoving it into victims and watching them try to come to try and control whatever it is the government gives them. He feels furious, already, pulsing through him. ]

You should try harder.

I don't associate myself with the government anymore. At the time it was necessary, but not now. (The government is the worst, Howard can agree to that. And then his expression changes a little again.) Oh, no, people celebrated him. He was an icon, a hero. He's still celebrated, there's a comic book about him, movies, a radio show. He's a national icon.

I plan on it.

[ He's silent for a moment before his lips twitch and he leans back, eyebrow rising. ]

Let me guess. He's American.

Yeah, like me, but he's pretty widely celebrated all around the world. Erskine wasn't, for the record, and he's really the one who deserves the credit. Even if I had built the machine to concentrate the vitarays it wouldn't have done anything without the formula.

[ Erik just feels bitterness coil through him. ]

You grow your own mutant and the people love him. I should be surprised.

[ But he's not. He's really, truly not. ]

He was, (Is? Should he be saying is, now that he's sort of here? Maybe, but speaking of him in the past is something he's been conditioning himself to say, since for the first six months of his disappearance he still spoke of him as if he was going to walk through the door any day.) a great man, more than anything, he actually cared, didn't let it all go to his head. Apple pie. (You know. Humble and whatnot??)

Does that make it better? [ Erik stares down at the camera. ] Does that make what your people do to mine better? I've heard the excuses before. Atrocities done in the name of war, or defence, or because one group is lesser than another - or... [ And the fury is obvious, now, real and obvious. ] - lesser until they can be controlled.

(This derailed quickly. 8|) No, that's. That's not what I meant. Erskine had a theory about the serum he made. That what it really did, was just manifest and enhance what was already in you. A good man becomes greater, a bad, worse.

We wanted to stop atrocities like that from happening.

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